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kxsalt · 1 month

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An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

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Napoleonville [Chapter 3: The House Of Soup, Salad, And Breadsticks]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, Nintendo, smoking, kids, parenthood, all-you-can-eat breadsticks, wedding planning, mentions of birth trauma and abortion, a brief Greek lesson, Audi Quattros have very tiny back seats.

Word Count: 9k (someone take this laptop away from me!! I am out of control!!).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevirr @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1

Thank you so much for your patience and encouragement, I was really not doing well for a while but all your kind comments meant the world to me!!! I don't know when Chapter 4 will be ready, but hopefully early next week. My posting schedule is super wonky now. We'll get back to regular Sunday updates eventually, besties. 🥰🧁

It’s Thursday, late-morning, sunlight bending in through the open windows and a flock of blue-winged teals toddling through the backyard on their clumsy webbed feet. From the little pink Panasonic boombox pipes Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again. Your steps as you dart around the kitchen are airy and effortless; you’re humming without realizing that you are. You can’t seem to stop watching the clock, the second hand ticking endlessly, revolving like a moon around its planet. Olive Garden tonight! Olive Garden with Aemond!

“Knock knock?” your guest ventures tentatively as the front door creaks. You hear her heels click on the ever-so-slightly inclined floor and the bright jangling of keys and bracelets. Her accent does not surprise you; you were the one who answered the phone when she called in a panic yesterday.

Jade Dragon is a European company. I shouldn’t be shocked that Brits are descending upon Napoleonville.

You greet her from the kitchen, sight unseen: “Hi! Come on in!” Amir rushes over to set the very last cupcake on the glass serving tray, key lime with cream cheese frosting peppered with zest like flecks of emeralds. You have scrubbed the counter meticulously to make a space for your guest to do her cake tasting. There is an open wooden barstool for her, a yellow legal pad for you to jot down her selections. She steps into the kitchen—click click click, jangle jangle—and she is a stranger, surely, and yet something about her face strikes you as familiar.

“I really must thank you again,” the woman says, wringing her pinkish little hands, glittering with rings; she’s flushed all over from the heat, which she isn’t used to. She wears what for many women would be their Sunday Best: a modest organza dress patterned with sunflowers, gold jewelry and heels, and (oddly) a khaki overcoat that runs to her knees. Her hair hangs in thick, glossy, auburn waves. She smells like perfume, amber and roses, a brand you don’t recognize. “I was so distressed when I called, I must have sounded like a madwoman. It’s all just been so fraught. I know this is very last-minute, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you making time to see me today. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“We are delighted to help!” Amir croons warmly as he swoops in to take her coat, which she surrenders with some bewilderment, her large dark eyes clever but innately vulnerable, anxious. Again, you cannot shake the sense that you have met her before. Amir’s hands sweep down the overcoat as he peeks at the tag inside, and he mouths to you, grinning, eyebrows raised above the tortoiseshell rims of his glasses: Christian Dior! He’s delighted to help this lady, sure; but he’s far more enthusiastic about the prospect of squirreling away more cash for his imminent exodus to San Francisco. Amir hangs the coat in the tiny living room closet and then goes to the stovetop to check on the Kentucky butter cookies that are cooling there.

“Amir and I love baking for any occasion related to a wedding. Everyone is cheerful and excited…and hungry too, of course!” You give your guest a reassuring smile and wave her over to the counter. She’s still tormenting her own hands, still glancing uncertainly around the kitchen. Amir is using a spatula to transfer the cookies from the baking sheet to a cake plate. “Remind me, ma’am, on the phone you said your name was…Allison?”

“Alicent,” she corrects, taking a seat on the barstool beside you and clutching a camel-colored leather purse. She hesitates before she adds: “Targaryen.”

Targaryen?! Jade Dragon?! You gawk at her. Amir drops a Kentucky butter cookie on the floor. You exchange a glance with him and can practically see the bills flitting through his mind: Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson, Franklin.

“Please don’t make any fuss on my account,” Alicent pleads with those sleek, imploring eyes. “I’m just a customer, just an ordinary customer—”

“A VIP customer!” Amir says, beaming. He won’t work on their rigs, but he’ll take their money in a heartbeat. He considers it compensation for the inevitable environmental catastrophe, for the souls of all the places their dynasty bleeds dry.

“Ma’am…Alicent…Mrs. Targaryen…” you sputter. “What on earth brought you here?”

“My son is getting married.” She squeezes her eyes shut, an infinitesimal frustration, a self-reproach. “Our son, I mean. Viserys and I, our son is getting married, and we’re hosting an engagement party for him and his fiancée this Saturday, as I mentioned when I called. We had arranged to have caterers fly in, but now there’s some sort of visa problem and they won’t be able to make it in time. I found a company based out of New Orleans that is very well thought of for hors d’oeuvre and lunch, but the cakes I sampled…well…they left a lot to be desired. I was desperate, I tell you, utterly bereft, you know we have family and friends and all these industry representatives who will be in attendance, photographers, journalists, and I can’t ruin it, I can’t embarrass the happy couple, it’s not as if people get more than one chance at a wedding!”

Amir rolls his eyes at you from across the kitchen. Listen to this idiot, he means.

“But then I asked around town, and I got the same recommendation over and over again,” Alicent tells you, smiling now. “Everyone said that I just had to stop by Hummingbird Bakery.”

And now you know exactly where you recognize her from. She looks so much like the drunk man from the holding cell; his hair was blonde and his eyes were that sad swirling blue, but nonetheless he was a Targaryen the same as Alicent, and they share so much of the same bones, blood, innate defenselessness. That boy is getting married? His poor goddamn bride. “Well I am thrilled that you found your way to us, Mrs. Alicent Targaryen. And I think you’ll taste at least a few cakes that you’d be proud to serve at the engagement party.”

“And you can have them ready by Saturday?” Alicent asks fretfully.

“Absolutely.” You won’t sleep much between now and then, but the business matters more. And if you can recruit the Targaryens and some of their associates as regular customers…well, you might actually be able to start saving up for that new house Aemond asked you about on the night you met. You gesture to the glass tray on the counter. “Amir and I have baked twelve cupcakes for you to sample today. I’ll write up a list of the flavors you like best, and we can make any customizations. You can choose one flavor and have multiple cakes made, or four cakes in four different flavors, or any other arrangement, you just let me know and we’ll see that your wishes are granted.”

“These are all for me?!” Alicent says, surveying the cupcakes.

“Yes ma’am. Vanilla bean, triple chocolate, coconut, red velvet, carrot, white chocolate raspberry, key lime, lemon, peanut brittle, cherry chocolate chip, blueberry jam and cream cheese, and hummingbird. But don’t get overwhelmed, you only have to eat one bite of each.”

“And whatever you don’t finish we’ll let Cadi throw to the gator,” Amir says.

“Gator?” Alicent is alarmed.

“She lives in the tree row,” you explain. “She doesn’t bother anyone.” And you almost add: Except Aemond, of course. He hates her.

“Oh. Fascinating.” Alicent blinks a few times. “And who is Cadi?”

“My daughter. She’s ten, she’s at school. She’s…” You glance at the clock. “Learning about fractions and decimals at the moment.”

“How wonderful! And what does your husband do for work?”

“Terrorism,” Amir says, and Alicent Targaryen’s jaw drops.

“He’s the sheriff of Assumption Parish,” you swiftly amend. “But he’s my ex-husband now.”

Alicent doesn’t know how to reply. She stares at the cupcakes instead of at you. After several long, awkward seconds, she says: “My, do these look delicious! Where should I start?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

“This one is hummingbird cake, you said?” She picks it up. Her hands are fidgety; she doesn’t seem to ever stop moving. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Did you name the bakery after it, or did you name the cake after the bakery?”

“Oh no, the cake existed first. It’s been popular around here since…what, Amir? The 60s? Something like that. My mom taught me how to make it when I was seventeen. Hummingbird cake was my favorite dessert for years.”

“It’s from Jamaica originally,” Amir notes. The Kentucky butter cookies are displayed on the kitchen table, and now he’s beginning to peel vivid green Granny Smith apples for dumplings.

“It has bananas, pineapple, cinnamon, pecans…”

“Mmm!” Alicent sighs as she takes a bite. “Oh, it’s fantastic! The different fruits add such dimension of flavor! And the texture too, so interesting. Very substantial, almost like a fruitcake. Yes, I think that is a strong contender.” She continues on to the next cupcake. As she nibbles on each one, she chats nervously, almost compulsively. “She’s a darling girl. Woman, I mean. My future daughter-in-law.”

You get up to pour Alicent a glass of sweet tea. “What’s her name?” you ask politely. You are actively trying not to let your thoughts drift to Olive Garden: soup, salad, breadsticks, Aemond licking blood-red marinara sauce from his lips as he smirks at you from across the table, acting like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Christabel.” Alicent sets down the carrot cupcake, opens her purse, and digs through her wallet for a photograph. It’s small and rectangular, and the girl trapped inside the frame—a girl, truly, if she’s twenty you’ll eat your white denim shorts—looks like Teri Copley: billowing platinum hair, squarish jaw, pink cheeks and red lips, large dollish blue eyes. She reminds you of Barbie; she reminds you of something that belongs in a box on a shelf somewhere. “Her father is a marquess.”

“She’s gorgeous! And is that…is that a job…?”

“It’s a title,” Alicent Targaryen says with a demure, apologetic smile as she tucks the photo back into her wallet. She has spoken of things she should have known were above you. “Like a duke or a baron. Christabel is from a noble family back in the United Kingdom. Milford Haven, more specifically.”

Amir gasps, elated, waving his paring knife around in the air. “She’s just like Princess Diana!”

“She’s very young,” Alicent says, a bit wearily. She takes a bite of the lemon cupcake. “But then again, I was even younger when I got married, seventeen. That’s just the way it was back then. None of my friends even thought of going off to school for years and years, or playing the field, or getting a serious job. In our eyes, there were no other options. You found a good man from an acceptable family and you settled down and started having babies.” Alicent sips her sweet tea, ice jangling in the frosted glass. “Oh, that’s dreadful! Cold tea!” She shudders. “I suppose that’s how you all keep from getting heatstroke down here. Cold drinks and no clothes.”

“Sorry.” You glance self-consciously down at your shorts.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I’m in your jungle, I can’t expect you to conform to my idiosyncrasies.” This is a word you don’t know, although you try not to show it. Then Alicent winks. “Now, if you ever find yourself across the pond…”

I’ll never visit another country. Nevertheless, you chuckle as Alicent expects you to. “I understand what you mean about not having options. I got married at seventeen too.”

“Did you?” she asks, somber now. Her large umber eyes are uneasy, searching.

“Yeah. I was way too young. And unfortunately, the only way to know you’re too young is to not be young anymore. And by then you’ve already made such a mess of things.”

Amir looks over at you; this is not recruiting-a-customer conversation. Alicent nods, slow and thoughtful, studying you with those vast eyes like a dark mirror image of that Targaryen boy in the holding cell. She nibbles on the peanut brittle cupcake to avoid having to respond.

You pivot. “How many children do you have?”

Now Alicent brightens. “Four.”

“That many! I can’t even imagine. They must bring you so much joy.”

