#you make him SO GRATEFUL to break his daughter's heart that you get a gratitude crystal from him

[link-is-a-dork]

stab

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

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She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[dee-writes-smut]

ROSES (Chapter Nine)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Eris is settling into both life as a High Lord and a new parent while also juggling the repairs needed for your relationship. Good thing he's tenacious.

CONTENT WARNINGS tooth-rotting fluff, that's all I have to say.

AUTHORS NOTE It breaks my heart to say this, but this is the last chapter in the official Flowers series. Don't fret; there will probably be spin off chapters and headcannons, but this is it as far as the main story goes. I can't simply find the words to express how grateful I am for all of you who followed me through this journey. Thank you to each and every one of you, new and old, for your support and love. I hope to see all of you in my future endeavors.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Three months had passed since the harrowing night of Eilidh’s birth, a night that had forged an unbreakable bond between you, Eris, and your daughter. The autumn leaves had begun to fall, painting the forest with vibrant hues of red and gold. The palace had a renewed energy, one that came from Eris assuming the mantle of High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was a role he embraced with a sense of duty and responsibility, balancing it with the demands of fatherhood.

Eilidh, now three months old, was a bundle of joy and curiosity. Her bright eyes, the color of rich amber, were always exploring, taking in the world around her. Her soft coos and infectious giggles filled the air, bringing warmth and light to every corner of the palace. Her presence had a calming effect on everyone, even during the most turbulent times.

Eris had become a devoted father, his transformation evident to all who knew him. He juggled his new responsibilities as High Lord with the demands of caring for Eilidh, often seen carrying her in his arms during council meetings or while handling court affairs. His love for her was palpable, his every action reflecting a deep commitment to his family.

But the road to this point had not been easy. After the night he had left you, the guilt and regret had weighed heavily on him. He had groveled, begged for your forgiveness, and worked tirelessly to prove his devotion. Every action, every word, had been an effort to make amends for the hurt he had caused.

Eris's groveling had begun the moment he had returned to your side. As soon as he saw you again, his eyes filled with tears of remorse and self-reproach. He had knelt before you, his voice trembling as he apologized, his words spilling out in a rush of desperation.

"I’m so sorry," he had whispered, his eyes pleading for your forgiveness. "I was a fool. I let my anger and jealousy cloud my judgment. I should have trusted you, should have listened. Please, forgive me."

You had looked down at him, your heart torn between the pain he had caused and the love you still felt for him. It had taken time, but you had seen the sincerity in his eyes, felt the depth of his regret.

In the days that followed, Eris had gone to great lengths to make amends. He had taken on the majority of the nighttime feedings and diaper changes, insisting that you get the rest you needed. He had brought you breakfast in bed every morning, each meal accompanied by a heartfelt note expressing his love and gratitude.

He had arranged for the palace gardens to be filled with your favorite flowers, their blooms a constant reminder of his devotion. He had planned quiet, intimate dinners, where the two of you could reconnect and share your thoughts and feelings. He had even sought counsel from the palace healers and wise elders, determined to be the best partner and father he could be.

One evening, as you rocked Eilidh to sleep, Eris had approached you, his eyes filled with determination. "I know I can't erase the past," he had said softly, "but I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You and Eilidh are my everything. I will never take you for granted again."

You had seen the truth in his words, felt the sincerity in his actions. Slowly, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by a renewed sense of trust and love.

Now, three months later, Eris stood by your side as you gazed down at Eilidh, who was nestled in her crib, her tiny hand clutching one of Eris's fingers. The palace had become a haven of love and laughter, a stark contrast to the tumultuous times you had endured.

"Eilidh’s growing so fast," you murmured, your voice filled with wonder.

Eris smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at his daughter. "She is," he agreed. "And she’s more beautiful every day, just like her mother."

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?" you said softly.

"We have," Eris replied, his voice filled with pride and love. "And we’ll continue to move forward, together. As a family."

Eris's coronation ball had finally arrived, an event that had been the talk of Prythian for weeks. The Autumn Court’s palace was aglow with lanterns and magic, casting a warm, golden light that reflected off the autumn leaves that carpeted the ground. The ballroom itself was a masterpiece of design and enchantment.

The grand hall was adorned with rich tapestries depicting the history of the Autumn Court, their vibrant hues illuminated by the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the high, arched ceiling. The floor was a polished marble, intricately patterned to resemble the fallen leaves of the season. Tables were set with fine china and crystal, each centerpiece a bouquet of autumnal flowers that filled the air with a delicate fragrance.

The atmosphere was one of celebration and anticipation. Musicians played a lively tune in one corner of the room, their music mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and laughter. Nobles and dignitaries from all courts mingled, their elegant attire a dazzling array of colors and styles.

You stood near the entrance, holding Eilidh in your arms, her tiny hand clutching a strand of your hair. Her wide eyes took in the splendor of the room, the lights reflecting in her amber irises. You wore a dress of deep crimson, its fabric flowing around you like a cascade of autumn leaves, perfectly complementing Eris's formal attire of dark, intricately embroidered robes that signified his new status as High Lord.

The Inner Circle of the Night Court arrived in a flurry of elegance and power. Rhysand, with Feyre by his side, led the group, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Cassian and Azriel flanked them, their imposing figures exuding strength and confidence. Mor and Amren brought up the rear, their grace and poise adding to the group's undeniable allure.

“Congratulations,” Feyre said warmly as she approached, her eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. “Eilidh is beautiful.”

You smiled, the pride in your heart evident on your face. “Thank you, Feyre. She’s our little miracle.”

Rhysand stepped forward, his gaze softening as he looked at Eilidh. “May I?” he asked, extending his arms.

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing your daughter to him.

Rhysand cradled Eilidh with a surprising tenderness, his expression one of awe and reverence. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “You must be very proud.”

“We are,” you said, glancing over at Eris, who was deep in conversation with several High Lords. “She’s brought so much joy into our lives.”

Cassian and Azriel were next, each taking a turn to hold Eilidh and marvel at her tiny features. Mor cooed at her, making silly faces that had Eilidh giggling with delight. Amren, ever the enigma, simply nodded in approval, her sharp eyes betraying a rare softness.

As you watched the Inner Circle doting on your daughter, a sense of peace settled over you. These were your friends, your family, and they were here to celebrate this new chapter in your life.

“Here,” you said, gently taking Eilidh back from Amren and turning to Lucien, who had been standing quietly by your side. “Why don’t you spend some time with your niece?”

Lucien's eyes lit up as he took Eilidh in his arms. “Hey there, little one,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection. “Uncle Lucien’s got you.”

You watched as Lucien walked off with Eilidh, their heads close together as he spoke to her in hushed tones. The bond between them was growing stronger each day, and it filled your heart with joy to see Lucien so involved in her life.

Turning back to the ballroom, you took a moment to appreciate the grandeur of the occasion. The walls were lined with flickering candles, their flames casting a warm, inviting glow. The ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky, a tapestry of stars twinkling above. The music had shifted to a more formal tune, signaling the beginning of the night's official proceedings.

Eris stood at the head of the room, his presence commanding and regal. He caught your eye and smiled, a look of love and gratitude passing between you. Tonight was a night of celebration, but it was also a night of reaffirmation – of the love and commitment you shared, and of the bright future that lay ahead for you, Eris, and Eilidh.

The High Lords and their entourages took their places, the atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming one of anticipation and reverence. This was a momentous occasion, the dawn of a new era for the Autumn Court under Eris’s leadership.

As the evening wore on, the grand ballroom of the Autumn Court was filled with an air of contentment and celebration. The official proceedings had concluded, and the mood had shifted to one of relaxed enjoyment. Guests mingled, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra that now played a gentle waltz.

Eris, who had been engaged in conversations with various dignitaries, finally found a moment to break away. His eyes scanned the room, searching for you amidst the sea of elegantly dressed guests. When he found you, standing near the edge of the dance floor and watching Lucien proudly show Eilidh to Elain, a tender smile spread across his face.

He crossed the room with purpose, his movements graceful and assured. As he reached you, he extended his hand, a silent invitation that spoke volumes. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

You took his hand, your heart fluttering at the touch. "I would love to," you replied softly.

Eris led you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for the two of you. The orchestra began to play a new melody, one that seemed to capture the essence of the moment – a blend of joy, love, and a touch of nostalgia.

As you stepped into Eris's embrace, the world around you seemed to fade away. His hand rested lightly on your waist, guiding you effortlessly through the steps of the dance. Your free hand found its place on his shoulder, and you moved together as if you were two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync.

The dance floor felt like a canvas, and you and Eris were the artists, painting a picture of grace and elegance with each step. The marble beneath your feet seemed to shimmer with every movement, reflecting the golden glow of the chandeliers above. The flickering candlelight cast a warm, inviting glow on your faces, highlighting the emotions that played across your features.

Eris's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. There was love there, yes, but also admiration, gratitude, and a sense of profound connection. It was as if the entire journey you had shared – the hardships, the joys, the moments of doubt and the moments of certainty – were encapsulated in this one, perfect dance.

The music swelled, and Eris spun you gently, your dress flaring out like a burst of autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze. As you came back to him, he pulled you closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if to reassure himself that you were truly there with him.

"I never imagined this," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music. "That we would be here, together, like this."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion. "Neither did I," you replied. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

As the dance continued, you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment, in the feel of Eris's strong arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours, the way he moved with a confidence and grace that was uniquely his. The world outside the dance floor ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, and the beautiful, intricate dance you shared.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the ballroom, Lucien stood with Elain, who was holding Eilidh. He watched you and Eris with a fond smile, feeling a sense of peace and contentment as he saw how happy you were. Elain cooed at Eilidh, who giggled in response, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at the sparkling lights.

"She looks so much like you," Elain said softly, her eyes warm as she looked at Lucien.

Lucien chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at his daughter. "She has her mother's spirit," he replied. "And a bit of her uncle's mischief, I think."

Elain laughed, a musical sound that blended perfectly with the joyous atmosphere of the evening. "She's lucky to have so many people who love her."

Lucien nodded, his heart full. "Yes, she is."

As the dance drew to a close, Eris pulled you even closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words a promise and a vow.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions.

The music faded, and the room erupted in applause, the guests acknowledging the beauty of the moment you and Eris had shared. But for you, the applause was just background noise. What mattered was the man in front of you, the love you saw in his eyes, and the future you knew you would face together, hand in hand.

Just as another song began, Lucien appeared at your side with your daughter in his arms. “She’s been quite the hit tonight,” Lucien said with a grin, carefully handing your daughter to Eris.

Eris took Eilidh with a tenderness that melted your heart, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of the two of them together. “Thank you, Lucien,” Eris said sincerely, his eyes meeting his brother’s with a newfound understanding.

Lucien nodded, stepping back to give you both space. Eris cradled Eilidh between you, her tiny form a perfect blend of the two of you. As you continued to dance, your daughter nestled close, the moment felt like a dream.

The music slowed, and you felt the world shift around you, as if everything had aligned in that single, perfect moment. The love you felt for Eris and Eilidh was overwhelming, a powerful force that filled your heart to bursting.

And then, it happened. A sudden, undeniable snap that resonated deep within your soul. The mating bond. It surged between you and Eris, a connection that was as ancient as it was unbreakable. You gasped, feeling the intensity of it wash over you, binding you to him in a way that was profound and eternal.

Eris’s eyes widened, and he pulled you closer, his grip tightening around you and Eilidh. “Did you feel that?” he whispered, awe and wonder in his voice.

You nodded, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. “I felt it.”

The bond was a revelation, a confirmation of what you had always known in your heart. You were meant to be together, to share your lives and your love, to build a future that was as bright and beautiful as the stars above.

As the last notes of the music played, you and Eris stood together, your daughter cradled between you, the bond of love and family wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to the journey you had taken and the love that had blossomed along the way.

And as you looked into Eris’s eyes, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by love, fate, and the unbreakable bond that had finally snapped into place.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesvanslutta @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

[overseer-picard]

Final Thoughts on ST: Picard Season 3

I loved it. All of it.

I was filled with anxious dread when it was announced that the entire cast would be back. The first two seasons were not for me and I was worried all of the things I disliked would bleed into this season and infect ALL my beloved characters, not just Picard (who is my all time favorite fictional character).

But those fears were quickly quieted and I found myself looking forward to each new episode in a way I haven't done since the days before streaming.

There are still things I personally would've done differently, but just because I dislike something doesn't mean it's inherently bad (and vice versa, if I like something it doesn't mean it's objectively good).

I feel that the characters behaved in ways that made sense for their history (which was a pleasant 180 for Picard from the first two seasons) and they came together in organic ways that were integral to the plot rather than just thrown together for a reunion show.

I loved how they brought Data back, I thought it was fresh and creative, and it was fun to see him become the thing he always strove to be: human. I loved seeing Riker and Troi and their love for each other, Picard and Beverly as they navigated the very human emotions of reconnecting and saving their son, seeing Geordi as a dad to his adorable daughters along with his joy at seeing Data again. And Worf being the most Worf he's ever Worfed.

Every note I needed was hit with perfect pitch and tone.

The story was tightly woven with ample plantings and payoffs of key details (I'm excited to rewatch specifically for this reason). The stakes were high and had personal connection. The tension was well paced with solid structuring and anytime things DID slow down, it was to allow some breathing room for the characters to develop and exist. The characters were proactive rather than reactive, they had to actually make choices with no easy answer (a staple of Trek storytelling).

I loved the themes of family, both biological and within friendship, and the importance of loving and appreciating the people who truly matter in your life. I loved that the Trek universe felt connected again with the callbacks to the other shows, cameos from old characters, and our main seven recognizing that their most important years were the years they spent not just with each other, but with us, the audience. You can call this fan service with as much spite and venom as you want, but I call it universe cohesion.

After the first two seasons of Picard that could've taken place in any fictional universe because they were so brazenly disconnected from the key aspects that make Star Trek, Star Trek, I am grateful this team of writers took the care and effort to give these details back in meaningful and narratively useful ways.

And most of all, I loved the countless moments where I felt genuine, heartfelt, emotion. I am not a weepy person by any measure, but I teared up multiple times. Seeing these characters I've loved for so long be happy, connected, and moving forward brought me more satisfaction than I could've ever imagined.

I'm genuinely filled with so much gratitude towards the hundreds of people who came together to create this season of television. The care, dedication, attention to detail, respect, and reverence it holds towards the franchise that I love has brought me deep, lasting joy.

It is not the best show I've ever watched, and maybe I'll break down its flaws one day, but it's easily become a favorite that will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Not many shows get this kind of goodbye 30 years later and for that, I am incredibly grateful.

Sorry to those of you who did not enjoy it, you are not wrong to feel the way you do, we all enjoy media in ways that are unique to us.

[mirukimary-artarchive]

HUEVEMBER 2020 - Days 1 till 10

(Please click for full view!)

1. Daughter of Evil

Posting this one was so scary back then! After failling god knows how many inktobers, huevember of all things seemed impossible. I'm really grateful to my boyfriend for his endless support through the month. Got really close to giving up a couple of times, but managed to power through thanks to him!

As for this piece... Daughter of Evil was my first vocaloid song. It was introduced to me by my childhood friend back in.... high school? Earlier? A long time ago, lol! I'm still grateful for it, vocaloid remains one of my favorite things in the world.

2. Meltdown

Still proud of this one. Meltdown is a song that feels really close to me. So i do hope i made it some justice, as a thank you for all of the comfort.

3. Kokoro

A bouquet of Marigold (grief), Agrimony (gratitude) and Campanula (also gratitude) for all of the people who i've met, but can't see anymore. Thank you for sharing your existence with me. ...This song never fails to make me cry.

4. Synchronicity

Bless this song for introducing me to HitoshizukuxYama (and Suzunosuke), they're still my favorite producers. Waiting for the last part was such a huge part of my childhood, lol! I love rewatching those now, the improvement from part 1 to part 3 is amazing.

5. Snowman

I can't... For the life of me decide which version i like more, Kaito's or Len's. So i just drew both! Now featuring Kaito as a melting snowman and Len as a child going through way too much! ...(;_; ) This one kinda looks like a christmas card now that i think about it...

6. Odds and Ends

Another song that makes me cry every single time. I can't help but feel for bigger internet presences whose crime is.... Being popular? Thick skin or not, hate is bound to get to you eventually. Ofc the song is about more than that, but still.

7. Tengaku

This one was really fun to color~♥ Also listening to the title song on repeat for most of it was very energizing, lol!

8. Hello Planet

How can something so sad sound so happy??? The dissonance just breaks my heart further! One of my favorite songs ever.

9. Witness

Breakup songs are usually really... Angry, passionate, hateful. So i've always loved this one for being the exact opposite.

10. Melt

Looking back, i did this picture a disservice for adding such a simplified background. The decisions we make when we're running out of time! Still tried to add some cute elements to hopefully show how much this song warms my heart!

[writefightandflightclub]

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac​

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @anetteaneta​ @stardustkenobi​ @casifer-is-king​ @foxilayde​ @tlcwrites​ @aellynera​ @kindablackenedsuperhero​

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for. 

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you. 

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.” 

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room. 

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex-  must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?” 

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit. 

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One.

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of wtsgd! i’m so excited for you all to read this story and for what’s to come. please please please support content creators bc we’re doing this for free and it takes up a lot of energy to put out stories. so reblog, leave feedback, and send a message to motivate and support them. happy reading everyone <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 6.4k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 4, 2017

The trunk was filled with heavy boxes that were labeled with thick black sharpie, which didn’t seem to leave Luciana’s senses; and one too many suitcases filled with her many articles of clothing that she couldn’t get rid of—no matter how hard she tried—since she was too much of a hoarder and every piece of clothing seemed to have a lost memory in them that she tried very hard to think of, which only meant that it was worth keeping. 

A droplet of sweat leaked down the side of her face due to  her nonstop packing and heavy-lifting from her childhood room upstairs to her dad’s car in the driveway. It didn’t help that the sun was beaming down at her with every move like she was on center stage, in front of the spotlight, but it made much more sense for the sun to do that because that’s where she belonged: on stage. 

Moving to Brooklyn, New York from Cambridge, Massachusetts during, what felt like, the coldest but the sunniest day of March wasn’t the smartest move—to be fair, Luciana was never one to make a smart move, anyways—but it was one that needed to be done. Plus, all the lifting seemed to have warmed her up. 

Her destination, or now, home, in New York was one that she’d been anticipating for a while now. She had auditioned for the role as Kim in Miss Saigon on Broadway in November, and she’d gotten a callback in January for the role as the second Kim, meaning she would be on rotation to perform every week or two weeks, so the main Kim could rest. But she would still have to go to rehearsals and be on the side of the stage watching the show just in case she needed to jump in at the last minute. 

It wasn’t her ideal way of playing the main lead, but nonetheless, she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would take any chance that was thrown at her to not only take another step towards her dream, but also another learning opportunity to make her a better actress. 

Little Luci would’ve been so proud of the present Luci because it’d been her dream ever since she was younger, to be on stage and eventually, be on the big screen. Although she was far from completing her dream of being a face in Hollywood, this was a step that would take her to where she wanted to be in the future, and for that, she was proud of herself. 

As a child, Luci had been in various commercials; from being the kid that played with slime and had no lines but to just put on a big smile while the sticky substance ran through her small hands, to being the daughter in a car commercial with one line that said “Are we there yet?” with a groan and a face of exhaustion as if she were the one driving the car. She hoped that these commercials would have someone recognize her talent, to cast her as a Disney star, but that would require moving to California, which her parents were wary of. 

