#and my siblings are coming up for mother's day on Sunday

[heroinetales]

I just want work to end so I can have my weekend already

#shut it ash #i have so much planned #zelda tears of the kingdom comes out tomorrow I'm so excited to play that #i get to go to a nerd place on Saturday with a friend #and my siblings are coming up for mother's day on Sunday #so it's going to be a fun weekend

[lewisvinga]

chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

warnings; mentions of abusive parents, drinking, yelling

note; i play this song 10x a day tbh

word count; 953

taglist; @namgification

‘born to die’ series masterlist

f1 masterlist !

It was no secret that Max Verstappen didn’t have a normal childhood.

On top of spending his childhood karting, his father was tough. He often never let young Max have fun or play football on Sundays, young Max had to spend all his time racing no matter the conditions.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t win a race, people made sure to steer clear of him. He had a short temper.

13 year old Max felt his heart stop for a second as he realized he finished 4th. Not even on the podium. He could already see the angry face of his father and his loud voice as he made its way out of the kart.

His fathers voice sounded like a snake hissing. It intimidated young Max. His father kept a tight grip on his shoulder that he was sure would bruise. He glances up at his father for him to say something, anything.

But all 13 year old Max received was a few words that broke his heart. “You’re not my son. You’re not a Verstappen with that 4th.”

It was no secret that Max earned the nickname ‘Mad Max’ as a result from his childhood. With the way his face turns red and the curses slips from his mouth, nobody wanted to be around when he’s angry.

So it was a shocker when people found out who he was dating. A walking ball of sunshine dressed in pink bows and white lace, y/n was the only one to tame ‘Mad Max’. With her, Max didn’t seem to have to worry about disappointing her. She was always proud of him and she made sure he knew.

However, Y/n wasn’t always the ball of sunshine. Just like Max, she grew up with a toxic parent but it was her mother.

Being the oldest of 3, it meant it was up to her to take care of her siblings meanwhile her mother disappeared on Fridays just to come back black out drunk on Sunday nights. Having her childhood stripped from her made her into the bubbly person she was. Yet, her mother was still strict with her during her studies. Anything else but an A+ meant failure.

Y/n felt herself shake from fear as she walked down the sidewalk after stepping off the bus. In her backpack was a history exam with the letter B written in red. Her younger brother and sister ran in front of her with wide smiles while retelling their day in school.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw her mother standing at the front door. She knew that she had to give her the exam. Her siblings ran inside to their rooms to play with their toys while she stayed by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulls out the exam for her mother.

She could already smell the alcohol from her mother's mouth as she let out a deep sigh. “You’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t cause me such disappointment.”

Their bond of having a tough childhood was what brought them together. They often spent nights sharing stories and relating to each other's experiences. With Max, she was able to let loose and enjoy herself.

There were moments when their past still affected them, much like during a snow day.

Y/n and Max were wearing big coats, tough boots, warm gloves, and everything else needed for a snow day. They sat on the steps of the front porch of the local country club they were a part of, watching the kids of other members laugh and play, something neither got to do.

“Max, let’s go take a walk around.” She suggested since it was the closest to being able to play in the snow in her mind.

The Dutch happily agreed and started ranting her about something as they made their way down the driveway. Y/n kept focusing on him and the crunch of the snow beneath her black boots. A small smile crept up her lips as she noticed her boyfriend was still distracted. She pauses for a second and he continues to walk and rant.

“And then, I said-“ Max pauses, noticing the lack of Y/n presence. “Liefje?” He questions and turns around to face her. Suddenly, his cheek was met with something cold.

Y/n lets out a gasp. “That was supposed to hit your back!” She exclaims with wide eyes and a frown. “I’m sorry! I meant to hit your back then you-“ She was so distracted with rambling, that she didn’t notice him pack some snow into a ball.

Mid-ramble, she felt the ball hit her scarf-covered neck. Her previous frown quickly turned into a smile. Immediately both of them started to create snowballs and throw them at each other.

She suddenly sees him charging towards her. She lets out a squeal as she runs away. She ran around the snowy fields, not caring if the other adults were staring at them due to their childish behavior.

Suddenly, Max jumps in front of her and causes both of them to fall to the ground. She pushes him off of herself and he rolls to the side. They were both lying on their backs, taking deep breaths between laughter.

“Max, look,” Y/n says, pointing at a white line in the sky that was led by a small dot. It was a chemtrail, signifying that there was a plane. “Surprised people are traveling now.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause it’s now snowing anymore.” He explains, keeping his eye on the white line.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they lay in the pillowy white snow. They were once nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. But now, Max and Y/n found the comfort they wanted in their lives as they lay in the snow, watching the chemtrails over the country club.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one scenarios #f1 scenario #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine

[lessi-lover]

teenage drama II k.cooney-cross x russo!reader ~

(did you miss me cause i missed you) maybe a series 😉 ... but you'll never know? #even pests need love!

23 ★ ~ k.cooney-cross x russo!reader

your sister smirked cheekily as she expertly dribbled the ball past your much smaller legs, slotting it effortlessly in the net a laugh falling from her curled lips as she turned back to see you flinging your head back in defeat.

"lessi please can we play something else? football is so boring!" you groaned, tugging on your sister's arm before she went to collect the ball to play again. "i dare hear those words come out your mouth again! or you'll be banned from movie night, you hear me!" she threatened with a wag of her finger.

the blonde knew just how much you loved movie night, lately it had become one of her many threats to her easily gullible enough sister once she realised how she could manipulate so simply. she didn't really have that kind of power but it was fun for your older sister to feel as high and mighty as her older brothers seemed to be.

your older sister who would make you run around the garden until you both collapsed on the ground in tired smiles, your mother calling out from inside that dinner was ready, the older woman chuckling as she watched you finally catch a breath.

your older sister who would pick your tiny frame off the ground and into her arms as she carried you inside to the table, shaking you out of your sleep as you dozed of in her hold. your older sister who would beg you to join the games night after dinner she had planned for weeks only to fall asleep in your bed the second you dragged her off to your room.

it was safe to say being the youngest russo was easily the most dangerous spot at the table, although your older siblings always argued that the love you recieved as the last grandchild was surely enough to make up for the countless unwanted tackles and jabs you copped from them.

being dubbed as "the nice one" you tried your best to stay out of the russo family wrestling matches, seemingly always the first to attempt breaking your older brothers out of quite literally clashing each others heads together, your older sister only spurring them on as she cheered from beside a worried you.

"go gio go! watch out for his arms you git!" she would squeal moving to jump on top of the sofa quickly out of the way as luca grabbed his younger brother in a headlock, the both of them rolling around all over the floor.

sure you and alessia fought not much differently to your brothers and not much differently to those of your friends, when the older girl would force you to play football with her for hours on end, as she sliced the ball past you almost taking your head with it.

and sure the england forward could make you think twice before telling her your weekend plans to see some of your mates when she would then proceed to show up with her own friends blasting the loudest music you'd ever heard. a shout from her car that "your lift had arrived!" embarrassing you to no end as she cheekily waved you over.

it was not long after that incident that you got your finally your own car three years later and suddenly your lifts from the older blonde were not required, so the blonde had decided you now needed to have a coffee date every sunday to catch up with her younger sister.

although a childhood friend of hers always tagged along and that saved you enough to not have to hear her boastful stories in your ear ever five seconds, though you claimed the older girl hyped herself up just to get on your nerves.

and even if the clumsy girl could be the biggest pain in your ass on a good day, you really did love your her and people would say the two of you would do anything for each other, to the ends of the earth they would say.

but she really could be a pain in your ass.

~

like right now.

"alessia i know how to be an adult! i don't need you on my ass every five seconds!" you seethed. crossing your arms moodily over your chest, ignoring her offer of a piece of gum and focussing on the cars speeding past.

"helicopter parent you are." you mumbled under your breath, smacking away her attempt to give you a hug with a huff. "i heard that!" she whined, giving you an amused smile as she continued driving home.

you sighed looking out the window, your eyes following the curves and edges of each familiar house as you drove past. "okay i'm sorry. can you forgive me!" she grinned with a pout, gripping your wrist over the console as she dragged out her words.

"fine but only because i owe you a coffee and this will cover the cost." you answered begrudgingly, pinching her arm to let go as the blonde let out a cheer and turned the volume of the music up.

you had never enjoyed football growing up, you knew your interests lay elsewhere from a young age. so whilst your siblings played rough house with each other in the garden, you preferred to spend time on your own. tucked away inside with a book often whilst your mother made dinner, the older woman listening to any and every thought of your for hours on end.

and as your siblings weekends began filling with games and tournaments, you now sat in the crowd still buried in your book, head lifting every so often when you would hear your father's loud cheers. different matches every saturday, travelling to the far ends of the country to support your siblings, but no matter how far you were always there for them.

when your sister had made the move over to states, you'd missed her greatly and if it wasn't for your brothers convincing that you needed to focus on your studies you were confident you would have nearly failed your last exams.

it wasn't long before you finished your final exams that you made the decision to move over to london to start your career in the business world. suddenly things began to become clearer, you knew your path lay elsewhere from your siblings.

your passion for business and entrepreneurship had been a driving force throughout your studies, and the opportunity to start your career in london was too good to pass up.

you'd of course settled in easily to the busy life of living in london, smoothly finding your feet as you were quick to immerse yourself in the fast work environment, joining a large company which offered you the chance to learn from experienced entrepreneurs.

now back to present day, you still hadn't taken your older sisters advice to finally take being part of a footballing family in your stride and you were still adamant that your days of kicking footballs with the blonde in the garden were long behind you.

it was through your company that you were able to secure a job at adidas by leveraging your experience from your previous company and network in the business world.

your reputation for innovative thinking and partnerships caught the attention of adidas' acquisition team, who were seeking fresh individuals for their corporate division. it was only after a series of successful collaborations which drove impactful projects, you were offered a high role within the company.

however things looked a lot different now, your sister had now finally moved back from the states and moved through the ranks to what she described as one of the top teams in europe, her training grounds only a mere fifteen minute drive from your apartment.

but given your new company's strong connections with many football teams, you found yourself collaborating with arsenal, or more familiar to you; your sisters club.

failing to realise how much of a pain your sister still was you had offered to help coordinate an event for the team, told by your marketing director to bring your skills to the table.

"right we're here grumpy pants, do you want my jacket in the back? bloody freezing this morning." she grumbled, zipping up her own jacket as she turned the engine off.

"no i'll be fine thanks." you replied, giving your sister a cheeky smile as you stepped out of the car. you pulled your scarf tighter around your neck and looked around at the different fields.

"you look so funny!" you giggled, tugging on your sisters clothing all branded by her club. "oh shush." she hummed, playfully swatting your hands away with a smile. "you're just as annoying as i remember!" she grinned down at you, the blonde easily a few feet taller than you.

"can't say i don't remember younger you at all!" you said sarcastically. pulling up your phone to show her your lock screen, your background a photo of the two of you in the backseat of the car, probably driving off to one of her games out west.

you laughed all the way into the building, unable to contain yourself when the forward pushed on a so clearly labeled pull door and smashed into the glass, causing her to almost topple over.

"less! are you alright?" you questioned, trying to stifle your laughter as as a red mark appeared on her forehead, your sister with a pout on her face. "oh less." you chuckled, watching as your sisters frown deepened.

you reached out to inspect the mark, still trying not to laugh as much as you wanted to. "stop laughing!" she whined, looking a little embarrassed as she made eye contact with her teammates coming through the entrance. "it was an accident okay! my heads sore now."

"okay sorry, i'm sorry!" you apologised, finally able to suppress your giggles. "do you need ice or something?" you asked, pulling the clumsy girl off the floor. "i'll be alright, come on let's go inside."

"well good morning miss russo times two!" you bumped into lotte as you arrived, all of you entering the building at the same time. "lotts!" you squealed, jumping into the older girls arms as she lifted you off the ground.

"tiny! haven't seen you in ages, how's london treating you then?" she asked. the three of you fell into conversation as if no time had passed since you'd seen your sister's best friend.

"but i won't forget the time you made me pick you and gracie up from the dock, the two of you were completely shit faced!" she laughed, reminding you of the time you and a couple of friends maybe not so accidently drank way too much at a party and drunkenly called lotte to uber you home.

"my learning curve was thinking beer and liquor would mix nicely." you winced, thinking back to the hours after the party that lotte spent holding your hair back as you emptied your stomach. "fun night that was." in hindsight it probably wasn't the best start to your last year at school, but it was an easy excuse to not ever get that drunk again.

"yeah pretty fun night until i was woken up in the middle of the night to you and lotte at my window." your sister grumbled, clearly not as amused by the memory as you and lotte. she shrugged her jacket off up in her locker whilst you sat down on the bench.

"oh don't be a grub. can't forget when you and tooney had big night down in london." you chuckled, referring to the time her and the mancunian came home at four in the morning after having taken their first night out in the city.

"mum's got the patience of a saint." the two of you shared a look at that before bursting into a fit of laughter. pulling yourself up from the bench to grab your sister into a tight hug, your bond ran so deep. "i missed this tiny." she spoke into your hair, not missing beth's smile over your shoulders.

"oi russo who's the new lass?" a girl you recognised from your sisters instagram walked over, as you broke away from the hug. "katie meet my sister, she's here on behalf of adidas for a marketing event." the blonde introduced you as a few more girls floated into the locker room.

"nice to meet ya." she smiled, her accent thick as ever. "likewise." you answered, easily falling into a conversation about what you did at college, the irish girl interested in your role at the company.

lotte and alessia shared a look as they too fell into check as katie sat down with you. you watched as katie grinned over your head, clearly smiling at another teammate as you heard them behind you. "look who finally showed!" she chuckled as three girls entered the room, one of them tucking themself into her side.

you couldn't help but let your eyes draw to the youngest of the three as they put their stuff down, there was something captivating about her energy and you couldn't quite place it. that or the fact that she was easily the closest in age to you and downright the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

caught in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the look that your sister and lotte shared over your head. "awfully chipper this morning, love." she joked as the girl grumpily rested her head onto katie's shoulder, seemingly not have had a great sleep last night. "not my fault dean was away and steph can't handle the pest on her own." she mumbled tiredly, glaring at a younger girl who you gathered was sitting next to steph who looked equally as tired.

"this is cait, arsenal superstar, australian international and most importantly my girlfriend." katie explained, kissing the top of caitlin's head before a hand pushed her face away. "shut up," caitlin giggled as she pulled herself closer.

"hi i'm caitlin nice to meet you, you're alessia's sister aren't you?" she spoke and you nodded back. "yeah that's me." you smiled, shaking her hand as she extended it. "less hasn't stopped talking about you all week, think she's more excited i'm here than i am," you chuckled.

"only good things i hope!" katie said back as your sister sat back down next to you. "mostly good things." you teased as alessia swatted your arm. "tiny best get a move on before those two show you a washing demo!" lotte said, patting your head hearing you laugh.

"not a pest." the younger girl grinned as she came back, arms firmly crossed as she moved across the room, flicking both katie and caitlin. "such a pest" caitlin groaned, as she winked at you.

"you must be kyra." you deduced, recognising the unmistakable australian accent, your sister having described the girls when you met for coffee earlier this week.

"one and only! you're less' sisters aren't you, been looking forward to meeting you." she smirked and caught off guard you couldn't help but blush at her forwardness, but before your cheeks could redden further you caught katie's eyes as she grinned.

but your attention was quickly elsewhere as kyra pulled steph's bun out of it's elastic before grabbing her in a headlock. "quick take it!" kyra shrieked as steph tried to grab her, her hand brushing yours as she tried to give you the elastic.

the australian so easily drew you in like a moth to a flame as her touch lingered on your hands sending a shiver down your spine as you heard her laugh, you couldn't help but wonder if she had done it intentionally.

you felt your breath get caught in your throat as your cheeks once again reddened and you struggled to stay focussed on what your sister was saying. kyra grasped for help with her attractive smile as steph took her down on the floor, the blonde begging for your help as your connected hands brought you both crashing to the ground.

pulling yourself off the blonde you sat up against the wall, herself with a smug grin as you were left alone on the ground. steph having been fed up and walked off the rest of the girls still conversing after a long two weeks apart.

"well, seems we have made friends with the floor." she giggled and you knocked your arm against her with a smile. "seems so." you agreed, the two of you falling into conversation.

perhaps it was the blondes cheeky smile that lured you towards her, or maybe it was the way she seemed so eager to meet you, or even the way her fingers so easily grazed over your own or the warmth that disappeared with them.

~

#woso #woso x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #kyra cooney cross #woso community #woso blurbs

[barefoot-joker]

Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over. 

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed. 

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me. 

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries. 

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

#yandere #xreader #yandere x reader #x reader #yanderexreader #villain x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #slight adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #yandere lucifer morningstar x reader #yandere lucifer magne x reader

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed I

masterlist

For as long as I can remember, my older brother Nate has been best friends with the Sturniolo triplets that live down the street from us.

I was always a little jealous of the triplets. They’re so outgoing and have loving parents and just seem to happy all the time. Things are different with me and Nate.

While Nate and I are siblings, it’s only half-siblings. We have different fathers, and we live with our mother. Every other weekend I go see my father, but Nate’s old enough to decide he didn’t want to go visit his dad anymore.

I don’t blame him. I’m going to do the same thing next year, when I’m able to. What can I say, our mother has a type. Douchebags that don’t care about anyone but themselves.

I don’t need a father anyways, I have Nate, my big brother. He’s better than anything I could ask for. He’s always been there for me, always looked out for me, always cheered me on.