“In between the chaos, yes,” Alicent says, sampling the key lime cupcake. “Daeron is my youngest, he’s so sweet-natured, so encouraging, always offering to help with my projects around the house. He never complains. He hasn’t been gobbled up by the company yet. My only criticism is his obsession with his godawful parrot. I’d have it murdered, but tragically Daeron already knows it’s supposed to live 50 years. Helaena reads a lot—about gardens and insects and other planets, all sorts of things I can’t make heads or tails of—but she’s kind and gentle, and she still lets me fix her hair and take her shopping once in a while.” You think, smiling: If I tried to touch Cadi’s hair, I think she’d claw my face off. “And then my son who’s getting married—”

The front door bangs open and heavy footsteps race across the floor. He appears in the kitchen: greased-back black hair, a single gold earring, tan skin, white suit, a bold Hawaiian shirt—sapphire blue water, green palm trees, hot pink flamingos—underneath. He’s breathing heavily and his forehead gleams with perspiration. Alicent appears stunned to see him.

“Criston? What’s wrong? I said you could wait in the Lexus.”

Amir asks the man: “You’ve been in the car this whole time?”

“Don’t feel too bad for me. The Lexus has air conditioning.” The man, Criston, turns back to Alicent. “There’s a lizard out there!”

Amir sighs impatiently. “It’s a gator. And she’s perfectly harmless.”

“I just watched her maul a duck to death! There’s blood all over the grass!”

Amir is unfazed. “To humans, I mean.” He resumes peeling apples.

You tell Amir glumly: “I might have to get Willis to shoot her.”

“Only if it’s a murder-suicide.”

“Criston, help me choose,” Alicent says. She has a gift for ignoring unpleasantness, you’re beginning to notice. “I suddenly feel so overwhelmed.”

He walks over to the counter and begins taking a hefty bite out of each cupcake, eating after Alicent without any trepidation. They confer in murmurs, nods, shrugs, their own language that is threaded with a distinct and curious familiarity. Alicent catches you observing.

“He’s my bodyguard,” she explains hastily, then titters. “And my personal assistant, and my driver…”

“And your babysitter,” Criston says, grinning, crumbs all over his face.

“Yes, they never seem to outgrow the need for that, do they?” Then Alicent addresses you. “Could you manage to have six cakes ready by Saturday, do you think? They’re all so lovely. I don’t think I can narrow it down to less than that.”

Amir casts you a petrified glance. Notwithstanding that, you reply: “I suppose we can handle six.”

“Brilliant.” And you think: Aemond uses that word a lot too. “Then we’d like one vanilla, one chocolate, one blueberry, one coconut, and one hummingbird. And a key lime. I just adore the color, don’t you? A gorgeous, vivid green. It reminds me of the moors back home.”

“Yes ma’am.” You scribble her order down on your legal pad.

“And how much do your cakes cost?”

“$10 each,” Amir tells her.

“$10!” Alicent exclaims, looking at Criston. “Can you believe that? We’re certainly not in Knightsbridge anymore.” She takes $60 out of her wallet and hands it to you. “And you can deliver it to the house if I leave you an address? Around noon on Saturday?”

“Of course, no problem.”

Alicent gives you an address to add to your notes—you don’t recognize the street name, it must be in a new development—and then checks the clock on the wall. “Oh, is that right?! Christabel will be landing at the airport any minute. I’ve got to rush back to the house to make sure everything is ready for her. I can’t be a subpar host.”

“Where’s your coat, Ali?” Criston asks.

“In that closet over there.”

Criston fetches her coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Amir flashes you a salacious smirk. You wiggle your eyebrows back.

As Alicent and Criston cross the kitchen towards the living room and the front door, they pause by the table where an assortment of baked goods, different every day, is displayed for walk-in customers. Criston points to a cake plate piled high with Rice Krispie Treats. “You know who likes those,” he says softly.

“They’re very popular!” Amir announces, ever the salesman. “And we can make them with any kind of cereal you could imagine. Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Puffs…”

Alicent says, a bit randomly: “Cap’n Crunch?”

Amir doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely!”

“Alright.” She has a faraway look in those dark oil-drop eyes, always a little shimmery, always a little sad. “I’ll take two dozen of those as well.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” you say.

“Thank you. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echo, perplexed.

Criston and Alicent depart. You hear the front door swing open and then close again. Outside, Criston reminds Alicent to leave plenty of space between her and the gator. An engine rumbles and gravel crunches as the Lexus rolls out of the driveway.

“If they’re not fucking, I’m Tom Cruise,” Amir says. “Speaking of fucking, what time is Scarface coming to pick you up?”

“5:15.” You nod to where Alicent was sitting. “She’s not bad for a robber baron.”

“Oh, please. She would grind your bones into flour if that’s what it took to have cakes ready for her child bride engagement party. I hope that Christabel girl knows what she’s getting into.”

What is she, eighteen? Nineteen? “She doesn’t.” The phone rings and you scramble for it. “Hello?!”

It’s not Aemond. “Hey, sugar.”

Ugh. “Hi, Willis.” Across the kitchen, Amir mimes slitting his own wrists with the paring knife.

“Listen,” Willis drawls in his familiar, I’m-about-to-deliver-bad-news tone. You can hear noise wherever he is: sirens, shouting. He must be using his car phone. “I’m all tied up down here on Route 90, we got a hell of a wreck, ten cars and an 18-wheeler. Had to close all the goddamn lanes in both directions. I don’t think I’m gonna get home until late, really late, maybe not ‘til 9 or 10.”

“So you have to switch nights. You can’t pick Cadi up from school.”

“Tell her I’m sorry, will ya? And that I’ll take her fishin’ this weekend to make it up to her. I’ll keep her Saturday and Sunday, if that works for you.”

“She’ll love that,” you say distractedly. No Olive Garden. No Aemond. Not tonight, anyway. “Anything outside and with animals. Anything that lets her get filthy.”

“Thanks for understandin’. I gotta run.”

“Bye.”

“So long, sugar.” Willis hangs up. So do you.

“Oh no!” Amir waves his knife around threateningly. “No, not a chance, that gremlin does not get to ruin the first real date you’ve had in…what…ever?!”

You smile; you can’t help it. “It’s not a date. Aemond is fancy and kinky, I’m a mom covered in frosting, people like us don’t date. Besides, his personal ad was very clear: Single and not looking to change that.”

“He’s not acting very single.” Amir begins chopping the peeled apples.

“It’s fine. It happens. We can go to Olive Garden some other time. I’ll try to call Aemond, and if he doesn’t answer I’ll tell him when he gets here. Maybe we can at least chat on the front porch for a while or something. Watch the lightning bugs come out as it gets dark.”

“I’ll hang out here with Cadi,” Amir offers.

“What? Really?” Olive Garden might be back on the menu! “You will?”

“Yeah, ho. I can’t in good conscience just stand by while you are deprived of traumatized war veteran dick. I need a break from Grandma anyway. She’s gotten really into Unsolved Mysteries and that shit gives me the creeps. I don’t want to hear about missing or murdered people. I’m already scared I might end up like that.”

“I’d find you. I’d rescue you. My and my pet gator.”

Amir laughs, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Sure you would.”

“I’ll give you $10 out of my share of the bakery profits this week. For watching Cadi, I mean.”

“Deal,” he says. “Now help me with these dumplings so we can get started on those six cakes for the motherfucking Rockefellers.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s 5:13 p.m. when Aemond arrives at what Cadi named the Fall-Down House when she was in kindergarten, toting in her Chewbacca backpack sheets of homework about shapes and seasons, things you could help her with. You wonder what you’ll say when she gets to her senior year of high school and starts asking about calculus, physics, Shakespeare, college applications. It’ll be like she’s trying to talk to you in a foreign language. It’ll be like trying to explain colors to a blind man.

You’re almost done wiping down the stove and counter; Amir and Cadi are singing along and dancing to Kyrie by Mr. Mister: the Moonwalk, the Electric Slide, the Wop, the Sprinkler. Aemond wanders in and hovers on the border between the living room and the kitchen, his neon teal duffle bag hanging from one shoulder, staring with this profound, childlike puzzlement on his face. He looks like he’s never seen people dancing before; it’s some exotic ritual, some rite of a religion he doesn’t practice. He wears dark jeans, a black button-up shirt, black Converses, and his trusty Marlboro jacket. His fists are buried deep in the pockets like he’s holding something precious there, treasure, wisdom, secrets.

“Wassup, Scarface?!” Amir yells over the music, pretending to be reeling Aemond in like a fish. “Show us your best moves! Do the Worm! Do the Robocop!”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, drops his duffle bag, and—after a moment’s hesitation—glides across the tilted wooden floor to you. He takes your hands, spins you around, something like a clumsy, out-of-practice waltz, something real and enchanting beyond measure. And when was the last time you really danced with a man? Willis’ senior prom? Aemond sings as Amir and Cadi do the Running Man:

“Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel,

Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night,

Kyrie eleison where I’m going, will you follow?

Kyrie eleison on a highway in the night…”

Aemond releases you, sweeps his blonde hair off his forehead, and guzzles your frosty glass of sweet tea that you left on the counter in an expanding pool of condensation. You are reminded of how Criston devoured the cupcakes with no concern for the fact that Alicent had already tasted them.

“Such a weird song,” Cadi says as it fades out, as the cicadas and nighthawks grow louder through the screens of the open windows. “What the heck is a kyrie eleison?”

“It means Lord have mercy,” Aemond tells her. “It’s Greek.”

“Willis got stuck cleaning up an accident about a half hour south of here,” you explain. “But Amir and Cadi are going to have some nice couch potato time together.”

“Can we watch Unsolved Mysteries?” Cadi asks Amir excitedly, clinging to his arm. Amir groans.

“I might have an alternative,” Aemond says. He returns to his duffle bag, unzips it, and produces—not blue silk scarves, fuzzy handcuffs, a riding crop, or any other tokens of depravity—but a Nintendo game console.

Cadi screams and sprints to Aemond, unable to rip it out of his hands fast enough. “No way! Really?! I can play it?!”

“You can keep it.”

“What?!” She ogles the tannish rectangular box, the two handheld controllers. “This is the most epic day of my life!”

“I’m glad I could deliver it in person. I was just going to leave it with your mum.” Aemond starts taking cartridges out of the duffle bag. “I have Commando, Super Mario Bros., Star Force, the Karate Kid, Kung Fu, Burger Time, Donkey Kong and Donkey Kong 3, Alpha Mission, the Legend of Zelda, and Golf, which I honestly would not recommend. I used to have Top Gun too, but my brother spilled Tang all over it.”

“This is better than Christmas!” Cadi shrieks. “This is better than my birthday!” She dashes to Amir and starts hauling him off towards her room. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“I’m being kidnapped,” he tells you, feigning distress.

“Cadi, chill. Do you know how to hook that up to your tv?”

She reluctantly surrenders Amir’s hand. “Yeah, Michelle has one.”

“Okay. You can get it ready, I have to talk to Amir for a sec.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, and vanishes into her bedroom with the Nintendo and a precarious armful of game cartridges.

“Thank you,” you tell Amir quietly. “Seriously. I know I owe you.”

He grins. “Anytime. You’re helping to pay my way to San Fransisco, I really can’t complain.”

Aemond perks up. “You’re visiting San Fran?”