The commercials stopped when she reached middle school. Her early adolescent years consisted of an abundance of attitude and mood swings; Luci was a very tough and determined kid. Her love for acting had grown into a big balloon that was let go and on its way into the galaxy where no one could reach it—where no one could mess with her achieving her dream. 

She would always stand in front of her white wooden framed mirror—with delicately painted colorful flowers around the border—reciting lines that she heard from a television series or the films that she watched, and she would write them down in her blue notebook. Sometimes, her parents would let her search the script up if it was available online. But oftentimes, she would test and challenge her memorization, and listen to it by ear; testing her mind, and eventually, her memorization skills were immaculate by the age of eleven. 

It was perfect timing because by the time she was in middle school, she was able to snatch the roles she wanted when her school’s drama department held school plays. Her family thought that she would start to hate being on stage since school plays always ran until late evening, but being part of the productions had only enhanced her love for her talent, and it only prepared her for a quarter of what her future may look like. 

All in all, from a very young age, she always knew that she wanted to become an actress. The spotlight or the center of the camera was where she always craved to be. 

And she was finally making that dream come true. 

A black Toyota Camry pulled into the space behind the car that was filled with her belongings. Ren and Beatrice, Luci’s lovely parents, both get out of the car with a pink box of donuts—a snack for the road and for when she gets to her new apartment. 

“Ready, Lucky?” Beatrice asked, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was quite bummed to see Luci leave her childhood home, but she’s proud to see Lucky Luci chase her dreams. She was, after all, twenty-five and was bound to move out at some point, but to see it actually happen made Beatrice quite emotional. 

“Ma, please, don’t cry…” Luci frowned as Beatrice pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder, comforting her. “You’re all coming to New York in a month, right? To watch me on stage?” Luci asked, reassuring herself that she would see her family in a different state to rescue her from her loneliness. 

Luci was an independent woman. She could do tasks by herself, go places alone, and she wouldn’t have a problem with it; she enjoyed the company of herself. But to know that at some point she might be alone—that everyone had left her behind or forgotten about her—was what scared her. She needed to know that the people who loved her unconditionally wouldn’t forget about her. 

“Of course we’re going!” Ren exclaimed with a smile that Luci was going to miss seeing everyday. “We can’t miss our baby on the Broadway stage. If we could, we’d go to every damn show that you’re in, but that would be a lot of gas, no?” 

She chuckled, nodding her head. She felt tears pricking her eyes at how supportive her parents were—they’ve always been. If she could, she would take them with her to New York, but her one bedroom apartment and their work said otherwise. 

“Now, Lucky, don’t cry.” It was Beatrice’s turn to comfort her daughter. Like any parent, when they see their child cry, it breaks their heart and they cry too. “We’re gonna see you real soon. You can always come back anytime you want. We’re just a phone call away and we’ll pick you up,” Beatrice said between sniffles. The mother and daughter were embracing so tenderly and comfortingly—enjoying every last moment together until they got to see each other again. 

“Jeez, you’re both the same—always crying!” Ren interrupted, making the two women laugh; and he was glad they found what he said amusing because he couldn’t handle the sad moment. “C’mon here, my Lulu.” Luci settled into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. She’s always been her dad’s girl, despite having a close relationship with her mother, her relationship with her father was something that felt like home; he always knew what to say and when to say it. It helped that she was the female version of him. “You’re gonna be the best star out there, I’m sure of it. Now, I want you to have fun, alright? The fame, the fortune, the big city…it doesn’t amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life” He comfortingly rubbed Luci’s back, holding her in a warm and tight squeeze. 

Luci smiled at her father’s words. She was always a bit hard on herself when she would mess up or forget a line or a movement that correlates to a specific line in her script. When she was younger, she would beat herself up for a sliver of a moment; she would cry into her pillow—sobs loud enough that they were heard from downstairs. Luci would think that she wouldn’t become a well-known actress just because of the minor forgetfulness her mind had presented. But Ren would gently tap on her ocean blue door, letting himself in because he knew his daughter didn’t have the energy to get up and let him in, and he would sit beside her, gently urging her to sit up with him. Once she complied, after many groans of refusals, she would be glad she did because her father looked deeply into her eyes—and it was like looking into the reflection of clear and clean water—and told her she was a star. It was only three words, but those three words reminded her to never give up and get up when she would hit the pavement of what she felt like were her fallen hopes and dreams. 

Ren would then end it with a statement of advice that had always lingered in her mind, resonating to the silent and harshful words that she tells herself. ‘Nothing will amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life.’

A rush of gratitude settled upon her as her eyes became glossier by the seconds she was in Ren’s arms. Beatrice looked at her greatest treasures fondly, a smile appeared on her face only for it to be replaced by a look of confusion. 

“Where is that damn brother of yours? He said he was going to be here at ten!” Beatrice interrupted the sweet moment she was having with her father, making them disconnect from the hug—just as Ren did with Luci and Beatrice.  

Speaking of the devil, her dear brother was making his way towards home on the side of the street, wearing a grey sweatshirt that was stained with his sweat as his earphones were nestled in his ears, loudly playing music. He loudly sang along to some rap song, breath staggered as he rapped along with his hands. 

Nathan smiled once he stepped foot onto the driveway as he took out his earphones, seeing his family look at him vigilantly. Luci laughed, shaking her head. 

“Hey, there’s our superstar, little Ana!” Nathan opened his arms, ready to hug you but she quickly stopped him, curving her spine backwards to deny his hug. Ana had been one of the many nicknames her family had called her when she was growing up from the second half of her name, but Ana seemed to have stuck with Nathan as no one else really called her that, so it was his own personal nickname for her. 

“Ew, please, do not hug me.” Her face wrinkled in disgust from the spell of her brother’s sweat from his run. Nathan chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes before turning towards his parents. 

“Ooh, donuts-”

Beatrice slapped the back of his hand before he even got a chance to open the pink donut box. “Not until you shower and change. Lulu needs to be in Brooklyn by three!” 

“Ow, mother!” Nathan whipped his hand away from Beatrice’s burning slap, although he was just playing around and being dramatic. “But fine, alright. The star always gets what she wants, am I right?” He dropped his head towards Luci, sighing before he hurried inside the house to take a quick shower and change. 

Luci giggled, telling her parents that she would be right back to go up to her room to check if she’d gotten everything, even though she knew that she had everything, she just needed to reminisce alone for a moment. 

Her feet took her up the wooden stairs, where she, for some unknown reason, always spent her time sitting on as she leaned her back against the wall and read or drew. Nathan always found it weird of her when they were doing homework when they were younger, but it was just one of the many fun anecdotes he could tell reporters if he’s asked about their childhood. 

Pushing open her ocean blue door that she never changed because she loved the color, she was met with the emptiness of what was once her sanctuary. Despite the paint on the wall changing, the replacement of furniture, and rearrangement of her childhood room, Luci could still see the baby pink walls where she hung up various posters of her celebrity crushes when she was eight. She could still see herself walking over to her Cinderella white wooden dresser as she pulled out an inflatable microphone from her drawer before she walked over to her bed to sing her heart out with her cousin. In the corner of her room was her mirror that she painted colorful flowers along the border when she was younger, and she definitely did not want to change or get rid of it; it wasn’t difficult to stir up a memory when she was in front of that mirror because up until now, she was always reciting her lines to her own reflection until the late night. 

All of these memories that Luci held within her heart would help her ground herself—remind her where she came from. No matter where her career took her, she would always be the girl that was firstly known in her room, crying, laughing, and acting within the four baby pink walls until she was sixteen, and then it changed to an ecru white. The feeling of nostalgia clutched her chest, and for the second time today—not even noon, yet—she found herself crying. 

She silently sobbed in her sanctuary. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was grasping onto the memories, begging her to not leave, to not move on. But moving on would mean being stuck, and she didn’t want to feel stuck—she just never wanted to be in one place where the walls would slowly feel like they were closing in on her. She didn’t want to be in one place and eventually hated it, so for that, she had to move on. 

A soft knock was heard from the outside of her bedroom, making Luci turn around hastily. She found Beatrice standing in the doorway, warmly smiling at her daughter, and keeping the tears at bay because she needed the comfort of her mother more than her mother’s tears. 

“My Lucky Star…” Beatrice walked into the room, welcoming Luci into her arms. “You okay?” 

Luci deeply inhaled and exhaled as she calmed herself down from her cries. “I’m alright. It’s just hard saying goodbye to this place—to my room.”’

“Oh, Lulu. You don’t need to say goodbye. I know you’ll be coming back here soon, anyways. I know you love home too much to completely stay away.” Beatrice was subtly trying to remind Luci about her love for her hometown, for her home, but her words also were trying to remind her about that certain love for her home and to never forget that love so she doesn’t stray away because Beatrice was simply afraid Luci would never want to come back once she discovered the luxury of her career. And even though she knew her Lulu wasn’t one to forget about her family, Beatrice would never admit her fear. 

Luci sniffled, wiping her tears away as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Yeah, I know. Just…doesn’t feel real that I’m leaving.” 

“Sure, you’re leaving, but you’re going off to do bigger and better things. You were never one to stay in one place, physically and mentally—you were always moving, always loved learning more. And I’ve always been so intrigued and interested in how your mind works.” 

“Ma…” The waterworks seemed to be the highlight of the move. 

“I’m serious! I’m so genuinely proud of you. You’ve been keeping your talent—and I don’t mean ‘high school plays’ talent. I mean your Broadway, Hollywood, Academy winning talent. Now, you get to showcase your light in front of thousands of people.” Beatrice always had a way of boosting Luci’s self-esteem, making her ego a tad bit more bigger than it already was. She didn’t mind if her self-esteem had skyrocketed into the galaxy of her dreams, but she always reminded Luci that being humble and kind always outweighed being obnoxious and arrogant. “Now, enough with these tears. You’ve got a road trip to New York. C’mon, now.” 

They made their way downstairs and out the door where Ren and Nathan were talking about the latest basketball game of the Celtics. The trunk was closed, and the only thing waiting was Luci herself. 

“There she is! Ready?” 

Luci took a deep breath, turning her head to look back at the pastel yellow house that had kept her safe for the past twenty-five years. From here, she knew everything was going to change. Whether it’d be for the good or if things would go downhill from here? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she was going to be doing what she loved and she was going to have the time of her life doing it. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

The state of Connecticut seemed to pass by quickly from the car as Nathan drove at a decent seventy miles per hour; the state vanished just as quickly as when they entered. 

Luci mindlessly looked out the window, thinking about everything and nothing at once as she drowned out the music playing through the speakers of the car and Nathan’s voice singing along. 

The cars passing by, the bystanders, and the locals filled the streets and highways, making her wonder what all of these people’s stories were—wondering if they lived in this city or if they were just stopping by to visit, or if they’re just going through the state to get to the one next door just as she was. Maybe she’s had an encounter or simply passed by them on the street in a world that seemed too large but small at the same time. She always pondered on whether everyone else thought the way she thought—if they wondered what her story was or the people around them. 

The world is an interesting place and there were so many intriguing people out there, making her more excited by the minute as she takes on this new adventure in her life that would be completely life changing. Luci’s going to be meeting so many new people that, she would hope, have an impact on her personal life or career. 

“Nervous?” Nathan broke the comfortable silence between them. 

Luci raised her brows and curled her lips into her mouth. “A bit.” 

He nodded, thinking for a moment. Nathan was always one to think before he spoke, and it was a quality that some people needed to learn how to do. He quickly learned that lesson when he was in high school; one of his friends, Johnny, and him were going back and forth joking around with one another. And for some odd reason, teenage boys liked to joke around about fucking everything, so Nathan had said “Yeah, I fucked your mom, what about it?” without thinking. Johnny stayed silent, the rest of their friends were waiting for his comeback, but they only received tears that glossed over his eyes before he ran off to a different part of campus, away from the lunch tables. Nathan found him behind the orchestra building with his face pressed on his kneecaps, crying. Later, he found out that Johnny’s mother had passed away before their sophomore year started and he hadn’t told anyone, which left Nathan quite speechless, but it was a lesson that he learned: to think before anything comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you’ll do great. You were born to do this, born to be on stage. Everything you do is to greater your experience and opportunities. All the mistakes you’re gonna make, which we both know you’re gonna make, they’re gonna be learning lessons for you to continue doing what you’re good at doing; the mistakes are there so you can better yourself,” he reassured, occasionally glancing at you briefly before averting his eyes back onto the highway. 

Luci smiled, never taking her eyes off her older brother. She leaned closer to the middle console, where his right arm was resting on the padded console. Hugging his arm tightly and resting her cheek on his shoulder, she accepted and appreciated his advice, his words. They made her heart fill up with so much gratitude and love, insanely grateful and happy that she had such an amazing and supportive family who always knew the right things to say when they could sense her nerves and anxieties powering through the roof. 

“You’re gonna kill it out there. This is just a step towards where you wanna go, where you actually wanna be.” 

She nodded, looking to her right as they quickly passed the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign from the state line of Connecticut and New York, and it was the sign indicating her new home. 

Nathan pulled into the apartment’s parking garage, entering in with the code that the complex gave Luci on the silver keypad as the two watched the automatic gate arm swing up to the side, and Nathan entered the parking structure, parking in one of the many spaces available. 

Luci excitedly got out of the car, rushing to the trunk where Nathan had opened it from inside the car. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to bring the hand dolly to help carry the boxes, which meant that the siblings were going to have to carry the many boxes she packed by her own hand and strength. But luckily, some of them weren’t that heavy; most of the items in the brown boxes were kitchenware and she figured she could just drag those. 

One by one, they took one box each and headed for the elevator, where it took them to her apartment floor—floor four. Luci grabbed the keys from her purse that contained two copper keys hanging on one single silver loop and a small keyless sensor, and she unlocked her navy blue door, revealing her new apartment. 

When she entered, she was met with a door across the entrance that she would use for her coats and shoes, things that she would need when she’s rushing out the door. Going through the small hallway in from the entrance, it led her to another small hallway to her left where her bedroom and guest bathroom was; and to her right, it would take her to the kitchen and living space. With four big windows with black window frames, the natural light really came in, making her place brighter for saving electricity. 

Walking in and putting the boxes against the black cabinets in the kitchen, she immediately fell in love with the space, her space. Despite already taking a tour of the apartment a few months prior to her official move in day, it felt different being there for the second time because she now knew that this place was hers. She saw it in a different light, and she was already anticipating the memories she was going to make in her new home. The place was empty; and with every step and every noise from her mouth, the room would echo, and she loved it. There was something satisfying about the echo in an empty space that was hers, like she wanted to furnish the hell out of it, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the echo. 

“This is your new home.” Nathan put an arm around Luci’s shoulder. He got a bit emotional seeing his baby sister grow up and move away from home, but he was excited for all of the experiences and memories she was going to make. Luci looked up at him, not saying anything but smiling as she was speechless. Nathan could practically feel the excitement run through her and all he did was chuckle at her speechlessness. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of the boxes.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Luci and Nathan hauled the boxes from the car, to the elevator, and down the hallway to her apartment. There were about four more boxes left in the trunk, and they would’ve been finished by now if they hadn’t been taking breaks. 

Nathan’s phone rang as he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets of the kitchen across from Luci who was sitting in the corner where her dining table would be. 

“Hello?” Answered Nathan. “What? Tonight? I’m in New York. I’m helping my little sister move here. Uh, okay. Sure. Bye.” He groaned, standing up. 

“Who was that?” Luci asked, nosy as she was. 

“That was one of the board members at Mass General Hospital.” Luci’s eyes widened. “They just asked me if I could come in tonight to teach and supervise the new residents.” Nathan was a general doctor working in the Emergency Room as Mass General back in Boston. He’s always wanted to teach with all the knowledge he’s stored in his brain—always wanting someone to learn a thing or two when they spoke to him, and this was his chance. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Nate!” Luci stood up, excited for him.

He started to breathe a bit heavily and Luci immediately took notice; she could practically feel the nerves coming out of him, the same nerves she felt while going in for an audition. “Yeah, I actually have to leave, like, right now.” 

“Hey, hey.” She quickly stopped him from running out of the building and out of his mind. “Come here—breathe with me for a second.” She held onto his wrists gently. 

“Luci, I have to-”

He pulled away, but she tugged him back. “You’re going to drive yourself through the highway, and who knows what will happen, you might get pulled over and you won’t make it to the hospital. So, just take sixty seconds to breathe with me.” 

For the remainder of the time that they had together, they took some deep breaths. She spoke encouraging and uplifting words to him to calm down his nerves and anxieties that he seemed to drive himself over a cliff for, and it seemed to work as Nathan’s shoulder’s weren’t so tense and the grip on her hands had loosened. 

The two of them walked down to the parking garage where Nathan took down the last four boxes and placed them by the entrance of the complex. He was adamant on helping her get the last few boxes up to her apartment, but she shrugged it off, telling him that she was able to carry them and that he needed to leave because he’s most likely going to hit traffic during rush hour. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. I will drive here in a heartbeat.” 

“I will, I will-”

“Just not tonight,” he joked. “This is the highlight of my career.” His smile was so bright that it was like he was a little kid on Christmas again who just received a Hot Speed set from Santa. 

Luci laughed, hugging him goodbye. “And call me if you need anything too. I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” she admitted, a slight frown on her face. She thought she’d have the entire day with Nathan, but it was cut short due to his work but she wasn’t mad about that at all because she knew there'd be plenty of times when he would drive down to walk along the New York streets and see her perform. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Ana. But I love you and I’ll see you next month!” He hurried into his car, and Luci watched him as he pulled out of the driveway, waving at the rear view mirror to say one last ‘see you later’ to his little sister. 

Walking back to the curb where all of the boxes were set, Luci picked one up to test how heavy it was and she barely made it upright without almost hurting her back, so she put the box down to take a proper breather. She decided to drag the box closer to the door of the complex—which saved her a few steps without completely dropping the box that was labeled ‘glass plates’—and pulled the handle of the door, only to find it completely locked. There was a slight panic that flew through her until she realized that she needed her keyless tag that she had to press against the pad on the wall to get inside the complex, so she blew out a sigh of relief before reaching down to her pocket for her key, and with just her luck, her keys weren’t in her pocket or with her at all. Then she started to panic again. 

Luci quickly walked out of the parking garage and to the front of the building where the leasing office was to find them closed, which was odd because it was Saturday, but apparently their servers were down so they just decided to take the entire day off. She rolled her eyes annoyingly, walking back to the garage in a fast manner because she didn’t want anyone to take her boxes, and so she figured that she could just wait until someone left the complex or arrived. She even left her phone at her place, so it wasn’t like she could call anyone to help her, but some sort of entertainment would help the time go by quicker. 

Sitting on the curb in the garage, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and humming the melody from the Miss Saigon soundtrack, an hour goes by until she sees someone walk past the automatic gate barrier, heading towards the entrance where he opened the door with his tag. Luci sprinted towards the door, calling out for help. 

“Wait, wait!” The man turned around confusingly, taking his AirPod out of one ear. She caught up, taking deep breaths as she waved at the man. “Sorry, I’ve been out here for an hour and I completely forgot my key.” He didn’t say anything but stared at her, wondering why he’s never seen this woman before. The apartment complex really only had four floors, and he’s sure that he’s seen everyone who’s lived here. She noticed that he looked down at the boxes and back at her. “Oh, I just moved in.” He nodded more understandingly. “Do you mind holding the door for me?” 