Of course, he’s my brother and we argue. A lot. Lately about his friends, the Sturniolo triplets. Nate has noticed how I feel about Chris, and warned me against it. But what can I do about it, Chris is over all the time.

I pack my clothes into my bag. Today’s Sunday so I’m going back to my moms after spending the weekend with my father. The weekend was as it usually is. I was locked away in my room while my dad was out doing whatever. He didn’t trust me to be in the house myself. He thinks I might break something.

I’m glad to be going back home. My mother might have the worst taste in men but she’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. She takes care of my brother and me all on her own.

I shut off the light to my room and walk downstairs, bag in arm. “Come on, i don’t have all day. There’s a game in tonight, I want to get back before it starts.” My dad says.

“I’m coming.” I mumble as I walk down the stairs. This will be the last time I’m here. I turn 18 next week, then I’ll be old enough to decide whether or not I come here, just like Nate.

My dad ushers me out the front door, and I walk to his truck in the drive way. I get in the back seat, since his passenger seat is covered in trash from take out.

My dad gents into the truck, pushing some trash to the side. He mumbles to himself “mother can’t even get her own kid.”

I just roll my eyes and lean back in the seat. My phone buzzes with a text from my brother.

Nate 💩 :

You on your way home?

I smile at the text and send a reply.

Me :

Yeah, I’ll be there soon

Nate 💩:

Good moms making supper she wanted to know if you’ll be here

Me:

I’ll be home in 20

I shut my phone off and stare out the window as we back out of the driveway. It’s a silent drive, if you don’t include my dad bitching about my mom.

I don’t understand how someone could talk so crudely about someone so sweet. I ignore his voice and just stare out the window during the drive home.

My dad pulls into the driveway of my home. I quickly get out of the truck and run to the door, only waving goodbye. He pulls out of the driveway as soon as I have the back side door closed.

I set my bag down on the couch and walk into the kitchen where Nate sits at the island counter on his phone while our mother cooks. My mom looks up and smiles “Sweetie! You’re home!” She says.

I smile back at her. Nate turns around and sees me. “You look like you need a shower.” He says

I stick my tongue out at him and he just smiles at me. “I do, I’m scared of dad’s shower.”

“What’s wrong with his shower?” Mom asks.

“I think it’s infested.” I reply.

“Infested? With what?” Mom laughs as she cuts vegetables.

“Cockroaches, ants, centipedes.” I shiver.

“Oh, you’re just being dramatic.” My mom says.

“I’m serious, it’s disgusting. And his shower is yellow, too. Like stained yellow.”

My mom rolls her eyes and sighs. “Go shower, be down for supper.” She says with a slight smile.

I run up the stairs to my bedroom to grab some clothes and take a quick shower. After I run back downstairs and to the kitchen. I sit down next to Nate at the island counter.

I peak over his shoulder and see a message with my name, and see him texting Chris. I blush slightly and bite my lip as I try to read his messages, only for Nate to catch me.

“Hey!” He says as he turns his phone to the side so I can’t see.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” I say as I hold my hands up in surrender.

“You were snooping on me!”

“I was not!” I lie blatantly.

“Mom, she’s snooping on me!” Nate tells mom.

“Snitch!” I yell back at him.

“Will you two get along?” Mom says to us.

“When she stops looking over my shoulder and reading my texts, yeah.” Nate mumbles.

“Y/n respect his privacy.” Mom says.

“He’s talking about me, I saw my name in one of the messages!” I say back.

“Don’t talk about your sister behind her back, Nathan.” Mom says sternly.

“Chris just wanted to know when the camping trip for Y/n’s birthday was.” Nate says.

I blush slightly. “Why does he want to know that?” I ask.

“Because him and Nick and Matt are coming, dumbass.” Nate reply’s.

“Watch your mouth.” Our mom says.

My blush gets deeper. “Chris is coming on the camping trip?”

“Yeah, mom said they could yesterday.”

“They’ve never come before.”

“Chris asked me about it.” Nate shrugs.

I look down, trying to hide my blushing face. Chris wanted to come to my birthday?

TAGS: @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #matt x reader #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic

[strawberryspence]

inspired by the recent events (think of a singer and football player) and ofc, inspired by the brilliant, @henderdads, who has graciously allowed me to make this into a whole thing. 👀

check out the original post!

*i don’t know ANYTHING about the NFL, so sorry for the obvious mistakes*

”What do you mean?” Steve looks up from tying his shoelaces, and stares at his agent.

“Harrington, how many times do I have to say this?” Robin smirks at him, “He’s here. He’s sitting with Mama Joyce.”

Steve’s 100% sure a wire short circuits in his brain. He blinks rapidly at her before asking once again.

“Eddie Munson?”

Robin hums, “Ahuh.”

“Like the 12 time Grammy winner, Eddie Munson, from Corroded Coffin?”

Robin slaps a hand on her forehead, “Yes, Steve! Eddie Munson is in the stadium right now. You’re the one who asked me to arrange his seats.”

Steve jumps from the wooden benches, “I didn’t think he would come!”

Robin crosses her arms, “First of all, you were the one who made that bracelet with your number on it—“

“I WAS DRUNK!”

Robin puts up a finger, “You weren’t drunk when you brought it to his concert and asked Lucas Sinclair to hand it to him. You also weren’t drunk when you announced it on a podcast, when it could’ve been a secret for all of us to keep. Second of all, you whined and annoyed me until I finally caved in, called his publicist to finally arrange the whole thing and the thanks I get is more whining?!”

Oh no. Steve stares at her, as all of the things she said finally sinks in. Oh no. Eddie Munson is in the crowd. He came. Steve asked and Eddie came. He’s gonna watch Steve Harrington play. Weirdly, he wonders if this is what Eddie feels when he’s about to play sold out arenas. Steve’s never felt nervous to play, the field is— well— his comfort place and not once has he had this sense of dread to play. Not even when he had to play the Super Bowl.

"I didn't think he'd come!" Steve panics.

“Uh-oh. No time for panic attacks. The game starts in about 15 minutes.”

“Oh my god.” Steve groans as she pushes him out of the locker rooms to the halls. There’s TVs in every corner, and one TV catches his attention.

There he is.

Eddie Munson’s sitting beside his adoptive mother and his siblings. Dear God. In what world is this real?

The commentator squeals in delight as he broadcasts, “Here’s one for the books, one that’s surely going to break the internet tonight. In the crowd tonight, we have the lead singer of best selling metal group, Eddie Munson. The rumors are apparently true! Harrington and Munson are definitely friends, maybe even more?”

Steve groans as Sinclair moves pass him, bumping shoulders. A huge smirk on his face, “I didn’t think you could do it, but I have to say, I am very proud of you.”

”Leave me alone.” He sulks as Lucas walks down the hall laughing his head off.

When Steve started talking to Eddie, he never really thought he’d end up here. Did he want something serious with Eddie? Well, yes. He’s been crushing on the man since he realized he was bisexual and Eddie was already the cover of the Seventeen magazine for nth time. But Eddie was a superstar singer who’s still on a world tour that has already sold billions, so no, Steve didn’t expect him to be here. He also knows that Eddie just got out of a pretty public break-up, so he didn’t expect anything but friendship. He just— shoot his shot and prayed to the Gods.

Steve thinks back to the conversation they had a few nights ago. A conversation only possible through the help of prayer and two shots of vodka.

“You wanna go out this Sunday?” Steve asks, trying his best to keep the nerves under the wraps.

“Isn’t that the day of the game?” Eddie speaks over the phone and Steve still can’t fathom the fact that he’s talking to Eddie Munson on a regular Wednesday night.

“Yeah, I mean. We can go out after the game.” Steve gulps, and he feels the need to take another shot.

”Huh.” Eddie hums, “Would that be a date, Harrington?”

“Yes.” Steve lightly bangs his head on the wall, “I mean, if you want it to be.” Steve covers his mouth to muffle the embarrassing sounds that comes out from him. What a wuss.

“Here, let’s play a fun little game. Let’s wait till Sunday.” Steve can hear the smirk in his voice, and god, Steve will have to look up the damn “Eddie Munson smirks for 10 minutes” compilation on Youtube again.

”What do you mean?”

“I’ll think about it. On Sunday, if I’m in the crowd then maybe we can get some dinner. If I’m not, then maybe next time.” There’s a playfulness in his voice that makes Steve want to tear his hair out.

Steve gnaws at his lips, that sounds easy enough, “Okay. That sounds… easy.”

Eddie laughs. It’s music to Steve’s ears and he feels pathetic, “Not so easy, big boy. If I’m there, you have to get a touchdown and then it’s a date. If not, then we hang out with your siblings. They’re pretty cool.”

Steve stares at the wall in his room, there’s maybe 50% chance he’ll get a touchdown. He could talk to Sinclair and McKinney to get him the ball. He could do it. It’s just another touchdown. He’s done—what?— like 50 touchdowns in his life.

”Okay.” Steve gulps, “Let’s do it.”

“HARRINGTON!” Steve blinks back to the present, lifting his eyes away from the picture of Eddie Munson wearing the red windbreaker representing his team.

Hopper’s calling him over, a smirk clear on his face. Why is everyone fucking smirking at him? “I see you’re distracted. I hope this doesn’t cripple your ability to play.”

”Hop!” Steve groans, only for his coach to laugh and pat him in the back.

“Go on! Line up!” Hop smiles, winking at him, “Good luck out there.”

Steve puts on his helmet, before taking a few deep breathes.

He just needs a touchdown. One touchdown.

Steve smiles.

He’d do anything for Eddie Munson.

A touchdown is nothing.

#okay so again i dont know anything about nfl and football #i will write more after i finish this three hour long video about football #thank you cass for allowing me to write this #i love you from the bottom of my heart #this are the only worms i have right now #steddie #dae writes #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie rants #steddie headcanon #daeheadcanons #steddie famous au #steddie fanfic

[richardsgraysons]

lazy sundays

prompt — your fiancé, dick grayson, is the love of your life. was. you think he’s dead, but in reality, he’s out there as a spyral agent. meanwhile, you start appreciating the little things more.

tags — reader got out of an ED, mental health issues. angst and comfort, dick grayson x fem!reader. sfw

jason todd was the one who was attracted to you first. he saw you at a wayne gala and thought you were the love of his life. he asked you out, and you immediately said yes, intimidated by the fact that a wayne was the one who noticed you.

dick didn’t even notice you, which you didn’t mind too much. jason was all that you needed. he was kind and funny but he had this really annoying behavior where he would scream at you in fights. like, scream. one night, things got heated and he left into the night, leaving you behind to go outside, no doubt to clear his mind.

you decided to take care of yourself and make it up to him, so, you had finished his laundry. when putting his clothes away, you noticed a very red helmet with another suit with keys in them. you would’ve thought that it was a cute cosplay prop if the keys didn’t open up a drawer with all sorts of guns in the bottom drawer.

you would’ve freaked out if the radio next to his guns didn’t just go static with —“fuck—nightwing here—wounded on fifth—.” and your blood went cold. jason todd? knew who nightwing was?

you didn’t even think about it, think if it was a trap. you took the radio and drove where nightwing said he was injured. nobody responded and you were praying that he was alive.

and that was when dick grayson, really, really saw you. saw your perseverance, your stubborn nature and how you always looked to the brighter sides of things even when he was stabbed in several places with a split rib and a gash to his head.

you were not a doctor, god no, you were in the beginning of your master’s degree, but with strength that rivaled a mother whose child was underneath a car, you managed to pick him up and put him in your car.

“so jason told you who I am? the little shit. he was supposed to talk to bruce before he revealed our identities. that’s what I get for having a love struck brother, huh?”

you stopped halfway and then looked at him in shock, your mouth open in a slight ‘o’. and he realized that you didn’t know, that your boyfriend of seven months was hiding things from you.

“just take me to bruce’s. say you know, and say I need help.” you let out a groan at it and press on the gas.

jason wasn’t to be found for the next few days. dick was though.

when he recovered and appeared at your doorstep with flowers and a sheepish smile, a cast and a boyish smile that felt like infidelity, your face flushed and you took them happily.

“thanks for saving me,” he said, and leaned against the doorway. unlike jason, his mannerisms and way of acting came easy, smoother, a better flow. and you fell so bad just thinking that. “may I come in?”

and against your better judgment, you stepped side. “mi casa es tu casa.”

his eyes twinkled at that. “tu casa es muy hermosa,” he said. “como el tuyo.”

“you know spanish?”

“I know mandarin, spanish, french, romansh, german, portuguese, hindi, japanese, and arabic. well, learning. dami’s teaching me that one.”

your jaw drops. “I just know english, my mother tongue, and high school spanish.”

“still better than 90% of america.”

that was how it started—he met you every so often, taking coffee out, mini golfing, kayaking, while jason grew ever so distant in the corner. you couldn’t blame jason for it, either. it wasn’t like you were making much of an effort to revive the relationship.

but everything changed that one night when jason asked you to go to a wayne gala with him. out of all his siblings, he had chosen the short straw this time. you said no—you didn’t want to go to another one of them and get hounded by paparazzi at this point.

and jason was fine with that. it wasn’t like he particularly liked going to galas anyways, so he understood your denial. until an hour later when on instagram in one of the more popular news sites, a viral photo of you and dick hugging in the rain together and staring at each other after getting a hole in one in a really hard mini golfing course started circling around.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? are you fucking him? don’t even answer that, I can tell. and even if you aren’t, I know you want to.”

“no, jason, what the fuck is wrong with you? I haven’t done anything with dick, nor do I want to. we’re friends.”

“you don’t underhand, y/n. I’m gonna be the guy that the papers make fun of once you leave me for him. so I’ll do what you don’t have the guts to. we’re done.”

your world didn’t shatter because of that, surprisingly. he moved out of your apartment. you watched gilmore girls reruns. you ate a lot of food. some cried tears, but nothing much. until one day, dick appeared at your door out of the blue.

"dick?" you raised an eyebrow, looking at him with an unsure look in your eye. "what are you doing here?" you were wearing your sweats with a dumbed down look in your eye that clearly stated you didn't know what the hell was happening.

"i'm in love with you. i'm sorry—but i can't stop thinking about you. your laugh is infectious and when you smile it's like a cloudy sky just turns back to sunshine—"

you stepped forward and kissed him. you thought the tabloids were full of shit, but you knew that they were right about this one thing.

after two years of dating, he had done a vigilante trip to india to track down some passages. while he was there, he went and bought a shiny ring. you'd marry him with paper rings. he planned a view of a skyline and it went perfectly, thank god.

but he died. he died and now you're sitting here in the apartment, staring at a photo of the two of you. you miss everything about him. the way he'd subtly add more food to your plate when you were having your ED. when he held you throughout the night after a panic attack even though he had patrol that day. when. he defended you from the paparazzi, when he screamed at jason right back when jason found out that you and dick were dating.

don't tell me you're staring at that damned photo. - tim

you look at your phone and sigh before closing down your phone. tim wouldn't understand. he wouldn't get it. how could he? it wasn't like he lost the love of his life. he was a robin. he knew loss. you didn't. he also lost his brother, you remind yourself, and that just makes it all worse.

you grab the photo and curl up in a ball in fetal position. you miss lazy sunday afternoons when you've eaten too much and that food is resting in your stomach. your head would be in your fiancé's lap and his hands would be in your hair and the minute he would move his hands from your hair or your back, you'd wake up, your body discomforted by the lack of touch. that's my superpower, you'd joke.

no, he'd respond. your superpower is being the most amazing and talented woman i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. i would do anything for you. your beauty rivals the stars in the night sky. i love you like how the moon loves the earth.

at the single thought of it, you curl up and sob, the tears racking down as you clench the photos to your heart. five months and thirteen days and you are not a single second away from properly healing. you'll never love again. you know that for a fact.

it's ten in the night when you wake up, and the couch is stained with tears. haley is right beside you, looking sad and sullen. she misses her best friend too, but she always hates it when her other best friend is crying.

"i haven't fed you? fuck," you swear before standing up. everything hurts. your heart feels too heavy. there's cuts on your wrists. you stare at them, the red from the blood dried up.

he also stares at them too. he vows that he's coming back no matter what.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x you #hurt/comfort #richard grayson #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dc comics

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Interlude): My Little Bunnies

a/n: happy belated easter to all those who celebrate! i wanted to write john & cass' first easter as parents and it became a 10 page fic with smut/fluff/angst. read on to meet their twins, meet cass' parents, learn more about her family history and so much more. and to the anon who sent an ask about them getting a bloodhound, yes. he is here. this was a real labor of love but it is my gift to you. i hope you all love it and please come let me know your thoughts on this little family. xoxo

warnings: smut

When Cass was quiet, it meant she was thinking. And since they had left the driveway of their beach house, she had been quiet. A notebook in one hand and a pen and leash in the other, John thinks she was attempting to memorize her to-do list for Easter Sunday.

“You know part of the reason I was convinced into coming here this weekend was your insistence on family walks,” he looked down at the two little bundles that were already gazing right back at him, “tell Mama she can relax for one night.”

“I’ll relax after everything goes off without a hitch tomorrow. It’s their first Easter and our first time hosting a holiday and the first time my family is seeing the house and-” She paused as Gale let out a sound of discomfort and started to squirm in the carriage, Cass quickly reaching down and smoothing a finger over his cheek with a coo. He quieted just as quickly at her touch and blinked up at her sleepily. “There, there my sweet boy. I’m right here.” Not for the first time, and not for the last time, John was endlessly amazed by his wife. How she managed to be a mother, a wife and still impress the brass in DC was beyond his comprehension. He hadn’t known it was possible to fall more in love with her and here he was. Falling in love with her more and more everyday. 