“I’m moving there,” Amir says. “And as soon as humanly possible! Sun, sand, and Speedos, here I come! Why? Have you been?”

“I have, actually. It’s a great city.”

You turn to Aemond; this is new information. “Did you go to school there?”

“No, I went to Imperial College in London. But I flew to San Franscisco to interview someone I was writing a term paper about.”

Amir squints at him. “Imperial paid for you to fly across the world for one interview?”

Aemond shrugs, hands back in his jacket pockets. “I got, uh, a research stipend.”

You ask: “Who did you interview?”

“I don’t think you’d recognize the name, but he was a really incredible guy. He was a nurse and the first person to ever come out publicly as having AIDS. Then he spent the rest of his life educating people about the disease. Bobbi—”

“Bobbi Campbell?!” Amir is awed. “Of course I know who he is! You actually met Bobbi Campbell?!”

“Yeah, we had lunch together. Wine and cioppino. His partner was there too.” Aemond is somber, reflective. “It’s probably the most worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well you just get better and better, don’t you, big boy?” Amir says. “Have fun at Olive Garden. Don’t hurry home or anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You are beaming, serene, warm all over, bewitched by the magic of liminal spaces, doorways between realities that rarely touch. Frank Sinatra—Fly Me To The Moon—floats through the restaurant speakers. The table is cluttered with plates and bowls: breadsticks, salad wet with Italian dressing, zuppa toscana, minestrone, main courses. Families in nearby booths are chattering; wine glasses clink, stories are recalled. You always wonder when you see cheerful married couples surrounded by children: Are they really happy? Is it worth it? Or do they go home after these displays of fairytale adoration and ignore each other, argue, brawl, crack open the Bud Lights, crack knuckles, crack bones like glass? Does true love exist at all? Or is it a lie we’re taught so the species can live on? “I’m in Italy.”

“You’re not in Italy, Cupcake. You’re in Gonzales, Louisiana. I can glance out the window and see a Doller General and a Burger King.”

“I’m basically in Italy.” You gesture to your plate, large and oval-shaped. Your entrée is divided into thirds: chicken parmesan, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo. “I got the Tour of Italy. I’m now an expert in all things Italian.”

Aemond smiles at you, the way he usually does: amused, teasing, craving. “In Italy, the pasta is always al dente. And they use very little sauce, not like here where everything is drowning in it.”

“I personally love my ocean of sauce.”

“And in Italy the bread is served plain. No butter, no olive oil, no…” He scrutinizes a breadstick. “Whatever this is. Assorted soy products, probably.”

“Don’t ruin my dinner or I’ll tie you up next time.”

Aemond laughs: crinkles around his eyes, pure boyish radiance. “Go ahead. I dare you.” He eats a bite of his herb-grilled salmon. “I looked into your Saint Honoratus of Amiens. He’s the patron saint of bakers.”

You roll your eyes like this is obvious. You like knowing something Aemond doesn’t, Aemond with his vocabulary and his high-powered career and his petroleum engineering degree from Imperial College in London, England, a place you have never seen and never will, a city that might as well be located on one of Saturn’s rings. “Yeah, clearly.”

But you never feel like the clever one for long. “And of oil refiners.”

“Is he really?”

Aemond grins. “Yeah. So we’ll have to share him.”

“Did you ever think about doing something besides engineering?” You already know the answer. You saw it in the way he talked about Bobbi Campbell.

“I did,” Aemond admits. “The engineering thing…it was expected of me. It wasn’t really my choice. It’s fine, I’m okay with my job, I’ve come to terms with it. But when I was a kid, I wanted to be a historian.”

“People get paid for that? To study history?”

“Not a lot. But I love the stories. When I was at Imperial, I’d fill every extra space in my schedule with history and anthropology courses. I interviewed Bobbi for my Microhistory class.”

“Micro…history? Tiny history…?”

“You learn everything there is to know about one individual, or one town, or one product, whatever, and through it you can get a better sense of the bigger picture. Like…you could catalogue what specific pieces of furniture were in George Washington’s house to study 18th-century trade routes.”

“Or you could use Ketchikan, Alaska as an example of the dangers of oil rigs and the corrupt, greedy company policies of modern-day robber barons.”

Aemond stares at you. “Yeah. Sure. You get it.” He wastes no time changing the subject. “Where did you go to college?”

“College?” This is preposterous. “Aemond, I never finished high school.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” you say. “I dropped out. I don’t have a high school diploma. I definitely didn’t go to college.”

He’s utterly bewildered. “But…you aren’t stupid.”

“Yes, Aemond, a lot of not-stupid people don’t go to college. And I’d imagine the opposite is true as well.”

He sighs, long and deep, rubbing his scarred forehead with his fingertips. “I’m sorry. I could have worded that more sensitively.”

“Willis is a year older than me. I got pregnant the night of his senior prom. I never went back after summer break. I figured…you know…what was the point? I didn’t need Calculus or World History. I needed money. I needed baby clothes and a crib and a car. And my high school wouldn’t have let me in anyway.”

Now Aemond glares, though his wrath isn’t for you. “They kicked out pregnant girls?”

You smile wryly, chomping on a breadstick wet with marinara sauce. “They still do. They have to make cautionary tales out of us. The weak and the lustful.”

“Well then how the fuck is someone like you supposed to provide for yourself?”

“By marrying whoever got us pregnant and never leaving them.”

“Medieval,” he snaps. He stabs at his salmon, loses his appetite, slams the fork down on the plate. The waitress had just been approaching to ask about dessert; she does a 180 and vanishes again.

“Aemond,” you say gently. I don’t want to ruin tonight. “Please don’t be angry.”

“There are specific things that make me angry.” He rests his chin on his knuckles and peers out the window. Seconds tick by; Frank Sinatra sings about New York, another city you’ll never visit. Then Aemond looks at you again. “What is it like to be a parent?” he says, in the same reverent and mystified tone that someone might use to ask what it was like to flatline on an operating table before being brought back to life. Did you get a glimpse of the gates of Heaven? Did you feel the heat of Hell?

“I can only tell you how it feels to me.” You are wistful; you are painfully honest. You’ve never told anyone this before. No one has ever asked. “It’s…wonderful, and terrifying, and exhausting. You love them more than anything, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get tired, irritated, impatient, resentful. One minute you’re laughing hysterically with them, the next you’re begging them to go to sleep so you can have a half hour to yourself, or just ten minutes, or just five. And then as soon as they’re gone you miss them. You’re too strict or too lenient, never just right. You sacrifice—money, time, your body, your soul—but it’s never enough. You accidentally hurt their feelings and then tie yourself in knots to fix it, but you can never show them when you’re sad, or frustrated, or afraid. They can be so sweet and then so inadvertently cruel. They’re too young to understand that they’re being ungrateful. They ask you questions you don’t want to answer. They’re your reason for living, they’re a burden, they’re the best thing that ever happened to you, they’re your closest friend, they’ve trapped you somewhere you don’t want to be. There are all these emotions that come in waves, they go around and around and never stop. It’s like a tire spinning in mud.”

Aemond considers you for a long time before he speaks. “I think you’re doing a good job. Cadi seems happy. She’s…uh…spirited. But happy.”

“She’s a little wild, but that’s my fault. We grew up together. I didn’t draw many lines, and now it’s too late. And she’s getting old enough to notice things she didn’t see before. Most of her friends’ parents are still married. They might not be in love, but she doesn’t understand that part yet. What she understands is that we’re broke and her dad lives in a different house, and I’m the one who made that happen.”

“You’re doing a good job,” Aemond insists. He starts to reach across the table for your hands, then stops, reconsiders, grabs his duffle bag that’s squeezed next to him in the booth instead. He unzips the small pocket on the side and pulls out a toothbrush, a travel-sized tube of Crest, and a miniature bottle of Listermint. “I’m going to go brush my teeth in the bathroom, and then I’m going to fuck you in the back of my car. Okay?”

Your smile has returned. The magic has too. “Okay. You don’t want dessert?”

“I don’t need tiramisu. I already have a Cupcake. Unless…do you want tiramisu…?”

“No, I don’t like coffee.”

“I think they have other things too, cannoli, cheesecake…”

“Aemond,” you say. “I want to leave now.”

“Got it.” He leaves $30 for the waitress on the table—he always pays with cash, you notice—and bolts for the bathroom. Fortunately, you’d had the same thought; shortly before Aemond arrived at the house two hours ago, you’d packed your pink toothbrush and a tube of Ultra Brite in your Valerie Barad rainbow purse…just in case. By the time you get back to the table, Aemond is waiting and looking uncharacteristically anxious: biting his lower lip, clasping his hands together behind his back. He’s relieved when he spots you. “I thought you might have ditched me.”

“What, and walked 25 miles home?”

“Forget it. Let’s go.” And he shoves his hands into the pockets of his Marlboro jacket before he can reveal any more of himself with them.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re flying down Route 70 with all the windows down, warm twilight wind flooding through the gaps between your fingers, centuries-old southern live oaks and flowering dogwoods passing by in a blur, an Eddie Money tape in the Audi Quattro’s cassette deck. Under the bridges you cross, brackish bayou water ripples lazily, thick with cypress trees, duckweed, spider lilies, salvinia, wading great egrets and lurking alligators. The seats are tan leather and spotless. Aemond rests a palm on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His blonde hair whips in the breeze. From the passenger seat, you can only see the right side of his face, the unscarred side. It’s almost like he’s whole again. He puffs on a Marlboro Red, smoke escaping through the open windows, tobacco and tar and nicotine, chemicals and earth.

“We better stop before we get into Assumption Parish,” you tease. “You don’t want one of Willis’ deputies to stumble upon us.”

But Aemond is particular; he wants the perfect spot. Just a mile before Ascension Parish gives way to Assumption, he finds an overgrown dirt pull-off used for fishing. He parks the Quattro just out of sight of the highway, rolls up the automatic windows, blasts the icy air conditioning.

“Get in the back,” he orders, unclicking his seatbelt. The intro of Take Me Home Tonight thunders through the speakers. You obey, climbing into the (very not-spacious) back seat. Just seconds later, Aemond follows.

You giggle when he pulls you into his lap to straddle him. As you toss away his Marlboro jacket and unbutton his shirt, Aemond yanks off your orange tank top, unhooks your bra, accidentally breaks the tab of the zipper off your white denim shorts with his strong, frantic hands. He needs you; he needs you all the time, everywhere, and he’ll never get enough. He’s kissing you deeply, roughly, nipping at your lips and tongue, breathing his smoke into you. His fingers slip into your shorts and under the silk that you bought for him, blue like his eyes, blue like the sky before heavy rain. You’re moaning, grinding, impatient; he’s helping you shimmy out of your shorts, he’s tugging down his jeans. And now you realize that he wants you to stay on top. “Aemond, no, I’m not good at it…”

“Shut up. You’re good at everything.”

That’s a lie, you know it is; still, Aemond makes you believe it. He grabs your hips and shows you exactly how to move them, and soon the rhythm feels effortless, soon you are wet and relaxed enough for him. At the last minute, he gets a condom from the pocket of his jeans, rips it open, and rolls it on. And again, you are struck by a strange but unmistakable disappointment that you cannot have all of him, that you cannot experience what it’s like to be as close to him as humanly possible, this man that you hardly know, this body that unleashes ecstasy in yours.