“Sure.” Was the first thing he told her before stepping aside to hold the door. She took another deep breath, getting into the correct form so she doesn’t throw her back out, and began to lift the heavy box. He noticed her struggling, and he felt foolish for not offering his help in the first place when he noticed the four boxes on the cement. “Here, sorry, let me help with that. Get the door, yeah?” Luci’s heart flipped once she heard his deep, accented voice before she gratefully thanked him and he grabbed the box from her, replacing her hands with his and the slightest brush of their fingers made her flustered; he held the box tightly to his chest without much struggle. 

“Yeah, let me just get this one.” Luci grabbed a much lighter box that had all of her shoes, and held the door for him with her foot as he made his way inside of the building and to the elevator. He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, and luckily, they didn’t have to wait for more than five seconds before the bell at the top chimed and the stainless steel doors opened. 

With the heavy box in his hands, he still let Luci walk in first, which made her smile and he followed in as she pressed with the bold ‘4’ printed on it. He held the box in between his chest and the other end of the bar on the wall as they waited in silence as the elevator lifted them up to her apartment floor, and she brushed past him when he lifted his arm, gesturing her to go first. 

Her front door was closed but it was unlocked, which only made sense, so she opened her door, putting the box next to the entrance and politely asking the man to put it next to the one you put down. 

“Thank you so much, really. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.” 

“It’s no problem. I was the same when I moved here too—forgot my keys and was locked out.” He related to make her feel lighter about the situation since it was an honest mishap. 

“Did you go to the leasing office?” She asked curiously. 

“Yeah, but they were closed.” 

“They’re closed today too! It’s like they do that on purpose whenever someone new moves in.” The man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him since she was too distracted by trying to get into her building, but just by one real look at him, he was very attractive—probably too attractive to where she couldn’t think straight. He was wearing a pastel yellow and white striped button down that was a bit flowy and open, showing his white tank underneath that was tucked into his black skinny jeans. His tank top was low enough, exposing a patch of chest hair and his necklace that rested against his skin, in between his swallow tattoos just below his collarbones. Rings hugged his long fingers on both hands as he held two brown paper bags from Trader Joes. He was handsome, that’s for sure, and she felt like she was going to compare his beauty to all the other men that she was going to encounter in the future. 

“They’re not very good at going into work, but if you give them a call then it’s like they’re a 24/7 help center.” 

Luci nodded, chuckling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’ll help you with the last boxes.” Before she was about to protest and tell him that he didn’t have to help her anymore because she was sure the last ones were light, he made his way towards the elevator and she quickly followed. 

To her surprise, one of the boxes was heavier than the other and she was glad that the man was able to carry it for her. They took the boxes up to her apartment, stacking it on top of the ones that were set down before she thanked him gratefully again. 

“I really appreciate all your help.” She smiled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Not that I’m doubting your strength or anything, but how were you supposed to get those boxes up to your apartment?” He asked softly, not wanting to offend her by his words. 

“Oh, my brother was supposed to help me, but he had to go back home for an emergency at work.” The man nodded, seeming that was the most acceptable answer, not like he was searching if she was lying. “But thank you for your help. You’re a true lifesaver,” she said with a soft smile on her face. Her tone was a bit flirty than she wanted it to be, but it naturally came out. 

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you around.” Luci hadn’t closed her door yet, but she found out that he was literally her neighbor on the opposite side of the wall. He didn’t even have to take two steps to get to his place—all he had to do was turn around and he was home. She smiled at the thought of that, glad that her neighbor was already so kind to her. 

As he was fumbling with his keys, he eventually got his door unlocked, and Luci was itching to ask what his name was—maybe make her first friend during her first day living in the big city. The man felt his neighbor's eyes on him, burning through the back of his head, so he turned around at the same time she spoke. 

“Uh, hey,” Luci called out. He was looking over his shoulder, pursing his lips as he raised his brows. “I was wondering if…you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Y’know, to thank you for all your help and practically saving me while I was stranded.” She chuckled, playing with the tips of her fingers as she looked at him with hope. 

He thought the invitation was nice, but…“It’s okay, really. I, uh, have plans already tonight,” he admitted honestly because he doesn’t make a habit of being dishonest. 

Luci had some thick skin—she grew it throughout the years, and she had always been pretty confident. So many people would think that she could handle rejection well because she’s auditioned for many roles in her lifetime, and had been rejected for most of those roles. But the rejection that her neighbor handed to her so respectfully and politely was one that hit her the most, and she didn't know why. 

Curling her lips into her mouth as she felt the pang of her heart sinking into her chest, she nodded and placed a small smile onto her face. 

“Have fun tonight, then. I’ll see you around.” She grinned, hiding the slight bit of pain that she felt. He nodded, walking inside his apartment as she was in her doorway as well. “Oh, I’m Luci, by the way.” She introduced herself, feeling like she should have done that ten minutes ago, but it had slipped her mind. 

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk, and she nearly felt herself fall as she gripped the door handle tightly. It was enough to make the pain in her chest disappear, and all thoughts of the rejection that she would think about for the rest of the night vanished. 

“Nice to meet you, Luci. I’m Harry.” 

With that, Harry closed his door, putting a barrier between him and Luci, who was still standing in her doorway. She let out the longest sigh of her life, feeling like she’d been constricting herself from breathing properly for the last ten minutes. 

Luci closed her door and leaned against it, looking down at the boxes that were resting by her feet. She softly smiled, her cheeks were starting to get warm, and she was fully aware that Harry was the cause of it.

come talk to me about your thoughts and feelings! hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, thank you for reading <3 

ty to @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading!

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Hello my lovelies!!

Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰

Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!

This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!

TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!

Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️

Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️

Final Resting Place

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.

Jude is dead.

He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.

This feels near exactly like that.

“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,

“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.

Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”

Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.

He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.

And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-

Killed by something mortal.

In the mortal lands.

Where he sent her.

It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.

He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.

~.~

Time has lost all meaning.

It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.

It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.

And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.

She was gone before he got to have her.

And it was his own damn fault.

He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.

The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.

He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.

He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?

She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”

“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.

“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.

He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.

When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”

And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.

~.~

The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?

The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.

Justin and Eva Duarte.

Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.

They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.

He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.

Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.

It would be such a Jude thing to do.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.

It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.

Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

Beloved sister and wife

2001-2019

His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.

Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.

“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.

“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.

“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”

His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.

There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.

Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.

With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,

“I love you.”

~.~

Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)

Tag list:

As always, please let me know through the comments or my inbox or any other way you are comfortable with and let me know if you wish to be added to my list so you can be alerted to my future works!

@maleckanejnessienjurdansolangelo @woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @unidentifiedblackthorn @iminsanenotobsessed @df3ndyr @brittneyal @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @fuzzypineapples-blog @nahthanks @charrise @thefolkofthefic @theviolettulip @embersfromink @kittkatandbooboo

Till next time, loves!🥰

[carissalizz]

What Would We Do Without You?

Helloo!! I've seen many fics of Jay taking care of a sick Hailey, so I decided to have the roles reversed and have Hailey take care of Jay and their daughter. Hope you enjoy!!

Being a ranger changed Jay's sleep schedule. His body was always waking him at the crack of dawn, not allowing him to sleep in. However, on this particular day, Jay awoke much later to a pounding headache and chills. Not long after, he felt his stomach churn and bolted towards the bathroom, grateful that it was connected to their room.

Hailey was tending to 5 year old Avery Halstead, who was down with the worst stomach bug, when she heard the sounds of someone retching and dry heaving. She placed her hand on her daughter's forehead and rubbed her thumb across her eyebrow before leaving to check on her husband.

"Jay? You oka- Oh babe..." Hailey trailed off as she walked into the master bathroom, taking in the sight before her. Jay sat leaning against the wall, exhausted and trying to catch his breath. The blonde stepped into the bathroom but Jay mumbled "no Hails, don't want.. don't..". Hailey completely ignored him and placed her hand on Jay's forehead.

"Goodness, you're burning up. You probably caught the same thing that Aves got. Come on, back to bed." Hailey wrapped Jay's arm around her shoulders as she helped the man up. "Try to relax, I'm going to call Will."

The fact that Jay didn't protest her calling his brother meant that he really felt like crap. Jay was never the one to get sick. But when he did, it was the worst.

"Hailey? How's Avery doing?" Will picked up on the second ring.

" Hey Will, she still has a slight fever the last I checked. I started sponging her earlier so hopefully that'll help. But, I'm not calling about her, it's Jay."

"He probably caught the same bug" Will said and heard a hum from his sister-in-law. "Monitor his temperature and tell him to take a bath, if not you can sponge him too. Give him tylenol for the fever and body aches and make sure he's well hydrated. Give me a call if you can't manage Aves and the other child, yea."

"Hahaha okay, thanks Will." Hailey chuckled and heard some muffled announcement over the phone.

"Alright I just got a page for the ER so I got to run. Seriously, call me or text me if you need anything."

"Bye Will, thanks again."

A shrill cry protruded the silence of the house and Hailey rushed to the lavender-painted room. "Momma..."

"I'm here, baby girl. You feeling okay?" Hailey asked, her heart breaking at seeing her girl in this state. "Your temperature is better but still not in the clear, how's your tummy, honey?"

Avery's sobs died down but she still sniffled every now and then. She shook her head, indicating to her mom that her stomach still felt uneasy.

"Oh my poor girl, momma's here. Also, it's time for your next dose of medicine. I know you don't want to take them but you'll feel much better." Hailey held out the syringe filled with white liquid and Avery took it while scrunching up her face in disgust. Soon, the mother daughter duo heard loud footsteps before the sound was replaced by the sound of throwing up. "Momma, is that Daddy?" The young Halstead looked up at her mom, emerald eyes shining. She nodded and told her that she was going to check on her dad, not after hand Avery her water bottle and telling her to drink her water.

This time, Hailey did not know what to expect. The sounds of Jay throwing up was worse than before, so seeing her husband actively throwing up made her rub her hand along his back. She rifled through the cupboard below the sink, finding the box of adult tylenol. Once Jay stopped throwing up and went to rinse his mouth, he saw the two pills sitting on the counter, realising that his wife went to get water for him. She soon returned and he downed the pills and about half his water bottle. Upon reaching their bed, he noticed Hailey had a bucket of ice water sitting on the floor by his side of the bed alongside a few handkerchiefs.

"I'm sorry babe, but I'll have to sponge you to get your temp down, on Will's orders. Also, seeing as you just threw up half your body weight, I thought this might be easier than taking a bath." Hailey chimed in and helped Jay into bed. "Also, Aves is doing better but still not the best, so I'll be jumping between the both of you."

"What would we do without you, Hails..." Jay took her warm hand and squeezes it in immense gratitude. Hailey smiled and returned the squeeze, saying "you'd probably be sitting on the cold bathroom floor still?"

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Twenty One

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mentions of blood

Words: 2334

A/N: I think either the next part or the part after that will be the last one! Hope you guys enjoy this part and let me know what you think! I know I’m messing with the timeline so I hope that’s okay! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Twenty One

Sirius chuckled as the harsh winter winds chilled him to his bones, he couldn’t understand how it was winter again already. Summer had seemed to pass by in a fleeting haze of beautiful dreams and fantasies. When autumn dawned, turning the world burnt orange and amber, reality seemed to set in but it was no less amazing, having Y/N by his side made him the happiest that he had ever been.

He didn’t care that the wind was howling in his ears or the fact that his lips and skin were starting to feel chapped. He didn’t care because the only thing that he was focused on was the soft warm hand that was intertwined with his own.

“Are we there yet?” Sirius grinned for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Y/N had been living with him for the last couple of months and she had woken him up at the crack of dawn. She told him that she had a surprise for him and she instructed him to close his eyes as she led him down the snowy slushy street. Sirius didn’t even know where they had apparated to and he was starting to grow a little suspicious but he trusted Y/N with his life.

Y/N sighed and Sirius just knew that she was rolling her eyes, “I really wish you’d stop asking that baby, just a little bit further.”

Sirius grumbled and he just succumbed to her leading him into the unknown. Suddenly, Y/N came to an abrupt stop and Sirius almost tripped over, “Merlin, Y/N.”

Y/N only giggled, “I’m sorry,” she hesitated as she left a lingering kiss on his lips, “okay; beautiful you can open your eyes.”

And he did, he opened his eyes, squinting through the swirling snow as he allowed his eyes to adjust and he realised what was in front of him. It was breath taking. Right in front of him was a white cottage with a thatched roof and ivy grew down one wall, glistening with new frost. There was even a decent sized front garden – he’d never had a garden of his own before – and baby blue shutters, it looked like an amazing place to create a future. It was beautiful but he just didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand babe, it’s beautiful but what are we doing here?”

Y/N grinned sheepishly, she looked so beautiful and ethereal with the snow slowly drifting around her and her cheeks were beautifully flushed, “you’ve lived in dark houses and dingy flats for most of your life, the only time you got a break was at Hogwarts. I want you – us – to live somewhere where we could see the sky and where the air isn’t invaded by smog. Plus, I know that you were miserable when we found out that Lily and James were moving away so here we are, in Godric’s Hollow. Lily and James only live around the corner. Mum and dad helped me with the buying of this place. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but I wanted it to be a surprise. Do you like it?” she flushed.

Sirius blinked a couple of times; he couldn’t quite believe his ears. He had always wanted to live in a quaint village, far away from the city and his troubles. People always assumed that he liked the hustle and bustle of the city life but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sirius was so touched, Y/N was so thoughtful and he was so grateful for her, he was also grateful that he’d be living close to his best friends. Their children could grow up together.

He swooped her up in his arms and he spun her in a circle, relishing in the way she giggled as he peppered kisses all over her face, “thank you! This is amazing! I love it, I love you.”

Y/N giggled as she nudged her cold nose against his before she cupped his cheeks and pressed a long warm kiss to his lips, “I love you too, so much.”

Sirius grinned and chuckled at her words as he put her down and laced his fingers through hers as he opened the wooden gate, “should we have a look at our new place my love?”

Y/N’s hand tightened in his ever so slightly, “lead the way.”

The cottage was just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. It was a good size, perfect for a couple who wanted to start a family. Y/N and Sirius had been trying for a baby but they had had no luck so far. A few weeks later they were in the process of moving all their belongings over. Sirius had let Regulus move into the flat in London so it wasn’t standing empty until someone made an offer on it. Though, Sirius was going to have Regulus round at the cottage as much as possible, Regulus had been acting rather strangely lately and Sirius was worried about him. He didn’t want to lose his baby brother.

As the young couple moved more and more of their stuff into their new home it was starting to feel like it was truly theirs. Sirius was in complete awe of the garden, it was his favourite place by far and you could see the entirety of it from the windows in the kitchen. The lawn was so expansive and Sirius just knew that they would have loads of barbecues when the weather was nice. He also imagined teaching his future son or daughter how to ride a broomstick in the garden. That garden would definitely see a lot of happy memories that was for sure.

As Sirius was gazing out of the windows, Y/N walked up behind him and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist, “I’ve been looking for you, what are you doing in here baby?”

“I’m sorry,” he grinned apologetically; he’d completely forgotten about unpacking their things, in favour of looking out into the garden, “I just can’t believe that this is our life now, I never thought that we’d get here. It sounds stupid but I’ve never had a garden before, there was one in James’ house but it wasn’t mine, knowing that it’s mine makes me so happy. We can teach our future children how to ride brooms out there.”

“It’s not stupid at all baby, it’s all ours. I can’t wait to spend time with our future children out there,” she paused with a sigh, “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to get pregnant, I know how much you want to start a family.”

Sirius shook his head and turned to face her, tilting her chin up so she looked at him, “you have nothing to apologise for, it’ll just take a little bit of time that’s all, but I know that we’re going to get there in the end. And hey, we already are a family; we always will be, even if it is just the two of us.”

By Christmas Eve, Sirius and Y/N had completely settled in and they were incredibly happy, they’d had all their friends round for dinner multiple times. Regulus had also come round but he seemed distant and distracted, Sirius wanted to know what was going on but he trusted his brother to confide in him.

It was a little past ten on Christmas Eve, Sirius and Y/N had arrived back home after spending the day with Lily and James. They were situated in front of the crackling log fire, only wrapped in thin sheets after just making love. Y/N sighed happily as she leaned her head against Sirius’ chest as she took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Happy there my love?” Sirius grinned down at her, feeling very amused as he ran his hand over Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek as she nodded her head, “I’m in my own house with the love of my life and it’s Christmas Eve, and I’ve just found out that we’re going to have a baby, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she smiled and there was silence for a couple of moments before she spoke up again, “I applied for a new job the other day.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, “I really do like working for the Ministry but it just seems like my heart isn’t in it anymore. So, I applied for a teaching post at Hogwarts, Ancient Runes. I haven’t heard anything back yet but I just thought I’d let you know. If I get it, I’ll be starting it after the Easter half term.”

Sirius smiled, he had always known that Y/N would probably try and get a teaching post at Hogwarts but he wasn’t prepared for how much his heart would miss her, “I’m so proud of you angel,” Sirius kissed the top of her head and held her close, “I love you.

“I love you too. Merry Christmas Sirius.”

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

You felt your heart pounding in your chest and you could hear the blood pumping in your ears, your legs felt like lead as you walked up the front path and passed the flowers that you had planted. It was barely February and so many things had happened, many bad things, it made the beautiful day feel dark and grey. Why did bad things happen to good people? You were just so thankful that your boss had been so understanding but really, the universe needed to give you and your family a break.

As you walked into the hallway you were immediately hit with the gorgeous homely smell of cinnamon tea. You spotted Remus sitting in the living room reading a book, when you walked in, your toes sinking into the fluffy carpet, Remus glanced up at you in slight surprise.

“Hi Y/N, you’re home early.”

You forced a smile at him, “as soon as I heard my boss let me come home,” you choked as tears filled your eyes, “how is he?”

Remus sighed and he rubbed his eyes, looking very weary as he closed his book, “he’s in really bad shape, he went to sleep a few hours ago and I didn’t want to just leave him.”

A wave of gratitude washed over you, Remus was such an amazing friend, “thank you so much for staying with him Rem, I really appreciate it.”

Remus nodded as he got up from the couch and he strolled over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “it’s really no problem Y/N. How are you, are you doing alright with everything?” his hazel eyes flitted to your stomach before he looked back up at your face.

You felt the tears escape your eyes, it still hurt so much as you rested a hand on your stomach that had once contained a baby, “it just seems like one bad thing after another,” you took in a great deep breath and tightly smiled at Remus, “I’m going to go and see if Sirius is awake.” Remus sighed and nodded as he watched you walk up the stairs.

Sirius was awake and he was standing with his back to you as he gazed out of the window, it was open slightly and you could hear the happy laughs of children and their parents in the streets. He sniffled as he rested his forehead against the cool glass and your heart constricted in your chest.

“Sirius?” you called out and he turned round, his face was blotchy and red raw from where he’d been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and they were red around the edges, his hair was sticking up in all directions like he’d been constantly pulling at it, “oh Sirius.”

You ran to him and he let out a dry sob as he all put fell into your arms, his knees buckling and you led him over to the bed, letting him cry into your lap. You soothingly ran your fingers through his thick hair as he cried; you didn’t want to make him speak if he didn’t want to. He gulped after a few minutes, breathing in shaky breaths as he sat up and looked at the photograph on the cabinet on his side of the bed.