“We Egan boys get cranky when you aren’t around to dote on us.”

“Is that so? Do you agree with that, Butter?” The bloodhound gave a gentle bark in answer which John took as his agreement. “Well, Miss Penelope does have a habit of looking at every plane in the sky while she waits for you to come home.” He grinned so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“That’s my little lamb,” he said with a gentle tickle to the top of her tummy, her giggles making her parents laugh right along with her. “And what about you? What do you do all day while you wait for me to come home?”

“Oh, I just stare longingly out the window because the thought of you not being around paralyzes me, Lieutenant Colonel Egan.” Cass held her hand to her forehead and feigned hysteria.

“I guess it is kind of beautiful here,” John relented as their walk took them to the beach. The waves were crashing against the sand as the sunset laid a pink backdrop to the view. He lifted his arm and Cass fell into his side with ease.

“I told you so,” she murmured against his chest. Cass had loved growing up on her family’s estate outside of Charleston. She had learned more about life running around that land than she ever had anywhere else. But every summer her mother would take her and siblings for Kiawah Island, where her father would join on occasion, and she would roam free on the sand and in the sun. There were no boys trying to dance with her and her mother didn’t yell at her for being barefoot and she was able to laugh loud and run fast and there were no consequences. “You see that gray house with the white balconies a few hundred yards that way?” She pointed in the general direction and John shaded his eyes to look. 

“That’s not a house, Cass, that’s a mansion.”

“That’s my parents house. My dad built it for my mom when I was little,” she said sheepishly. When she had been old enough to truly understand love and relationships, she had thought it was the most romantic thing. Had seen how happy it made her father to provide for her mother. How happy it made her mother that it was hers and only hers and almost a monument to the life they created together. “Since then, I’ve always wanted to raise my own family here.” John watched her caress the cheeks of their sleeping children with a smile.

“All I ever want, Cass, is for you and Gale and Penelope to be happy and safe. Nothing else matters to me.” The white house that was surrounded by trees on one side and the beach on the other had been a dream of Cass’ for a long time. She had told him about it back at Thorpe Abbotts and he had dreamed about it in his bunk on those cold German nights. Dreamed about buying it for her and carrying her over the threshold and filling it with their love and the pitter patter of little feet. 

“Lucky for you, that’s all I want, too. And maybe some more kisses.” 

“You’re saying I don’t kiss you enough?” he asked with raised eyebrows. She shook her head.

“Not nearly enough.” John had worked overtime for months to set aside enough for the down payment. Had turned down her father’s offer to buy it as a wedding gift. He had wanted to get this for her, for his wife, all on his own. She was the reason he was alive. It was only a drop in the bucket for what he owed her. 

“It’s talk like that that got us here in the first place,” he whispered with a nod towards the carriage. “You being a little kiss thief.” Butter whined with displeasure.

“He doesn’t like when you’re snarky to me.” Their chests were pressed together now, his nose bumping hers as he laughed. “You’re the one that spent his whole puppy life telling him he had to be my guard dog,” she added with a gentle poke to his chest. Cass had just sweet talked her way into convincing John that Butter was meant to come home with them, having found him in a horse stall at her family’s place, when he asked if she wanted to take a drive to the beach. She thought he meant somewhere close but as they drove past the turn for Folly she began to get an idea of where he was taking her. She remembers her heart sinking when SOLD was in big red letters on the sign. John had asked if she wanted to take a look around anyways. For old time’s sake. 

“Yeah and when he successfully chased that crazy bird away from you last month you were very grateful for it.” He scratched behind the hounds ears for good measure.

“I was. Seagulls scare me, you know that.” Ever since one had snatched her lunch right out of her hands on the very beach they were looking at when she was still in pigtails. Cass had told him that story while they walked around the house. Her hands wistfully touching the floors and her smile at the scent of the water making it hard for John to keep the secret in. She had known back then she was pregnant, hadn’t found the right time to tell John yet and hadn’t known there were two baby Egans on their way, but had told him she hoped this house made a family happy. That they loved it the way she had as a little girl and didn’t change a thing. He had told her to close her eyes and hold out her hand. And she looked confused at the cool metal that he placed in her palm, understanding registering when she opened her eyes and saw it was a key.

 What do you say we fill this house with our family, my love?

----

As it was most mornings, her nightgown was bunched around her waist as she gasped into John’s mouth. She was gently rotating her hips while his fingers gripped her hips tighter and tighter and his hips thrusted up into her slowly. 

“Fuck, John,” she moaned as he sat up and kissed her roughly. 

“You close, baby?” It was always a bit of a race to get there before the twins woke or before a housekeeper or nanny knocked on the door to get the day started. John wished he had all the time in the world every time but wouldn’t trade the moments he had with her for anything, no matter how quickly they went. “Look me in the eyes, my sweet girl.” His thumb found her clit between them and pressed until she threw her head back.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she panted as she knocked her forehead against his. John wouldn’t even dare to think to stop as she came undone around him and his own finish followed instantly. He fell back against the pillow, her lips on his the entire time, and stroked her cheek gently as he tried to regain control of his breathing. “Think they’ve got five more minutes in them so we can-” The sound of one baby crying pierced the tranquility followed in quick succession by the other. 

“That’s a no,” he remarked with a smile. “They probably think if they cry loud enough, you won’t make them dress all fancy and go to church.”

“They are always perfectly well behaved at church.” Butter’s barking joined the cacophony and the bubble was fully burst. “If you let him out and start the coffee, I can change diapers and get their clothes out.” He gave her bottom a gentle pat as she begrudgingly let him slip out of her. 

“Hey, Spook?” Cass turned from where she was slipping her underwear on. “I love you.” Unable to keep herself from blushing, she pecked him one last time before the craziness of the day settled in. 

“Hey, John?” He hummed with delight as his nose rubbed against hers. “I love you, too.”

----

True to her word, the twins behaved like angels at their first Easter mass. Gale had only tried to kick his shoes off for a few minutes and Penelope had only required John to make silly faces through one hymn. Cass had rolled her eyes on their way out the door as her husband produced two stuffed bunnies from behind his back and tucked them between their fingers. She had reminded him they each had a whole basket of stuffed bunnies waiting to be opened by the fireplace and probably many more arriving as gifts later in the day. One more from their dad couldn’t hurt was all he had to say.

The house was near mayhem when they arrived back. Caterers had taken over the kitchen, their house manager Alice was leading a small army in pillow fluffing and men with white gloves were polishing glasses in the dining room. John was once again reminded how differently he and his wife had grown up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, Happy Easter, I hope you had a wonderful morning.” Alice reached for Cass’s purse and gloves, taking them before smiling at the sleeping twins who each had a head on one of their father’s shoulders. “I can have Joan take them off your hands, sir.” 

“It’s quite alright, Alice, I think the three of us are going to find a cozy spot on the beach to keep out of my lovely wife’s way.” 

“Perhaps someone could find them an umbrella and blanket and chair?” Cass inquired as she began to walk towards the kitchen, handing Alice her hat as well along the way. “How’s the ham looking? It smells wonderful.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll get the beach set up for them. And the ham should be ready to carve exactly as we scheduled dinner for.” John side stepped around a group carrying boxes down the hall. “That would be the two options for porcelain Mrs. Cooper sent for your consideration.”

“Porcelain?” John thought it was a simple family dinner. He didn’t think it would be such an affair when Cass broached him with the idea of hosting.

“Yes. And if I pick the wrong one then I will never hear the end of it.” She turned back to Alice. “I’ll need to see a complete place setting of each one.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have them get right on it.” 

“What happened to you not wanting to be reduced to a housewife?” John asked as he walked towards the back door, Cass opening it for him and following him down the back steps and onto the sand. 

“I just want everything to be perfect today. I’ll be back to the Spook you know and love as soon as this is over.” 

“First, I love all of you, all the time. Second, I heard you talking to Alice and Joan about hiring more staff, that word is honestly beyond my comprehension, when we go back to Virginia.” Cass took Penelope from him and laid her gently on the shaded blanket that had been set up, her hand brushing over her curls and kissing her forehead gently. 

“And? You don’t want the help?”

“I thought the two of us were getting by quite well on our own.”

“I can’t put off going back to work any longer and I want someone I know and trust with them during the day. And if Alice or Joan are watching them, then they need someone else to do the things they have been doing.” Sure her and John had figured out a rhythm. But eventually Cass needed to get back to doing the work she loved. Rediscover who she was just as Cass and not just as John’s wife or her children’s mother. “Besides, they aren’t watching them so I can go to tea or try on dresses. I need to get back in there. You know what they’ve been saying about Korea.”

“Is that what you’ve been worried about? It’s a few years from anything active, Cass, if anything at all.” She wasn’t used to the anxiety that coursed through her veins after she had the twins. Wasn’t used to feeling her chest so heavy when she thought about how hard this world was going to make it to protect them. 

“Yes, but if I can even do one thing to help prevent them from having to live through a war…” She trailed off and wiped angrily at her eyes, lifting Penelope against her chest and kissing the top of Gale’s head where he still rested against John. “I don’t want them to ever have to experience anything like what we went through.” He gathered her into his side and kissed her temple.

“We went through that so they could live in a better world,” he said softly. “Came out the other side because right here, right now is where we belong.” She looked up with a laugh as she noticed Butter trotting his way over to them, his nose sniffing at Gale and Penelope before he plopped on his side in the shade. 

“If it bothers you, I’ll tell them all to go home and never come back. The five of us can figure the rest out.” 

“No, they’re fine. It’s just not how we did things in Wisconsin. It’s taking some getting used to.” He had assumed Cass came from money when he met her. The well-manicured nails and silk nightgowns and impeccable table manners cluing him in. He just hadn’t realized he was marrying into a Carolina rice dynasty. It came with multiple homes and polo matches and hunting trips and acres of land and hundreds of employees in the home and around the burgeoning corporation. For so long, Cass had thought marriage and kids were not in the cards for her so the structure of a household was a non-existent problem. But then she had fallen in love with John Egan and married him in London and spent two years dreaming of their future and the comforts of her childhood had found their way in.

“Well, Butter, you keep an eye on these three while I pick out porcelain and tie drapes and whatever the heck else a lady is supposed to do these days.” With one last kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, her son’s head and her husband’s head, Cass was off and pulled into a million directions upon re-entering her home. Whenever she could, she would look out the window at her husband tickling their tummies or helping them put sand in a bucket or carrying them to dip their toes in the water. She knew none of the material things around her mattered. And if it made John more comfortable to get rid of them, she would in a heartbeat. She only needed those three humans and the one furry family member to be happy. To be fulfilled in this life beyond her wildest dreams. Any threats on the horizon be damned.

----

Cass waited anxiously for her parents' new Italian sounding car to pull into the driveway, her siblings, extended family and some of the local friends her and John had found already socializing about the house and grounds. She had taken a sip of her husband’s whiskey she was so nervous. 

“Baby, I know for a fact your dad is going to be too focused on the twins and the other grandchildren running around to even care about the way I carve the ham. And who cares if your mother doesn’t like the color of the shutters? I didn’t spend a whole weekend painting them for her.” He had for Cass. She had spent days deciding between two shades of green that John thought were exactly the same but had provided his minimal input when asked. 

“I rewarded you handsomely for your efforts, Mr. Egan.” John remembered. They hadn’t left their bed for days after Cass couldn’t stand the sight of him sweaty and with a pencil tucked behind his ear working on their house any longer. She had had her way with him and John had taken on many more projects around the house ever since. And every time, his wife was unable to maintain even a shred of decency. 

“I never got that round two you were mentioning this morning, Mrs. Egan,” he mused as he drifted closer and closer until his hands wrapped around the small of her back and her arms draped over his shoulders.

“We have a house full of guests,” she giggled as he nipped gently at her lips. 

“Yes but the babies are occupied which means no little angelic interruptions.” She moaned as he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, her toes curling in her new heels. 

“Not even on Easter Sunday can you two find a sense of decorum?” 

“Shush, Gale, they’re in love,” Marge said with a gentle slap to his arm. If Gale Cleven had a nickel for everytime he had caught the two of them in various stages of passion, he would have been able to use the profits alone to buy a similar house to the one he was standing in.

“Oh, I am so happy you were able to make it!” Cass kissed Gale on the cheeks eagerly and let out a squeal of delight as she wrapped Marge in a hug. “I’ve got you both all set up in the guest room furthest from the nursery so you can hopefully sleep in peace while you’re here.” Before John could even say his own hello, Cass and Marge were off towards the backyard with their heads close together as they whispered. 

“Well, we did always say they’d be thick as thieves,” he remarked as he grabbed the suitcase Marge had abandoned by the door. “Up this way.” Gale smiled and nodded politely at all the strangers that were dressed in black and white, bustling in and out of the kitchen and dining room with haste. He could only imagine how it was driving his best friend crazy.

“Who would’ve thought? John Egan having ten people cook his Easter dinner for him,” Gale teased as John set the suitcase down in the guest room and dropped himself into the armchair by the window. 

“I hear it’s being served on porcelain,” he mused back. Gale settled in the chair across from him. 

“It’s a beautiful house, John. You’ve got to be proud of yourself.” John stared out the window and nodded.

“Yeah, it is. Makes Cass happy to be out here.” It wasn’t that she was unhappy at their home in Virginia but John knew she missed South Carolina. Missed the beach and her family being close by. 

“And are you happy?”

“With her and the kids, always. Just learning this new side to her is all.”

“That seems to be what marriage entails. Learning to love something new everyday.” The hum of a car engine broke the comfortable silence between two old friends and Gale peeked out the window with a low whistle. “Is that a Maserati?”

“That it would be, Buck. You want to come distract my mother in law with your good looks for me?” When John and Cass had their more official wedding last year, Buck Cleven had been the hottest commodity. The women of Charleston hadn’t given him a moment to breathe. 

“No I think you’ve got the Cooper women under control, Bucky.” Gale clapped him between his shoulder blades. “Now where’s that beautiful baby you named after me?”

Cass was at the bottom of the stairs waiting with a baby on each hip, Gale kissing their sprouting curls on his way to find Marge on the beach, and John forgot all about anything negative he had been feeling that day. 

“Say hi Daddy, we were looking for you.” The twins smiled like they always did when they had their parents attention solely on them. The sound of Cass’ voice bringing them a calmness only John could ever begin to relate to. 

“Hi, my little bunnies.” John took Penelope onto his own hip, kissing her cheek around the stuffed bunny ear that was between her teeth, Cass reaching to tuck a few of his curls back into place. “I thought you preferred them all messy.”

“I do but-” the door opened and the words died in her throat. 

“Cassandra Ann, that dog of yours does have a habit of sticking his nose all over the place.” 

“Hi, Mama. Happy Easter to you, too.” John whistled for Butter who came and sat at his side dutifully. “Hi, Daddy.” She pressed a kiss to each of her parents’ cheeks and almost cringed as she saw the line of valets carrying colorful baskets into the backyard. The level of stuffed animals entering her home was reaching a near suffocating level. 

“Oh, John, how handsome you look this afternoon.” Cass rolled her eyes as her mother stepped forward to kiss John’s blushing cheeks.

“Thank you, ma’am, you’re looking very lovely yourself. Sir.” He shook her father’s hand firmly, smiling when Penelope reached for her grandfather instantly. 

“Cassandra, aren’t you going to show me around? I’m very curious as to which place setting you chose.” She looked at John to say I told you so before guiding her mother down the hall. 

“Of course. We can start in the dining room if you’d like.” John felt like a bad father as his son looked at him with wide blue eyes over his mother’s shoulder as they disappeared around the corner but he would make it up to him with something sweet after dinner.

“Can I offer you something to drink, sir?” 

“Whiskey, John, thank you.” While John had had to work his charm hard on Mrs. Cooper to convince her he wasn’t a street urchin there to steal her daughter, Mr. Cooper had taken no convincing to know John was the right man for his daughter. Had sat down for one dinner with the two of them and saw how they looked at each other. How he had kept a hand on her protectively the entire time. Had seen the absolute gratitude in Cass’ eyes that John was alive and next to her every time she looked at him.

“I told Cass you’d be more interested in the grandkids than the way I carved the ham later,” he pointed out as Penelope was filled with utter glee at the way her grandfather was tickling her cheeks with her bunny.

“Cassandra has always been my most perceptive child yet, on occasion, forgets that is one of her own most formidable qualities.” John handed him a glass, bringing them together with a clink before taking a sip. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“This one and her brother keep her busy and she’s looking forward to getting back to work. But she’s good. She smiles everyday, I’ll always make sure of it.” Penelope’s lower lip began to wobble and John gathered her against his chest just as the first tear rolled down her chubby cheek. 

“I can go find the nanny-”

“I’ve got it, sir.” John kissed her forehead gently and she quieted. “She’s just like her mother. Pouts until she gets a kiss then she’s fine.” Now she was focused on the fabric of John’s tie and trying to get it into her mouth. Yes, Mr. Cooper thought, Cass had made the perfect decision to marry this man.

“Son, if I may offer a few pointers on carving the ham.”

----

Hours later, after bellies were full and babies were sleepy, the house was beginning to calm down. Cass had shed her stockings and tied her hair back and accepted Marge’s offer to put the twins to sleep. There were people finishing dishes in the kitchen and packing away porcelain in the dining room. Alice was orchestrating the entire effort for which she was grateful, her fingers wrapping around the neck of a bottle of whiskey and heading towards the small fire that was glowing on the beach.