It’s quick: your arms linked around the back of his neck, Aemond kissing your throat and the slope of your jaw, his hands and murmurs guiding you, delicious fullness and friction. You’re amazed when he comes—I made that happen?? I did that??—and a tidal wave of extraordinary pride, lust, power surges through you. Aemond helps you finish with his fingers, only a few vigorous strokes, and then he drags you down onto the Quattro’s back seat with him.

“Careful,” you say as you lie on top of Aemond’s chest, both of you breathless and slick with sweat, goosebumps springing up in the chill of the air conditioning. You’re all tangled up in each other; there’s no room to get away. “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll accept the risk.” The last rays of sunlight fall across his damp skin, turning him to amber, tiger’s eye, gold. “What happened when you had Cadi?”

You turn your face to look at him. “Huh?”

“You said you were unconscious for a few days after she was born.”

“I told you that?”

“Yeah. The first night I came over. And you’ve been on the pill ever since. You never wanted more kids?”

“No,” you say quietly. “No, I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“So something happened.”

“It’s not a cute story. It’s not sexy.”

“I’ve surmised that.” Another word you don’t know.

“I don’t really ever talk about it.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because people don’t ask?”

You’re amazed by how much he sees, like you’re a clean window, like your skin and skull are made of glass. “My water broke and I went into labor, but I wasn’t progressing fast enough,” you tell Aemond. “I mean, the nurses told me I wasn’t progressing. I didn’t really understand what that meant. It felt like something was happening. There was a lot of pain and pressure, and it was intense, definitely, but it was bearable, I still felt like myself. I was actually really proud of how calm I was. But I guess it wasn’t enough. So the doctor started me on something called Pitocin, and then the contractions weren’t bearable anymore. They were…I can’t even describe it. It was like this bone-breaking twisting, but also sharpness, razor sharpness. I imagined knots of barbed wire. It’s the only thing I could compare it to. And I wasn’t in control anymore. I wasn’t myself at all. I was this animal being trapped, being tortured, and there was no break between the contractions, they happened over and over and over again, one right after the other, and it went on for hours. I kept telling everyone that I couldn’t do it. I needed an epidural, laughing gas, pills, anything. I was begging them to knock me out. I was trying to rip the IV with the Pitocin out of my hand. But no one listened. The nurses acted like I was being dramatic. Women have babies every single day all over the world, why couldn’t I just shut up and deal with it? My mom was around, but she had pretty straightforward births, and I don’t think she could comprehend what it was like. Willis told me I was doing a good job. That’s all he could say: Good job, sugar, you’re doin’ just fine, sugar. But I didn’t want mindless encouragement. I wanted somebody to help me. I thought I was dying.”

Aemond’s hand smooths your hair. He’s watching you closely.

“When Cadi…when she was finally born, I wasn’t excited to hold her. I didn’t even care. I was just relieved the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. I told my mom to take her. I could hear the baby crying, and I remember thinking: Who is that? I almost died for that? I felt nothing for her, absolutely nothing. And then I heard…it sounded like someone had turned a sink on, because there was water running. But then the nurses were yelling and the doctor rushed back into the room. I was hemorrhaging, and it wasn’t water that I’d heard, it was blood, my blood, gushing all over the floor. I passed out and I needed transfusions and I woke up three days later. The very first thing a nurse said was that she was so happy to tell me that they’d been able to stop the bleeding without doing a hysterectomy, so I’d be able to have more children. Can you believe that? It was like I didn’t exist. I was just a vessel. As if I wanted to go through that again. No, never, no thank you. I got attached to Cadi, but it took months. Obviously, now I love her. But I was empty for a long time. Just empty, and sad, and in pain, and hopeless.”

“And your useless fucking husband named the baby you almost bled to death having.”

“He didn’t mean for it to be hurtful,” you say. “He thought he was helping. And it’s a hell of a name, I have to admit it. Arcadia Dove, like a Star Wars character or a superhero. It suits her.”

But still: Aemond shakes his head, incredulous, outraged on behalf of your long-gone teenage self. “When you found out you were pregnant, did you ever consider…you know…not having it?”

You give him a small, guilty smirk. What kind of mother could admit this? “Yeah. Yeah, I did. That was my plan, actually. I called a clinic in New Orleans and made an appointment. Cleared out every penny of my savings to pay for it. Cheaper than a life sentence, right? Amir offered to go with me, but neither of us had a car or a license, and I could never let my mom know. So I asked Willis.”

“And he wouldn’t drive you.”

Worse. “He told me that if I went, I’d be a murderer.”

Aemond jolts upright, furious. “He actually said that to you?”

“Aemond—”

“No, hold on, he actually said that?! He said that you could drop out of high school, you could throw all your dreams out the window, you could become a mum at fucking seventeen years old and marry some guy you barely knew, and if you wanted a way out that would make you a murderer?!”

You offer weakly: “Willis is really, really Catholic. A lot of people down here are, and—”

“He’s a coward, that’s what he is. He was willing to sacrifice your future to soothe his conscience. His life didn’t change. Yours did.”

“I love Cadi. I don’t regret her.”

“But you should have had a choice.”

You study Aemond: his glinting right eye, the deep stormy furrows in his brow. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because you deserved better. You could have been something more.”

Something more? Something more? “I’m not horrified by how I’ve turned out, Aemond. I made the best of my circumstances. I have a job I enjoy, I keep a roof over our heads, I have people to live for.”

“You deserved better,” Aemond repeats, soft and low.

“So did you.” You touch your palm to his scarred cheek and ask in a whisper: “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“Stop,” Aemond says, flinching away from your hand. And that’s the safe word; you have to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~

At home, Cadi and Amir are chatting at the kitchen counter with a late-night snack of apple dumplings, warmed in the microwave, and Breyer’s vanilla ice cream. Blue Bell is cheaper, but Breyer’s tastes real; it’s one of the few things you won’t compromise on.

“Mom, guess how many levels I beat in Super Mario Bros.!” Cadi doesn’t notice that your tank top isn’t quite covering the brutalized zipper of your shorts. Amir definitely does notice; he mouths to you: Baby Jesus is so sad.

“Um, I don’t know…how many levels does it have?”

“Thirty-two,” Aemond informs you.

“Seven?” you say.

“Try ten!” Cadi grins triumphantly.

“Radical! Amazing!”

Aemond applauds. “No way! You’re a prodigy!” You don’t have to ask if he wants to stay. He scoops two apple dumplings into the same bowl and then pops open the microwave, like he lives here too. “How long should I heat these up?”

“About 45 seconds,” Amir says. He yawns and puts his dishes in the sink.

“Thanks again for entertaining Cadi.” You give him a tired, repentant smile. “I would tell you to take tomorrow off, but we both know that’s not an option. I’m going to set my alarm for 3:00 a.m.”

“I myself will most certainly not be awake at 3:00 a.m. But I’ll try to get here by 7:00.” Amir gives Cadi a hug that she pretends not to appreciate. “Goodnight, slayer of Bowsers.” Then he waves to Aemond as he breezes out of the kitchen. “Goodnight, destroyer of zippers.”

Aemond covers his mouth to keep from laughing. “Cheers, Amir.” He brings the bowl of apple dumplings from the microwave to the counter, adds several heaping mounds of vanilla ice cream and two spoons, and slides it over so you can share. Outside, you hear Amir’s Ford Escort pull out of the gravel driveway. “You have a lot of baking to do, huh?”

“Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you. You’ll never believe who showed up—”

“Mom, can we go shopping tomorrow?” Cadi asks, derailing your train of thought.

Cadi? Shopping? This is an unusual request. “Shopping for what?”

“For my riding boots,” Cadi says brightly as she finishes her apple dumpling, and you think, sinking in ways you can’t let her see: Oh fuck. Here’s the conversation I’ve been avoiding for weeks. “Michelle and Erica are both going to that horse camp in July. Breanna and Sam are going too. Kristen might even go, and she’s a total freakazoid! I can go, right? I’ll need boots, and a helmet, and I want to ride an Appaloosa. They have all kinds of horses, but Appaloosas are my favorite, and if they don’t let me ride one I’m going to go nuclear.”

“Honey, I don’t think it’s going to be possible this year.”

“But I have to go. Everyone else is going.”

“I tried, I really did. But I just can’t swing it right now. Next summer I’ll have more money saved up, hopefully, and then you can go to horse camp, and maybe we can even go to Biloxi for a week too—”

“I don’t care about Biloxi.” And now she’s lashing out, because she’s realizing the answer might really be no. Aemond is silently picking at the apple dumplings, looking between the two of you but not knowing what to say. “I care about going to horse camp when literally all of my friends get to—”

“Cadi, I’m so sorry, I really am. But sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s okay, that’s a part of life. We’ll still have fun this summer.”

“I’m not going to have fun if I’m just stuck here at home all day!”

Stuck here with me, stuck here in the life I built for her. “Cadi, please—”

“I’ll give up my birthday presents,” she pleads, her eyes turning misty. “You can just not buy me anything for my birthday, or Christmas either, and you can use what you would have spent on that for—”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, a hand on her little shoulder, her tiny breakable bones. “I wish I could give you what you want. I really, really do. I’m trying to make things better for us.”

“Can’t you ask Daddy for more money?”

And you remember what Willis said at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year. “Daddy wants to help too, I’ve already talked to him about it. We just can’t make it happen right now.”

“Daddy always says he’d have more money if he didn’t have to send you so much every month!” Cadi blurts out. Aemond is watching you, but you shake your head. He can’t say anything. It’s not his place. “That’s why I can’t go to horse camp, isn’t it? Because we don’t all live together?”

“No, Cadi, that’s not what this is about—”

“Erica’s parents live together and she gets to go! Michelle’s mom and dad are always taking vacations!”

“Every family is different,” you say, fighting to stay calm while your throat is closing up and the blood in your face is hot enough to scald.

“Sam’s mom just bought her riding boots and gloves!”

“I’m not your friends’ mothers, I’m sorry, I’m just not.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have kids if you can’t afford them!” Cadi screams, tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes, and then she storms off to her bedroom and slams the door.

You and Aemond are left alone in the midst of humming florescent lightbulbs, long-eared owl hoots, the ambient shrieks of cicadas. The apple dumplings and ice cream have dissolved into a soup. Your lips are trembling; a single blistering tear escapes down your cheek. You refuse to break down. You learned years ago that there is nothing to be gained from it. Aemond studies you, seeking and worried. You avoid his gaze. His hand reaches for yours, stops short, retreats to drum his fingers against the counter.

At last, Aemond says: “How much is the horse thing?”

“Too much. Way too much. It’s over $300, I won’t be able to make rent.”

He sighs; not a frustrated sigh, you think, but a sigh of incredulity, maybe even of pity, which is the last thing in the world that you want from him. Aemond takes his wallet from his jeans pocket, leafs through it, and counts out $400 in twenties and tens that he stacks on the countertop.

You are mortified, horrified. “Aemond, no—”

“Look, next time I see you, we need to talk. We need to talk about my situation, and your situation, and what we’re going to do going forward. And it’s…fuck, it’s, it’s complicated. You’ll see. But we have to get it sorted out, because this is…” He gestures to you, to him, to what you’re building between you like a bridge linking islands. “It’s different than what I expected it would be. And that’s a good thing, but…there’s just a lot we have to discuss.”