You followed his line of sight and saw that it was a picture of him and Regulus when Regulus first started Hogwarts. They were beneath the huge willow right by The Black Lake and the little boys in the photograph were grinning as they threw leaves at each other and ran in and out of frame.

“We used to be best friends, I remember that day so clearly, and I never wanted that day to end. I don’t know how soon it was when our mother came between us. I regret so much, I regret the fact that we were basically strangers for years. Why didn’t he tell us Y/N? Why didn’t he tell us that he worked for Voldemort? We could have helped him.”

You couldn’t imagine how Sirius must have felt when he heard the news that his little brother had been a Death Eater – a follower of Voldemort – and he had been killed by his master. You should have been here, “sweetheart, there was probably nothing that we could have done, if we had tried to intervene then we’d be dead too. Regulus was trying to protect us.”

Sirius sniffled as he rubbed his eyes as he rested his head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “I can’t believe the worst days of my life have happened in the same month.”

At his words you almost flash backed to the day you had lost the baby, you had been bleeding so much and you knew, you just knew in that moment that your baby was dead. But you had to be strong for Sirius, and for yourself.

“We’ll get through this together Sirius, just like we always do.”

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

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[some-cookie-crumbz]

BNHA, MomoJirou?

Prompts 25. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not."

So many ways this could go~! Hopefully the route I took was a fun one!

Minor Trigger Warning: Mentions of Blood

Momo considered herself to be a rather fortunate woman. She had a financially successful family, a great relationship with her father and was working on things with her mother, a close-knit group of friends she loved dearly, and had started a paid internship just a few weeks back for a designing agency run by The Kayama Nemuri. She knew that she was an incredibly lucky person, that there were those who would kill for the opportunities she had been given, and made sure to wear her gratitude on her sleeve to everyone she knew. She put all her effort and energy into being a good daughter, a good friend, and a good employee, doing whatever she could through action to help emphasize the depth and sincerity of her gratitude. After all, actions were a great indicator of the merit of one's words!

But sadly… Her love life hadn’t seen nearly as many returns as the rest of her life had.

She’d had three relationships in the past and they’d all been… lackluster, to put it mildly. Her first relationship had been a situation where she agreed to date the guy more out of obligation than anything. He had been incredibly nice to her and her then-friends had insisted that meant she at least owed him a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend. The relationship had only lasted three months of her first year of high school and ended so horribly that her father had transferred her to a new school at the conclusion of her first semester.

The school she transferred to was a girls-only boarding school and where she grew into her sexual identity as a pansexual woman. She had a longer relationship with one of her classmates that started in the winter of her second year and ended in the spring of their third year, with her ex immediately jumping to date another of their peers within a week of the break up. It had been painful to watch and, for about a year after, she had avoided relationships for a while.

Her relationship after that had been even worse. She didn’t like to dwell on that ex too much simply because… Well, how incredibly awful it had been. The relationship had felt much more like the two of them getting together because they were afraid of being single in their group of friends. The two of them had nearly no common interests and her ex had always seemed to find her passion for fashion design to be a waste of time, frequently inquiring why she didn’t study something more “practical”. Momo herself, however, thought that her degree plan had been more than practical, considering her minor had been in business.

That relationship lasted ten months and ended when she learned of an affair.

She’d taken a two year break from dating after that, focusing instead on her friend and family and school. All of her friends had rallied around her after that break up, helping to lift her back up, and she had been incredibly grateful for it. They reminded her to never settle for less than she was worth, to wait until someone who deserved her commitment came around.

And then, one day, she met Jirou Kyouka.

Their first meeting had been an impromptu sort of thing. Momo’s dear friend Mina had to take her new puppy, Floofles, to the vet for vaccines and spaying. It was an overnight situation with a designated pick-up time, but Mina had to be at work during the time. She has begged Momo if, since she was free that day, she could pick Floofles up and monitor her until she herself was home. And not one to let a friend in need down, Momo had agreed.

In the lobby of the little vet clinic had sat a young woman in dark colors, with short cut indigo hair, and a snarling mass of hay colored fur in her lap. Momo had been a few minutes early and was urged to take a seat while she waited, causing her to settle into the vacancy next to the stranger and her displeased pet. Upon closer examination she realized that it was a cat, with a front paw that looked to be at an odd angle, which seemed to explain the attitude. “Oh, the poor little dear,” she murmured quietly, not thinking as the words left her mouth.

Dark eyes flickered up to her, the gleam of disinterest fading to a light of interest. Her lips twitched up in a small smile. “Thank you, but he did this to himself,” she hummed, reaching out to set one hand on the cat’s head. He responded by growling audibly and jerking his head out from under her touch. “Leave the patio door open unsupervised for one minute, and he leaps out to chase a bird. Eats shit and ends up hurting his paw.”

The cat let out a displeased hiss at his dirty laundry being aired, but it only resulted in both women laughing. The next few minutes waiting for Floofles had passed in the blink of an eye as she chatted up the cat owner, learning that the cat was named Dynamight and was just a grumpy old man trapped in the body of a young cat. Once Floofles was brought out to her, Momo asked for the other’s number, explaining she wanted to see how Dynamight was doing once his paw got looked at. And while there was genuine care about the cat’s well being involved, there had also been a selfish motivation behind it, too. Her companion seemed to know as much but didn’t draw attention to it as they exchanged numbers.

That was eleven months ago, with she and Jirou’s nine month anniversary as an official couple just on the horizon. And Momo couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Jirou was unlike her past partners in so many ways. She encouraged and supported Momo’s designing works, they shared a secret love of true crime love documentaries, and she was incredibly laid back. With her, Momo could feel her walls fall down and she felt genuinely secure about it. There was something naturally calming about Jirou’s presence and approach to life - of going with the flow and taking things as they came - that was refreshing and exhilarating. So much of Momo’s own life had been slotted around by activity start and end times, of living up to expectations both real and imagined, that the idea of simply letting things be and dealing with them as they came up was incredibly freeing.

The thought occurred to her as she stepped out of the elevator at Jirou’s apartment complex and started to make her way to her door. Normally, she made sure to reach out before dropping by. Part of it was because she didn’t like just showing up unannounced, but another reason was because of her girlfriend’s erratic work schedule. The other woman did freelance work of some kind - the details were vague and confidential - so her hours tended to shift depending on the needs of her client. Sometimes, she’d be free for a good three or four days, while other times she’d be engrossed in her projects for hours at a time. Things had been pretty quiet from what little she remembered last time they talked about work, though, so she felt things would be fine this one time.

She opened the door to the front door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. Jirou tended to leave the door unlocked in case her neighbor, a bedraggled single father, ever needed to ask for an impromptu baby-sitter. His daughter liked cats and Dynamight, as Momo herself had seen, was surprisingly agreeable with the young girl when she came by. She half expected to see young Eri settled on the couch, a Disney movie playing on the television, while Jirou prepared dinner or worked on something for a client, when she stepped in.

Only to stop just a few steps through the threshold.

A map of the city was spread across the coffee table, two large pillar candles set up at the far corners of the table, while Jirou was kneeling in front of it. She was cutting open what seemed to be a small blood donation bag with some scissors, a small wooden box to her left with what seemed to be crystals inside. After a moment, Jirou reached towards the box and pulled one out, a thin strand of yarn wrapped around the crystal. She released a slow breath. “Okay, Kyouka… This shouldn’t be too hard. You haven’t exactly used this combination before but it should work out fine,” she mumbled to herself, moving the crystal to dangle over the open lip of the bag.

Momo couldn’t help it; she gasped, loud and horrified. She was completely stunned. What was all of this? What purpose did it serve? It all seemed incredibly occult. Jirou had never seemed like the type to have such interests. Hearing her gasp, Jirou jerked to stare at her with a horrified stare of her own. She opened her mouth twice, clearly scrambling to find words to string together, before she clamped it shut with a soft click of her jaw.

They stared at one another for a long moment, eyes wide and their heart beats seeming to echo in the tiny space.

"I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not!" Jirou yelped, finally cutting through the silence, dropping the blood bag in her hands and letting it hit the ground with a sickening splat sound. Momo felt her whole body shudder with the sound and her stomach flipped uneasily. She shifted her weight back on the heels of her feet while keeping her eyes fixated on Jirou.

“Tch! She’s gonna try and make a break for it if you don’t seal the door off, ya idiot!” For a moment, Momo was befuddled by the new voice she heard. She swore she could hear quiet, cat-like growls between their words, but… That wouldn’t make sense, right? Who does cat impressionations while speaking? Slowly she turned her head in the directions of the voice, her eyes landing on the familiar fluffy form of Dynamight sitting on the kitchen counter. His pupils shrunk to slimmer slits before he curled his lips back, the voice from before sneering, “Oh, looks like she’s starting to put shit together! Get your head back in the fucking game!”

Dynamight… Her cat… Was talking? But then… Talking cats were common of…

Momo whipped around and moved to rush for the apartment door, heart beating erratically in her chest. If this was all really happening, she needed to get out! Before a hex of some kind could be placed on her, or even worse! “Wait, Yaomomo! Please hear me out!” Jirou called out after her.

Just as her hands made to grab for the handle, it shriveled and withered into the door itself like a rotten fruit being reclaimed by its tree. A startled shriek left her as she scrambled backwards, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the door melted into the frame, the seam separating the two disappearing completely. She felt herself drop to her knees and wrap her arms tight around herself. “Oh God,” she breathed shakily, closing her eyes tightly as she heard soft footfalls approaching her. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this! J-Just please! D-Don’t hu-hurt me! L-Let me go!”

There was a quiet swishing of wind and fabric before she felt herself being lifted slightly. Then, there was a soft and warm hand gently cupping her cheek. “I would never hurt you, Momo. Please… Even if you aren’t sure how to feel about the rest of this, please know that much is the truth,” The other woman’s voice hitched with pain as she spoke, clearly wounded by the suggestion. She peeked her eyes open to see she was floating just a few feet above the ground so that she was able to meet the other’s dark eyes. Those same eyes were pleading and vulnerable.

Momo swallowed thickly before timidly nodding her head. “I’m sorry,” she breathed softly.

“No, I understand. This… Isn’t what you were anticipating to walk into,” Jirou said with a small sigh before glancing over at the sacrificial site set up on her coffee table. “Just let me clean that up real fast, put on some tea and then I’ll explain.” Momo nodded with a bit more certainty before she was carefully floated over and set delicately on the couch.

She sat and watched in quiet bemusement as the other skittered to and fro, using what Momo could only assume was magic to help her. The longer she observed, the more relaxed she gradually became. While she worked at getting the blood cleaned up off the wood paneling, Dynamight actually rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to fish out the kettle and start filling it up. It was a little impressive to watch how he did it with his paws and teeth, though she could still hear the quiet grumbled swears he released as he did. Once all the summoning stuff and blood were cleaned up, Jirou prepared them each a cup of tea and settled into the couch seat a space away from Momo, giving her a good amount of breathing room.

She handed the cup over carefully with one hand. “I went with that citrus one you brought a while back. I remembered that one having a nice little zing to it,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Momo took a quick sip of her own cup, disregarding how it scalded her tongue just a smidge. “So… You’re a witch, I take it.” she said evenly.

Jirou nodded. “Yes, I am,”

“And Dynamight-!”

“Bakugo,”

“Huh?”

“His actual name is Bakugo Katsuki. Dynamight is just his… um.. Common cat name. Easier than explaining the logistics of a familiar,” she explained with a small nervous laugh.

“So he is your familiar,” she mused, taking another sip. The other nodded as she took a sip from her own cup as well, setting it on the coaster on the coffee table when she was done. 

Jirou’s hands clutched at her knees, eyes skirting down to stare at them instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve wanted to but… I was worried. There’s a lot of paperwork and hoops to jump through to get that kind of clearance. And even then… There’s no guarantee that you’d want to keep that knowledge. And if that happened, your memories would have to be wiped and I couldn’t see you anymore.”

Momo blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a safety protocol that the higher ups implement to keep the general public safe, as well as those of us in the bureau,” she sighed, lifting her head to peek up at her worriedly. It was clear she was uneasy but was also being transparent. “Though, I suppose I should actually… Well, explain what’s going on here, huh?”

She nodded. “So… Is this related to your work?”

“Yes, actually. See, I’m aligned with what’s called the I.B.O.M.O., which is abbreviated further to I-Boom, and is short for International Bureau of Magical Events. As a representative, I have the ability to travel between this realm - the mortal plane - and the realm of magical creatures - the magical plane. As such, it is my responsibility to keep instances of magical creatures and mortal interactions limited. Part of that is tracking down rogue magicals that come into the mortal plane without the proper permissions and, if they encounter a mortal, wiping memories and issuing out punishments,” she explained, picking her cup back up and taking a sip.

“So what you were doing… Was that related to something like that?” Momo asked with a tilt of her head.

Jirou nodded. “Yes. I was trying to scry. My current assignment is to track down the heir of a noble warlock family who has apparently fled to this plane. He is apparently somewhere in this city but.. Well, since he hails from a high ranking family, his magical skills have been well-honed so trying to find him has been a struggle. I’d been hoping that by combining my scrying technique and a powerful conjuring technique using the bird blood I could… Well… Try to get some idea as to where he might be,” she sighed, letting her shoulders slump. “This is the longest I’ve ever taken on an assignment and it’s.. Well, it’s difficult.”

Momo stared at her before glancing back down at her cup. Her thumb traced along the rim of the cup thoughtfully, an idea turning about in her head. “Could… Could I help you find him?”

“Huh?”

“The fuck can a human like you do to help?” Dynamight - erh, Bakugo? - chimed in, hopping down from the breakfast nook and trotting over. He scrambled up and sat on the table, glaring her down with his ears back and fluffy tail lashing. “If a witch with as many accomplishments as Earlobes is having a hard time, what fucking chance does a mere human like you have?”

“Well, if you have an idea of around when he appeared, I can ask around,” Momo said, tone a little petulant. The sheer lunacy that she was arguing with a cat wasn’t lost on her completely - and she made note to ask Jirou later how, exactly, it was she could hear his voice - but she still felt the need to, as immature as it was. “I have a lot of connections around the city. I might be able to get you a list of suspects, since there is the chance he could do… Um… What is it called? Glamour?”

Jirou giggled a bit. “You’re right. Glamour is the tool magical creatures use to disguise their true forms,” She lightly tapped her chin in thought. “Hmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. He could be using glamour to disguise his appearance since it’s so unique. Make himself harder to find.” Momo smiled at Jirou’s words, her heart fluttering a bit at the prospect of being about to help her girlfriend. “But… If you’re going to get involved, I’ll need to file the proper paperwork and make a protection charm for you. I want you to be safe. I don’t think the nobleman would harm you but… I don’t know the specifics of why he left the magical plan unannounced. I’d rather air on the side of caution.”

Momo nodded as she took another sip of her tea. A part of her told her she shouldn’t get this invested. It was Jirou’s work and she herself wasn’t a witch. She shouldn’t be getting involved too heavily. But… If she could help her girlfriend, wasn’t it worth it? If it gave her a chance to show how much she appreciated how good Jirou was to her, it had to be worth it.

[prinxlyart]

Oh thos warm moments of redemption hit me right in the feels >///<. (I'mma definitely gonna compile all your headcanons in one doc and you can't stop me!). Anyways, now getting back to lumity (prepare thyselve because I'm HUNGRY): How does the redeemed Odalia's relationship with Luz and Willow develop? And regarding our three girls in particular, how do they act right after their proposals, during the wedding and on their honeymoon?

(Lmao please, lord knows I’ll never put any of these into a doc)

Hmmm, that’s a really good question. Er, several questions. Imma go in order of how they were asked.

[tw: for mentions of severe depression /thoughts of suicide starting with bullet #4. I’ll be sure to add the warnings before and after the section as well. Please continue with caution.]

Blight Parents’ relationship with their daughters-in-law:

I think just due to how they got to where they are by this point, they both have a soft spot for Luz. She’s the one that reached out to them in the first place after all of their kids left the family. They feel a v specific gratitude towards her and Camila both because these humans work so hard to get shit done. It’s an admirable trait. One they’re glad the Nocedas aimed at them. It’s taken so much time and energy to get the Blights be, like. Tolerable people? And then even more to get them to actually act like parents.

I think at first, any time they’re unsure of how to act or react to a situation, they’ll go to Luz for guidance. They’ve gone their whole lives up until just a few years ago acting a certain way and just flipping all that? It can be difficult to break those habits. Any time they feel they should react in anger or irritation or disgust, they stop and think “no, wait. What would Luz/Camila do? Would they get mad...?” And they just give her a look of confusion and guilt before Luz mimes the sort of reaction that would be healthiest. Any time Amity catches them literally looking to Luz on how to act supportive she just rolls her eyes. They’re trying and that’s what matters.

I think at first they just don’t know how to interact with Willow. They apologized for how they treated her in the past at great length, but Willow just sort of nodded along quietly. They weren’t used to that sort of reaction (granted they’ve only just started doing this “apologizing” thing for a few months at this point in time. They’re still getting the hang of it). So they sit uncomfortably for a while until Willow sighs and sort of sits up straighter. She’d resolved to tell them about how their careless and cruel treatment of Amity was the first step in a chain reaction to Willow’s life becoming absolutely miserable for years to follow.

Not only was she forced to lose her best friend at that birthday party, but she had to do so in the cruelest way possible. Amity explained to her years back that she pretended to not like her because she couldn’t do magic to hide the fact that her parents threatened Willow. Because the Blights are supposed to be perfect. Amity has always been smart and she knew what would happen if she let it slip that they had threatened her. If Willow knew the truth, she’d tell her dads and her dads would try to confront them about it. It would end up turning into a scandal (although Amity admitted she wasn’t familiar with the word at the time; it was just one of those words she heard her mom use a lot for situations that were bad). So as a result of Amity doing her part to “protect” the Blight name, she shunned Willow from her life and broke both their hearts in the process.

[TW: discussion of severe depression and thoughts/intentions of suicide. If you’re in a vulnerable headspace right now, please scroll until you see the next notice signaling the end of the section. And please, if you’re struggling with depression and/or thoughts of suicide, please please please seek professional help.]

Willow recounts the years of endless bullying, not always by Amity’s new friends, but often by them. She tells them how Amity wouldn’t necessarily participate so much as observe with a carefully schooled expression. And then there were times when Amity did bully her, and that hurt so much more than everyone else combined. All so she wouldn’t be publicly shamed or get in trouble with her parents for associating with someone like Willow.

She tells them that it literally took Luz coming into their lives for any of that to change. Amity had turned 7 on the birthday she cut Willow out of her life, and they were 14 when Luz showed up. Half of Willow’s entire life up to that point had been friendless (or nearly friendless) and so severely bullied that she was actually debating growing a Graveleaf plant to brew tea with. She still has to take a daily healing potion prescribed by her doctor to keep her mind from falling back to that same state it used to be in. Yes, her life has greatly improved ever since Luz showed up and helped repair her friendship with Amity. Yes, it’s only gotten better since then. Yes, she loves her fiancées with everything she has. But that doesn’t mean all that pain has suddenly been erased and it doesn’t always stop her brain from sinking back into its depressed state.