“You hiding from me?” she teased as she dropped a kiss to the top of his head and sat in the chair next to him.

“Never, baby. Was just having a cigarette before coming in to help with bedtime.” Cass wanted him to quit but was starting with not allowing him to smoke around the kids. She handed him the whiskey and took the cigarette from his fingers, inhaling a few times before putting it out in the sand. 

“Marge asked if she could put them to bed for practice. I ran away before she changed her mind,” she giggled. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked around a pull from the bottle.

“Everything.” 

“Spook, you know my ego needs specifics.” He opened his arms, summoning her into his lap, and closed his eyes in peace as her head settled under his chin.

“Not letting me chase you away all those years ago. Not divorcing me when I showed up at your bunk bed in Germany. Our babies.”

“I had very little to do with those two but I’ll take it.” She kissed him gently, lovingly. Without a care in the world and in no rush. “Everything to your liking today?”

“Yes. I promise we won’t host anymore holidays for awhile.”

“You pick the right porcelain?” 

“Of course not.” John laughed and she joined in, taking her own swig of alcohol. “And I was very impressed by your knife skills at dinner.” John kissed the tip of her nose.

“Your dad told me it was important the man of the house not treat it like carving a ham but like he could use the knives to protect his family.”

“Did he?” she asked with a furrowed brow. 

“I think he was trying to convince me to take it more seriously. It worked.” 

“It certainly seemed it did.” Cass twisted her finger around the loose curl in the middle of his forehead as he looked out towards the ocean. “I do have one last ask up my sleeve.” Slowly undoing the buttons of her dress, John was more focused than he had been all day. Between her breasts was an Easter egg with hearts painted on it. 

“I would’ve joined in on the egg hunt had I known, Cass.” 

“Open it.” As soon as he had it in his fingers, her lips were on his jaw and down his neck and he had an inkling what might be inside. He could barely read the words she had written as the blood rushed from his head to between his legs. Round two? His lips were on hers in an instant, John groaning as his hand slid up her thigh and found nothing but bare skin. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, sliding his waistband down just enough to free him. 

“Fuck, baby, no time for teasing.” His hands lifted her hips and he sunk into her with a contented sigh, his lips latching onto her collarbone as she found a steady pace. “Want the neighbors to hear how good I make you feel.”

“John,” she whined as his hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed gently. Unable to hold himself back, he laid her onto the blanket and used the new leverage to increase the pace, her legs hooking around his hips and urging him to go harder and faster. “You’re going to make me cum.” 

“You look so pretty when you cum, baby,” he cooed into her ear as he felt her clenching around him. “That’s my good girl, taking me so well.” His wife looked so good underneath him. Like she truly was made to be his. 

“Fuck, right…there…oh, God,” she arched her back into him as her orgasm washed over her in a waves, John’s hips stuttering as he moaned into her mouth and she took all he had to give her. “I love making you moan.” John was handsome and rugged and all the masculine words that she could think of. But he was also so damn pretty.

“Good thing you’re so good at it,” he said as he nuzzled into the side of her neck. “You’ve worn me out, Mrs. Egan.”

“Can you carry me to bed?” she murmured as her own eyelids were growing heavy. 

“Just let me hold you like this for a few more minutes.”

“Hey, John?” He kissed the side of her neck in acknowledgment. “I love you.”

“Hey, Spook?” She smiled in anticipation. “I love you, too.”

And if Gale earned another nickel as he was closing the blinds that night, no one needed to know.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x reader #john egan x oc #cass and bucky

[slaymybreathaway]

The Swayze Dilemma (Georgie Cooper x Reader)

Warnings: none

Word count: 592

Masterlist

It was 11 am Sunday Morning when I Heard about Jennifer Hansen's death. My family had walked in the door from church when the phone rang.

I wasn't really friends with Jenny but my older brother, Andrew was and the death had hit him hard.

♡

Thqe day of the funeral, my mother decided that it was best if I didn't go. Connie Tucker told my mother that I could stay in her house while my parents and brothers were at the funeral.

Connie was the meemaw of my boyfriend, Georgie and we get along like a house on fire. He'll be staying at her house too, along with his siblings, Missy and Sheldon.

I find Missy very funny and Sheldon has taken a liking to me... I think. It's hard to tell with him. Sometimes when he and Georgie are arguing, I side with Sheldon. It's not my fault that the kid backs up his argument.

When I knocked on the door of Connie's house, Georgie opened the door.

"Hey darlin', what're those?" he looked at the box in hands.

"Hi cutie, These are doughnuts," I stepped into the house. He tried to reach for the doughnuts but I pulled them away before he could. "Ah, wait till I get into the kitchen first," I kissed his cheek and walked into the house.

The twins were in there, Sheldon was struggling to reach a glass from the press. I took one down for him "Here you go love," I said.

"Hey, Y/n watchya got there?" Missy asked.

I opened the box and showed her. She reached for a jam doughnut. "Hey, how come Missy gets first pick?" Georgie asked and swiped one

I shrugged my shoulders although I knew the reason why. Missy was my favourite, she's like the sister I never had. She doesn't really get that much attention at home so she calls me whenever she needs to talk to someone.

Her and Sheldon went into the living room to watch TV with Connie while Georgie and I stayed in the kitchen.

"Hey watcha say to going dancing next Sunday?" He asked and got a Coke from the fridge.

"I never knew you danced Georgie. Yeah sure, I'll meet you at your house around 5," I said and Followed the twins into the living room.

"And the clothes they're wearing, is that what they become a ghost in?" Missy asked.

Georgie and I sat down on the couch and he put his arm around me. "It Depends, in the movie Ghost, Patrick Swayze has on the outfit that he dies in but Casper runs around butt naked," he chuckled.

Connie looked at him all confused. "I made him watch Ghost with me," I said to her. Her expression relaxed a bit.

"Yeah and you were staring at Swayze the whole time," he muttered.

"Of course I was staring, it's Patrick Swayze for crying out loud! Don't act like you don't stare at all the models in your dirty magazines," I said, proud that I got a dig in.

Connie was laughing so hard that I thought she was gonna fall out of her armchair and Georgie's eyes looked like they were gonna pop out of his head. His face turned red, too.

"H-how did you find out about them?" He asked embarrassingly.

Missy and I shot eachother a knowing look. "Lucky guess," I said.

A minute or two later, I turned and looked at Georgie. "I'd pick you over Swayze any day," I snuggled into him.

#georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #georgie #young sheldon #sheldon cooper #the big bang theory #tbbtforever

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, “just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once. 

Most of them break your heart. 

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific–of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f! reader #joel miller x meadowlark #ellie williams #leave off your wandering

[onlyonetifosi]

The Leclerc household was buzzing with activity on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of dishes clinking together filled the air. It was a typical day for the Leclerc family, except for one member who stood silently in the corner of the kitchen, observing the chaos before her. That member was Y/N Leclerc, the youngest of the Leclerc siblings.

Y/N was only seventeen, still in high school, while her brothers, Charles and Arthur, had already made their mark in the world of motorsports. Charles, the middle child, had achieved great success in Formula 1, while Arthur was steadily making his way through Formula 2. Y/N, however, was never given the opportunity to pursue her dreams of becoming a race car driver. The family's financial limitations forced them to prioritize Charles and Arthur's careers.

As Y/N watched her brothers and mother, Pascale, engaging in animated conversation, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. She desperately wanted to be a part of their world, to share in their victories and defeats. But fate had chosen a different path for her, one that she was still struggling to come to terms with.

"Y/N, can you pass me the sugar, s'il vous plaît?" Charles's voice interrupted her thoughts, his eyes focused on his phone.

Y/N snapped back to reality and reached for the sugar, placing it in front of him. "Here you go, Charles."

"Merci," he replied absentmindedly, already engrossed in his social media feed.

She glanced at Arthur, who was discussing race strategies with their mother in rapid French. He occasionally shot her a sympathetic smile, aware of the void in her heart.

Feeling a surge of frustration, Y/N mustered the courage to speak up. "Maman, I don't feel well can I go to my room?" she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Pascale turned to her daughter, a concerned expression on her face but still let her. "Bien sûr"

Y/N found solace in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall adorned with posters of her brothers' achievements. It was a constant reminder of the path she couldn't walk.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and her mother, Pascale, stepped in. She had a gentle smile on her face, but Y/N could see the sadness in her eyes.

"Ma chérie," Pascale said, her voice filled with love and concern. "Are you okay?"

Y/N fought back tears and nodded, unable to find the right words.

Pascale sat beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's difficult, Y/N. But your time will come. We couldn't afford to support all three of you at once, and it broke our hearts to make that decision."

Y/N's voice trembled as she spoke, "I just feel so invisible, Mom. Like I don't matter compared to Charles and Arthur. They're living their dreams, and I'm stuck here."

Pascale hugged her tightly, her voice softening. "You matter more than you know, my dear. You're our pillar of strength, our hope for the future. We couldn't have made it this far without you."

Y/N clung to her mother, tears streaming down her face. "Je sais, maman, mais c'est difficile. J'essaie de trouver ma place, mais j'ai l'impression que je ne pourrai jamais briller comme eux."

A few days later, Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo found Y/N sitting in the garden, lost in her thoughts. They exchanged worried glances before joining her, taking a seat on the bench.

Lorenzo, the ever-protective older brother, broke the silence. "Y/N, we need to talk. We've noticed that you've been feeling down lately, and we want you to know that we see you. We love you."

Y/N looked up at them, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be a burden. I just can't help feeling left behind."

Charles placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice filled with remorse. "Y/N, you're not a burden. We may be racing, but you're racing in your own way. You're still fighting, still pushing through, and we admire that."

Arthur chimed in, his voice full of conviction. "You've always been our biggest supporter, Y/N. Your presence gives us strength. We wouldn't be where we are without you."

Y/N wiped away her tears, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. She finally felt seen, acknowledged, and valued by her brothers.

"Merci," she whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Je vous aime"

In that moment, they all understood the true meaning of family. It wasn't just about racing or achievements, but about being there for each other, supporting one another through the highs and lows of life.

The Leclerc family stood in a tender embrace, a silent acknowledgment of the love and bond they shared. In that moment, Y/N realized that while her dreams of becoming a race car driver may have been put on hold, she had something equally valuable—her family's unwavering support.

From that day forward, Y/N pursued her passion for motorsports in her own unique way. She became an avid spectator, cheering on her brothers from the sidelines, and found solace in other hobbies that sparked her creativity and brought her joy.

In the shadows of the track, Y/N Leclerc discovered her own light, finding fulfillment in the love of her family and the pursuit of her own dreams, however different they may be.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #leclerc!reader

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Timeless - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Literally my first attempt at a fic in forever so bare with me, but I had this idea and I couldn't not do it. Also definitely inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift in a way so don't mind me.

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: no warnings, extra cute Bob. mutual pining. lots of fluff. mild angst if you squint.

word count: 2.6k

The cool, crisp November air tickled the back of your neck as you walked down the street, orange, red and yellow leaves peppering the sidewalks, the smells of autumn air filling your nose. You frowned as you zipped your jacket up further to cover you better, the breeze sending a shiver down you. The streets were buzzing with people out and about to finish their preparations for Thanksgiving. It was still a week or so away, but, no one leaves anything to the last minute around here, especially not when it comes to homemade pies and cornbread dressing. The smell of fresh brewing coffee swirled around you as you made your way closer to your favourite local bake shop, enveloping your senses as you walked. You stopped as something - someone caught your eye. You froze in your steps as you peered in the window of the bakery, and you almost gasped in surprise at who you saw standing in line to order. A tall man, with neatly styled dark blonde hair, wire framed glasses, and the most stunning blue eyes you’d ever seen - it had to be him.

Suddenly, he turned and saw you, a large smile on his face as he waved, as if he’d just seen his long lost best friend. In a way, he had. 

Robert Floyd had been your neighbour growing up, his house was two doors down from your parents - a pretty Victorian-Queen Anne style home that sat on the corner of the street. His mother had always kept her garden looking immaculate, like something out of a home and garden magazine. He was the youngest of three kids, with an older brother and older sister who were both outgoing and popular in school - Robert had always been shy and more reserved than his siblings. 

You moved in when you were 6, just getting ready to start the school year in a new town, terrified of your own shadow. The first thing you noticed when you’d moved in, was the Floyd house and its picturesque landscape. That, and the adorable boy around your own age who’d been playing out front, and waved shyly when he saw you through the back window of your parents’ car as you drove past. For the next 12 years, you and Robert Floyd, or Bobby as you’d always called him, had been best friends - practically inseparable friends, in fact. You did everything together possible. From bike rides to church on Sundays to trick-or-treating to sports teams, everything you could do together, you did. It was as though you couldn’t function as a child without Bobby by your side, and vice versa. 

That all changed when Bobby decided to enter the Navy when he turned 18. It was the first time you wouldn’t be going to school together, and the first time since you’d met that he couldn’t be by your side if you needed him. He was leaving you, and you couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards him for it. You’d wanted to tell him the day you graduated high school that you loved him, you’d wanted to beg him to stay or take you with him wherever he was heading, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something inside you had told you that it was futile - he’d always wanted to join the military, since the day you met him, and when you were 10 and he’d joined a Navy League Cadet Corps group, it was like fate had decided what he was going to do in life right then and there. You knew that no amount of love in the world shared between you two would have stopped him, and you also knew that he’d never let you give up on your own aspirations to follow him wherever he went. 

As you walked into the coffee shop, you were captivated by the smell of freshly baked pastries and roasted coffee beans, but everything around you seemed to freeze when you saw him in person - as if the whole world came to a complete standstill at that moment. God, you missed him. You didn’t even realize just how much you’d missed him over the last decade or so it’d been since you’d graduated. He rarely came back to South Carolina for visits, and you hadn’t exactly spent a ton of time in your hometown since college either, but in this moment, it was as if fate had decided again - you needed one another. 

“Kristen? Kristen Taylor, is that you?” His voice sounded the exact same, as if nothing had changed about him in the last 10 or so years. In fact, he even looked the same as he had when you’d graduated high school, even the frames of his glasses had remained the same. 

“Bobby? Wow, it’s been years! It’s so nice to see you,” You smiled fondly as he gently placed one of his large, firm hands on your arm, as if he wasn’t sure a hug was appropriate after so long.

“It’s been too long. Do you have a moment? We could sit and catch up for a few minutes, if you want to? I feel like we lost touch for some reason when I shipped out to training, and I feel like I missed a lot.” He nods sheepishly, almost as if he’s making an admission of guilt. 

“I think I can spare a few minutes,” You nod slowly, smiling as you met his deep blue eyes, “I’m home visiting from New York and just wanted to take it all in, you know? I don’t really have an agenda for today.”

“Perfect,” Robert nods his head as he points to an empty booth by the window, “I’ll wait here for you while you order.”

A few moments later, coffee in hand, you’re sitting opposite him just like you’d done so many times in this very coffee shop when you were teenagers, sipping sweet teas together while sharing a freshly baked cookie or two. He smiled as he set his coffee down and laughed softly, shaking his head as he spoke.

“What have you been up to? You said you’ve been in New York? Like the city? That’s awesome,” He appears completely invested in hearing everything you’ve been up to since he last saw you. 

“Well,” you began to unravel your recent past to him, or as much as you felt comfortable disclosing. You weren’t quite ready to share how you’d had failed relationship after failed relationship since you turned 18, unable to find any man who could compare to him or his sweet demeanor. You didn’t want to tell him that your last relationship ended mercifully as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your ex, and how you got cold feet a few months before the plans were finalized, but didn’t know why that was until today. You had told your ex you just weren’t ready - which wasn’t entirely untrue, but until Bob reentered your life a few minutes ago, it hadn’t dawned on you why you weren’t ready. In reality, it was because no one could ever be Bob. No one could ever give you butterflies like he had, or make you blush when he kissed you on the cheek after asking you to dance at homecoming when you were 15, or hold your hand so protectively as you said goodbye to him when he left for California. 

Instead, you told him how you’d gone to NYU for journalism, how you’d entered the field and loved it instantly, how writing was your passion and you loved it so, and you told him how you’d landed the ideal position, working for a major news network writing copy and scripts for the on-air hosts to read off of, working your way up the corporate food chain to make yourself a producer. You told Bob how New York winters were biting cold at times, but how the freshly fallen snow was almost romantic, and how the sight of Central Park at Christmas was stunning, no movie could do it justice. You told him how you adored the way New York had become like a second home to you, how you felt like you’d found the perfect place for you to thrive, something you’d always struggled with growing up in a small town in the south. 

Robert nodded his head as you spoke, showing deep interest in your every word and thought as you spoke. He never took his gaze away from you and never once appeared bored or as though his mind was elsewhere as you spoke - he was complete invested and hung up on your every word. When you finished, he smiled and sipped his coffee before leaning back slightly in the booth, his eyes widening slightly, the way they often had when you were growing up and he’d been impressed by something he’d read or seen. 

“Wow, you’ve done pretty well for yourself then, I’d say.” He laughs softly, “I haven’t been up to nearly as much, just different tours of duty with the navy, I became a Lieutenant, and became a Naval Weapons Systems Officer, graduated from the Top Gun program, where the top like, 1% of all pilots get called up to. I then joined a task force and did a few more missions with them. I’m still on that task force, but I applied for a leave because it’s been so long since I’ve been home and I haven’t taken a leave in probably,” Robert hums for a moment as he thinks, his cheeks turning red as he speaks, “Honestly? Probably four years. My parents and siblings usually either come to me in California, or I go to my brother’s house in Texas. I don’t often need to come here, but this year my mama wanted to host Thanksgiving, so I opted to come home.”