“Aemond, I can’t accept this much money from you.”

“The money doesn’t matter. $400? That’s nothing. The money’s not real to me. But it is real to you. So please just take it. And next time I see you we’ll…we’ll decide what happens next.”

It’s complicated, Aemond said. You’ll see. See what? How bad could it possibly be? “We can’t talk now?”

“No, I can’t do it now. I just can’t.”

He’s not just uneasy or distracted. He’s fucking scared. “You’re married,” you say.

“No. No wife, no kids. I swear to God.”

“No girlfriend either?”

“No.”

“You’re divorced.”

“No.” He combs his fingers through his short blonde hair, stares blankly at the wall behind you. “You’re free Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. I think Cadi will be with Willis all weekend, actually. He’s taking her fishing on Lake Verret. If Jade Dragon hasn’t blown it up by then. I’ll be busy with work Saturday morning and early afternoon, but after that I’ll be around.”

“I’ll come over around dusk, probably,” Aemond says, hands in his Marlboro jacket pockets, thoughts miles away. “I have something going on Saturday afternoon too.”

And he leaves before you can thank him for the stack of cash on the counter, or for any of the rest of what he’s given you.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x y/n

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

Text

dress

this is my first time writing for anyone so… i guess we’ll see how it goes. reader and jamie are getting ready for a fancy dinner/benefit thing. it’s cute, a little swearing, no angst. allusion to sex but that’s it. i wrote this mostly for myself because there’s an appalling lack of jamie tartt fics. anyway.

dress

It is 3pm, and you have to leave in an hour and a half to make it to the annual benefit. Jamie goes every year, but this is your first. You had been talking to Keeley about it, lamenting your inability to pick something to wear, when she grabs your arm and says, “Don't worry about it babes! We can pick one out together.”

“Keeley, I’d love too, but I’m absolutely swamped with work. My forty hours are filled with clients, so my free time is basically all notes and treatment plans. That's why I’ve ghosted pretty much everyone except you and Jamie.”

“It's pretty much just Jamie at this point,” she says mischievously. “I’m not sure we would have made it to coffee if we hadn’t made these plans three weeks ago, especially because you didn’t even tap back to that pun I sent that Ted made the other day.”

You laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I am sorry, it’s just been so much work, what with taking on that new case and wrapping up that other one-“

“Like I said babes, don’t worry about it,” she says sympathetically. Her hand is still on your arm. “I totally understand what it’s like bein’ a young woman in business, yeah? We'll talk when it slows down.”

You take breath and nod. You both sit in silence for a moment, and then (because it’s Keeley and she is allergic to silence): “What if I took Jamie with me??”

You look at her, confused.

“What if I took Jamie with me to pick you out a dress? I know fashion and he knows you, and I think between the two of us we could pick out something absolutely fantabulous! What do you say? I can text him right now.”

Keeley's practically vibrating from excitement, and you know for absolute certain if you say yes, they are going to come home with something the price of your first apartment. You also know they’ll bring you coffee on the way back so really, is there any option other than yes?

——

“No, you can’t see.”

Jamie has a large, nondescript bag that he is holding very tightly and an iced coffee that he is holding less tightly. You swoop in on the coffee as Keeley chimes in with: “It’s a surprise babes. You can’t see it until the benefit.”

Jamie points to her with his bag hand. “See? She agrees.”

You squint at Keeley. “This is why I hate it when you two hang out. You get together, you make plans to torture me and sure, you bring me coffee, but god at what cost?”

Jamie and Keeley are giggling like a pair of kids as you stand, still doing your best to glare and drink your latte. They do this every time, come up with some scheme because they think it’s funny when you get “upset.” It’s like a ritual. They go shopping, spend an inordinately long time, bring you coffee to appease you, and then purposely push your buttons. They feed off of each other like a pair of weird siblings and you love it. They both can tell when you’re too tightly wound and take it upon themselves to get you to laugh. Jamie waggles the bag under your nose which makes you crack a smile as Keeley cheers. “See, I knew you loved us babe. Or at least, I knew you loved me. Jury's still out on what you think of Jamie.”

That brings a full-on laugh as Keeley dances around the kitchen.

“You staying for dinner, Keels?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

“What are you making?” she asks, Jamie behind her mouthing in unison. You suppress the urge to giggle.

“Caprese salad, pesto chicken and pasta, and Thai tea limeade. Oh, plus I made those tiny baguettes you like and Jamie, I put your tea into smoothie form. Got spinach and all that.”

“Hm,” she says, finger to her chin and head tilted. Jamie mimics her. “I suppose that I can stay. Just this once though, and not very long.”

You smile and Jamie comes around the counter to kiss you.

“I’m going to hide this,” he holds up the bag and points a finger at you “you don’t go looking for it.” He turns to Keeley, “You distract her.”

Keeley stayed her usual short amount of time, a mere six hours, giving you and Jamie a solid four hours of sleep until he has to train.

——

You shake yourself from your reverie as you reach for the dress bag. You unzip it to find something metallic with power shoulders and long sleeves, and are those little spines all over? It is long and black, yet somehow also purple and red. It is, in a word, hideous. You cannot reconcile what you see in front of you with the fact that both Keeley and Jamie picked it out, because they have never failed before, so maybe it looks better on? You sigh and begin to undress.

——

It is not better.

You go to find Jamie, looking fit in a cream hoodie and bubblegum pink suit, who takes one look and begins uncontrollably laughing.

——

“Jaim, listen. Jamie-” you’re cut off as Jamie doubles over in laughter. You’re laughing too as you catch his arms. “Babe- you can’t, you cannot leave me like this. How am I supposed to go the benefit like this? I look like a goth puffer fish!”

Jamie has collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles, taking you with him.

“I- I’m- it-“ he gasps, “it’s so much worse- it’s so much worse than I thought it was going to be!”

You stop mid-giggle. “I’m sorry, it’s what?”

Jamie has laughed himself near tears as he holds your waist.

“Listen. Babe. You are not allowed to be mad at me. But. I may have let Keeley pick out that dress because- because,” he shushes you as you begin to protest, “I knew you would hate it, and you had nothing else to wear, and therefore you would have to wear the one that I got you.”

Your face goes through an inhuman amount of expressions as you process everything he just said, until you land on- “you bought me a dress on your own?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Suddenly Jamie looks incredibly shy. “Look, babe. I love your style, but the thing is, you like to play it safe.”

You frown, and Jamie holds up both his hands.

“Listen. You play your version of safe, but I think if you gave it a chance, you could expand your repertoire and we can be remembered as the hottest fuckin’ couple alive. Plus, it’s definitely way better than that horrid thing Keeley got.”

You’re distracted by his correct use of the word repertoire, and all of a sudden you don’t care about wearing the dress anymore. All you can think is that you want it off and that ridiculous, handsome pink suit should come off too, and maybe it would be better if you both were on the bed than on the floor.

Before you can develop this thought further, Jamie is getting up and pulling you with him.

“C’mon, wait till you see it,” he says, maneuvering you out of the bedroom and into a guest room of all places.

“I had to put it somewhere you wouldn’t see it,” he explains.

All the breath has left your lungs as you look at the dress on the bed.

Jamie has purchased a short, lime-green, tulle halter-neck dress with a fluffy train in the back. It's your dream dress. The one you used to look at as a high schooler, a college student; the one that you dreamt of being able to justify; the one you told Jamie about exactly once, and yet somehow, somehow it is right in front of you in your house.

Jamie’s arms snake around your waist, lips against your neck. “Do you like it?” he murmurs into your skin. You smile at that and turn to put your arms around him.

“Do I like it?” you grin, “Jamie Tartt, you wonderful, beautiful, thoughtful boy, I love it. How on earth did you remember?”

Jamie smiles back, arrogance clearly written across his expression. “You think I’m beautiful?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s what you got from this you prick? I want to know how you remembered? I mentioned this dress once and somehow, it’s sitting right in front of me because you got it for me.”

Jamie is still grinning. “Tell me how beautiful you think I am, and I’ll tell you how I remembered.”

Your face hurts from so much laughter. “Jamie, you beautiful, beautiful man. I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your lips, your-” you are cut off by his lips on yours.

“Get changed, yeah? Then I’ll tell you.” You kiss him one more time, then he’s out the door.

——

You hear Jamie clattering around in the kitchen as you put on your shoes. You re-touch your lips and hair, then you’re on your way down the stairs.

“Hi babe,” you say to Jamie’s back, fiddling with the coffee machine.

You’ve never had someone look at you the way Jamie is looking at you now. It's the way you look at a good piece of chocolate cake: with a little bit of reverence, and the desire to devour. You forget to blink for over a minute, trapped in his gaze.

He breathes out a single, “Holy fuck,” as he walks toward you and spins you off the bottom step. “you look fuckin’ amazing.”

“How did you know?” you ask, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Jamie sets you down on your bubblegum pink heels. “Easy. That was when I first realized I loved ya.”

Your face heats up. “You… realized you loved me… when I was rambling on about a dress I’ve wanted since high school? That was your moment?”

Jamie’s hands are still around your waist, your hands on his biceps. The room is pleasantly spinning a little bit, and a family of butterflies has taken up residence in your stomach. God, all this time with this boy and he still has the ability to make you feel like a giddy teen with a crush.

“Well, yeah babe, kinda obvious why, innit?” You scrunch your nose in confusion as he continues, “I realized you were talking to me like a real person, as Jamie Tartt, human, not Jamie Tartt the footballer. I felt all weird, so I talked to Keeley about it. Called her on the way home that night. After she finished laughing, she told me I was probably in love with you. Hearing it out loud made me realize she was right.”

The words are barely out of his mouth and you’re kissing him again, pulling him closer and closer until the moment is broken with a ding from Jamie’s phone. It's Dani, asking if you can pick him up on your way. Jamie ushers you out the door and into the car, and for a singular, spectacular moment, everything is perfect.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #jamie tartt

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msbigredmachine · 22 days

Text

New To This - Chapter 5

MASTERLIST

“Sup, trick,” a soft voice chuckled next to Delilah, and she turned to see Tiwa, her co-worker at the supermarket, presenting her a can of Mountain Dew and a bowl of jollof rice and stewed chicken as she joined her to sit on the staircase outside on their lunch break. “Want some?”

Delilah grimaced and bit into her carrot stick for emphasis. “You know I can’t have that. I’m workin’ out and shit.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about your wrestling. Shoulda brought you a salad or somethin’,” Tiwa joked, causing Delilah to roll her eyes good-naturedly. The two women had known each other since high school and had run in different social circles back then, but working together for the past four years had closed that gap between them.

“So, how’s wedding planning going? You still got time for that with your wrestling and all?” Tiwa asked as she threw her braids behind her shoulder.

“It’s going,” Delilah shrugged, staring out into the empty backlot of the supermarket. “My Mama’s making sure it’s going, anyway. We’ve put a deposit on the reception hall, but haven’t decided on the catering. I haven’t even thought about a dress yet. Luckily I got my mom’s wedding dress to fall back on if everything else goes to shit.”

“You sound bored outta your fuckin’ mind,” Tiwa pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard any woman sound this uninterested about planning her own wedding.”