Needless to say, the Blights are absolutely floored with all of this information. They’re both frozen in shock, they don’t know what to do or say to such an admission. Willow just continues though. She tells them that she’s so grateful to have Amity back in her life. That with therapy, her daily medicine, and time, she’s come a long way from where she once was. Her bad days aren’t nearly as bad as they were when she was a kid. She has both of her fiancées to support her and love her when she’s feeling down. She tells them that no, she can’t forgive them for what they’ve done. But she accepts their apology and appreciates them making the effort to make things right. Seeing Amity happy because her parents are actually trying to be better makes Willow happy.

I think......Alador would be the one to go to Willow and kneel before her and take her hand, apologizing with as much intent as he can muster. He’s a little more in touch with his emotions these days than Odalia is, and he’s lost a family member to suicide before. He knows how devastating it can be to everyone around them and he’s mortified at the fact that Willow had almost done the same. He understands how much she means to Amity and he comes to the realization mid-apology that he could have very well lost his own daughter in a similar fashion had Willow gone through with that. Odalia goes white as a sheet at hearing that, steadying herself in her chair and it makes Willow feel queasy, but she’s glad that he understands the severity of what they’d done. She does put a hand to Alador’s shoulder to comfort him as he reels from this realization and he stands properly again to wrap Willow in a hug as he cried, still muttering apologies through his tears. I think it takes a while for Odalia to be able to speak again, but Willow is able to see that that struggle means it’s rocked her to her core. Once Odalia is able to also stammer out her own apologies, Willow just gives her a small smile and nods.

[END OF SECTION. Now it’s all fluff from here on out. Have fun, kids.]

After that discussion, Alador and Odalia double down on the whole “being better” thing. During one of their weekly tea meetings, they ask Camila how they might start doing that in their daily lives too, not just for their children. Camila doesn’t know the first thing about their jobs or what they do or the people they work with, so she tells them to make a list of things they can think of that might’ve been considered hurtful to some degree. The tea definitely goes cold long before the list is done; Camila actually needs to leave before they finish it. The next meeting, there’s a comically large scroll of shit they’ve done sitting on the table and they are sitting with their heads cowed in shame. I think Camila pops an ibuprofen before her headache settles in.

They still don’t know how to do nice things without throwing money at it first. That takes a while for them to wrap their heads around. Luz and Willow aren’t ones for like. Big, extravagant, expensive things. They prefer the heartfelt stuff, like hand-made gifts or thoughtful acts of service. (Amity, however, insists they accept her parents ridiculously expensive weekend getaway trip to the Iliac Crest Hot Springs; the top of the left hip bone of the Titan. A well-known vacation spot for romantic getaways. Willow only accepts because she knows they’d never be able to afford that on their own and Luz accepts it as a wedding gift and an opportunity to go to a part of the Boiling Isles she’s never explored before.)

Alador is like every dad ever; he loves talking about random trivia shit to anyone who will listen. Luz is literally the only person that will listen because even though she’s lived in the Demon Realm for years now, she still doesn’t know all the “fun facts” that everyone else has grown up with. Sometimes she’ll bring up points about random trivia bits Alador is going on about and put in her own two snails about something she’s experienced regarding it, and she and Alador will go back and forth for a while like that, talking about the stuff they’ve experienced relating to that thing. Willow thinks it’s adorable and Amity is mostly just exasperated (but she also thinks it’s cute and she loves watching her dad bond with her fiancée like this).

Odalia will occasionally ask Amity about her abominations and they’ll sort of awkwardly talk for a while about the technicalities and ingredients and Odalia will mention adding an ingredient Amity’s never even considered before. When she inquires further, Odalia tells her that she’ll sometimes work with a friend in the Emperor’s coven that specialized in the plant track to experiment with creating abominations with different kinds of ingredients for different tasks. Amity is shocked and impressed to hear about her own mother mixing magic and teases her for breaking the rules right under the emperor’s nose. Odalia stammers at that (she’s still getting used to Belos no longer being in power and the stigma against mixing magic still runs strong in her mind), but eventually admits that yes, technically she’s mixed magic. Amity makes her promise to show her how with Willow and they make a whole day of it.

Spending the day making weird abominations with Odalia Blight was Not something Willow thought she’d ever say she’d done, but hey. She didn’t think King could beat Luz in that one eating contest either because where does he put all that food, but he ended up winning anyway. Willow and Amity are actually super excited to try mixing their knowledge of magic together; it almost feels intimate in a way. It’s something neither have tried before and are able to try for the first time together because it’s their specialties. Odalia guides them through the process of mixing different types of plants into the abomination mixture to make abominations specific for extra strength or abominations that help enhance healing magic just due to its properties. They all end up having a lot of fun that day, just making all sorts of varieties of abominations. By the time the day is done, they’re all covered in abomination goop because one of them accidentally exploded. Luz managed to get a picture of them all laughing together and covered in goop before they go to clean up. It’s one of her favorite pictures.

As time goes on, things get less and less tense between the Blight parents and Luz and Willow (especially with Willow). They grow more comfortable with being good parents, good people, and just kinder and more loving in general. There’s one day when the Blights come to visit and they greet each girl with a hug and kiss without really realizing it. They all go to settle down in the living room, but Amity’s still frozen at the doorway, covering her mouth and trying desperately to wipe away the tears that crept up at the display of affection. No one else had thought anything of it, but that was the first time her parents had shown the same and love and affection to both of her wives without any hesitation or fear of crossing boundaries. She cherishes the memory of that moment often.

Proposal Reactions:

I genuinely don’t know how these girls would propose to each other. There’s any number of possibilities; they’re all so creative. The part of me that wants to make funny cartoons would have them each scrambling to figure out the best way to propose to each other and getting into ridiculous hijinks when they try to get their friends’ help (Amity would ask Emira and Edric [and the detention gang by extension; Viney’s remained best friends with Jerbo and Barcus after all this time]. Willow I think would recruit Gus and oddly enough, Lilith [she sees Eda as too much of a mother to Luz to feel comfortable with asking her to help her propose to her daughter]. Luz would definitely ask Eda, King and Camila to help but regret it almost instantly). Of course everyone would end up tripping over one another and each proposal attempt would end in disaster but all three girls would see the resulting destruction (maybe several things on fire?) and just laugh their asses off. Because wow, this could’ve gone so much better, but hey, you guys wanna get married?

The sappy romantic in me tho. Would want them to discuss it thoroughly before hand; agree that yes they’d love to get married, they’re just not sure if it’s the right time. But Luz, being the person she is, would go and recruit everyone’s help in coming up with the best proposal ever. Willow and Amity are both busy with their respective jobs just enough to not notice all the scheming going on. And then one day when all 3 of them have the same day off, Luz takes them out for a fun day (whatever that entails; maybe a day at a carnival or just wandering around town or something). At the end of the day, she takes them somewhere significant (this could literally be anywhere, Grom Tree is a good place because of the view it has over the cliff’s edge, but yknow. Whatever suits their relationship as a trio) and everything is decked out in lights and decorations. And Amity and Willow are both stunned and enthralled by the display and they turn to see Luz down on one knee and holding two small boxes, holding one out to each of them and a super nervous smile on her face. Amity and Willow maybe accidentally tackle her to the ground when they tried to hug her.

During the wedding:

I think they’re all stressed during the wedding itself. They’re excited, of course, a whole ceremony dedicated to the three of them vowing to spend the rest of their lives together. They aren’t capable of imaging a life without each other at this point. But that doesn’t stop the nerves from settling in.

Eda’s constantly telling Luz to calm down before the ceremony actually begins; Luz is found pacing and coming up with doomsday scenarios out loud at light speed like she always does when she’s nervous. Camila and Eda are also nervous, but they’re doing their best to keep it together for Luz’s sanity. Camila’s making sure (with Emira, as Em is the Maid of Honor) that everything is going smoothly and according to plan. But she has similar nervous habits to Luz when she doesn’t have something to focus her attention on. She ends up fussing over Luz’s hair and getting rid of any imaginary wrinkles in her outfit, making sure her makeup is perfect until Eda tells her to quit treating Luz like a dress up doll. Eda’s really good at pep talks, even when she’s nervous, but she manages to calm both Nocedas down with her patented Soft Encouraging Voice.

Amity’s freaking out in her own way in a separate room with all of her girls (Emira, Skara, a fully and properly redeemed Boscha). She’s freaking out similarly to Luz in that she’s mumbling to herself all sorts of ridiculous what-ifs and wishing desperately that she could just be with Luz and Willow already because they bring her the most comfort. She’s not pacing like Luz though, she’s sitting while Emira and Skara do some intricate thing with her hair while Boscha’s doing her makeup but that doesn’t stop her from wringing her hands and bouncing her leg (something that Boscha has to tell her to stop doing every 30 seconds or she’ll mess up the makeup she’s doing). Emira’s giving her advice for every little “what-if” she can hear coming out of Amity, with some silly remarks from Boscha and Skara that actually puts Amity somewhat at ease. Having her girls acting calm and natural did help. She thanks them for doing as much at the reception.

Willow’s trying to get herself into game mode with a pep talk. No place for nerves, only well-thought action. She’s actually got Viney there with her (who had to kick Gus out because he was crying at just the sight of Willow in her wedding dress), as well as Bo and Kat (I think those are the names of the two healing track girls....someone tell me if I’m wrong, but I think Bo is the one in the Human Appreciation Society and I think Kat is the one with the glasses that played on Boscha’s team in the Grudgby match). Willow’s girls are all hyping her up like she’s about to enter a Grudgby match rather than a wedding ceremony, and the ridiculousness of it all is staving off her nerves. Viney’s also giving her own personal experience as advice; she may or may not have tripped during her own wedding and is making sure Willow knows how to avoid that at all costs.

I genuinely don’t know what the role of the Best Man is, but I know in one of my past headcanon posts I mentioned that both Edric and Gus are asked to fill that role (there’s no such thing as rules when you’ve got a human and two witches getting married on the boiling isles). I think while Emira and Camilia are helping their respective brides-to-be get ready, Edric and Gus are taking over making sure everything is running smoothly and all the guests know where to go. When they’re just sort of standing around and waiting for their next task, Gus starts tearing up again at the thought of Willow in her dress. Willow’s like the big sister he never had and now she’s getting married. Gus is constantly having to perform minor illusions on his face to make it look like he’s not about to cry or has already been crying. Edric hasn’t seen Amity yet, but he’s secretly doing the same thing whenever their minds aren’t preoccupied with whatever Event Tasks they need to focus on.

I think.....rather than a one-by-one thing, all three of our girls enter at the same time from different doors. Luz comes in from the left side door, Amity comes in from the right, and Willow comes in from the main entrance at the back. Luz is practically vibrating with nerves and excitement and the only reason she doesn’t run to the front to sweep her beautiful girls into excited, passionate kisses is solely due to her own mother’s iron grip on her arm as she walks her up. I actually don’t know if Alador has redeemed himself enough at this point for Amity to allow him to walk her up to the front, but I also think Edric would be too much of a mess to do so. I think a lifetime of keeping up a mask helps Alador maintain his composure long enough to get Amity up to the front and to take his seat before he lets the waterworks take over. I actually don’t know which of Willow’s dads would walk her up; we don’t know enough about either of them to make personality judegement calls. Whichever dad can hold it together for longer, probably.

Polyamory isn’t a new thing on the Boiling Isles; it may not be practiced as often among witches, but demons do it all the time, so the person officiating their wedding (it could be literally anyone, I have no idea. Maybe principal bump, just for funsies) knows exactly how this ceremony needs to go. They all planned beforehand exactly the order they’d kiss one another once they were proclaimed officially married: Luz would be too excited to wait and would kiss each of her girls first, Amity then Willow, and then Amity and Willow would share their own kiss once Luz had gotten that out of her system.

Honeymoon:

I don’t know enough about honeymoons to know if there’s a difference between a honeymoon and a normal vacation except Now You’re Married. Maybe they go on a grand expedition around the Boiling Isles? Maybe they honeymoon in the Human Realm? That’s exactly like the proposal situation; it could be literally anything. Far too many variables and ideas that could make it perfect for each of them. Hell, they could probably just say they’re going out and doing all sorts of stuff and actually just locking themselves in their house so they can just be together and relish in the relief of no longer needing to plan such a large and important event. They can just enjoy each other’s company as Wives now. I really don’t know.

Regardless of what they do, I think they’d be like any other person on their honeymoon: absolutely love struck and over the moon with how much they love each other. Sometimes they’ll catch one another staring and tease each other about it ( “awww you liiiikkkke meeee” “we literally just got married” “yeah I know but stiiiiiillllllllll”)

I actually don’t know what else you expect me to put here, so I guess I’ll just say they lived happily ever after, the end.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.11

In His Shoes

10/22/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader           Word Count: 7,744

Warnings: Light smut, dub-con scene (Please do not read if this offends you or if you are triggered by it. You have been warned), language, angst, fluff, angry Steve

A/N: Well, I hammered this out in like...six hours? I don’t know. I wrote the first bit over a few days because I’ve been sick and I couldn’t relax until I got the rest out, so here it is. I hope you like it and if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

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Eight Months Ago

“What are you saying?” Steve wonders, the hint if irritation in his voice.

He looks at Lord Ross, almost not recognizing the man. Which is strange as Steve sees these men a few times a week.

“Lord Ross, if I may?” Lord Pierce interjects.

Ross gestures him on with a lazy wave of his hand. He’s not offended but rather impatient.

“What we are trying to say, your Majesty, is that we understand the loss you suffered. Many of at this table have lost a loved one. A wife.

“We know your pain.” He continues.

Steve’s nerves are suddenly grated. He clenches his fist and beside him, he can see Bucky motion for Lord Pierce to speak more quickly.

“Get to the point, Alexander.” Steve says, jaw clenched.

“My point is, our point is, that the kingdom needs a Queen. The crown needs an heir. It’s been two years since her Majesty Queen Margaret died and the people are losing faith that the kingdom might ever prosper.”

“You want me to get married.” Steve realizes.

“Yes. In fact, I’m afraid to say that we-” Pierce stops, and then reconsiders before he starts again. “There is a clause in Broklin law that gives the people the right to, shall we say, pass on the right of succession if the reigning monarch refuses to do his, or her, duty to ensure the prosperity of the kingdom.”

“Are you saying that you’re going to take my crown away from me, Lord Pierce? To what? Give it to yourself? Aren’t you the next in line for the throne?” Steve sounds amused, bitterly.

“As it stands, yes. I am next in line and it was not my choice to enforce the clause. The council voted and…”

Ross finally cuts in again, never afraid to be more forceful with Steve the way the others seem to fear him.

“You have one year to find yourself a wife.” Ross says, “That’s what we brought you here to say.”

The door across the hall opens and a dark-haired man with a handsome if somewhat rugged face walks in. His eyes are sharp, piercing, menacing. He smirks across the room at Steve, amused, Steve thinks, with his sudden dilemma.

His blue eyes are glued to the man until he reaches Pierce then leans down to whisper in his ear.

Slowly, Steve stands, staring at the young man with a frown. “Well, you’ve made your demand. If that’s all…”

He pushes his chair back and moves around the table, walking with sturdy steps, shoulders back and his chin flexing.

As he passes Pierce, the younger man stands up straight, turning that same smug smile on him again as the rest of the men around the table stand up in respect for their sovereign.

The young man bows his head as Steve passes.

“Rumlow.” Steve greets, reluctantly.

“Your Majesty.” Rumlow responds.

Bucky follows.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Here.” Bucky holds out a carefully folded parchment. Stamped with a peculiar ring of red and gold wax. “This just came.”

Steve stares at the letter, hesitating as he considers the response he might get.

He’s not sure what he wants to find in here.

He takes it, Bucky moves to sit across from him.

The door to Steve’s office opens once more and Sam slips in to stand nearby, listening and watching. Waiting. Everything hangs in the balance with this letter and Steve knows that the severity of it has seeped out into the various noble houses across both Broklin and Malibia.

He knows the rumors that have spread. Marriage or war.

Tony won’t believe any of that, but it means that everyone will be expecting the kingdoms to unite in marriage.

He opens the letter and puts it down on his lap.

“Steve,” Sam begins. “No time like the present.”

Steve looks at him. “I feel like I’m condemning Morgana. She’s only fourteen.”

“You’ll only be married on paper.” Bucky insists. “It’s just to get the council off your back. Give you some time.”

“But she’ll be my queen. Eventually, we’ll have to really be married.” Steve argues gently, hating the path he’s been set upon.

“Not for many years. You can get used to the idea of being with someone again and Morgana will have time to grow up.” Sam explains.

“She’s feels like family.” Steve sighs. “She’s like a niece.”

“Steve, just read it.” Bucky urges.

At their insistence Steve reads it.

“Well?” Sam asks, stepping closer and bringing his arms up to cross over his chest.

Steve folds the letter and puts it underneath their red ledger.