You noticed that, as Robert spoke, he couldn’t help but keep his focus entirely on you. It was like he was studying your every feature, in case he never got to see them again. The look in his eyes suggested that he never wanted to forget anything about you, as if he was scared that if he didn’t analyze every freckle, every hair on your head and every word that escaped your lips, he’d lose you. Like you’d fade away again, into nothing more than a distant memory. His cheeks continued to blush as he realized he’d been staring at you for longer than he had intended. He shook his head and let out another laugh, this one sounding strained, as if he was trying to cover up any awkwardness that may have arisen because of him. 

“You know, I really am glad we ran into each other again,” he nodded slowly. “You know, you’re still the only person who calls me Bobby. Nowadays, I’m always Bob or Robert, if you’re my parents,” he smiles fondly as he mentions the nickname you’ve called him since the day you met him. You decided that hot August afternoon that Bobby just suited him better. He agreed, and despite his mother’s protests that his name was Robert - it stuck. He was always Bobby to you, and he always would be. 

“Is that so? No other girls have thought to nickname you Bobby as a pet name?” You laughed as you raised an eyebrow before sipping your coffee. You found it hard to believe that he’d never found anyone else. A man as loving and affectionate as Bobby wasn’t something you found every day, you’d learned. In the past decade, you hadn’t managed to do it, despite your best efforts. 

You’d never found a man who matched him perfectly - his sweet personality, his soft spoken nature, his deep baritone voice, his laugh, the way he always protected you fiercely, but yet, always encouraged you to do whatever made you happy, and whatever you felt was best. You’d never met someone who’d rather die for you than ever see you upset. You’d yet to meet another man who’d wiped your tears when you were heartbroken or cuddle up and watch your favourite movie with you over and over again until you smiled when you were having a bad day, or meet another man who made your mother comment with, “Kristen, boys like him don’t come around too often.”. Bobby would always and forever be the only man who could meet all those expectations. 

You knew it was unfair of you, and until today, you didn’t even know why you were doing it, but no man could ever be Bobby. You’d rather spend the rest of your life alone than with anyone who wasn’t him, you’d come to notice. You just prayed he felt the same way, or that you at least could convince him that he did before he went back to California, whenever that was. 

“Nah, come on now, Krissy,” he chuckled as he used his nickname he’d always reserved for you growing up, “You know I’d never meet another girl who I’d let call me that. We could have been apart for 40 years instead of 10, and I still wouldn’t have let anyone else call me Bobby. That’s always been your thing for me. It wouldn’t feel right if someone else called me that, you know?”

“I do. I feel the same about being called Krissy. I don’t think anyone’s called me that since you left,” you nodded slowly as you let out a soft sigh, looking down at the now empty coffee cup on the table in front of you. 

“Krissy?” He said softly, his hand reaching across the table to touch yours ever so gently.  

“Mhmm?” You hummed, not wanting to meet his gaze out of fear that one look at him right now would make you crumble and burst into hysterical tears. 

“You know, I’ve really enjoyed seeing you. Do you think we could see each other again before I go back to base? I leave on Monday, I’m only here for 5 days, unfortunately,” he said quietly, gently holding your hand across the table. You can sense he has more he wants to say, but it’s like he’s struggling to get the words out.

“I think we can make that work, maybe after Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, we could go for a walk? Our folks still live two houses away from one another, so it’s not like we’ll be too far away from each other for the next few days. It’ll be just like old times.” You confirm, nodding your head reassuringly, trying not to seem too eager or excited at the prospect of seeing him every day for the next five days. 

“Sounds good,” Robert smiled warmly as he stood up from the booth, looking down at you with an excited happiness about him, “I’ll come knock on your door after dinner tomorrow then, we can go for a walk like we used to as kids, just enjoy being outside and all that.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you laugh as you shake your head, standing from your seat. 

You smiled softly to yourself as you watched Robert head outside, walking down the street past the window of the coffee shop, his navy quarter zip sweater and dark wash denim jeans suiting him perfectly. You bit your lip to hold back a grin as he walked away. You had five days to work up the courage to tell him how you felt. Five short days. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you were certain about one thing - Bob wasn’t leaving South Carolina without you this time.

#lt. robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert floyd #top gun bob #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #lewis pullman #not cm #robert bob floyd x reader #lt. robert floyd x you #bob floyd x you #bob x you #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd x you

[chaithetics]

I was rewatching season 1(because of...reasons) and imagine if Stewy and Yn were hiding their relationship and her mom came to ask how long would Shiv and Toms wedding last and the reason he gave that answer was because everyone was making fun of her because she "didn't bring a date", also when they're taking pictures and they take one with the siblings and their dates she's alone and he's heart eyes for her the entire time and when they FINALLY have some time alone, in a very unStewy way she asks him what he's thinking and he says "por wedding will be so much better than this one" just as Sophie and Iverson are running and says "and our kids will be cuter. Obviously"😍what do you say?

Covert Conversations

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 3.7K

Author's note: Thank you for this request Nonnie! When I saw it in my notes I was immediately inspired and so this one happened so quickly! I really hope you like it, please do let me know your thoughts Nonnie whether that's in the ask box or a PM! I hope you all enjoy this and this helps the void of Succession Sunday! Please let me know what you think, comments, reblogs are appreciated and I love hearing your thoughts (I live for validation also lol) and interacting with you. What a lovely community we have here! Was this proofread? No, of course not! You know how it is around here haha

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, Caroline Collingwood being awful (there is a comment from Caroline about weight gain), Roy siblings not being the nicest (mainly Shiv), some fluff.

Others could and would easily point out the plethora of differences between you and your siblings but there was something important that you all had in common. You never enjoyed being in your mother’s motherland. 

You had a very low-contact relationship with Caroline, which was for the better. The climate here was painfully dreary and you couldn’t imagine ever wanting to get married here, let alone agreeing to it. You were glad that you were at least assertive and confident enough with strong enough boundaries to know that if you were in your elder sister’s position you wouldn’t have ended up people pleasing into this. 

The weather was miserable and the way that the coldness of the country and its inhabitants had oozed itself into every wall and surface as a constant reminder of the dynamic realities and the history locked into them. 

It was the day before Tom and Shiv’s wedding, you were heading over to the church for the rehearsal. You were already severely uncomfortable. There were so many people and it was overwhelming, especially when knowing your mother’s criticisms were just around the corner at all times. 

You also knew you’d be constantly having to swerve around questions about your personal life. You were used to questions and odd looks because of your lack of involvement and interest in Waystar and you usually easily dismissed questions about your romantic life if they ever came up. 

It was a bit more difficult to do the latter though when at your older sister’s wedding, being constantly asked and of course the fact that you stood out. You stood out like a sore thumb as you were the only Roy who hadn’t brought a date and didn’t have a public partner to show off or criticise. Technically Kendall hadn’t brought a date but he had Rava and everybody accepted that due to the complicated nature of their situation. 

Caroline Collingwood was standing outside of the church entrance with your brother and his date Tabitha. You couldn’t see the bride and groom or any of your other siblings. You were hoping that more of them would be there so that you could blend in more and not have as much of an interaction with your mother but it was too late now. 

“Oh hello, darling.” Caroline said as she saw you come over, she was clearly looking at you in the way she did to inspect any flaws, to find any and all chinks in your armour. 

“Hi, mom.” You softly say as you look at her face, she gives you a small hug and inspects your face as he does. 

“Where’s your date? Did you not bring a date…? Don’t tell me you didn’t?!” She asks, there’s a horrified tinge in her voice that’s very thinly veiled in her usual playfully passive-aggressive air. 

“Now, why would I bring someone here to the dreary English countryside and then to even more traumatisingly, meet Roman?” You quipped back. 

Roman scoffed at that and Caroline looked at you, visibly disappointed and sighed. 

“There’s no need to be like that darling, I was simply asking and your brother is lovely.”

“Hear that Rome? You’re lovely!” You say to your brother who quickly flips the bird at you and then goes back to giving his attention to Tabitha. 

You can hear Kendall, Shiv and Tom starting to come over and you make a silent prayer to whatever deity there is that brought them over. But your mother quickly brings you back to your surroundings as she places a hand on your shoulder and studies you more. 

“Have you…?” She questions, you know what she’s asking and roll your eyes sighing. 

“Yes, Mom, I think I’ve gained a few kilos since you last saw me.” You say it bluntly and start to move out of her grasp. 

“I was just asking… your face looks a bit fuller… Gosh, all that therapy has really made you quite defensive!” As she speaks in her native tongue of motherly dismiss and gaslight she finishes with a laugh looking at Roman and Tabitha. Providing them with the cue she hopes they’ll take to join her. 

“Is Connor inside?” You quickly ask, cutting off this discussion from going any further in your presence as you look at Roman. He was the softest and most patient of your siblings with your mother. Feeling uncomfortably antsy, you end up walking off before he has the chance to decide whether he’ll laugh at you with Caroline or if he’ll answer you. 

As you begin to walk off you hear your mother immediately say something about the fact that you’d showed up dateless, which seems to annoy Shiv. She had assumed you’d at least find someone to even numbers up and help balance out photos. 

You roll your eyes at the conversation as you continue to walk into the chapel, further away from it following Connor’s voice. 

“Jesus Christ, Connor.” You say as you see him, he completely and immediately understands. Of course, he does, you knew he would. 

“I don’t think you can say that in here?” He responds as he quickly gives you a hug which you return and then you move to hug Willa. 

“I know she’s my mom-” You start before he finishes it off for you. 

“But she’s the Wicked Witch of the West?” Connor responds as Willa’s eyes widen at that. Connor won’t call her a bitch and use that moniker like Shiv will but it’s still quite a statement coming from him. 

“Yes, exactly that!” You say as you stick to him. Accepting the reality that you’ll probably spend the next couple of days being an awkward third wheel to Connor and Willa. 

*********** 

“She didn’t bring a fucking date, Ken. It’ll throw off the photos and it raises eyebrows.” Shiv complains to her brother the night before the wedding at the rehearsal. 

“Yeah, I know.” Kendall replies. 

“It’s selfish!” 

He’s not as interested in this conversation in comparison to the rest of your family. He did find it a bit odd that you had shown up on your own. He was certain you had been seeing someone for a bit, he’d tried to ask a couple of times but got vague, younger sister “no comment” like responses. 

Kendall was sure as he knew you were rarely at your home and you weren’t a partier. Which pointed at you possibly staying at a partner’s place. That and when he’d noticed a slight behaviour change in you made him think it was a relationship of a more longer and serious nature. 

You’d always been private about your personal life though so he assumed it was that and the potential, quite possibly real reason that you didn’t want to introduce anyone to your family. Something he understood, especially as he’d gotten older, this didn’t seem to be a reason that anyone in your family could quite comprehend though. So he didn’t bother to raise it. 

“Kendall’s dateless.” Stewy says as he takes a sip of his drink looking at his friend. 

Kendall doesn’t think it’s quite the same and Shiv clearly doesn’t either. 

“Yeah, but that’s completely different, Rava’s here-” Shiv immediately responds. 

“In case you were lost in the to-be-blessed nuptials, congratulations of course, they’re separated, and have been for a bit of a gratuitously extended hot minute.” Stewy retorts. 

“Thanks for that reminder, Stew. Really thoughtful.” Kendall says as he looks away. Shiv rolls her eyes and walks off leaving the two men. 

Stewy was once again, not impressed with how your family treated you. He knew Kendall had a soft spot for you and that relationship was close but Kendall had too much on his mind to even consider taking on a defensive role and Stewy’s hands were tied to a point. 

If Shiv wasn’t so cruel to you about this and Kendall wasn’t so in his head he’s sure that they’d have found his comments suspicious. They probably did to an extent anyway Stewy knew, they were always paranoid individuals and even with your candid nature Shiv only had unwavering distrust in you. 

The rest of the evening seemed to go by too quickly, Stewy knew Kendall wasn’t doing well and whenever Stewy looked around for you, you were often hiding in corners with Rava and talking or with Connor and Willa. 

Stewy couldn’t even hide his smile whenever he saw you, you looked beautiful as ever albeit uncomfortable. There was an impressive, assertive grace whenever you manoeuvred yourself out of awkward and uncomfortable social interactions. 

He eventually had to go back to his room for business and he saw you and Rava leaving at the same time. 

He wanted to just go into your room and kiss you, taste the Wambsgans wine directly from your lips. A big part of him was tempted to kiss you there just to spite your family for you. He’d do it. Anything you asked him to he would. 

*************** 

You were with Rava, Sophie and Iverson. Rava was standing and talking to Sophie, they were playing a clapping game while you sat on the grass looking up at Iverson as you both talked about books. He was telling you about the one he’d read last night. 

You’d heard a comment from your mother about you sitting on the grass but it was comfier and far more pleasant than the chairs that had been used for the ceremony, so you ignored her. It shouldn’t take much longer for that to become a built-in mechanism you thought. Plus it made Sophie laugh and you’d do anything to bring a bit of joy to your niece and nephew. 

You looked over your shoulder for a moment and saw Stewy and Kendall standing at the back talking. Kendall’s gaze occasionally fell to where the four of you were but he was mainly just looking ahead or at Stewy. You saw Stewy was watching you, you couldn’t help but smile at him and you were able to see his smiling at you even with the distance, you were confident it was a smirk. 

You then heard the dreaded call, for photos with siblings and partners, you looked up at Rava who gave you a sympathetic look. She’d heard some of the comments and jokes about the fact that you didn’t have a date. You loudly sighed and sat there for a minute, it was possible that the English countryside might just swallow you up or explode and obliterate you all. It was worth a shot, you wouldn’t know if it was possible or not if you didn’t sit there and give it a go. 

Before you could indulge in that hypothesis of a fantasy you saw Kendall walking over to you, Stewy was trailing behind him but with a bit of a distance. Kendall looked down at you and chuckled. 

“Mom hasn’t killed you or died from embarrassment over this?” He asks with a smirk. 

“I wouldn’t know, I’m trying this thing out where I just ignore and avoid her as much as possible. You’ve probably thought of it before.” You quip back. 

Kendall nods and gives a small, dry chuckle. He had. He’d tried avoiding both of the parents you’d shared a multitude of times, he was never successful though. He extends a hand to help you stand up. You look up at him and give him a pout, it’s not quite like Shiv’s pout and eyes that he falls for. There’s more sadness in the expression you’re giving him compared to Shiv’s evident exasperation. 

“Come on.” Kendall says gently as his hand is still out. You sigh and take it, standing up as you brush the skirt of your dress with your hands and adjust it. Rava gives you a smile and says that your outfit looks fine. You nod, and Stewy and Rava start talking as you and Kendall walk off. 

You smile at Willa as you see that she’s going to be included in the photos, much to the annoyance of the rest of your family you’re sure. As you and Kendall walk over and Roman’s posing in Tabitha’s embrace he instantly yells. 

“Wait, stop! We need more room!” Everybody looks at him and he grins like a chuffed child. “We’ve gotta make space for your imaginary boyfriend!” 

Roman, Tabitha and Shiv laugh at that, Tom does that thing where he makes that odd-sounding laugh because the rest of the Roys are laughing at something. Kendall rolls his eyes and Connor gives Roman a pointed look. You feel bad for Willa, she looks uncomfortable. 

“Wait, I thought he was invisible? Is he invisible or imaginary? Because we made sure there was an extra chair set out for him?” Shiv questions smugly. 

You roll your eyes, feeling more uncomfortable than Willa even looks. Connor tells them to stop and they then move their attention over to getting Rava in the photos. It’s an uncomfortable couple of minutes as you stand between Connor and Tom. It’s to balance out the siblings Shiv says but you know that it’s because so if they want to you, Connor and Willa can easily be cropped out. 

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

You’re at the reception sitting at a quieter table at the back. Rava looks up from you and sees Stewy looking at you from across the room, she can tell that it’s aimed at you. The gaze has affection and adoration written all over it. He looks like a simp of a man she thinks. Something she’s never seen or thought of in association with Stewy in all the years that she’s known him. 

“So?” Rava asks, putting her gaze back on you. 

“So?” You ask giving her a smile curious as to what she’s segueing into. 

“Stewy?” Rava asks with an amused expression raising her eyebrows. 

You give her a briefly confused expression before responding. One you’ve now perfected.  

“Hosseini?” You ask, waiting for her to confirm, even though you already know the answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realise he was here.” 

“Yes!” She laughs. “He’s been making like heart eyes at you all night.” 

“Heart eyes?” You ask and laugh at that. She eagerly nods. 

“Yesterday as well I swear, he keeps looking over and it’s not at me.” 

“I seriously doubt it Rav-” 

“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at anyone like that. He was watching you during the photos as well.” 

You want to melt at that, you adore Stewy and how soft he is for you. But you need to keep your composure, you know Rava is more likely to pick up on something than your siblings are. She’s your friend but she’s also more of the empathetic, loving older sister than Shiv ever was to you. You’re also sure that she wouldn’t tell anyone but it wasn’t worth putting her in that position. Especially when you weren’t sure how Kendall would react. 

“That’s an interesting joke Rava.” You say with a small laugh as you sip some more wine. She smiles at you and drops it except for when she occasionally looks away and sees Stewy. 

Rava and the kids eventually go off to look for Kendall and to have a dance, she asks you to join but you tell her that you’re more than fine and sitting for a bit and recharging your social battery wouldn’t hurt. You wouldn’t say it was easily drained but it definitely evaporated quicker around your family and at events like this. 