“It’s not boredom. I’m just…tired,” Delilah insisted, shuffling her feet on the step she sat on. “Training and working two jobs hasn’t given me much time to think of anything else.”

“What about your man? Is he going to Panama City with you for the show? I mean, that’s gotta be exciting, right?”

“For me? Absolutely,” she responded, turning her face toward the sun. “The networking opportunities are beyond my wildest dreams. For him? Not really. He’s never been a wrestling fan. And he still thinks I’m outta my mind,” she added with a roll of her eyes. In reality, she knew that half the town thought the same way, but she never let it deter her. What she wanted to do with her life was no one’s fucking business.

Tiwa nodded in what seemed like understanding and chewed her food slowly. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that bad. He’s not cooperating at all.” Delilah huffed, feeling her blood begin to boil already. “First off, he refused to come to my first match. My very first match! He bitches about my training schedule all the fuckin’ time now. What is scaring him so much?”

“Gee, where do I start?” Tiwa snorted.

Delilah looked back at her co-worker, startled by her response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, girl. Look at it. Y’all supposed to be getting married soon and then your wrestling picks up. I saw your match on YouTube and it’s already at like a hundred thousand views. That’s a fuckin’ big deal, ya know? Not to mention you’re spending time with that steaming hot Jey guy that just might end up being your co-worker. And from all the buzz you’re getting, it’s only gonna be a matter of time before that happens. That’s gotta make Andre uncomfortable.”

She didn’t know her match had made it onto YouTube, but she would get back to that later. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. And I’m happy for you. This town is boring as fuck. Someone needs to get outta this dump and do something interesting with their lives.” Tiwa took a swig of her Mountain Dew. “So back to you and this Jey dude. He seems to be giving you a lot of attention.”

“Y’all making it sound like me and him are seeing each other every day or somethin’,” said Delilah, her tone a little gruffer than she wanted. “That ain’t the case. Jey’s been like a second coach, like Tank. I want to make it to the big time, and if Jey can help me get there, I’ll take it.”

“You sure he hasn’t hinted at something more? Like, you know…”

Delilah shook her head. “Nope. We only talk about wrestling, that’s it. He’s been very professional.”

“Or he’s just waiting to get you alone,” Tiwa cut in. “Maybe that’s why he invited you to Panama City.”

“He invited both Dre and me. I won’t be alone. Tank’s coming along with me since Dre can’t make it.” She wasn’t sure what Tiwa was trying to insinuate, and though she didn’t like it, she tried not to show it. “Girl you trippin’. Relax. I’m getting married to the man I love. Jey’s already married, I think.”

“You think?” Tiwa repeated, and only then did it dawn on Delilah that she’d never seen a ring on his finger. Still… “He knows better and so do I. I got only one goal in mind, and that’s all I care about.” It had been two weeks since her first match, and she was just getting started with building a reputation for herself within the independent circuit. She was working hard and earning every bit of respect she was gaining, and she really didn’t want to throw all of that away.

“Okay,” said Tiwa. “I’m just looking out for you, girl. Do you, and make sure you’re happy while you’re doing it.”

“I know.” Delilah smiled and looked at her watch. Their break was almost over. “You coulda come with me to Panama City too, ya know.”

“Ha, if I do, who’s gonna cover your shift?” Tiwa said, getting to her feet. “Besides…I got a date on Monday night.”

“Oh. So you’ve finally gotten over your crush on Tank, then?” Delilah smirked as they walked back into the supermarket.

Tiwa gasped and avoided her friend’s teasing stare. “How many times am I gonna tell you, Parrish, it ain’t like that with Tank! It never was.”

“And yet, you’re blushing.”

“…..Bitch, bye.”

—------------------

From her place on the ring apron, Delilah watched in complete awe as Liv Morgan and Becky Lynch practiced in the ring for their match, still a good three hours before Monday Night Raw was set to air. The women were opening the show tonight, and she was very excited to see how it all played out. But watching them rehearse was so much better than anything she could have imagined.

The only thing that would have made her day better was Andre being with her. Of course, they had argued about the trip, in which Tank had tried to step in. He was being completely asinine and paranoid. She would never have stopped him if he had the chance to meet LeBron James or Patrick Mahomes, his favorite athletes. This was a once in a lifetime chance for her, and she really couldn’t understand why he was taking all of this so poorly.

“Now that’s a finisher right there,” Tank interrupted her thoughts as Liv Morgan hit Becky backwards in her signature Oblivion to get the pinfall.

Delilah turned back to look up at the huge Titantron as Liv’s theme song rang out in victory. “This is so cool,” she whispered. How amazing would it be to see her own name in lights that bright?

“Ayyy, look who showed up, uce,” a familiar deep voice sounded from the shadows behind her, and she looked over to see Josh making his way down the ramp.

Without thinking through it, she rushed towards him and leapt into his arms. “This is so amazing! Thank you so much, oh my god,” she squealed happily, not caring if she sounded like a total fan girl at the moment. Never did she imagine she could ever experience all she had since coming down to Panama City; the backstage access, getting to meet the amazing wrestlers she watched on TV every single week; it was sensory overload for her as a fan.

Josh laughed as her legs tightened around him, supporting the woman in his arms with her round backside in his hands. “You welcome, baby girl. You enjoyin’ yourself?”

It was then, as he set her back on her feet, that Delilah noticed how good he looked in his Nike tech fleece outfit. At the same time, Tank appeared from the corner of her eye, and she quickly took a step back from Josh. “Yes! Everyone’s been so nice. The wrestlers, the officials, it’s been awesome.”

“Good to hear. Wanna go talk to the girls?” Without waiting for an answer, Josh grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the ring where Becky and Liv now sat on the apron. They looked over at the approaching trio and waved. “Hey, Jey, hey Tank,” greeted Liv, her eyes skating over Delilah’s form. “Wanna introduce us to your friend?”

Sneaking behind her, Josh shoved the shy woman closer to his colleagues. “This is Delilah Parrish. She’s an indie wrestler in the Pensacola region,” he introduced.

“Oh, fellow hometown girl, huh?” Becky’s friendly nature was infectious as she extended a hand toward the new woman. “Nice to meet you, Delilah. I’m Becky.”

“Delilah. Like Samson, right?” Liv inquired. When Delilah nodded, her smile widened. “Such a cute name. I like it. You stickin’ around for the show tonight?”

“Yeah.” Delilah muttered shyly. It was the exact same tone she had taken with pretty much everyone she had met so far. It was all so overwhelming, she felt like she was in a dream.

“Ay Livvy Liv, you busy?” Josh asked. When she shook her head, he nodded toward Delilah. “How ‘bout you show our guest here how it’s done in the big leagues?”

Liv set her towel aside with a shrug. “Sure, why not?” she answered, turning her gaze to Delilah. “You up for it?”

Shocked, the trainee looked back and forth between them. “Wait, you want me to wrestle her? Right now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Josh shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you think you can’t do it.”

Offended, her eyes darkened right away. “Hell yeah, I can do it.”

He stepped closer to her, staring her right down, “Then show me,” he whispered.

Liv leapt back into the ring and backed up, beckoning for Delilah to join her. “Come on, show me what’cha got,” she challenged.

Before she knew what was happening, Delilah was locking up with Liv freaking Morgan in the middle of the ring, listening for her rushed verbal cues as they sparred like old partners. So immersed was she in the match they were constructing, Delilah didn’t notice that Josh and Tank had been joined by a few other men.

“Who’s the girl?”

Turning his head slightly, Josh took his boss’s hand in a handshake and then returned his attention to the action in the ring. “She’s one of Tank’s,” the Samoan spoke of the trainer who was now shouting instructions to his pupil from outside the ring, while Becky cheered on Liv on the other side.

Triple H watched with a critical eye as the new woman launched herself off of the ropes and knocked Liv to the mat with an impressive, albeit stiff clothesline. “She’s unpolished,” he deduced.

Josh shrugged. “She’ll get better,” he assured the older man. “Her very first match was just two weeks ago and she killed that shit, man. Two hundred thousand views on YouTube already,” he added, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice.

“I see.” The multi-time World Champion nodded his head, his gaze still fixed on the story the women were trying to tell in the ring.

As Liv wedged her horizontally between the ropes by the turnbuckle, Delilah glanced to her left, her heart nearly jumping into her throat when she saw Triple H of all people, watching intently a few feet away, as though waiting for her to do something special. She was so distracted that she didn’t hear Liv’s reminder to brace herself for the impact of her double-knee attack. Liv’s knees and shins colliding with her sternum knocked the air right out of her, causing her to collapse hard in the corner, limbs twisting everywhere as she hit the canvas.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Liv screeched, as Delilah rolled to her side and slowly made her way to her knees with a moan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It was my fault,” she puffed, taking the other woman’s extended hand to pull her up.

“Yeah, Triple H has that kind of effect,” Liv said, winking at her. “I was the exact same way the first time I saw him.”

Risking another glance at the base of the ramp, Delilah breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that Hunter had left them alone, but dread quickly filled her insides as she wondered what he’d thought of her performance.

“What the hell was that?” Josh’s laughing voice interrupted the ladies’ conversation. Delilah blushed wildly and ducked under the bottom rope. “I panicked,” she admitted softly. “So tell me the truth,” she said. “How bad did I fuck up my only chance to impress that man?”

Josh helped her out of the ring and set her down on her feet. “You tried. Let’s just leave it at that.” Her nervous expression caused him to wrap an arm around her waist for a quick hug. “But ay, you went for it, and Hunter appreciates that,” he whispered.

The feel of his breath on her ear sent shivers down Delilah’s spine. She shook it off quickly, deciding that she was still being a fangirl, that it was just his breathtaking presence that still affected her. She would have felt the exact same way if it had been Andre holding her like this.

Mistaking her inner turmoil for something else, Tank nudged her from her other side. “You did good, kid. I could tell Hunter liked it,” he said.

The uncharacteristic compliment from her usually no-nonsense teacher caused Delilah to blush, but before she could respond, a stage hand called for Tank to follow him up the ramp, leaving her all alone with Josh. She felt very self-conscious as she walked next to him towards the backstage area.

Somewhere along the way, Josh had invaded Delilah’s thoughts and fantasies on more than a few occasions. Never, since getting with Andre, had she ever thought about another man while making love to her fiancé, until lately. She wanted to blame it on seeing him every week on TV, recalling his deep, seductive voice on the phone, all of which left her imagining things she never dreamed of. Yeah, he seemed to be a bit touchy feely, but he had never made an outright pass at her, and had done nothing beyond a few flirty words and gestures. Maybe she was overthinking it too much and just needed to relax.

Josh looked down at her, trying not to stare into her tank top from his considerable vantage point. She was engaged to be married, but he couldn’t seem able to tell himself that it meant she was off limits. He was drawn to how unaware she was of her beauty and her sexiness, and it made her that much more attractive in his eyes. “You quiet. What’s on your mind?” he asked her, forcing himself out of his wayward thoughts.

Delilah followed him into a huge locker room. “Just thinkin’ about how surreal all of this is. It’s one thing to see it on TV. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to see it all up close…” she trailed off, shaking her head in awe.

Grabbing two bottles of water, Josh directed her to a table and sat across from her, opening her bottle before sliding it to her. “Yeah. Wait until you become an actual employee.”