“I’m getting married.” Steve says, no joy in his voice but resigned to his fate.

~~~~~~~~~~

7 Months Ago

“You’ve found yourself a bride?” Pierce asks, slightly shocked. Behind him, Rumlow shifts nervously.

Steve sees this and watches them both, feeling at first nothing but as Rumlow’s brow creases more and more, he grows suspicious.

“The Princess Morgana, from Malibia.” Steve informs him.

“Princess Morgana Stark?” Ross asks, his own brow now furrowed in confusion.

“Is that a problem?” Steve wonders, looking at Ross instead.

Ross thinks for a second, leaning forward as he taps his hand against the wooden tabletop. “She’s a little young, isn’t she?”

That’s what Steve thought! “She is. But she will grow.”

“I don’t think-”

“Well, this sounds like it’s all settled. Don’t you think my lords?” Pierce asks, rhetorically.

He looks really pleased by this bit of news.

“I don’t think we need to keep the meeting going if-”

Pierce is eager but Ross is determined, and he cuts his off, raising his voice a little louder to speak above him.

“I don’t think,” Ross says, firm and making it clear that he will not be interrupted. “Your Majesty, that you understood what we meant at our previous meeting. Whoever you take as your bride will be required to produce an heir within the year following your marriage.”

All of his blood seems to rush out of his head and limbs making them cold and numb. His heart is pounding however and beside him Bucky makes a noise that sounds a little like shock and part disgust.

Steve suddenly understands Pierce’s eagerness to end the meeting here.

“I…she’s only fourteen.” Steve says.

“That’s precisely my point, your Majesty. I think, however strong an alliance with his Majesty, King Anthony Stark might be, taking a bride so young would not be wise.” Ross finishes.

Steve agrees and a flood of gratitude for the man who so often stands at odds with him fills him.

“I…” Steve looks down at his hands, leaning forward as he fidgets. “…I can’t marry the Princess Morgana. I’ll write to Tony and send my regrets and apologies.”

He rises, as do the others, and as he passes Pierce, he stops to look down at the man with pure indignation.

“You’d ruin two lives to get your hand on the crown?” He asks, his voice so quiet that only Pierce will hear him.

“I don’t know what you mean, your Majesty. I wish only to serve my kingdom.” Pierce lies and Steve can see right through it.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s this?” Steve stops, letting the council walk ahead of him as he turns to Sam as he holds out a small folded piece of parchment, the familiar Stark seal in bright red and gold.

He’d thought he’d seen his last letter from Tony.

“It just came. It’s for you.” Sam waits, looking ahead down the hall where Pierce and Rumlow have stopped to watch at a safe distance. “Can I help you Lord Pierce? Did you forget something in the council chamber that you’d like me to get for you?”

Steve looks at Lord Pierce who forces a smile, Rumlow scowling behind him.

“No. Have a good day Your Majesty. Sir Wilson.” Pierce bows his head and walks down the hall out of sight.

“Is there a reason you keep that parasite on the council?” Sam asks.

Steve takes the letter and gently breaks the seal.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s up to anything yet. I got distracted.” Yes. His wife died.

A reasonable distraction from the things that had once mattered. Something much more pressing or so he’d felt at the time.

He looks at the letter and he feels a fleeting rise of hope. It dwindles after a second as he finishes the letter.

“What? You’re pale.” Sam reaches out to place his hand on Steve’s shoulder for support. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s not Pierce…Tony,”

With a hard swallow, he folds the letter and looks into Sam’s dark eyes. “What about him?”

“He says that he has another daughter. Older. Who will gladly give me an heir.”

“Another daughter? With Pepper?” Sam asks, disbelieving.

Steve nods, wondering the exact same thing as Sam. Why, if he has an older daughter, had Steve not met her?

A few days later, as he sits in his office, Bucky moves in and skids to a stop holding out another large letter with the Stark insignia.

Steve stands, tears it open, and reads the words quickly as Bucky breathes heavily from his run, no doubt to get the letter to Steve as quickly as possible.

“Why the rush, Steve?” Bucky asks. “You can take your time.”

“I want this over with.” Steve insists.

He holds the page open but looks up to stare at Maggie’s corner. A vivid image of her sitting in her royal blue silk dress, her brown waves gathered up on top of her head and pinned away from her face fills his mind.

She’s sitting on her cushion, staring out at the garden before she looks over at him and smiles when she catches him watching her.

She puts her book down on the table beside her bench then gets to her feet and saunters over towards him, to kiss him? Hug him? Whisper something in his ear?

She did them all and for Steve it feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once.

The image fades and he forces his eyes to the words in the letter.

As he reads on, his brow creases. He moves to sit in his chair, and he reads it over and over.

“What’s it say?” Bucky asks, eager to know what explanation Tony will give about this mysterious older daughter that none of them had known about.

“He says his daughter, his eldest, was born out of wedlock. And she’s not Pepper’s though we’re not to say she isn’t.” He glances at the door nervously; anxious the secret might get out. “She was sent away when she presented with emotional instability issues as a toddler and was raised in a school meant to rehabilitate those with issues like hers.”

“He’s trying to send you someone crazy?” Bucky gasps, sounding betrayed for his king.

“He says she’s doing better. Much better. She’s cured and is as pleasant as the rest of us.” Steve continues, reading on.

“The rest of us? Sam too?” Bucky jokes, and Steve shoots him a quick frown before looking back down at his letter.

“He says that he’s sending for her and she’ll be in Malibia within the fortnight. We can be married, as soon as I’d like. He’ll also settle whatever amount I wish. Properties in his kingdom or gold and silver if I should wish. I need only ask.” Steve reads the letter word for word at the end and sighs.

“Will you take her?” Bucky asks, moving closer to stand by the desk. “Steve…you don’t have to do this. Choose someone here, from our kingdom. Someone we know. What about Sha-”

“No.” Steve says sternly. “Not her.”

“Marrying your dead wife’s cousin isn’t that weird. And people would understand. We already know her. We wouldn’t have to hide all of the stuff we do. She’s already invested in that side of your life. Shar-”

“I said no, Buck. Drop it.” Steve frowns up at his best friend, waiting for him to give up.

“She’s in love with you.” Bucky doesn’t desist. “She has been since before you and Maggie got married.”

“Damn it, Buck. I don’t want to marry Sharon. I-I can’t. She…they…they were like sisters I…” He looks up at the corner again, untouched, dusty, a faded memory that lives only in his mind now. “I won’t.”

Bucky sighs. “Fine. Then how will you know that marrying this Stark’s strange daughter is a good idea?”

That’s a good question. He does feel a little weird marrying someone he’s never met before. After marrying the love of his life and all. A woman he’d known since they were children.

“I’ll ask him for a portrait of her. We’ll send Natasha too. She’s honest and won’t try to trick me.” Steve pulls over a piece of parchment and quickly scribbles his letter.

“So, if you like her looks, you’re going to marry her? A portrait won’t tell you whether she’s crazy or not.” Bucky challenges, watching as Steve seals the letter.

“No. But it’ll let me at least see her. And Nat will tell me if she’s crazy or not.” Steve explains then holds out the letter for him to take.

~~~~~~~~~~

6 Months Ago

Steve looks at the portrait and only gives the girl a quick glance.

She’s wearing red. No doubt Tony chose the dress for her, knowing that he’d like the color.

She’s young. Which is expected but not as young as Morgana.

An adult. Someone who understand the responsibilities that will come with this marriage.

Unfortunately, Steve is finding it harder and harder to reconcile the fact that he’ll have to sleep with this girl.

He’ll need to consummate the marriage and the very thought sends his heart into agony.

The last woman he’d slept with had been the woman he loved. He’d taken a vow to be faithful to her. Sleeping with this girl, making her his queen feels wrong.

This feeling is fleeting. It comes and he pushes it aside quickly, easily. He can deal with this. He’s done worse. He can shut off his emotions for a while. It’s simple.

“Send word that I’ll marry her. Right away.” Steve waves the portrait away without giving it a proper glance and moves to tend to other matters at his desk.

“How soon is right away?” Sam asks, exchanging a worried glance with Bucky who is holding the girl’s portrait, looking it over.

“Day after tomorrow.” Steve states.

“Woah,” Bucky says, putting the portrait off against the wall. “Hey, Steve…why so quickly? You can drag this out. You have a year. Get to know the girl. Invite her over, court her a little. Then marry her.”

“I don’t want to court…no.” Steve insists. “I want this over with, Buck. Sam, tell Tony I’ll do it. I’ll marry his eldest.”

Sam hesitates but when Bucky nor Steve says anything, he turns and heads off to deliver the news.

“Steve…”

“Buck!” Steve almost shouts, but he chuckles without humor, holding his hands out on his desk with frustration. “Just…let me do this. I need to keep this kingdom out of Pierce’s hands. I need to marry this girl.”

“But you’re rushing.”

“Because I need it to be over.” Steve explains.

“Why? Why do you need to do it so damn fast?” Bucky demands.

“Because I never thought that I’d be marrying anyone other than Margaret, Buck!” Steve nearly shouts. “I feel like I’m betraying her memory. I was perfectly happy dying alone. Now I have to marry someone?”

“You could have waited until you found someone to love.”

“I will never love anyone again, Buck.” Steve shakes his head, meeting his friend’s intense gaze. “Maggie was my beginning and she will be my end. She was my one true love and it is impossible for me to love anyone again. Ever.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve should have known that he would be eating his words.

He should have given your portrait a longer look instead of a cursory glance.

As he moves around his massive throne and you come into view wearing a baby blue silk gown, your hair carefully waved and style with a tiara, he feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

It’s not just your beauty that shocks him, it’s what lies underneath.

He can see you clearly, the girl underneath.

There is hope and already adoration in your eyes when you look at him. He can see your nerves and he can feel your goodness from here.

You aren’t what he was expecting, and it catches him off guard.

Despite the things you will have gone through, there’s a sweetness that radiates from the spot where you stand, and his heart is a thrumming mess.

You bow to him, deep. You stay there for so long. He can see your legs lose their balance.

“Stand up, your Highness.” He tells you, a little miffed at your dedication. As quickly as he can, he makes sure to detach himself from this situation because he can’t care how your legs must be tired. “I trust your trip went well?”

Your voice is soft, breathy, nervous. He doesn’t listen too closely. He hears you but he doesn’t bother focusing. He’s too busy watching your pretty face…wait…

He steps forward, thrown by the slip of his mind. “Why are you doing this?”

Surely, you…this exquisite creature…What are you thinking?...has had other offers?

You’re confused.

“The marriage. This whole thing, why? You could have anyone.” Because you’re perfect. Damn it. “You’re a princess.”

It’s a flimsy explanation to his words but it seems to make sense as you don’t raise a fuss.

“I…I want to-to make my father happy.” You stutter, still full of nerves.

You mention his portrait and he’s confused as to how you have it…but you reach your point quickly.

“When I saw it…I decided that I-I wanted to make you happy.” You confess, your eyes sparkling with true hope and desire. For him, he realizes.

You’re hoping that this will all turn into some tale of love, but he can’t give you that. He can never give you that. He’s empty inside. Hollow. His heart buried with his love, Maggie. He has to set you straight. Before you’re married.

“That’ll never happen.” He doesn’t mean to sound so rough, so harsh…but there it is. “You will never make me happy. Never.”

The sorrow in your eyes is surprising and the heartbreak in your expression tells him that he should have left long ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have even come in here to begin with.

He wants to reach out and comfort you…He has to get out of here.

“We’ll get married in the morning. Tell Tony I accept his offer.” Quickly, without a second glance at the disappointment he’s created, he turns and leaves you standing there, flummoxed.

~~~~~~~~~~

He spouts the words. He takes your hand. He makes his promises and wants to mean them which terrifies him, and he releases your hand as soon as you’re in the carriage.

He tries not to look at you because you’re beautiful.

The silks and gold and silver that you’re draped in is not the only beauty he takes notice of. Your kind smile to those that reach out to you—the rabble—and the way you don’t pull away from their dirty hands. You’re gentle and placating.

Maggie had been kind too, but she’d been a bit harder. Her smiles slightly sterner.

She accepted no nonsense and yet, while Bucky and Sam joke around you, teasing you and teasing Steve kindly, you chuckle and take it all in stride.

Maggie would have scolded them for playing around on such an important day.

“People are watching you. Is this what you want Steve’s people to see his elite guard doing? There are eyes everywhere, James.”

And yes, it would have been right for her to chastise them, but Steve’s chest warms, and his heart gives a gentle squeeze at the laughter in your eyes. He likes how gentle you are with his friends because they can be fools, but they mean only to make you smile.

He likes how relaxed you look, nervous, sure…but you’re not stressing about your visibility. He likes that you don’t care what the world sees when they look at you—but how can you care when all there is to see is sweetness and perfection?

You’re dangerous. Steve can see that. He’s taken you as his wife and he can already feel himself falling for you. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

He was supposed to live out his life alone, with his love for Margaret to sustain him until he died. Betraying her love like this, isn’t right. He feels forced and he hates himself for agreeing to this.

He should have let Pierce have the damn kingdom.

You reach out to him, looking to place your hand on his and the tips of your fingers are right there. He yanks it away and uses the pretense of waving at his people.

“Wave at our people, your Majesty.” He tells you flatly.

He can see your mind racing with worry. He hates that he gives it to you, but he has to stop feeling guilt towards you. You’re the intruder. A welcomed one, but an intruder, nonetheless.

“Your Majesty…” You begin gently. “…Steve.”

His breath is nearly stolen.

Another voice in the back of his mind fills his head vividly with a million cries of his name. “Steve. Steve! Steve? Steve?! Steve…oh, Steve…” He shuts his eyes, willing Margaret’s voice to fade but it doesn’t and all he can hear is her calling to him, whispers in the night, languid moans…he misses her so much.

“Please, call me by my name when we’re together. I-I’m your wife now. I want to know you.” He can see that shred of hope in your expression again.

You’re his wife…his wife…his wife is dead.

He will never say your name. Never.

“You must do as you wish, your Majesty.” He makes sure that you know he won’t say it. You are his wife in name alone. He doesn’t love you. He’ll prove it.

For a moment, as you raise your chin in what he can only assume is defiance, he thinks you might get angry.

Yes. Be angry at me. Hate me. I will never love you.

“Never mind, your Majesty.” You relent.

What?!

“I will follow your lead.” You comply, and Steve hates you for being so kind, so accommodating, maybe not as perfect as he thought…but close enough.

The wedding feast is crowded. The music is loud, just as he’d requested. He wants to drown you out. To be abel to ignore any attempts at conversation.

After Bucky’s scolding about his treatment of you outside, Steve feels worse than he did this morning. Not only does he feel like he’s failing Margaret, but now he’s also being terrible to you.

He doesn’t want to be…but he must. He won’t let you in. No one can make him.

Compared to his first wedding feast, this one is louder. Happier.

He knows that it’s probably because the people are happy to see him married but he feels bitter at their glee.

He doesn’t want to be happy that he’s taken a new wife.

At his first wedding feast he’d danced the night away with his bride. He’d laughed with his friends. He’d been happy.

He misses Margaret to no end.

He scans the dance floor and spots the two biggest fools in the castle.

Dancing together, paired off pleasantly. So much has changed since Margaret’s passing.

Bucky and Nat are together now, and he expects them to announce their engagement soon—if Nat will stop telling Bucky no.

When they marry, it will truly be a happy occasion. Something that he eagerly awaits.

Lost in his thoughts and happiness for his friends, he lets the mask slip away. He smiles.

“They make a beautiful couple.” Your voice invades his senses and pleases his already swelling heart. He likes your voice. It’s pleasant.

“Yes.” Steve agrees without thinking, not realizing his slip at first.

Bucky sends him an approving smile and he realizes what he’s just done.

He frowns, turning to scowl at you to negate his slip.

You’re getting too comfortable here. Too much at home. He’ll knock you up, then when you’ve had the baby, he’ll send you far away. He won’t have to see you or hear you or deal with your hopes.

This isn’t your home and you need to know that.

“Why aren’t they married yet?” You ask him, ignoring the frown on his face. “From what I saw of them together, it seems like Bucky would like very much to-”

His anger is unreasonable. He knows this. But you’re…you’re too risky. Already he feels himself softening towards you.

“Bucky?” He asks, his anger seeping through. “Bucky?”

“I mean, Sir James. I-When I saw him last, he asked me to call him-”

“If he asked you to then do as you wish.” Steve cuts you off, hoping to avoid your pitiful explanations.

He leans away from you though, trying to put as much distance between himself and your allure.

You lapse into silence, for which he is grateful.

It comes out of nowhere, your little hand, placed over his and it’s fire. He feels a solid burn where you touch, and it terrifies him. He shouldn’t like your touch this much, but he does.

“Your Majesty?” You check, speaking slowly, fear in your voice. Of upsetting him—he realizes.

Steve turns to stare at your hand, wondering if he would be betraying Margaret if he turned it over and took it. Would holding your hand be so bad? In front of his people, surely that’s expected?

“We haven’t danced yet.” You tell him, trying to convince him. “Isn’t it customer for a King and his Queen to-”

No! You aren’t his queen!

He stands up quickly, chair rattling and squealing against the floor. The room quiets and they watch as he faces you.

He can see the utter pleasure, the excitement in your expectant eyes—you want to dance.

“We will retire to the marriage bed.” He says and watches as your disappointment is renewed.

He can’t dance with you. Never will he dance with you.

He leaves you by your room, and quickly peels away his crown and tunic. He lays it aside and moves to his water basin to splash his face with the tepid water.

His heart is racing and his mind a hive of bees, buzzing in chaos as he tries to convince himself that this is what he needs to do.

“For my kingdom…” He sighs, looking towards the side of his bed left empty for so long. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

He wants to cry; his heart is breaking. This isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t want you.

He moves back out, untucking his shirt as he goes. There’s no way he’ll even be able to get himself hard for you.

It’ll be simple. He’ll be unable to bed you. Then he can end this sham of a marriage.

He throws the doors to your room open and his feet stutter at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and full of shock and anticipation.

You’re almost naked, dressed in a thin, flimsy nightdress made of lace with embroidered peonies. He can see you. All of you.

His mind is wiped clean as he devours your body, every curve, every ridge, nipple peaks and a dip as your nightdress curves down between your legs a bit.

His blood is fire. All of a sudden, he doesn’t know what to think.

His body takes over and he moves towards you, savage hunger in his eyes. Fuck, he wants you.

As you retreat, your legs hit the edge of your bed and you whimper slightly, afraid? No, just nervous again.

He peels his shirt away and he can see you take in his own body, admiring and in awe. He’s done much to take care of his form and he hopes the scars on his sides and chest don’t scare you.

There is no fear in your eyes though, just an equal hunger to his own.

Your mouth is slightly open as you stare, at a loss almost as much as he is.

His cock twitches in his pants, harder than ever before. It’s been so long and you’re just so…your smiles from the morning replay themselves in his mind. He remembers the way you looked as you walked towards him in the church.

An angel.

He reaches for the front of his pants as a sudden worry begins to slip into your heated gaze. You swallow hard and he wonders if maybe you’re worried that he doesn’t want you.

He’ll show you.

He drops his pants and he springs free, cock gently slapping against the base of his belly.

You sigh with relief and Steve almost smiles at your fretting. He watches you lick your lips and his desire is renewed as he steps out of his pants and your eyes meet his once again.

With surprisingly steady hands, Steve reaches out and touches you. Your hips first. He squeezes them, relishing in the soft woman flesh beneath his hands. He twitches again, picturing you on your back, beneath him, mewling as he pleases you.

You’re stunned by his touch and you nearly fall back but wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The movement jars him, you clinging to him. But when he meets your eyes, he’s not afraid. He likes this, you holding onto him.

He likes the way you feel in his arms and he wraps you up in them, hands splayed out along your back where he then traces every curve of your body making you gasp quietly.

Your hands, surprisingly rough for a princess, trace along his shoulders, relishing in the feel of his skin. You move them up along his neck and then back behind his head to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck—“Oh, Steve. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Be quiet, Maggie, they’ll hear you.”

“I don’t care if they hear me.” She moves her hands up into his hair, caressing his scalp before she pushes herself up onto her toes. “Kiss me, Steve. Make love to me.”

Steve meets her lips with intense passion, tongue slipping past her ruby reds as he tastes her and his heart soars. She’s his, forever. This kiss will always be his.

It happens quickly. Steve’s heart pounds, the vision of Margaret fills his mind, and every touch he places on you feels like a sin. He lifts you up to push you back onto the bed, ignoring the way you shift uncomfortably in his hands.

“Steve?” Your meek voice questions, slightly scared.

He hates it when you say his name.

He just needs to do this. Get it over with. Once it’s done, he can go back to his room.

He searches for the bottom of your nightdress and pulls it up roughly. It rips in his hand and he almost stops but he doesn’t. He needs this to be over.

“Oooh, Steve…harder…” She fills his mind, overpowering the now so that all he can see, and feel is her, in his memory, vivid and encompassing.

“Steve, wait.” You’re breathless as he settles over you, and the fear is just a little filtered with desire.

“Stop saying my name.” He growls at you.

You try to touch him, but he doesn’t want you! Not you!

All at once, after a flurry of movements, he’s ready to sink into you.

You’re startled by his rush and he can see the fear returning. You’re not sure what’s happening, and he isn’t sure he’s ready for this.

No. He isn’t ready for this. But you’re…his wife…he has to…he…

“Ste-?” You begin and he can’t bear to hear you say his name again.

Just do it. He convinces himself and he’s inside of you.

He can hear you struggling. He can feel you squirming. You’re a vice around his dick and you’re crying, and he just keeps going.

Just a little more and it’ll all be over.

“Yes, Steve. Just like that. Oh, Steve.” His mind fills with her laugh, her pretty brown eyes, the stretch of her red lips as she smiles up at him, loving him.

“You and I are forever, darling. We’ll be together until the end.” Maggie promises. Laying beside him as she reaches back to trace the shape of his shoulders.

Steve wraps her up closer, giving her hips a gentle squeeze.

“It’ll only ever be you, Maggie. You’re my only love.” He promises.

“Do you wear it?” She asks, a challenge, playful. “I am the only woman you will ever sleep with? I am your one and only love?”

“Yes.” Steve kisses her. “My only love.”

“Oh, Steve.” She coos.

“Please…” You cry, a weighty sob that pierces his wistful memory. “Steve…”

He growls, angry that it isn’t her voice. Hating you because you aren’t Maggie and you’ve made him a liar. You’ve made him break his word. “Stop saying my name!”

“Steve…” You beg one final time as he thrusts and groans, then releases within you.

He shoves himself into you a few more times then holds it steady as his heart slow and his brain mush begins to resemble actual thought again.

Steve pulls away and you cry out in pain.

He freezes and finds your pretty face, only you’re sobbing, fear has overtaken you and you’re turning away from him, curling into yourself and he’s filled with utter disgust and terror at the sight of what he’s wrought.

He makes to reach out to you, to put his hand on your shoulder but you’re busy trying to cover as much of yourself as possible to notice.

The stain of blood on your sheets shocks him.

He knew…he knew that you would probably be a virgin, but he never thought that…what has he done?

He slides to the end of your bed and sits there listening to you cry.

This is not what he wanted. This is not the night he’d envisioned. This isn’t him. He would have never hurt you. He…this isn’t your fault. Maggie’s death is not your fault.

This marriage is not your fault. You agreed because you were asked. The council forced him into this marriage. But the council wasn’t here in your room.

The council didn’t force you to sleep with him. The council didn’t violate you and hurt you.

He did that to you.

This is all his own fault.

He’s a monster.

He pulls on his pants and shirt, and because he’s afraid to look at you and see what he’s done once more, he leaves you without a second glance.