You were grateful for Rava’s existence and that of your niece and nephew, it certainly made this all significantly more bearable than what it would be without them. 

“You know, some would say that’s obnoxiously  rude.” 

“What is?” You ask, looking up with a smile at the comforting, familiar voice that was interrupting your thoughts. Stewy smirks at you as he then sits down on one of the empty seats by you. 

He has a hand on the back of your seat. It’s him, a sign of affection but something that could easily be written off to a curious eye. 

“To attend a wedding and then be hotter than the bride.” You laugh at that and his smirk grows. “It’s offensive honestly.” 

“Careful Hosseini, Shiv might stab you if she hears that.” 

“I have no doubt about it.” He has that handsome smirk plastered all over his and you look at him with a grin. 

“I heard you told mom that the marriage will last till whatever comes first, forever, or Shiv going away for a week?” You question, he has a smirk on his face, there’s something there you can’t decide if it’s a bit of guilt or pride. It’s smug either way. 

“Yeah. I was getting pissed off with all the commentary on you showing up ‘date-less’.” He answers honestly. 

You can’t help but find a little but funny as you drink in the sight that he is. Oh, it is so cruel that he’s here, so close to you, basically your unspoken date to your sister’s wedding. A clandestine promise that only the two of you know. He’s dressed in that devilishly handsome suit, his hair styled back, the perfect piece of arm candy you think. 

It’s so cruel that all of those factors exist and are right in your face, you’re breathing them in like oxygen. But you cannot just lean over to kiss his soft lips and run your hands through his styled hair and make a joke that he’s your arm candy or be really candid and say he’s the love of your life. It’s torture to sit here and ignore all of that for the sake of appearances while you get drunk off his smell and the way he smiles at you. 

You look into his beautiful brown eyes, you wouldn’t need a drop of the wine that Tom’s parents brought when you could just get drunk off those doe eyes of his. They’re so intoxicating. There’s a gleam in them, it says adoration but also a thoughtful playfulness. You want to know what he’s thinking. You know he has a wonderful mind. 

“Stewy?” You ask softly. He looks at you raising his eyebrows, the way you say his name so softly, makes his heart melt. It sounds so right in your voice, it doesn’t sound as right in anybody else’s. “What are you thinking about?” 

He looks at you, he then looks around the room as he swirls his drink in his hand for a moment before taking a sip. His smirk is still there but then it quickly shifts to something else, a different smile. One that’s gentle, not so smug, it’s intimate. 

“Our wedding.” He says it so casually but genuinely. 

“Oh?” You ask as you feel your cheeks heat up slightly at that. 

“Yeah. I mean, our wedding will be so much better than this one.” He says as he takes another sip from his drink. You laugh at that, a pure, deep laugh as you look at him. “I was saying to Kendall, hasn’t your sister ever heard of anywhere in fucking Italy? We’ll get married in Lake Como. Unless you have any objections to that, just not here, it’s so fucking dreary baby.”

You smile again, you’d talked about marriage before but it was heartwarming to hear Stewy talk about it like this and to know he really did think of these things. 

“I promise you, not here.” You say with a smirk but you mean it wholeheartedly and he knows. 

“That’s a pretty big, solid win for me, so thank you.” He teases. “It’ll be nice, not as many people as this. Big but intimate, with lots of wine, and a hot bride. The hottest of brides, I feel the need to clarify there. I won the future groom lottery there baby.”

You smile at that. You’re already feeling so much better in his company. He really is a salve on your soul. Before you can respond you see Sophie and Iverson running past, they’re so joyful and happy, it makes your heart swell. Stewy immediately thinks about seeing you throughout the day. 

“And our kids will be cuter, obviously.” Stewy immediately blurts out. 

Your head whips from watching your niece and nephew to then face Stewy. Your jaw drops at that, the comment towards Sophie and Iverson but also the open discussion of children. You both discussed that aspect of the future significantly less than marriage. Plus, Stewy specifically said kids, plural, not a singular kid. 

“Stewy! You can’t say that!” 

“What? It’s true though?!” He has that smug smirk you adore written all over his face. He loves the look of pure shock on yours as well, he finds it so adorable and endearing. Oh, he wants to kiss you right now. 

“You can’t say that about Soph and Iverson, plus they’re cute!” You respond. 

“I’m not saying they aren’t. They are. They’re great in fact. No offence to them baby.” He shrugs teasingly. “I just mean, think about ours. They’ll be the cutest kids in the world, and also the most intelligent. They’ll mansplain private equity to all the other babies while simultaneously blowing away all the developmental psychologists with their EQ and reading skills.” He laughs. 

“You’re such a dork for a grown man at times, Stewy. And they’re technically your future niece and nephew!” You respond as you laugh, trying to imagine Stewy talking to a child, reading to them child-friendly stock market bedtime stories. 

“Think about how cute they’ll be. My hair, eyes, your face shape, your cute mouth!” He says excitedly. He’s obviously thought about this all a lot more than you’d realised. 

“You’ve thought about this quite a bit haven’t you?” 

“Of course.” He says, in a mock offence that you’re even surprised at that. 

You smile at him as you take a sip from your drink while leaning back into your chair, plotting how you both can leave this wedding earlier and unnoticed. You’d do anything to kiss him right now and he’d do exactly the same for you.

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini fluff #stewy hosseini x you #succession #succession hbo #succession s1 #succession roy reader #hbo succession #arian moayed #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fanfiction #succession fanfiction #arian moayed characters #arian moayed fanfiction #arian moayed fanfic #arian moayed you will always be famous #stewy hosseini is my number one boy #stewy hosseini x roy reader #stewy hosseini x f reader #roman roy #kendall roy #shiv roy #siobhan roy #connor roy

[goodeapple]

be nice to your neighbors.

i have a million and two wip's in my Ysilla folder and somehow, i have to add one more.

i am an exhausting person. love y'all lots!

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : Aemond is a simp & Ysilla is a plant nerd. Awkward flirting. Fluff. No smut :(

word count : 2,500+

It’s so fucking early. What self-respecting tattoo shop is open at 7AM on a Sunday? On God’s day? Aegon hasn’t stepped foot in a church since he was thirteen which explains the hours, but why the fuck is Aemond here and not him?

Aemond wasn’t exactly planning on going to church today, but maybe if he had the option, his ass would be in a pew next to his mother right now instead of perfecting a sketch for an appointment that isn’t even until next week. His Americano is lukewarm, steam long blown away by the small oscillating fan tucked up on a high shelf. A row of overstuffed books, on everything from Classic Americana design to Valyrian legends he wants to detail on paper, fill up the rest of the ledge. The next one down houses a line of knick knacks he could never force himself to part with- a tiny tacky snowglobe from Harrenhal, his grandfather’s Hand of the King pin from when he was in the courts, 8-tracks from his mum’s rebellious punk phase before she went to college, and at the end, a framed photo of him and his siblings the day they opened the shop. Three identical terrified grins are spread over their faces, nervous anticipation bleeding through the black-and-white snapshot. Little pieces of his life in his little corner of the world, where he gets to do what he loves. 

And the most important little worm to him sleeps the day away in her glass vivarium by the door. Vhagar lounges under her UV bulb, baking on a large smooth stone after inhaling her breakfast. His little crocodile without the teeth. The soft garden green bearded dragon with her yellow belly has been his constant companion since he rescued her from a Oldtown pet shop when he was a pre-teen. He hid her under his bed for a full seven months before his mum found her one day when she was searching for missing socks. It was an impressive feat, one even she had to acknowledge after blowing her fucking top. 

Aemond darkens the curve of the kraken tentacle he’s sketching, a piece for a client coming all the way from the Iron Isles. The little suction cups still need more depth and he hasn’t even begun to flesh out the texture of the skin yet when the bell hanging above the shop door tinkles, signifying an end to his blissful solitude. 

“Hello? Helaena, you here?” 

Aemond drops his pencil, shoving off from his desk, grumbling as he goes. There’s still a hint of sleep in his eye and he rubs it away as he walks up the hall to the lobby. 

“We don’t take walk-in’s on the weekends and we don’t have any appointments scheduled ‘till 9. So, are you sight-seeing or are you just overly punctual?” He doesn’t mean to sound like a dick, it just comes second nature. 

The back of the head that greets him as he blinks open his eye is a pretty one, thick brunette curls pinned up with gold butterfly clips. The girl abandons the magazine she’d been leafing through, turning at the sound of his voice. The wide-eyed look that’s spread over her face emphasizes plum-shaded irises, framed by palm leaf eyes. There’s a pair of beauty marks peppered on the dawn of her cheekbone. A rosy mocha mouth is pouted before it curves up into a charming bend of itself. 

“I’m sorry, I'm not here to get any work done. I was just coming in to give something to Helaena.” The woman shimmies the large gift bag held tight in her fist as proof. “I’m a friend.”

Aemond shrugs off his disappointment. “Oh, my bad.” She’d be a gorgeous canvas. The golden brown of her skin would take color like a fucking champ. Black would be even better. Really make the contrast pop. The smooth peak of her shoulders from underneath the oversized cream cardigan she wears is a tantalizing taste of something he wants to indulge in. “She’s not here yet.”

Her expression collapses and Aemond regrets causing such a look to dim her face. “Oh damn, she told me she’d be in at this time.” 

Aemond thinks maybe he should call his big sister, considering he hasn’t received her standard “i’ll be there in 10, I PROMISE 10 MINUTES AEMMY!!” text today, when the girl’s face blooms into one of recognition.

“You’re Aemond, right?” 

“Uh, yeah- yes, yes I am.” He coughs, straightening up a bit, manners braided into every core memory he possesses. His mom is, in Aegon’s terms, a “tightass”, but damn him if he doesn’t know how to treat a woman.

“I always see you coming in and out of here, and well, you and Hel and Aegon all look alike, so I put two and two together and made four that you’re the missing piece of Three Headed Dragon.”  She gestures to the air, implying she’s speaking about the name of the shop. The gold chains layered around her neck, some with pendants and some without, jingle with her movement. Aemond likes the softness of the sound. “And when she came in for a succulent recommendation a few months back, I asked about you and she told me your name, and… yeahhh. I just didn’t want you to think I was some weirdo who’s been waiting for the perfect moment to get you alone.” 

“Oh no, I wouldn’t think that.” Aemond looks very serious, even knitting his brows in a thick, no-nonsense line, but he has to bite his lip to keep from snickering, which she notices. 

She breathes out a laugh, dipping her head in surrender. She turns to the entrance, and Aemond is worried she might leave. He doesn’t mind her company, which is a miracle considering the hour. 

“Hey-”

“Is this your’s?” She points to the hyperrealistic direwolf stencil he’d cranked out last year during an artist’s block that he couldn’t shake for the life of him. The piece is gruesome, wicked lines and keen edges that intimidate even him, and he drew the damn thing. 

“Uh, yeah. Good guess.” The black frames adorning the gallery wall are a mixture of his and Aegon’s work, all in varying shades of grays and blacks. His brother’s signature new school style is easily distinguishable to Aemond, but he admits some of their earlier sketches are more uniform than not.

“You do beautiful work.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise and he lets the compliment warm him.

“I appreciate that. Many wouldn’t call that beautiful, but I think it has a certain magnetism to it.” He looks the woman over, using the excuse of actually searching for ink so that he can appreciate her willowy arms and the peek of shapely legs through the dash in her skirt. “Do you have any?” Aemond gestures to the wall, before gesturing to her. She shakes her head no, freeing an errant curl that falls over her forehead. Aemond picks at his joggers to keep his fingers from doing something stupid. 

“Oh no. I’m not the biggest fan of needles. Self-admittedly, I can also be a bit of a flake, so permanent artwork on my body kind of gives me hives.” She shivers and Aemond thinks her modesty is adorable.

“That’s a shame.” 

Mystery woman snaps her fingers, spinning on her toes to pin him with a look, and Aemond basks in the scent of jasmine and sea salt that wafts his way.

“If I change my mind, I know who to go to.”  She blinks suddenly, her pointed hand gliding behind her to rub at the back of neck in a bashful way. “That is, if you’d ever want to. Or, if you’re like, accepting clients.”

“For you? I think I could make an exception.” Aemond leans into the counter, settling to her level. The way the flush of her cheeks drips into the creamy sweep of her chest makes him hungry. She drops her hand, edging forward on timid toes.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up, and when she tucks her lock of hair back in place, Aemond wishes he would’ve done it for her. He can see a thin line of dark walnut bracing the white of her eyes with how close he is, so close now he can smell the cinnamon on her breath from the condensating chai latte she holds in her other hand. 

“Aemond!” The back door slams and his sister’s voice floats up the hall. 

“Fuckin’ A, I’m sorry I’m late. I hit construction traffic and I had to get gas or I would’ve been pushing my Volksy here, and then I needed a coffee, believe me.” A white-blonde head of super short hair is unleashed when his sister yanks off her crocheted bucket hat, and she gasps as she catches sight of the shop’s first patron of the day.

“Good morning, muffin, I was trying to get here as fast as I could!” Helaena is a tornado of violets, lavenders, and magentas, purple her chosen color of the day as she spins into the room, tucking her backpack into the lockable cabinet by Aemond’s knees. 

The girl’s smile is a thing of beauty and even if it’s for Helaena, Aemond will keep it for himself. 

“Good morning, Hel. No worries, your brother’s been keeping me company.” 

Helaena spares him a look, sending a delicately sharp elbow right into his ribs. 

“Has he? It must be your lucky day- he usually scares off the customers that aren’t on the schedule.”

Aemond throws a sturdy blunt elbow into her shoulder and revels in the wince that she tries to hide. 

“Mmmm, not scared off yet. But if you would’ve given us a few more minutes, who knows?” A wink is sent his way, showing she means it in all good fun. Aemond fires a smile back at her, curling his lip up in a smirk he knows carries some weight to it. She swallows- he can see the jump in her throat, before she damn near flings her reason for coming in onto the counter.

“Here! She came in yesterday towards closing time, a special delivery just for you.” 

Hel snatches it with greedy hands, unknotting the twine laced through the handles so she can stick her whole face into the bag. 

“Oh my word, it’s beautiful!” Helaena exclaims, wonderment turning her tone soft and breathy. Aemond can’t stunt his curiosity, knocking his sister’s head out of his way to peer into the gift bag. 

“It looks moldy.”

Mystery woman looks mildly offended by his assessment, but it’s his sister that thwacks him in the chest.

“Shut up! You and Aegon practically drowned my cactus when I went on holiday last summer; what do you know about plants? It’s stunning and wonderful and all mine!” Helaena pulls out the plant with careful hands, gathering up the trailing vines like she’s lassoing a rope. 

Hel oooo’s and ahhh’s , rubbing the silver spotted leaves between her fingers, smelling the somewhat heart-shaped sprouts for any lingering fragrance. Aemond’s surprised she doesn’t pop one in her mouth and give it a taste. 

“A cactus?” 

Aemond shrugs, happy to have the woman’s attention back on him, even if it is at his expense. “It looked thirsty.” 

The giggle she gifts him makes his 5AM alarm worth it. 

Helaena claps her hands together twice, calling attention to her like she’s a nursery school teacher. “Tell me about it- what’s its name and how do I keep it alive?” 

“It’s a Scindapsus pictus, but satin Pothos or silver Philodendron is easier to remember. Even though it’s not technically a Pothos or a Philodendron, it’s in the Araceae family, which can be confusing, y’know? It’s naturally from the Hills of Andalos but it can also be found from Tyrosh all the way to Pinkmaiden.” 

The siblings blink at her, both enjoying how she waxes on about something obviously interesting to her, even though it sounds like Dothraki to them. The brunette takes notice of the silence, tapering off her anecdotes while wearing a quiet, bemused grin.

“Anyways,” she twists the ring around her pinky in circles of nervous energy, “lots of light, water her like once a week, and she should thrive.”

“She’s perfect! Oh thank you for picking her out for me, darling. I’ll take such good care of her. ” Helaena has a way of hugging you with her words. It fills you with the warm and fuzzies, and the girl looks filled to the brim with them. She sighs though, shouldering the strap of her bag into place. 

“I gotta get back to the shop- my early lunch break can’t go past 7:20, or Miss Olenna will be pissed if I’m not there to let her windowshop the roses.” 

Helaena flutters around the counter, gushing promises of midday coffee dates and takeaway dinners before sweeping up the other girl in a rocking embrace.

The woman beams, happiness a good look on her, before pecking his sister’s cheek in parting. She pushes open the shop door, ducking out before catching it right before it closes. Her head ducks back in, and the same stubborn curl from before has come loose again, twisting around the corner of her eye. 

“It was nice meeting you, Aemond.”  

“Likewise…” Did he not catch her name once the entire time? Fuck him and his so-called manners. 

Her smile is so bright, it burns itself behind his eyelids. “Ysilla.”

“Likewise, Ysilla.” Aemond rolls her name off of his tongue, discovering he quite likes the taste of her. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. 

She bids him a little wave of her hand before shutting the door softly. She looks both ways before darting across the roadway and into roots., an aptly named nursery that bursts at the brick with vegetation and flowers. 

Aemond turns on his sister with alarming agility. 

“Alright, share with the class. Who was that?” 

“That’s Ysilla, Aem. Duh. She runs the plant shop across the street.” 

He resists the urge to flick her in the forehead. His trainers are new and he doesn’t want her size seven foot print scuffing them up. 