Scoffing, she drank from the bottle and leaned back in her chair. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

“What makes you think that?”

With a sigh, she looked around the empty room. “I don’t know. For all intents and purposes, I’m still a rookie,” she reasoned. “I got so much more to learn. I don’t even look like the typical WWE Superstar. My hair’s too damn big and curly. I haven’t put on enough muscle yet.” Casting a glance over her own body, she sighed again. “And I’m gonna need implants, which I definitely can’t afford,” she added.

Josh looked her over, zeroing in on her chest. After seeing her in her wrestling outfit a couple of weeks ago, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with her hot body. “You don’t need no implants,” he assured her.

Shock washed over Delilah at his blatant assessment. “Okay, um, so where else are we going after this?” she asked nervously, hoping to break the suffocating tension building between them.

“Whatchu doin’, Delilah?” Josh ignored her question, watching her brush her hair out of her face for the hundredth time, the glint of the rock on her engagement ring seemingly taunting him every time she did so. “What exactly are you puttin’ in all the hours training and wrestling for? To achieve your dream? Or to get away from your fiancé?”

Recoiling a little, Delilah narrowed her eyes at what he had asked. Why was he being so intrusive? “Dude…” she stammered, her defenses going right up. "I’m not…I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”

“Baby girl, this business is everything to me,” Josh said to her, his tone strangely serious. “It’s my whole life. And I get a kick out of seeing other people who love it too and get immersed in it for all the right reasons.” Shaking his head, he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. “I need to know which side you’re on, so I’ll know whether I’m wasting my time with you or not.”

“Wasting your time? What the fuck…I never asked for your attention, Josh!” she shot defensively, staggered by this sudden change to their conversation. "To be honest, I don’t even know why you are showing any interest in me.” Behind her, she heard the door open, and she forced herself to lower her voice, even though she was seething at his audacity. “Maybe I should ask you. What’s in this for you, huh? Why me? There are a million other new wrestlers that you could be focusing on.“

Shrugging a shoulder in agreement, Josh leaned back in his chair and let his dark gaze scan her from head to toe. "Maybe,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips. “But it’s not them I wanna fuck.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. Did she hear him right? Was he suggesting that he wanted to sleep with her? That he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Did he fantasize about her too? Did he forget she was engaged? Wasn’t he married? How could he make such an open confession?

Before she could say something, the room began to fill up with members of the Raw roster, Josh stood up and gestured for her to do the same. “Come on. Let’s go find Tank,” he said to her.

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

Thoughts?

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @paigereeder

#jey uso #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #jey uso fanfic #wwe #the bloodline #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagines #new to this

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icyg4l · 2 months

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PAC: Sister-to-Sister Messages

As promised, I said that I would post messages this weekend in regard to Women’s History Month based on the results of yesterday’s poll. This reading will be all about sister-to-sister dynamics. I am so thankful for the support that I have been receiving for these readings. It’s much appreciated! 🤌🤌 Anyway, today is the last day of the five dollar flash sale!! All readings will be $5 today! Come get it if you want it!!! Without further ado, choose your sister duo.

*** Disclaimer: These readings are meant to uplift, relate to, and/or inspire women!

Left-to-Right (1-3): Chloe and Halle, Beyoncé and Solange, Tia & Tamera.

Pile 1: If you resonate with the photo of Chloe and Halle, then this is your pile. First of all, your potential hasn’t even peaked yet, Pile One. Your sister wants you to know that you should continue to pursue your dreams. I feel like you have the tendency to start stuff but not finish it. What’s that about? She’s noticed this since yall were young but probably thought you would’ve grown out of it. But she still thinks that you will prosper. Those who resonate with this pile seem to be the baby in the family. You may feel like your sister acts too much like your mother, but she just wants what’s best for you. I feel like your sister is very successful/accomplished & you may feel that pressure to follow her footsteps. But in reality, she just wants you to be you. Be an individual, babe. And the last message that I got from this pile was kind of funny. Your sister feels like you work too hard. Where’s your boo thang? You need to let some stress off with a sexual partner chile, especially if someone’s been putting in effort to talk to you. Give them a chance! Maybe you can find a creative spark from messing around with them! In the end, your sister is supportive of your creative pursuits. She just wants you to put in more effort.

Cards Used: The Star: King of Wands, Four of Cups, Prince of Wands, Page of Discs (RX), 3 of Discs.

extras: “you’re being uptight.” “i’d put my life on the line for you.” spotlight. errands. ADD. chronic lip licker. “you stole my clothes.” new wardrobe. a kiss on the cheek. pillows. voluptuous. chanel. argan oil. tree climbing. golf. tennis. pierced earlobe. “i didn’t get you anything, sorry.”

Pile 2: If you resonate with the photo of Beyoncé and Solange, this is your pile. Damn Pile Two, you’re quite the looker aren’t you? Your sister sees the physical growth that you’ve made in the past two years and she is in awe of it! You’re absolutely flawless dear! But don’t forget to hold onto your vision. I feel like this pile is in high school? Maybe a freshman in college. But you have a lot of admirers. I feel like your sister is younger than you & they feel like you’re not paying attention to her as you as you used to. She feels like you mistreat her, not necessarily on purpose. It may be because you’re so busy. She wants you to not forget about them. Your sister is proud of your pursuit of higher learning (if you’re in college). She is going to follow in your footsteps because of this. But make sure you keep your promises, babe. Go to that yogurt shop with her. Go shopping with her at the mall. Go to the movies. Hell, go to the park with her. Paint with her. Spend quality time with your sister so she can stop feeling this way!

Cards Used: Nine of Cups, Ace of Discs, Four of Discs, Five of Swords, 7 of Cups (RX), Princess of Cups, 10 of Discs.

extras: strawberry & banana smoothie. teenage dirtbag. furry boots. sweet treats. calming down after nightmare. salad. elephant lover. french tips. sparkles. ribbons. bows. “speak up, honey”. abbott elementary. “i want more you.” “honesty is everything.” “keep my secret.” conceited by remy ma.

Pile 3: Last but not least, if you resonate with the photo of Tia and Tamera, then this your pile. Aw, Pile Three, your sister regrets the last conversation y’all had. I feel like this conversation could have been about how personal choices affect loved ones, i.e. bringing around terrible dating partners/friends, not paying off debts in time. It also could have been a conversation about codependency or feeling smothered. It feels like your sister understands why you left; you wanted to put yourself first. It took her some time to realize that y’all can be separate and still have love for you. Y’all need time apart to grow. Do you have a twin, Pile Three? Or were you extremely connected to your sister on a soul level at some point? There will be some time for y’all to reconnect but just not right now. There’s some stubborn energy between the both of you but y’all will reconnect once there is momentum in the both of you guys’ lives. She doesn’t hate you for being independent, but she does hate the way things ended, Pile Three.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, The World, Five of Swords, Four of Discs, Two of Wands, Nine of Discs, Strength, 7 of Wands.

extras: “i have the balls, you don’t.” “it’s my prerogative.” oil and vinegar. liv and maddie. perfectionism. credit card debt. “drink up.” doodlebob. responsibilities. the old days. unplugged cords. cauliflower. fake vegan. bad eyesight. chloe bailey. drinking water. messy bedroom.

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klaprisun · 1 month

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One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 10: Haley's POV

“What are you looking for, Haley?” Alex questions me.

“Hm? What do you mean?” I retorted back. We are standing in our usual ‘Egg Festival spots’ which is at the other end of the town square and in the grass.

“You keep looking over there,” Alex points to the pathway leading west from town square.

“No I'm not.”

“Yes you are. I literally see you looking right now.”

“I think you’re seeing things, Alex.”

“But-”

I turn and give him a frown before he can even begin the rest of his sentence. Instead, he begins a different sentence that I let him finish, “Are you waiting for Farm Girl Danny?”

“No! And don’t call her that! She is more than just a farm girl, Alex. She is also more than a personal comedian,” I cross my arms and daze off for a second, not realizing I am staring right at the pathway I said I wasn’t.

“Um… okay? Not just a farm girl and not just a… personal comedian… Got it,” Alex gives me a confused thumbs up. Sometimes I think there is just air inside his head, but I tolerate him. He has gone through a lot in his life and needs someone there for him. His grandparents took him in when his mom passed and dad walked out. Evelyn and George are very kind people and did a great job taking care of him through his life. He is very kind to both of them in return, and does a lot for them since they’ve gotten older. I love visiting their house and eating Evelyn’s wonderful cooking. However, they make a lot of leek salad for George which I’ve never figured out. Every meal he has to have either just a leek or a leek salad!

Alex wraps his arm around my torso, and I lean my head against his side. We’ve been on and off a lot as a couple. A couple years now at least. Sometimes, I’ve caught him cheating on me when we take trips into Zuzu city but I can never actually see who it is he is with and if she looks like me or not. That’s always the question. OR! He moans a different name when we have sex. Whoever ‘Taylor’ is. Other times he is just plain rude. I don’t know why I stick around though. I think it’s just a small town and I feel trapped. Another reason is I really do feel for him and understand all he has gone through.

Finally, not that I’m looking or anything, I see Danny come into sight over at the west pathway. I immediately stand up straight and stop leaning on Alex. He notices my reaction and moves his arm away, half expecting me to bolt over to her.

She is wearing those overalls she wore like 4 times when she first got here. She has on a purple shirt underneath that looks like it has yellow flowers on it. Perfect for the Egg Festival. Her chestnut brown hair under her cowboy hat has been chopped off though! It’s about shoulder length and shaggy. She no longer has the long braid that I thought was pretty cute on her.

I reach for my own hair that I braided this morning for the occasion and start fiddling with it anxiously, unsure of what to do next.

Everyone is crowding Danny as she enters town square. All talking to her, introducing themselves to her if she hasn’t met them already, and Vincent and Jas are hugging her legs. I can’t seem to peel my eyes away from them all. I feel a pang of jealousy rising in me.

“Do you want to go over there, too? Say hi?” Alex snaps me out of my trance.

“No. Let’s just stay here.” I continue watching from a distance. There is no need to go over there. She seems busy with everyone else anyway. That is until she looks my way. She raises her hand in the air as a hello gesture. From here, I can still see her bright, big, charming smile.

The crowd is still swarmed around her, but she is only focused on me. She doesn’t break her gaze after gesturing hello, but she doesn’t walk over here either. Instead, she finally turns to Mayor Lewis and nods her head.

“Everyone participating in the annual egg hunt, get into your positions!” Mayor Lewis announces.

“Eat dust guys. You all know I win every year,” I hear Abigail brag. Vincent and Jas look visibly upset as she says that. Danny noticed their reactions and started smirking.

“We’ll see about that,” Danny says to Abigail who is staring daggers at her.

“On your marks… get set… GO!” Mayor Lewis chants.

Sam, Elliot, Vincent, Penny, Jas, Abigail, Maru, Leah, and Danny all take off around the town. Alex had walked over to his grandparents to socialize with them which I don’t blame him for. I’d do the same thing. I’m left standing around a couple bushes that I've noticed earlier had an egg hiding in them.

Danny is now grouped up with Vincent and Jas, helping them find eggs. They are laughing and playing around searching every area imaginable. Danny points out the eggs for them and they run over and throw them into their baskets. Danny hasn’t put a single egg in her own basket.