~~~~~~~~~~

3 Months Ago

Steve is grateful. He’s thankful.

Somehow, some way, he was able to redeem himself a little after that terrible night in the smallest of ways.

He’d apologized and maybe you’d seen the sincerity in his words, but you’d accepted. For some reason that he cannot fathom, you’d forgiven him. You’re too good for him. He knows this.

You’d been afraid of him, that first time after it happened, and that still fills his heart with dread. He’s tried to make it right. Tried to start fresh with you, but every time he touches you in your room, he’s haunted by her and what he did to you. A reverberating echo of his past mistakes every time he’s with you.

He wants to show you that he wants you. But every time he tries, he chokes.

He can feel you stiffen beneath him and he knows that he’s failing. But he doesn’t hurt you again. He makes sure of that. He checks on you, he takes care of you afterwards, though maybe you don’t see it like that.

You seem almost not yourself when he cleans you up. Like you’re in a trance. He doesn’t even think you really know that it’s happening.

He’s sure it’s all his fault. He broke you after that first time.

“Like this?” Your voice comes from around the corner and Steve follows the echo.

You’re in the library, looking at a piece of parchment on the table you’re sitting on. He can’t see who you’re talking to because they’re out of view. He can see an arm. Probably the instructor he’d asked for after you’d confessed your lack of schooling.

He still feels a subtle rage at the thought of Tony sending you off to be locked up in some school to be neglected.

But after what he himself has done; how can he judge?

No. He frowns. He’s right to be angry. Tony’s a jerk.

“Very good, your Majesty. Now, let us move onto conjunctions.” He says, and Steve can hear the scraping pen to paper as the instructor jots a few words down out of sight.

Steve’s gaze is only for you. Sitting there looking pretty in your pink dress, pale yellow diamonds on the bodice. Your hair pulled back to keep it out of your face though that seems to be failing as it falls forward as you write.

You bite your lip as you concentrate and when you finish you turn behind you to beam at whoever is standing out of sight.

A moment later, Nat moves forward and caresses your shoulder before leaning over to look at your work.

She whispers something to you, and you giggle, eyes vibrant and you’re so happy.

Though he’s filled with pain that he cannot make you look as happy as that when you’re with him, he’s happy to know that you’re happy here at home at least and that you’re not miserable, despite the constant way he seems to fuck up.

He smiles as you’re chastised and then wait until you’re no longer being watched to laugh again.

You bite your lip once more, and Steve would give anything to caress it. To feel it pressed against his own.

He hasn’t been able to get himself to do it, to kiss you. He almost did a few times in bed, but it felt wrong to kiss you then when he’s doing what is necessitated of him.

What if he kisses you and you kiss him back because you must? Not because you want to?

He doesn’t want to take from you anymore. Not like he did that first night…He’ll wait until the time is right.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice comes from behind him.

Fuck!

Steve backs away from the door and moves towards his friend.

“What were you doing?” Bucky asks, glancing towards the door as it closes.

He catches a glimpse of you and Steve feels his neck heat up.

“Were you watching Y/N?” He asks, excited.

“Don’t be stupid.” Steve bristles. “Why would I be watching her? What do you want?”

He turns and walks off, headed for his office.

“Steve, you were smiling.” Bucky insists.

“No, I wasn’t.” Steve argues, cursing himself for being careless.

“Steve…”

“I wasn’t!” He nearly shouts and stops to glare at Bucky.

Bucky reaches out and grasps his shoulder.

“It’s okay to fall for you wife, Steve. It’s okay to give in. She’s nice. She’s pretty. She’s a little helpless too…” Bucky admits. “I think she’s just what you need.”

“I’m not falling for her.” Steve glares.

“Why are you fighting this?” Bucky wonders as Steve slaps his hand away. “Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Because I don’t deserve to be happy.” Steve’s broken his promise to Maggie, and he hurt you. He doesn’t deserve you, no matter how much he may want to.

He promised Maggie that it would only be her, and that’s who it will be. From this moment on, he will put you out of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three Weeks Ago

“Pierce!” Steve shouts, storming into the council chambers.

Pierce, alone with his cohort Rumlow, look up in surprise at the madness in Steve’s voice.

“Your Majesty?” Pierce checks as Rumlow moves to plant himself in front of him.

Steve stops, but grabs Rumlow’s shirt, shaking him. “Where is she? I know you took her.”

“Took who?” Pierce asks, standing slowly as he should in his king’s presence.

Rumlow smirks. “It looks like our king has lost his queen, Lord Pierce. How tragic.”

“The Queen is missing?” Pierce asks, mock shock in his voice. “Hot unfortunate. I do hope nothing has befallen her Majesty.”

“Looks like you finally drove her away.” Brock mutters cruelly. “If only you weren’t so torn up about Maggie-”

Steve shakes him hard. “Utter one more word…do it…I dare you.”

Rumlow’s rage contorts his face but he gets it under control and turns a scowl on his king before he forces himself to smile through heavy breath.

“We haven’t seen her, your Majesty. Lord Pierce and I have been here, under your very nose. When would we have had time to take her?”

“Is there anything that we can do to help, your Majesety?” Pierce offers.

As much as Steve wishes to deny it, he can’t prove that they took you and he aggressively releases Rumlow then turns and leaves them in the council room.

“I hope you find her.” Rumlow calls out.

Steve considers taking his head.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two Weeks Ago

“Where is he?” Tony spits and Steve can feel the rage from his spot at his desk.

He gets up as Tony shoves his way past Bucky and Sam.

He has hardly a second to look at him before a solid punch hits him square in the jaw. Crashing against his desk where his papers and trinkets rattle with the impact, Steve reaches up to grab his chin and stare at your father.

“Hey!” Sam cries out, already lunging forward.

“Leave it, Sam.” Steve orders, and Bucky quickly ushers him out to leave Tony and Steve alone.

Again. Hit me again. Steve wishes.

He will take as many hits as Tony can dole out. He deserves more. He should suffer. More than he’s already suffering in your absence.

“You were supposed to be taking care of her.” Tony rages.

He shakes from head to toe with his anger but there’s pain there too.

“She’s already lived a hard life and I gave her to you because you said that you needed a wife. A wife. Not a slave.” He rants. “Now I hear that you’ve hardly spoken to her? You keep her at a distance? Why? Because of Margaret?”

Steve has no excuses to make. He ducks his head in shame and remains leaning against his desk.

“Pepper is out of her mind with worry. What did you do? What did you tell her that she felt the need to run away?” Tony demands, hands balled into tight fists, ready to punch some more.

Steve swallows dryly, wishing he could take back the words he’d uttered to drive you out. Finally, he got what he wished for. He pushed you away…just as he was ready to let you in.

“I told her that I…I shouldn’t have married her.” Steve sighs. “That it was a mistake.”

Tony sighs angrily.

“But I only meant that I haven’t been good for her. I have caused her nothing but pain. If I hadn’t married her then maybe she might have made a better marriage? With someone less broken. Someone who could love her the way she deserves.” Steve explains, having desperately wanted to tell you these very words. “She deserves more than me, Tony. She deserves so much more.”

“And you don’t love her?” Tony demands, reaching up to wipe his mouth in anger.

“I…” Steve knows what his answer is, but it terrifies him to admit. “I do. I love her.”

Silence follows his confession and Tony slowly seethes a little less.

“When we find her, if she wants to leave you, I’m taking her home.” Tony declares. “And if you try and stop me, I swear to the Gods that I will end you and this damn kingdom.”

Steve nods, knowing that if you leave him, he will only have himself to blame.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today

The horses are skittish, unsettled by the roar of thunder overhead.

The storm had come out of nowhere and Steve had pushed them through it, drawing his black cloak over his head as it began to rain.

Here at the edge of the forest that he’s searched nearly a hundred times in the thirty plus days since you’ve been gone, he waits for a sign. Smoke from a fire, the crackling of a twig. Anything that will tell him that you’re out here.

“Where are you?” He pleads with you, hoping that you might hear him across whatever distance may separate you. “Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

He would deserve it. He wouldn’t stop you.

Another clap of thunder splits the sky and draws his eyes up.

He watches the clouds swirl above his head and darken to pitch before looking back at the tress before him.

Almost losing his sanity, he dismounts as his eyes are met with a familiar large form. Blonde hair braided and wet, giant arms that could crush metal with ease, and in his arms a flash of scarlet wrapped around your limp body.

“No.” Steve gasps, racing forward towards Thor.

“Get out of the way.” Thor orders him, shoving him aside as he gets close. “We need to get her to a doctor.”

“What happened? Where did you find her?” Steve is almost floating with relief. You’re here. You’re passed out—fainted maybe?

“She fell.” Thor says, “Hit her head. She won’t wake up.”

Steve freezes. “No.”

His mouth is a desert as memories of Margaret and her fall overwhelm him.

“No.” Steve utters, then races to his horse and climbs back on. “Give her to me.”

Thor doesn’t hesitate. He places you in Steve’s arms on the horse.

Steve takes off, no hesitation as he holds you close and races towards the castle as fast as he can. “Please, don’t leave me, sweetheart. Please wake up.”

Behind him, he hears Thor calls his hammer to fly and catch up.

[itslaurenmae]

coloring outside the lines

Years after the Battle of Flodden, after her exile in England, the birth of her sons and her daughters and her marriage to Alexander Stewart, Meg reflects on her colorful Scottish life.

another alexander stewart/meg tudor one-shot, written for @jeynepoole​. rated t. read on ao3 here. 

Margaret Tudor Stewart is not a young Queen anymore, but she is the Queen. From the bath in her chambers this afternoon, Meg thinks back on the highs and lows of her life. Those first years in Scotland, riddled with uncertainty and confusing new people and places, the death of her first husband at Flodden, the exile in England when she’d been separated from her sons, the return to this country she now called home. It had hardly been a straight line, but the path now was solid and clear, and had been for a decade.

Her life in England had been so dull, so predictable and rote compared to her colorful Scottish present. Always hushed conversations in hallways, always “pipe down, Meg” from Henry or her mother or the nurses, back in her grey English past.

Rising from the bath, she feels flooded with gratitude, even as the water drains out and despite the noise coming from the hallway. It’s maybe even due to the noise in the hallway that she’s so grateful.

Wrapped in a robe and fresh from washing, she pokes her head out of her chambers to find the commotion is courtesy of her and Alexander’s two oldest sons, Gideon and William, ages eight and six, playing tag inside. They breeze by her swiftly, curt nods and clipped “Lady Mothers” as they dart past her and down the hall. She can hear the maids calling after them to be careful, to go slower as their hollers and bright laughter echo through the passageways.

“Will! Wait up!” Gavin, age five, her and Alexander’s thirdborn son, is trailing behind.

Meg peeks further out the door to see Gavin’s dark head trotting down the hallway, the blur of his older brothers rounding the corner. He nearly trips on a rug, so badly wanting to catch up with the older boys.

“Careful, my son!” Meg offers.

“I will, mama!” He turns and flashes an impish smile as he runs past her. He’d just lost his first tooth earlier in the week and is already as handsome as his father, missing tooth and all.

Meg smiles to herself and returns to her room. She hears a commotion in the yard and is not surprised to look down to see her husband sparring with Jamie as Young Alexander looks on from the sides. Her two oldest boys - her and James’s sons. Her first boys. They were nearly men grown now.

Jamie favored his father, broad in the shoulders and forehead, with a regal brow and a flowing mane of dark brown hair. Young Alexander looked more like her, freckles on his nose and cheeks, a reddish tint to his shorter crop. And while her older boys weren’t Alexander Stewart’s sons, he’d always treated them with all the care and fondness of a father. They were, after all, half hers and half James’s - James, who’d been his cousin, his king, who he’d loved.

Jamie landed a fair blow on Alexander’s right leg, and he bore it with chagrin even as he winced, clapping Jamie on the shoulder before dropping to a seat by Young Alexander. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, but that didn’t stop him from practicing swordskill with Jamie and Young Alex. Meg smiled, pleased at their camaraderie.

After the battle at Flodden, Alexander had come to her tent in the middle of a storm and told her that he’d do whatever it took to protect those boys.

That was before they’d fallen for each other, before they’d fumbled their way into each other’s arms after a particularly intense council session about the status of her regency, before they’d married and had sons and daughters of their own. She’d had her doubts in the beginning about how much Alexander really loved her, but she’d always known how much he loved hers and James’s sons.

Meg crossed from the window and sat in front of the mirror at her vanity, beginning the long process of brushing her hair. It was something she could have had one of her ladies do for her, but today, she wanted to do it herself.

This was a rare moment, with no one needing her immediately - no audiences, no ceremonies, no prayer services, no banquets, no children’s demands, not just yet. They’d all be gathering in the great hall that evening for dinner, but in the light of late afternoon sun, she’s enjoying this brief moment alone to take in the sounds of the people she loves most.

Her youngest sons are making a second lap, and she can hear Alexander bellowing at Young Alex to come straight at him from the yard below while Jamie laughs. Even in play, even in practice, Alexander is fierce. He does not hold back, and this is why she loves him, why she loves their children and their family, the life they’ve made.

Their daughters aren’t to be heard right now - not from the room she’s sitting in, anyway - but she knows exactly where they are. Marjorie and Eleanor are with their nurses downstairs, only two and three years old.

They’re the absolute light of Alexander’s life. He holds them at every possible instance, often at the same time - with Marjorie in his right arm and Eleanor in his left. He likes to sing them silly songs and brings them thistles from the garden. “For my ladies,” he likes to say as he bows low and proffers the prickly blooms into their waiting chubby fingers. “It’s poky, like your beard, Da,” Marjorie giggles as she nuzzles into his shoulder. Alexander squeezes her and looks at Meg, a boyish gleam in his eyes as he pulls Eleanor to him. “That they are, my love.”

As Meg runs the brush through her hair, she thinks of how blessed she is for this colorful life, to be surrounded by the noise of her boys in the yard and the halls, the knowledge of her daughters in the rooms below, all of them safe and alive and home with her. And her husband, Alexander - her warmth, with love like the calm in the eye of the storm and the storm itself.

Alexander’s voice breaks her out of her reverie.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m getting ready for the banquet.” She crosses over to him, hair long down her back, and throws her arms around his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

“You’ll muss your pretty hair if you stay this close, woman,” Alexander responds, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. He’s still sweaty and dirty from sparring outside. She loves to see him this way, loves the way he smells after he’s been fighting, even if it was just practice - loves when he calls her woman. James had called her hen and she’d hated it, but when Alexander calls her woman, she feels known.

“There’s plenty of time before we have to be downstairs for me to fix it,” she grins into his shoulder.

“Good, because I need a washing,” he says. He kisses the top of her head and she looks up into his kind dark eyes.

“The water may still be warm,” she says into his collarbone as she unlaces his belt and pulls his shirt out of his trousers.

He drops his scabbard to the floor and takes her hand. He brings it up to caress the side of his face before kissing her palm. “I could use your hands, woman.”

“We’ll have to be quiet,” Meg says softly. “The boys are running about.”

“Aye, we will.” His voice is low and the rugged timbre of his tone causes her breath to catch in her throat. All these years and he still knows exactly what to say and do to draw her out. She’ll never get tired of his voice.

“Go,” she whispers, rising to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll follow.”

Alexander kisses her hand with mischief in his eyes, and she smiles at the rush of heat in her cheeks while he’s turning away and pulls his shirt over his head.

She hears him groan as he lowers himself into the tub, and while she’s thankful for all the noise that surrounds them today, she takes care to close the window and shut and lock the door behind her. Some sounds are just for them, and with her heart full of gratitude and grace, Meg joins her husband.

Special thanks once again to @jeynepoole​ for proofreading, encouragement, and engaging with me in this crackship.

Premise and title of this work were inspired by the misterwives song of the same name. 

You can listen to my whole Megander playlist on Spotify here! 

[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 1]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there's no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Welcome to my Joe and Gwil love triangle! I hope you're ready for the wild ride! Below, I'm tagging some lovely friends and mutuals who might be interested in reading and/or spreading the word❗I will not tag anyone in the following chapters unless you ask. As always any and all kinds of feedback are greatly appreciated 💖

w/c: 4k

Part 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Say 'bye-bye!'" You bounced Olive on your hip, encouraging the almost 15-month-old to practice expanding her very limited vocabulary. You stood facing Gwilym in a sunbeam stained train station, among a sea of comers and goers.

"Oh, no, don't make that face love," Gwilym whined when his daughter whipped her head between you and her father, wearing big sad eyes and the mention of saying goodbye. He reached out to brush away her curls, stoping her from fretting any further.

"Come on, it's just like every other day." You plead, giving Gwilym a similarly pitiful glance, a warning not to blow his parting out of proportion. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Olive might lose it the moment her father disappeared from her line of sight, and you didn't need him to make saying goodbye any harder. The sound of a train whistle cut through the air and a crackly announcement came over the loudspeakers. It was time for Gwilym to go.

"Right, but it's not is it?" Gwilym pouted, reaching for his suitcase and huffing a sigh. He was off to London to go live his dreams, acting in a film organized by real rock and roll royalty. It was the first time he'd spend so long away from his daughter, but did you forget to mention he was living his dream?

"We'll visit you in a month, Gwil! Try and have a little fun, huh?"

///

Back at the loft you shared with your best friend his boyfriend, neither of them were home yet. So it was easy to settle Olive down for a nap. The weight of her father's absence hadn't set in yet, so with the miraculous bit of quiet, you started in on a long list of chores. But it wasn't long before one of your flatmates came to disrupt the silence.

"And, how's the happy couple?" James asked with a teasing smirk as he shut the door, meandering to meet you in the kitchen. You hadn't seen each other in a couple of days since you'd stayed with Gwilym, per his request to spend as much time with Olive as possible before he'd left.