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Well you would, if you ever bothered to come out of your room and meet our neighbors. She’s been in charge for about a year and a half now. Mr. Forel is an old flame of her grandma’s, or something like that, and she needed a job when he was thinking of retiring. So, perfect timing, I guess.” Hel fluffs the leaves, turning the plant pot this way and that, trying to decide which angle is most appealing. She carts it around the shop, holding it up to the spaces she’s thinking of occupying it with. 

“What are you two, besties?” Aemond is so not jealous. Nah, never. Nope. No way, no how. 

Helaena pauses, looking thoughtful before resuming her decorating.

“I’m kind of trying to be, but she goes to class after she’s done at the shop and if she’s not doing that, she has three brothers she helps take care of when her mum is working. So I stop off when I can and chat with her so we can catch up.” 

Helaena cheers as she steps off the footstool she keeps around for high reaching access, admiring the vines cascading from the partition wall that divides the waiting room from her piercing studio. 

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” His sister is obviously speaking about the plant. 

Aemond stares through the window across the street, the tan stucco building a bright bustle of life next to the high brow boutique to its left and Hot Pie’s bakery to its right. The numerous hanging pots from the ledge above the doorway would 100% split his skull if he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking. Big glass windows are crowded by giant emerald fronds and stalks of leafy sprouts. The flower pots mirroring each side of the doorway are starting to wilt with the season, but the vibrant highlights of color splash a last breath of life against the stone. 

If Aemond squints, he can catch a dark head of curls bouncing behind the register. 

Maybe a plant wouldn’t be a bad addition to his shelves. 

“Without a doubt.”

.

.

.

ps: i have another modern!au in the works of these two little fuckers, which is much longer, much angstier, and much more fun to read. should be out very very soon ;))

#hotd #aemond targaryen #ysilla targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #modern hotd #modern aemond targaryen #my writing

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 2. EVAN BUCKLEY

A/N: spoke it into existence and we get to see the 118 in just a few months! Too excited but disappointed about station 19. Anyways…here’s something fun??? and a little more my speed for the holidays.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 20.) Caught Under the Mistletoe (teasing, shy, “It’s tradition”)

Synopsis: in which a moody reader wishes they could spend the holidays elsewhere and away from “the most wonderful time of the year,”…until Buck decides to walk through their childhood home.

WARNINGS: reader isn’t a Christmas lover by any means + going through a breakup—10 points for you if you can place the connection, language, family resentment & use of y/n + also gender-neutral friendly!

*GIF BELONGS TO @fireladybuckley !!!

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

There were a combination of things that irritated you and Christmas happened to be one of them. Your family was one of those families that happened to be obsessed with Christmas and any sort of gathering, always have been and probably always will be—until they leave this earth. They were the neighbors that were welcoming to any and everyone and encouraged people to come on over with any shindig they threw. Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with attending this Christmas gathering because you moved back to Rhode Island right after you quit being a firefighter.

It was still a topic of many gossiping conversations with your mom’s “good friend,” deciding to bring it up in the living room, “y/n, do you ever want to be married? When are you going to start having a family of your own? Surely you must have found someone in sunny LA?”

Little did she know you did and in Chicago. You were surprised your mother took your boundaries into consideration when sharing certain information to her good friend…or did she know and was simply trying to get a rise out of you? Miriam was “good” at doing that.

You never liked Miriam, sorry not sorry. Mainly because she always had a opinion and liked to compare you to your older siblings. Your older brother was finally engaged to his long time girlfriend who had a face of a model, worked for a successful tech company, while also being a composer on the side and always had a good head on his shoulders. Then the middle child, your older sister was pregnant with twins and recently stepped down from being a pilot after almost fifteen years; was always the charmer and “favorite” according to friends of the family.

“I’ll start as soon as you stop scamming the elderly into marrying you so you can collect a check after they pass,” you smiled sweetly at Miriam, who’s mouth dropped and your older sister fought back a snicker from beside you in the sitting room, “I’m going to get a refill.”

You were just thankful your mother wasn’t near to hear this but you were sure with the snitch she called a best friend, she would repeat it and you would get a earful at some point tonight. Nonetheless you received a wink from your god-father and dad’s best friend up ahead, who was the designated pianist of the night and just finished up a tune by Nat King Cole.

Judah, your godfather was always lending a ear to listen since you were young and it seemed to still be the same sentiment more than your own parents but! That’s a different story for another day. You had to relish in the overload of wreaths that decorated every cabinet in your childhood kitchen, lightly scoffing and shaking your head as you filled up the flute with more champagne.

Sure you didn’t want to spend the holidays sulking but it only seemed to kick in more once people always felt the need to butt into your life. They didn’t speak on your accomplishments because it was never deemed as good enough, it was always a rule to follow into your family’s footsteps. Your mom’s a respectable elementary school teacher who hosts book clubs on Sunday’s with once strangers turned friends, your dad builds sailboats and is heavy involved in charity work and not just to say he did it but because of his own tough upbringing, your brother’s traveling all over the world due to his craft of being a composer and is so in love with his soon to be wife Alani, who’s also involved in building medical centers for poor communities—not just on her native land of Hawaii but countries as well, and your sister always knows just what to say to any and everyone, she’s so likable and building her family with a great guy, who isn’t just putting on for the cameras since he happens to be a well-known athlete.

Then there’s you…the sibling that’s just floating through life at thirty-one years old. Back at home with their parents after giving up a job that you thought you saw yourself doing up until retirement. Your head’s always been in the clouds but when your eyes were set on something you weren’t ever afraid to give it a try. Thats exactly what you did choosing to go to the academy out in California and worked your ass off to be a firefighter. You weren’t a fan of what people said after your severe injury…you just wanted to move on and always felt like you would be a firefighter at heart no matter what.

Most didn’t get that and it wasn’t okay with you but that didn’t stop you from putting one finger in the air.

Life will always lead you places and Rhode Island wasn’t your first choice but it was your best choice with the way the world shifts. Which is why you just wanted to get this holiday over with so it didn’t feel like you were constantly sinking from the inside out. The pretty lights, delicious eats, spending time with family, and finding joy was supposed to be a given but instead you were just ready to kick this year to the fucking curb for good.

If anyone asked you, New Years was way better because you can always start over especially if the year prior was not it for you. However one good thing came out of this year, you were one step closer to getting that home in New Mexico.

It took drumming on the counter to bring you out of your thoughts, making you snap your eyes at your brother who had a wicked grin on his round face. After pulling a face, you side eyed him, “what, Marcus?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your big brother?” He leaned against the counter, at pure ease.

Sipping at the flute, the bubbly went down nicely before you popped your tongue at the after taste then you responded, “what did you do?”

The thirty-seven year old sighs, “I didn’t do anything but you might want to send that energy to Larissa.”

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you craned your neck to see back into the sitting room but couldn’t see your very pregnant sister anywhere. Shrugging your shoulders you turn back to the amusement on your brother’s face, “I don’t see her anywhere, so stop with the games and just spill.”

The both of you turned to the new voice that enters the kitchen from the left, “There you are! Look who I’ve found outside.”

If there was one person you wanted to push into the fireplace, now make it two, meaning you adding your sister to that list. Your eyes burned into her pretty beaming smile as she lightly jabbed a thumb in Evan Buckley’s direction. From behind them you spotted your brother-in-law, Kheri ready to enter the kitchen from the same opposite end but abruptly stopped as he easily picked up on what was happening and spun back around, hoping not to be seen by Larissa.

“Uh hey, y/n.” Evan awkwardly waved in your direction before you clenched your eyes shut and deeply exhaled.

Marcus whispers from your right, “that’s what.”

“I got it, Mark.” You hissed while he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a low whistle that sounded just perfect.

Evan glanced back and forth between the siblings, frowning, “I’m getting the sense that you were blindsided about me coming.”

A cackle bubbled past your lips while Larissa bounced on her toes, “I may have forgotten to mention it but when a party is going on…you just get wrapped up in so many other things.”

Evan nodded his head at this but he didn’t entirely believe that.

“Bullshit,” Marcus coughed out before smiling at Evan.

Larissa added, “I thought that you would be happy to see a friendly face here, y/n. I mean—you hate everyone else so…voila! You’re welcome.”

You declared, “If you weren’t pregnant with my nephews, I might just beat your ass to sleep with a lump of coal.”

“Hot coal or cold?” Larissa hummed, tapping her dimpled chin.

You scoffed, “I’d let you pick bitch.”

“How sweet,” Larissa winked as she turned back to pat Evan on the shoulder, “as you can see, this is a loving household and you’re only going to make it better for my dear sibling. So thank you so much for coming, Evan Buckley.”

Evan tilted his head to the side at this whole interaction, breathing out a laugh, “well…you kinda bullied me to so…”

“Oh is that how the conversation went down?” Marcus shoved some chips into his mouth, ignoring the glare you sent him.

“But,” Evan added, “I wanted to be here, it was the right thing to do and I missed you guys. Not really the east coast since it’s pretty damn cold here, man i keep forgetting that but it’s always nice to see a white Christmas and some faces that feel like home you know?”

Larissa placed her hand on her chest, “now wasn’t that beautiful, y/n?”

“So beautiful that I almost want to vomit on you, Larissa.” You coo at the Bob-wearing woman while Marcus continues watching this match.

Larissa scowled, “stop being a Scrooge and just be glad that Otis was busy.”

*Jazz music stops playing*

“What?” You gritted at the mention of your recent breakup.

Flights out to Chicago tended to get pricer and tricker during the whole pandemic but lucky for you, you managed your money much better now.

“Wrong thing to say,” Marcus mumbles, seeming to be the only one in the room that was aware that this was a touchy subject.

Swallowing you turned to the eldest in the room, “Did you know about that too, Mark?”

Marcus sighs, “I was there for that conversation yes…but I didn’t think Rissa was serious about Buckley after the call with Otis didn’t exactly work out.”

You couldn’t grasp why they—Larissa would think it would be okay to go behind your back and call Otis in the first place?!

“Is this what you’re gonna be like now, Ris? Trying to mold my love life and be in my business because you’re too bored with motherhood?” You snapped at the thirty-five year old who looked taken aback.

Larissa slowly speaks, “woow! That was kinda hurtful…I was just trying to do something nice because you always get like this around this time of the year and I figured a person you deeply adore would cheer you up but obviously I was wrong.”

Deeply adore felt like another stab to you.

Holding your hands out, you say enough just by that action which makes Larissa roll her eyes. She turns to the sea eye colored man and says, “Good luck with that one, the sticks pretty far up their ass this evening.”

Laughing to yourself, you don’t bother watching your sister leave the kitchen and turn back to the fridge in search of the desserts instead.

“Well…that was not as entertaining as I would have liked but you know that comment wasn’t cool right?” Marcus says while you send him a middle finger from inside the fridge, “noted but you better be over this damn attitude by the morning.”

Here you are in your thirties and you still had your brother thinking he can boss you around.

He says a few words to Buck and once the coast is clear, you spin back around to place the fruitcake on the large island counter. Just staring at the dessert makes you further nauseous and you motion with your eyes, “want a slice?”

“…only if you’ll join me?” Evan sucks air through his teeth, trying to put on a smile although it was more of a grimace.

You snicker, “don’t say what you think I want to hear. I wouldn’t feed this to Dudley.”

Evan begins to look around at the mention of the old bloodhound, “no way! He’s still alive?”

“Very much and probably sticking up the house somewhere away from everyone,” you laugh at the thought of the gassy dog as you pick up the cake, analyzing it in disgust before making your way to the garbage.

Evan nodded, “Ah so like it’s owner?”

“Watch it Buckley,” you wag a finger at him, “you just got here and you’re already talking shit to me?”

“I thought that’s what friends are for?” He shows off his laughter lines before taking a seat on one of the the bar stools, while you glanced at the flute and expensive champagne bottle before choosing the bottle it’s self, “…I would ask how’ve you been but I don’t know what kind of answer I’m going to get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you take a swing from the bottle and go into a two step as, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” beings to play making Buck shake his head at you playfully, “just jolly can’t you tell? I mean we haven’t spoken in months since I left LA—

“Right,” Buck agreed, “I wanted to give you some space and I thought I was being a good friend giving you that, although there were plenty of times where I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You snort, “don’t get mushy on me, Ev.”

Evan sighs, “and you ghosted me a few times.”

“Out of the respect of your relationship with Taylor—

“You didn’t even like Taylor or Abby?” Evan frowns, “and that was before we decided to give each other a try and with you debating about quitting after what happened at the parking garage.”

Long story short: you were at the 118 six months before Evan Buckley ends up walking through the doors. At the beginning you had everyone fooled with the way you gave him the cold shoulder in the beginning, as if your mothers weren’t the best of friends and you didn’t alternate summers between Rhode Island and Pennsylvania. You were forced to be friends but it’s not ever something you truly regretted. It’s like Toy Story, you had a friend in Buck and that was something you were thankful for. The both of you bonded over just being in the moment and while he was more impulsive than you, you found your footing just a bit earlier than he did.

You went to California as soon as you reached eighteen and fell in love with it that you didn’t ever want to come back. You didnt have dreams of being a firefighter but you were always passionate about having a positive impact on someone’s lives and fighting fires didn’t sound so bad. By the time you came back after visiting and being forced to go to the community college for half a semester, you withdrew and left without a word. It took a shared phone call from Buck and Maddie to get you to answer, with Maddie pleading with you just to call your parents whereas Buck encouraged you to keep going.

Shortly after, he was traveling around the world and sending you postcards too. Evan was always just your friend that you spent summers with then holidays and then birthdays to speaking on AIM if not every day then every other day. It was clear that the both of you were meant to be in each others lives…until you made the terrible decision to catch feelings. Out of all of the years that you’ve known this guy, you just had to feel a way—despite him fooling around on the job, which you tore into him more than bobby did. From random hook ups to potentially serious relationships—that you never agreed with, you just had to do it and you were stubborn and fought it for so long.

Having your face almost crushed by concrete would do it to you. You didn’t know if you were going to make it, that was your real taste of death—although you got hurt on the job before this was the one that really had you questioning everything. The team outside of the parking garage tried to keep Buck from getting to you but if there’s a will, there’s a way. You tried to blame it on the partially crushed skull once Buck brought it back up at not the best timing—after physical therapy but he was firm and stood on the words shared.

He broke up with Taylor, you told him to give it time and if he truly still felt the same months later, you’d give it a go. He respected that and once you were back to normal as you can be, it happened and it was short lived because you didn’t take the topic of marriage with him seriously. And it had nothing to do with what he thought.

Evan Buckley was always good enough, if not more.

“It was better getting used to the idea of not being in each others lives.” Was what you went with.

Evan pressed his arms onto the counter, “what do you mean?”

Sipping from the bottle again you state, “you must have felt the same way I felt when I got the news that you were struck. Like time is only temporary. We’ve known each other since we were what? Fourteen-fifteen? And sure that feels like forever but it really just means it starts over.”

Evan stares at you from underneath his eyelashes, “so…declining our friendship was the better answer for you?”

“Oh I’d think we’d always be friends…even if there’s distance.”

“That you created.” Evan points out, “I didn’t think you believed in alternate universes.”

You swallow, “I didn’t, until you told me what it was like in that coma.”

“Then you left…to be with Otis.” Evan fills in the blanks while wiggling his eyebrows which makes you scoff, “want to talk about it?”

You blink, “I just told my sister to mind her business…do you want me to deliver the same thing? Let’s catch up and focus on you…I’m surprised you’re not in PA.”

“I let Maddie and chim deal with that.” Evan says, “Christmas Eve was enough for me and poor Jee, I should have taken her with me.”

Resting your chin against the palm of your hand you say, “that bad huh?”

“Ah the usual. You know how parents can be,” Evan chats, “they’re really pushing to meet Natalia.”

Squinting you try to recall the name as Evan informs, “right…uh someone I met on the scene. She’s a death doula.”

“A what?”

“Someone who helps people who are facing death find peace with it. Like the good version of what a hospice is supposed to be.” Buck tells, coming to terms that there has been gaps in what they should know, yet this was what you wanted apparently.

Tapping against the glass you say, “and she’s your…girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah.” Buck smiles a bit while you hum, taking a swing from the bottle, “what was that response?”

You shrug, “just surprised your parents would want to meet her…does Maddie like her?”

“She doesn’t not not like her.” Evan frowned.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Not long…uh what’re you getting at?”

“Look, I don’t know her and I’m not going to further rain on anybody’s parade but just be careful. Take your time you know?”

Evan scratches at his birth mark above his brow and huffs, “thought you were a big believer in time not lasting forever and starting over…That’s what I’m doing.”

Nodding your head you say, “I’m not judging you.”

“Good because my plan wasn’t to argue with you here at your childhood home in the kitchen on Christmas.” Buck tells as he takes in the decor, “We can hash anything else out at a later date because it’s the most wonderful time of the year right? I’m here until the 31st by the way.”

“When exactly did you drop in?”

“The 21st.”

“Oh you’re staying for awhile.”

“I think I should.” He waved his hand for the bottle which he takes a swing at and lets out a deep burp, excusing himself with a grin after you scrunch up your nose.

Snatching the bottle back you leave it unattended as you peek through the trays of food, thinking about another round since the preview of desserts were lackluster.

“Huh,” Buck says now peering above his head, “when did that get up there?”

Turning you attention back to a old friend in the maroon sweater, you follow his gaze to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above his head. “Which one of your siblings pulled this one?”

“Don’t think that was their doing honestly,” you reputed, “feels very traditional and something my dad would do.”

Evan thinks about it and seems to agree, remembering how affectionate the man tended to be back then. “Well…it’s tradition and we shouldn’t break it.”

“Don’t know if you notice Ev, I thought the all black attire would be a giveaway but I simply do not care about this holiday.”

“I’ve noticed—

“And didn’t you just say you have a girlfriend? I can kiss anybody else and tend to very soon.” You almost went into a daydream state of the all the possible contenders you’d lock lips with in just a few days.

“True but who are you going to find that’s as gorgeous as me?” Buck challenged as he placed a hand on his chest.

“Did Eddie fly in with you guys?”

“That’s not funny.”

“So you cross the line at your work husband but not nat the death doula?” You quizzed the tousled haired man.

“Why are you giving her a whole title like that?”

“It’s Natalia’s profession…?”

“Yeah but nobody calls you: y/n the retired firefighter turned air traffic controller.”

“You don’t know that and you just did.”

Buck felt his eye twitch, “I was giving an example!”

“Hey, inside voices! The singing and music is loud enough. Not to mention the carolers that will be here by eight and will probably give me nightmares tonight—

Evan shakes his head, “no I don’t think you understand. We have to kiss or else it’s going to bring bad luck in our love lives for who knows how long and I could really use a consistent love and what better person to do that with than you.”

One thing about Buck, he was a thousand percent superstitious but that wouldn’t stop you from poking fun.

“Evan Matthias Buckley…are you flirting with me?” You tease as you caress the counter while slowly make your way around the island.

The man appears almost shy now as you grip his face, taking in the features you’ve come to known and appreciate. Evan was still him regardless of the miles you put in between each other. With his hands now on your waist you enjoyed the moment because face it, it was always nice to be held, so you stared into his eyes for a moment and then his tulip tinted lips.

Lips that you didn’t mind on yours or anywhere on your body once upon a time…until you self sabotaged. You could have married evan and would have in a heartbeat but you also felt marriage wasn’t for you. You didn’t want to fuck that up just like you did everything else.

And that wasn’t really true, that’s just the bad parts of your brain getting in the way but you were working it out in therapy. However a smile was on your lips now that you pressed your forehead to the man that’s seen all sides to you before and you could have sworn Evan was holding his breath, just wondering how this would work.

Yet he was the one insisting that they share a kiss!

Caressing the scruff that was along his jaw, you lightly pinched his face, holding him in place as you put a lingering kiss right beside the corner of his lips. The deflation was evident and you didn’t know whether to take that as relief or disappointment but Evan pulled you into a hug filled with warmth anyway.

Which you welcomed, arms locked around his broad shoulders before resting a hand on the back of his head. He squeezed you just right and if you wanted to be in your soft era tonight, you may have shed a tear but pushing that to the side felt better for now. It’s been awhile but you didn’t want to cross that line especially if things were serious with Natalia.

Evan didn’t know about Otis or how you were battling moving on from that but he’ll take what he can get from you. Whenever you were ready then he’d always be around and that’s something he wanted to remind you of but being here with you on this holiday—even if you were being a complete grinch about it! felt like he made the right decision.

“You know Ev Bev,” you started as you pulled back but kept your hands locked around his shoulders, “has anyone ever told you that you reek of spruce?

Evan blinks, “no one’s ever told me I smell like a tree before…but considering the job? I’m not offended.”

“Well I am. You’re supposed to boycott all things Christmas with me if you still consider yourself my bestie,” you shook your head in sorrow.

You’re ready to untangle yourself but Evan just tightens his arms around you, leaning forward to get a whiff of you, “and you smell like fruitcake.”

Faux gagging gets Evan to widen his eyes and loosen his grip, “don’t make me sick—

“I think that’s enough champagne for you.”

“You’re right, it has my toes buzzing but I can definitely go for something stronger which my parents don’t have but I’ll sneak out before the Carolers get here to get some.”

“Or…you can find the true beauty in Christmas that doesn’t have anything to do with alcohol.” Evan offered while you gave him a unimpressed stare, “maybe next year then?”

“Oh I plan to as soon as the new year hits and I get some answers.” You unravel yourself from him and move to take a seat on the other velvet stool.

Evan holds his hands out, “…care to elaborate?”

“Sure, why the hell not? After spending too much time here and becoming financially stable, I’ve finally decided to buy a house.” You give jazz hands.

“That’s fantastic news!” Evan perks up, “Wait…does anybody else know?”

“Nope, just you my friend.” You sigh, “I should know if they accepted my offer by the 29th the realtor says but can expect some delays based on the stupid holidays so…fingers crossed.”

Evan snickers, “then that’s something to celebrate and I’m sure your family will be happy for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. My decisions are always based on selfishness apparently.” You fold your hands, “I know the first thing that’s going to be said and then comes the guilt tripping but I don’t want to be in this place anymore. I’ve been here a good portion of my life and had to come back because the world decided to go apocalyptic. I’m tired of feeling stuck and New Mexico can be the freedom I’ve always been searching for.”

Evan took in your words carefully. He knew you weren’t always this down but stepping away as a firefighter definitely triggered that and the old childhood insecurities resurfaced living here again although you tried to bury them. He’s been around the world while your family tried to keep you sheltered—even into your adulthood, you were always the one who wanted something different than them. Evan saw that the first day he met you and instantly took a liking to you, although it took more convincing on your end. New Mexico was far from Rhode Island but not too bad from Los Angeles.

“It will be and we’ll make the best of it.” Evan squeezed the tension from between your shoulder blades.

Looking at him you echo, “we?”

“Do you really think you can keep hiding from me? Now that you let me back in, you’re not getting rid of me again.” Evan grinned in excitement while you groaned, “We have a house to plan for, like when’s the expected move in date when you’re approved?”

You shrugged, “realtor man Danny didn’t tell me that exactly but if I had to guess, probably sometime in February.”

“That works,” Evan nods, “if it falls around Maddie’s birthday I might just suggest New Mexico.” He winks at you while you scoff.

“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Who’s to say I’d even give you my address?”

Despite saying this you knew Buck would always find a way and it’s not something you were truly against. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing him around but ultimately that was your choice.

“Ouch, that’s no way to treat the guy that’s had your back since we were kids and is about to make you a mean peppermint mocha.” Evan says in a sing song tone as he drums on the table before sliding down from the chair.

Tilting your head at the thought you reply, “will it be spiked?”

Evan shakes his head as he makes his way over to the espresso machine, “I’m trying to save your liver so that’ll be a negative.”

“Boooo! Buck sucks more than Santa! Tomato, tomato.” You gave a thumbs down as Evan chuckles to himself.

Buck was attempting to bring you holiday cheer, you could feel yourself sort of exhaling as you watched him move around the kitchen. Whenever Evan was around, it usually felt like putting the negative on pause because you tended to forget about it for awhile thanks to his infectious spirit.

“Are you two playing nice?” The voice of your brother, Mark fills the room as he enters the kitchen once more and now holding the hand of his fiancée, Alani who teasingly scrunches her nose up with a smile at you two.

Throwing your head back, you sigh, “as nice as I can be, Marcus.”

“That’s not saying much,” he goes to elbow Buck jokingly, who nods with a shrug.

Alani takes the seat beside you, “so…what we really want to know is, did you guys share a kiss and decide to fall deeply in love with each other?”

“Lani!” Marcus warns while the curly haired woman lifts her shoulders.

You laugh, “and this is why I’ve always liked you Lanz, you’re never on any bullshit, unlike Mark and Ris.”

“Yikes, I’m not touching that one.” Alani reached for the champagne bottle.

“You may have actually made her cry by the way,” Marcus announces making Evan peer at you over his shoulder.

Turning your eyes into slits you question, “made who cry?”

“Larissa.”

You huff, “she pissed me off.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to attack her motherhood which she has yet to really experience…” Marcus states and you take a breath.

You knew that comment was harsh but you never lacked a back bone. When anyone got on your nerves, you were going to tell them and didn’t care who they were or where you were. It’s a defense mechanism and yes that was something else you were working on.

“I’ll make up with her after I get into this spiked peppermint mocha.” You grinned in content.

Evan corrects, “how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not spiked?”

“Until you change your mind, sugar plum.”

“Yuck,” Marcus laughs while Alani smirks.

Sooner than later, Buck is handing out four cups of peppermint mocha and crouches over the counter beside you as you all take in the festive drink while, “Deck the halls,” starts to play for the sixth time this evening. Normally you would be considering sticking your head inside of the oven or making your severe allergic reaction act up by eating a gingerbread cookie just so you could get out of listening to this boring music but somehow you tune it out.

Physical touch was how Buck liked to be loved so you didn’t think much of it as you looped a hand around the crease of his arm. acts of service was how he gave love. He glanced over at you while you listened to whatever your brother was blabbing about and when you caught his stare, you thought to yourself, maybe reconnections should have been on your wishlist.

A tender peppermint kiss to your temple was enough to solidify that and this time? You fought the urge to playfully smack Evan’s scruffy jaw to get off you and allowed the affection from the man you knew for years.

You let the love soak in, as cheesy as it sounds but isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Who really knows?

You’re more of a New Year’s Eve lover anyway…

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

Check back for my ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #911 #911 abc #911 fox #Evan Buckley #evan buck buckely #Evan Buckley x reader #buck x reader #December prompts #Christmas prompts #Oliver stark #maddie buckley #howard chimney han #Eddie diaz #bobby nash

[fan-goddess]

Hello my love!! For your kinktober event, could I request modern!Aemond with religious guilt?? 👁️🫦👁️

Authors Note: Oooh I will definitely try for you baby! I don’t know much about the topic of religion due to me being raised in a non-religious household, but I will certainly try my best!

I’ve made merged Christianity and the religion of the seven together and I talk about religion a lot in this, but like I said I don’t know a lot about the topic, so if I get any certain terminology wrong or anything like that, please don’t hesitate to let me know so I can try and do my best to correct myself and add it into the one-shot! I will not be offended at all!

Warnings: Religious guilt, m masturbation, blasphemy, a lot of religious guilt, sort of religious trauma maybe???, lying to a priest, most likely incorrect quotes from the bible, I think I got Adam and eves story wrong on that last bit, (if I miss anything like I know I probably will or if just you want me to add anything let me know!”

Taglist: @valeskafics, @sofiyathecunt , @marvelgirl123 , @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

Please read the authors note before reading if you haven’t already!

Ever since Aemond could remember, it had been customary for him and his family to go to church every Sunday, without any arguments.

Each time Aegon, Helaena and himself would be dressed in their Sunday bests, which all held some variation of green in them, and greet the pastor with only pure respect.

His mother though also expected him and his siblings to go into the confession box, and confess their sins weekly to the pastor.

One time when Aemond was seven, he wanted an extra cookie after dinner, but his mother has said a firm no and told him off. However, ignoring his mothers advice, Aemond decided to climb onto the counter later that evening to sneak another from the tin, even when his mother said no.

When she found him, she smacked him three times on his rear with her hand for a punishment and when Sunday came about, she all shoved him inside the confession box, where he was forced to confess his sins to the man on the other side.

The moment stayed with him for years. It imbedded something inside of him. A fear of god. A fear of those sins the pastor would preach about confessing over.

That fear at the current moment seemed to be very directed at you. It had been years since the cookie incident, as he was a college boy now. A man even. Studying the philosophical and physical history of the world.

He thought they were safe subjects to pick to satisfy his ever hungry mind. Yet the safety vanishes when he locked eyes on you in a gorgeous light blue summer dress one innocent morning.

The straps were thinner than the dresses he’d seen before, and the one you wore went well above your knees, stopping closer to the middle of your upper thighs.

When you crossed your legs during class, Aemond had seen so much skin that he practically felt lightheaded at the sight, his fist curling so much his knuckles turned white from how tighty he clenched them.

He could feel the sinfulness of his thoughts curling up into one large glutinous monster begging for scraps.

The thoughts of being with you as a married couple do. Him coming home to you where you would greet him at the door, pregnant with his child. Taking you on his and your wedding night on the bed, naked as the day you were born.

It made his head spin dreadfully. As he’d never even spoken to you before that day, let alone noticed you. But maybe, maybe this was some sort of test by the seven? A temptation he must resist to prove himself faithful to what he believes.

The thought comes to him that night as he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

Aemond had never done so before. It never felt right thinking about the sinful women online who paraded their bodies for the world. Yet why did it feel so good when he thought of you?

The thought stayed with him constantly over the couple months. He’d see you in class. Now devoted to sitting behind you when possible to get a glimpse of you where you couldn’t see him.

Only his plan to stay in the dark didn’t go to plan. When one Sunday after church, and his family’s eating dinner together, he gets a text from an unknown number on his phone.

His eyebrow raised on its own in surprise, and as he texts asking who it, and gets an swift answer back not even a minute later, he can feel his heart practically going into cardiac arrest. Because it’s your name that responds to his question.

Aemond doesn’t answer your question though till early next morning. It had felt strange to text you that day. For him to talk to this temptation of his on a holy day. So he waited for it to turn 00:01 so the weighing on his conscious would leave him for now.

And when he saw your text the next morning agreeing on the time, the strange feeling that blooms in his chest gets pushed back as much as it could.

Yet the feeling only came back even quicker and harsher when he met you in the library that day.

His hands would find themselves clenching by his side whenever you folded your arms in annoyance, and his eyes would find themselves drawn to your accentuated boobs. His nails would dig into his palms so harshly a couple times Aemond felt as though he needed to check for fresh blood. Yet even if he did draw blood, he wouldn’t care. It was his penance for his sins.

When you finished the homework, he can remember the feeling of your body on his as you hugged him suddenly. Too shocked and surprised to even think about hugging you back. Not that he felt like he even deserved it in the first place.

“Thank you so much Aemond! I seriously was thinking I was gonna fail this on my own! How can I make it up?” You asked, looking up at with shining eyes.

“You don’t need to do anything for me. I was just being a good classmate.” Aemond learnt the hard way as a child to not bring up anything to do with religion when this sort of stuff came up.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t need to be big! You could make me give you another hug if you wanted? Or I could maybe bake you something? Seriously if you don’t want anything now I’ll probably end up doing all these things trying to make it up to you!” You beg, your eyes looking unusually stern at him.

He feels torn.

On the one hand, he feels as though if he took anything in return, he will be seen by the gods as being eager to be righteous. In the holy book, it was said "Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them.” There is always the possibility that this is one of your tests. Testing his willingness and eagerness for recognition from the gods.

But there is a sense of greed within him that urges for him to accept this temptation. A horrible greedy think that wants to take and take and take until there is nothing left.

It’s a horrible war inside of him. But in the end, the devil has his arm locked tightly.

“Fine. I’ll take a hug or something.” It’s said with so little emotion, and yet when he feels your arms around him the warmth in his chest reminds him of the flames of hell.

Where he belongs after what he did that night.

That night, Aemond held his erect cock in his hand and thrusted into it until his hot seed spilled all over his stomach. It felt sinful as when he was fondling himself, only images of you filled his head. The feeling of your warmth as you held him earlier that day fresh in his head as he couldn’t contain himself.

It felt so wrong afterwords, and yet whilst he was on the verge of cumming, the thought of you being there whilst he did this and helping him to complete himself was what sent him over the edge. And afterwards, the shame hit him hard.

He confessed it all when he went to confession that Sunday, and yet the pastor did little to help him achieve the advice he wanted. The penance in Aemonds mind was not enough.

Aemond remembers what he said to the man well. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been one week since my last confession, and I have been lead to temptation. I have been thinking of a person who belongs not to the church, and I have been thinking of her sexually. The thoughts do not stop father, how do I make the temptations stop?”

“My son,” The priest began, “The sins you tell me of I have seen before. Please, tell this woman of your thoughts so you can confess to her of your challenge, and in the meantime, pray to the gods for forgiveness every night before then. Give thanks to the Lords and ladies for They are good.”

Aemond hated to respond and end this moment, but he couldn’t stop the automatic response. “Their mercy endures forever.”

“Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.”

Aemond was not in peace, and if anything the war inside of him was as hardening as ever.

“Thanks be to the Gods…” Aemond murmurs before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Aemond that night sins again. And again the next night, and even the night after that. Aemond fists his hard cock and cums to the thought of your body every night till his next confession, where Aemond for the first time in his life lies to his priest about his sins. He does not mention that he never talked to you about him fucking himself to the thought of you, even when the priest mentions it, asking Aemond whether he has asked for your forgiveness. The lie felt like tar on his tongue when he uttered yes.

Everything within him in fact felt like there was a war inside him, a war that raged between the good and the bad.

When he talks to you innocently enough asking if you wanted some more help with the subject, Aemond makes use of each syllable you say and how you say it to complete himself later that day.

It’s sinful, it’s wrong, and yet it feels so fucking right when he does it.

One night whilst Aemond reread his worn down bible, he got to the section of Adam and Eve and though with a sick thrill that he was Adam, and you were his Eve. He was living in innocent bliss whilst you tried to tempt him with your apple of sins.

Aemond reads the verse thoroughly, and in the place of Adam and Eves faces he sees his and your own. It’s a horrible thing, but he imagines the scenario of you tempting him under the apple tree while his hand is on his cock.

Your back is to the tree, and Aemond is taking what is his from you whilst you moan at the feeling. Him and you experiencing pleasure and desire for the first time in yours’ lives and you can’t get enough of it as you whine and moan for more.

He even imagines afterwards, when him and you wonder earth whilst your stomach is swollen with his babe. It’s what makes him spill himself all over his stomach and hand, and what makes him realise what a sinner he is.

He will never tell you, he will never tell his priest, and Aemond is certain he will never tell the Gods on what he has done. Yet he doesn’t have to, for the Gods are omnipresent and omniscient.

They already knows where he belongs.

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