"Gwil and I are not a couple." You reminded in the tone of a breaking news anchor, though this was the billionth time you had to say so.

"Then why, when people ask how long you've been together, do you answer with a date?" James pestered, shifting to help you finish putting away the dishes.

"You know it's not worth explaining to every odd passer-by the strange details of our co-parentship. And when we do have the time, no one believes us anyway."

You and Gwilym had given up the long spiel ages ago. Now, when people asked how long you'd been together, you just estimated how long you'd known each other and gave the years out like the prized answer each old woman in line at the grocery store was anxious to hear. Then you'd go off, together. You always seemed to be together.

It started when Gwilym moved in down the street to the home large enough for its own groundskeeper. You greeted your new neighbor with an invitation to one of James' big weekend parties. Gwilym showed up and chatted with everyone like the oldest friend of all. So, you invited him back to the next get together. And the one after that. And more often than anything, you and he would wind up sharing a laugh on the kitchen floor over a bit of leftover takeaway while the parties raged on in the living room.

When you'd had a rough go of a certain day ahead of one of those regularly scheduled parties, Gwilym managed to make it to your home before you did. In his clutch, a bottle of fancy liquor he'd saved for emergency over the top terrible days.

That was the night you discovered that when you were drunk enough, there was something about Gwilym Lee you couldn't resist. His icy blue eyes filled you with an extra bit of warmth. His usually fond smile turned sultry. He followed you to your room, and a tradition of hooking up after one too many shots was born. It happened enough, in fact, that you decided to give it a go when you weren't plastered. But try as you might, the fire between you and Gwilym proved only to rage when alcohol aided it, so you called the whole thing off.

But... then you missed your period. And Gwil was right down the street. And he was always over anyway. And he was thrilled to bits when you told him how you'd planned to keep the baby- his baby.

"Well, it's been a couple of years now, love. Baby or no baby, he's always one step behind you."

"And we tried, James. Gwil wants the same kind of love I do. And we tried for it. You know that." You defended, getting rather upset only on account of how your attempts to really be together never worked. How as desperately as you tried to force it, you and Gwilym couldn't seem to fall in love. Of course, you were glad he was around, and you were moonstruck by the little girl you'd gotten out of the deal. But damn if you weren't a little lonely at night.

"Alright, alright..." James came away from his playful teasing and shifted with an idea blooming in his gaze. "Let's go out! Like we used to. Come on, I'll get Andy to babysit. You know there's nothing he loves more than your child." James chuckled, coaxing you to have a little fun.

"You, James. He loves you." You dreamed of the day someone looked at you the way James and Andy looked at each other. Witnessing their connection was the only reason you hadn't lost hope that romance existed at all.

"Well, he and I are moving away the first of the year and there's no one I love more than you. So let's go out before we're too far to terrorize the same city."

James got his way. The pair of you waited up for Andy to agree to surprise babysitting duty, and then you went straight to some local dive bar.

Your best friend spent the whole car ride there inflating your ego. With one hand on the wheel, James took his other to curl his long dark fingers around your shoulder that he shook while repeating mantras like "You're so hot no one will care about your baggage" and "You'll find the right guy who isn't put off by your familial facade." and "You will find your love."

You'd always longed to fall in love. The romantical kind of love you'd seen idiots slip into and cry over on the movie screen. But it wasn't at the bar that night. There, James only yammered on about his homemade jewelry and the shop he planned to open next spring in the heart of London. How he'd miss you. The sickening scent of fireball overwhelmed the air and a bunch of lonely looking girls lined the bar top, happy to throw themselves into the arms of the first guy who looked their way.

After lingering at a high table with your best friend and shouting conversation over the 80's music blasting from the jukebox, you called it a night and went home to your darling daughter.

///

Finally, it was September. Gwilym had begged you to bring Olive to London for a month-long visit once he'd settled into the swing of his new job. And you weren't going to pass up the mini-adventure.

Gwilym was a sight for sore eyes, smiling warmly as he greeted you at the train station. Though Olive was too busy sleeping to partake in the reunion. She looked so much like him, even with her matching blue eyes shut to dream.

"You have a beautiful family!" An elder chimed on her shuffle out of the train station, waving a boney hand toward Gwilym as she walked away. You weren't opposed to thanking her because it was true. Just because you weren't really with Gwilym didn't mean anything. You and he had this co-parenting thing down to a science by now, and you were eternally grateful he was around.

The ride to his Airbnb was very short, time enough for you to brag about how easy it was to take so much time off work. Before you knew it, you arrived at the quaint flat with Olive still out cold. You carried her inside behind Gwilym who politely offered to manage your bags.

You pushed past a brilliant blue front door to posh one-room flat with an open floor plan. You could see the kitchen from the living room you'd entered into, and passed by a completely black and white tiled bathroom on your way to the bedroom. There, was a cozy-looking king-sized bed, and you found Gwilym had already set up Olive's travel cot in the corner. You rested her in the raised bed, feeling a twinge of gratitude for Gwil's thinking ahead.  

"Do you think she'll be good to go out, soon? We've been invited to dinner. I'm very excited for you to meet everyone." Gwilym grinned, settling onto the comfortable navy blue sofa where you kicked back, too weary from travel to begin unpacking just yet. You decided if Olive woke up in time, you'd go. Low and behold that's what happened.

Only after she crawled delightedly into her father's lap, clearly surprised to see him in the new strange setting. Everything seemed settled into place, with your family back together. Olive was happy as a lark on the car ride to dinner, Gwilym laughed most of the way there, too.

You were miles away from home, but there wasn't much to be missed among such sweet, familiar company.

When you made it a casual brewery, you slipped into the loo around the corner to give your fussy daughter a change.

Then in what seemed to be a blink of an eye, it was time to meet the castmates Gwilym hadn't stopped talking about since your arrival. At a comfortably large table in the back of the restaurant, two strikingly beautiful faces held the space to themselves.

"I see a baby!" A man with dark curls spoke up in a unique lilt. It was easy to put his name to his face with the way Gwilym had gushed over his castmates on the ride over.

"And you must be Rami."  You nodded his way with a grin, you would have shaken his hand if yours weren't full. There was something magnetic about the fellow, something about his presence that made you feel as if you'd already met.

"It's lovely to meet you, y/n." Rami drew, turning his warm glance from the baby in your arms, to you.

"We've heard so much about the two of you!" The girl at the actor's side spoke up, in a genuine tone. She had to be Lucy. They way Gwilym explained her earlier with words like "sparkling" and "radiant" seemed flirty but you saw now, they were honest descriptors.

You greeted her kindly, saying something about how you'd also heard a lot of good about her and the man she stood just near.

Rami was leaning close to shake Olive's little hand, and to think they said chivalry was dead. Olive took the invitation to lean away from the hold she had on you to place either of her small hands on the sides of Rami's face. He peered at the babe in wonder, as if he might burst into tears.

"She's precious," Lucy spoke up while Rami tousled your daughter's curls.

"Are the others on their way?" Gwilym asked, pulling out a seat for you as your party came away from the greetings.

"Yes! In fact, before they get here..." Lucy spoke up, settling across the table from you as Olive clamored into Gwilym's lap. The charming woman started digging around in her absurdly large tote, pulling a small sparkling gift bag from it, like Mary Poppins might have.

"A welcome gift, for you!" Lucy extended the present with a smile that matched the sparkle coming from the glitter-covered package.

"Oh, my God." You let out a stunned breath of a laugh, hesitantly taking the gift from her clutch. You'd literally just met the girl and she was already a better friend than some you'd known for years.

"My sister is a designer..." Lucy explained as you unveiled a modest faux leather clutch. There were gemstones peppered across the broad stitching that reminded you of opulent fossils.

"This is so incredibly kind, you shouldn't have-" You gazed up to the sunbeam of a girl across from you.

"Actually I picked it out." Rami boasted, leaning over on his elbow with a stretchy grin. Olive took the chance to snatch the glittery gift bag from your loose clutch.

"You've won them both over, it seems." Gwil smiled, raising a brow your way, everyone chuckling in response.

"My best friend makes his own jewelry," You explained, admiring the delicately designed accessory. James would adore the way the gems were stitched onto the fabric. "He'll be jealous of this no doubt." You giggled, catching Lucy's eye as you felt for your phone in your pocket. You were anxious to take a photo and show it off to him, but...

"Oh, I think I left my phone in the loo." You realized, standing as your dinner guests excuses your brief leave. With Olive happy in Gwils lap, you shuffled off to fetch your phone.

Luckily it was tucked away in the corner of the baby changing station where you left it in a haste. You spared an extra beat to check your look in the mirror, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the ultra-pretty company that had made up your dinner table so far.

On your way around the corner to join the party once more, you were too busy pulling up James' contact in your phone to watch where you were going.

You apologized right as you'd run into someone on the other side. The figure reached a hand out to steady the both of you. But as soon as your apology died down, the person you collided with spoke up.

"Holy shit... you're pretty."

The statement wasn't coy, or sultry. It seemed to be stated as though the person had just found something they'd hadn't even known was missing.

As your eyes traveled up a well-dressed figure, you decided the man in question was an actor. You'd come to know many since being acquainted with Gwil. Actors were a breed much like zoo animals, nice to look at but wild and totally unpredictable.

You responded with a nervous laugh.

But when your eye's landed on the mystery man's, something happened. It wasn't phenomenal, or unnerving, but something, somewhere, shifted. His were like smokey quartz, a deep color with a twinge of clarity that reminded you of a fossil. Just like the stones on the clutch you'd been given minutes ago. There was a soft smile on his lips that reached his eyes, and his sculpted face was almost eerily familiar to you. You couldn't help but stare.

You watched his face focus on yours with no sign of any motive besides expressing his interest in you. Somehow, even having just met, you realized there was something more he was trying to say. So with a small nod, you encouraged the words from the tip of his tongue. With a great deal of care, the man said,

"You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die? Well, right when I looked at you, I'm like, pretty sure I just saw my entire future."

Damn, that would have been cheesy if he wasn’t speaking so delicately. Was that a shiver up your spine? Before a decent enough response could escape from your frozen brain, the energy around you shifted dramatically.

All of a sudden, the dark ball cap placed on the stranger's head flew off, and Gwilym's familiar laugh broke your stilled timewarp.

"Look, he's got a perm!" Gwil was clutching the stranger's ball cap in one hand, holding Olive in the other. Your baby was giggling, reaching for the hat Gwilym had stolen with real true laughter.

The man with gemstones for eyes grew a frown and batted Gwilym on the shoulder. His auburn hair was a collection of soft springs, sticking out in all different directions. You were staring again. The stranger snatched his hat back as Gwilym let out a comical sigh.

"I see you've met Joe." Gwilym smiled.

"Joe." You spoke. It took more effort than you'd care to admit to tear your gaze from the beautiful stranger who you realized was meant to join your dinner party all along. He turned his gemstone eyes back to yours and offered a watered-down version of the smile he gave you moments ago.

"This is Y/N." Gwilym held his hand out to you, and normally you would have taken it, and eased next to Gwil. But something about lying to Joe's innocent and remarkably shaped face made your heart lurch. "And this, of course, is Olive." Gwil went on.

Joe's happy expression shined bright as you'd seen it yet, when Gwilym coaxed his daughter to manage a wave. Then he directed his friend back toward the table where the rest of the cast could be found. As you followed close behind Joe, Gwil turned to speak to you.

"She kept trying to eat the glittery gift bag, so we took a trip to throw it away." Gwilym explained, bouncing Olive a little as he told you his story, "Have you got any emergency toys on hand?" He wondered as you moved back to the table.

"Are you kidding?" You chuckled, approaching your spot. Under your seat you retrieved your bag, unveiling Olive's prized possession. A plastic toy bat, with one red eye missing. She never left it out of her grasp for long, and where it even came from you could never quite recall.

That's when the last of the group arrived. Another blonde called Ben. He looked like a fallen angel with messy hair and striking features. You were in intimidating company all around, but somehow, conversation flowed with ease....

"Rami is amazing I can't believe we are lucky enough to work with an absolute legend." Joe burst, falsely bowing to the castmate he raved about.

"A legend, huh?" You wondered, looking to Rami who was already shaking his head.

"No, no. A children's movie franchise, some popular television series, and a handful of B movies do not make me worthy to be here at all." He meant it. You pursed your lips in surprise. He seemed to have a decorated history, and a humble heart all the same.

"Our resident movie star is actually Joseph. Do you know what he was in?" Ben smirked, his clover colored eyes glancing hopefully at you.

"Uh..." You stalled, feeling that same unexplainable shift in the universe as your eyes lock with the man's in the ball cap. You glanced at Joe's gently upturned lips and wondered if his smile was shaped perfectly to cast a spell on you. Thank God Ben mistook your lingering stare on Joe as a sign that you were clueless to his acting history.

"Joe was in the legendary, groundbreaking, tear-jerker that was the very first Jurassic Park."

"And the second!" Rami pointed out.

"Oh my God?" You asked through surprise, suddenly snapping your gaze from Joe's lips to the rest of his face as it turned a dusty shade of pink.

"He's a star." Ben prodded. Rami was casting an overblown lovestruck gaze to Joe, who made some sly remark to his co star too quiet for you to hear.

"I used to love those films growing up." You happily admitted.

"Well, how come your lover has never seen any of them?" Joe gave Gwilym a playful nudge, smiling to the child in his lap even though Olive's focus was on the dirty plastic menu she couldn't quite reach. Before you could explain how you and Gwilym were hardly lovers, and scold him for failing to have seen a classic in the same breath, you were cut off.

"You've never seen Jurassic Park?" Lucy asked Gwilym in shock.

"I was the kid who kept almost dying." Joe smiled, his perfect American teeth flashing your way for the first real-time ever. It was quite a sight indeed.

"Spoilers!" Gwilym whined, swatting at Joe.

"I'm glad to see you made it out alive." You laughed. He was still smiling at you. "I'll have to watch it again very soon, with this nugget of knowledge."

"Yes, she's at the perfect age to learn about the animal kingdom, it's fun for the whole family you know?" Ben spoke, reaching over to poke your daughter's arm. Olive giggled, just as taken by all of her new admirers.

"I think we're off to a good start." You informed. " She's obsessed with birds. That thing is her favorite." You pointed to the plastic bat with wide bony wings between your daughter's hands. She'd lose her cool when the old toy wasn't within reach.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and say it. I love that kid." Ben declared. Gwilym tickled Olive's side, causing her to let out another sweet little giggle. And from then on everyone was glued to conversation about your darling daughter. Gwilym's new castmates seemed more like lifelong friends as they tried to get Olive to say each of their names. She almost got Ben's, and you could practically see his heart melt.

You took Olive back at the end of the night, making your way to the doors of the restaurant as everyone started saying goodbye for the evening. Gwilym was busy listening to Rami do some impression as you parted ways with Lucy, who was quickly on the rise to becoming your new best friend. As you approached the entrance doors however, Joe was blocking your leave. He was stood out of earshot of everyone else, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey I'm sorry about earlier- I really didn't mean-" The guy started to apologize as you approached him.

"No! Don't worry about it. I thought it was cute." You admitted a little too quickly, but started to stammer a different response when Joe furrows his brow "Like, funny. But not like I was laughing at you, just- it's okay. Okay?"

You awkwardly smiled, adjusting the hold you had on Olive. You cut him off because you didn't want him to take back what he'd said. No one had ever said anything like it to you. Especially not anyone like Joe.

"Okay." Joe agreed nervously, grinning all the while.

"So... see you tomorrow?" You asked in a hopeful tone- clearing the air and crossing your fingers to see him again.

"Yeah. Of course." Joe nodded, watching as you slowly started to move away from the interaction.

///

On the ride back to the home Gwilym was renting, he was unusually quiet. You thought he'd want to rave about his newfound friends some more, but figured he was probably just exhausted by all the fun.

But even as you shifted topics to chatter about and eventually shuffled into the Airbnb, Gwil was still rather silent. Something was off, and you were worried enough about his unusual disposition to ask what the matter was.

Gwilym nodded as if he'd been caught, and suggested you had a talk after Olive fell asleep for the night.

You tried to stick as close to her normal routine as possible while you put the babe to bed.  Thankfully as your worry mounted over Gwilym's odd demeanor, Olive fell asleep.

You eased into the softly lit living room, admiring the decor until you spotted Gwilym wringing his hands as he paced, waiting for you.

"I fucked up." Gwilym turned to you, somber in expression as you stalled in the entryway.

"I... I panicked and well..." He went on, "Lucy and Ben think we're married."

"Married?"

"Tonight, when we were leaving Lucy asked how long you and I had been married and- and it was a reflex to answer how we usually do when strangers ask how long we've been together. Only I understood after the fact that Lucy was asking something very different."

Gwilym's face contorted into something you'd liken to worry as you stood gaping at him.

"And Ben was there and... they just kept asking these questions. And, well, I dug myself in too deep to take any of it back. I feel so stupid." Gwil fretted, pacing over toward the navy sofa and resting on the arm of it.

While you stood taking in the shocking new info, a more heavy realization settled over your thoughts. You might as well have been married to Gwilym Lee. He was always around, and you always seemed to want him to be.

"Gwil... what the fuck?" You asked, boggled. A little angry, but mostly confused.

"I don't know why I just kept lying. I don't know what to do now, I'm sorry," He hung his head as you went on processing his confession.

You couldn't really blame Gwilym, the two of you had been basically lying to acquaintances for years now. But anyone who took the time to actually ask was always given your long confusing backstory. Actually lying was new. But you just couldn't blame him. So... so what if his new castmates thought you'd vowed to each other till death parted you? They'd fade from one screen to another, like most of all of Gwilym's former castmates had before; coworkers who barely took the time to understand the inner workings of your relationship with Gwilym. Because you were always together. What was the use in trying to explain that away?

"I guess..." You sighed, stepping close to Gwilym as you thought out loud. "We'll just say that... Olive kept trying to take our rings off. If anyone asks why we don't wear any." There wasn't much of a different choice, was there?

"We... we will?" Gwilym lifted his head and peered confusedly up to you.

"Well, it's either that or I explain you lied and embarrass you in front of everyone." You let out a humorless laugh, hating the way your comment made Gwilym cringe.

"And there's no use in that. So, if anyone asks, that's what we'll say." You decided, submitting into the spot fate carved out for you alongside Gwilym.

"Thank you." He nodded meaningfully, daring to shoot you a look that relayed just how much he meant what he said.

"Looks like we'll be sharing a bed to top it all off." You chuckled sleepily, spinning away from the main room.

"Well the couch can-" Gwilym sounded pitiful as you drifted away.

"It's a big bed, Gwil. Come on." You sighed, shuffling toward it.

As you silently unpacked and settled your things into the places they'd remained for three more weeks, you came upon the gift Lucy had greeted you with so selflessly. You admired the clutch and the little gems in the sticking that reminded you of fossils, that in turn reminded you of a certain set of eyes.

When you floated to bed with the simple thought of Joe's gaze locking on yours, your chest filled with feathers.

As you closed your eyes to the long day, a dreadful realization settled the flutter in your stomach.

You'd finally found the man you'd been looking for, but you'd signed up for so much more with another.

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@imtheinvisiblequeen​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @sonic-volcano​ @joemazzmatazz​ @almightygwil​ @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​ @slutforbritdick​ @drivenbybri​