The three of them get closer to me and I decide to speak up.

“Pssst,” I whisper to them.

3 pairs of eyes make direct eye contact with me. I tilt my head in the direction of the bush that has the egg in it. Danny gently taps Jas to go over and get the egg. In a fit of giggles, Jas runs over.

“Thank you ma'am,” Jas politely thanks me.

“Yeah, thank you ma’am,” Danny smirks and tips her hat slightly at me. I immediately feel my face get warm. The short hair really suits her.

Danny doesn’t even realize the two kids took off looking for more eggs. She is too busy standing all high and mighty with her arms crossed, staring at me. I notice her look me up and down a couple times, and I feel my stomach lurch.

“Look at you,” she takes a step and takes my long, blonde braid gently in her hand, “you look like a princess.”

My face gets even warmer and I can only manage to stutter, “I-... ye-... uh-...”

“That’s time folks! Bring your eggs to me so I can count them!” Mayor Lewis announces across the town.

“See you around, princess,” Danny mutters before catching up to Jas and Vincent.

“Abigail with 8 eggs!” Let’s see if anyone can out do that this year!” Mayor Lewis calls out.

Everyone who knew they didn’t have over 8 eggs shyly backed down. However, Jas and Vincent went running over to Mayor Lewis with their baskets. Danny is standing proudly a couple feet behind them.

“Would you look at that! Jas AND Vincent with 10 eggs each! We have the winners folks! Here is your prize… sorry…we only have one,” Lewis says shamefully.

The two of them run over to Danny with their prize. It was a straw hat. They hand it up to her but she just takes it and places it playfully onto Vincent's head, purposely covering his eyes with the brim. She looks behind her and notices a daffodil growing from the ground. She bends over, picks it from its place, and hands it to Jas. However, there is still another daffodil growing in the same area and she picks that one too. She starts walking over to me.

“For you. For helping with finding an egg,” she sings as she hands me the daffodil.

I do a small gasp. “For me? Thank you!” but before I can take it out of her hands, she tucks it behind my ear.

“Matches your outfit,” she points out. I had totally forgotten I threw on a yellow and green sundress today.

“Oh…yeah…you’re right,” I mumble while smoothing out my dress.

“Did you enjoy the Egg Festival?” Danny asks.

“This festival is alright... but what I'm really looking forward to is the Flower Dance.” I reply as I raise my shoulders and tilt my head.

“Ahhh the flower dance. When is that exactly?”

“It’s on the 24th. You’ll be able to see it on the calendar at Pierre’s,” I pointed over to the wall of the store where the bulletin board is. Part of me wants her to look at the calendar so she knows it’s my birthday tomorrow.

“I guess I’ll have to look at that before I go home today, eh?”

“You could.”

We stand around in awkward silence, neither of us knowing what to say next.

“Well I better get back home and keep working. I have to rack up some more money so I can expand my house and actually get a kitchen and a bedroom,” Danny chuckles, “I have nowhere to put my groceries… or all those ladies you think are in love with me,” she sneers jokingly.

“You need to forget I ever said that! I mean look at you, I don’t know who would ever love a big mutt like you,” I say a little meaner than intended. Danny’s face drops. I didn’t mean to say it! She seems easy to love and she isn’t a mutt! I don’t know why I just said that.

“You just had to ruin it. I have to go Haley,” Danny storms off to the west path and disappears. I’m left standing alone, holding my hand up to my mouth and choking back tears.

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

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HI Sanne!! SO excited about your celebration! <3 Congratulations on 600, omg. Well deserved.

My prompt req is: Steve x fem!reader, maybe best friend or neighbor, or Bucky's sister perhaps? He came home from the Army v serious, v closed off to everyone, but he's compulsively showing his concern about her, ie. something like tugging her elbow so she doesn't trip, giving up his coffee cup for her use, putting himself between her and a creep at the bar, etc. Something pushes him over the edge and she calls him on it. (sumthin like that ;) <3)

𝟒𝟎𝐬!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

lord i am sorry. i meant to answer this months ago and it is such a fabulous prompt, kate, but the writer's brain just didn't want to cooperate. ANYWAY, i finished it, two hundred followers later. hope i did it justice <3 please have an angsting stevie and a sweetheart reader:

****

"'Scuse me, sorry—" you squeezed past a couple of old ladies who side-eyed you, stepping away. The bulky food trays certainly weren't improving matters, and no one seemed too keen on helping.

That was alright. The neighborhood hadn't had a block party in years and now that the war was over, people were in high spirits. You didn't expect them to pay attention to the woman shuffling around potato salad and cottage pie.

"Y/N!"

Loretta bounced over, eagerly taking the foil off a tray and helping herself. You wobbled, just barely setting down said tray before she dug in.

"You bring the best potlucks,” she gushed around a mouthful.

"Thanks, Lor. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Loretta was your perky downstairs neighbor who liked to chat for far too long while getting her mail. But she was nice enough and you'd never wish her any ill will, especially since she helped set up tents for tonight.

"Oh, sure. You know who I saw?"

"Who?"

She grinned, expression turning dreamy.

"James Barnes. We're going dancing Friday."

You blinked, hands falling to your sides.

"Bucky’s back?"

"Mmhm! Is this chicken?"

"Beef. When did he return?"

You wracked your brain trying to think if you'd seen him. Bucky was back… did that mean Steve was too?

"Nearly a week ago," Loretta chirped. "He's so handsome in his uniform."

"I'm sure. What about Steve?"

Loretta clapped her hands together, forgetting the food for a moment.

"Oh, you mean Captain America? Of course he is. Haven't you seen him yet? Nearly everyone on the block wants to meet him. I've got a sister in Syracuse who's dog mad I get to see him everyday."

Loretta scooped herself a large helping of potato salad, then pointed with her fork.

"He's over by the fence, talking to Maria Donaldson. Her father's a senator, you know. Not too shabby, huh?"

"Oh," you replied quietly. "Right. Good for him. I'm, um, gonna go check on the desserts."

You hurried away, going straight for the rows of pies. You'd been one of the people to organize the party originally, mainly food. You busied yourself with cutting and serving slices, not daring to look the Donaldsons' way.

"Do you have blueberry?" asked a short, stout man with thinning hair. You shook your head.

"No, sorry. We have apple, chocolate, lemon, banana cream…"

"Why didn't you make blueberry?"

"No one brought it this year. At the next block party, I'll make a suggestion…"

"You broads have one job,” he sneered, crowding you and the table. “The least you could do—"

"Is there a problem?"

Steve was in a checkered button down, hair neatly combed back. He’d always been handsome, with his sweet blue eyes and pink cheeks. Perfect for a senator's daughter.

He stepped between you two, blocking you from view. You peeked around one giant shoulder as he stared down your heckler.

"This girl and her bridge club forgot the goddamn blueberry pie."

Steve straightened, gaining at least another inch in height.

"The lady worked very hard on this event and provided plenty of great food. You can find something else. If not, you'll leave."

“Who the hell do you think you are? I’m a part of this neighborhood and—”

“And this party is a privilege,” Steve cut in, stance wide. “Do we understand each other?”

How different this Steve was compared to the upstairs neighbor you remembered. He’d never backed down, ever, but now, people listened.

The man grumbled. Steve didn’t flinch, and after deciding he didn't feel like getting his ass handed to him by Captain America, the asshole snatched a piece of lemon pie.

"Thank her," said Steve, easy as anything. "She didn't have to give it to you."

The veins on the man's forehead bulged as Steve coolly stared him down.

"Thank you," the man said gruffly, then stalked off.

Steve turned as you walked around the table. You offered a tentative smile. He returned it, dimmer than you remembered.

"Hi, Steve."

"Hey. Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm fine. That was…"

"He won't bother you again."

You wrung your hands. Steve stood ramrod straight, arms behind his back. The smile was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Welcome back," you offered.

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're home. You and Bucky."

Steve nodded, gaze softening. He looked exhausted.

"It's good to see you, Y/N."

You gestured to the table.

"Pie? There's tons. Or um…"

You crouched to pull out the cinnamon cake you'd made specially for the end of the night.

"I'm technically saving this for after the fireworks," you confessed with a laugh, "but, do you want some? You like cinnamon cake, don’t you?"

You didn't need to reveal that you may or may not have made this for in case you saw Steve.

"Oh. No, I don't want to cut into it if it's for everyone."

You smiled, tilting your head.

"No one will know, Steve. I know it's your favorite."

"I'll wait. Thank you, though."

You chewed the inside of your cheek, nodding. The Steve from before would've happily accepted a slice.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yeah, I've been at the booths down the block. It's a great event you organized, Y/N, seriously."

"Oh, well, it wasn't just me," you shrugged. "Plenty of people helped."

"You put it together, though. Only you would keep everybody's spirits up like this."

"People deserve it." You deserve it.

"Y/N! Can you bring these over to the Brigleys' booth?"

Loretta suddenly heaved several trays into your arms. You staggered briefly, balancing the weight.

"Oh, Captain!" she squealed, pushing past. "So good to see you! Well, that serum really did a number, huh? Golly."

Steve's expression was tight. "Ma'am."

Loretta giggled. "Look at that. Ma'am. Army shaped you right up."

"Uh, Loretta," you began loudly, smile tight. "Isn't that your cousin talking to Bucky over there?"

Loretta whipped her head around, scowling.

"I'm never inviting her to something again, I swear!" she snapped, stomping away.

Steve bowed his head, biting back a smile. You giggled, adjusting your grip on the trays.

"Tell Bucky I'll give him an extra cinnamon cake as an apology."

Steve snorted. "He'll be just fine. Jumped right back into the swing of things."

"And you?"

His gaze flicked up to you.

"I don't know," he finally confessed.

"Y/N!" Mrs. Brigley waved from down the street, gesturing to the trays.

"Yes, Mrs. Brigley. Be right there!"

You took a step forward. Immediately, your knees buckled, shoes catching on uneven pavement, the weight too much. Steve surged forward, catching the pans with one arm and holding your waist with the other. You inhaled sharply at the feel of his warm hand plastered over your ribs. He set the pans down, searching your face as he goaded you to a chair.

"Steve—"

"I'll be right back,” he said firmly. “Stay there, rest. You've been on your feet too long."

Though the words were a Captain's order, his tone was tender. You nodded, watching as he went and scooped up the pans like they were nothing, jogging to Mrs. Brigley. She, of course, wanted to chat, because everyone wanted a piece of Steve now. And why wouldn't they? Steve was golden, always had been. It wasn't fair of you to want him to yourself. You had no claim on him; not before, and not now.

"Finally, you're here. The recycling by the stop sign needs to be taken out."

An older woman, holding an entire pie you were pretty sure she did not make, stood before you, waiting expectantly. You sighed, plastering on a smile.

"Sure. Thank you for informing me."

She hobbled away, probably to go steal more food, while you went to wrap up the bag, pulling it out of the bin. You dragged it out and down the sidewalk towards the small alley with the recycling bins. It wasn't as well lit and you tried to avoid stepping on the broken bottles and trash that littered the cement. As you lifted the lid and heaved the bag in, quick footsteps approached, crunching glass.

"Y/N? Jesus. Are you okay?"

"Steve?" You closed the lid, your face a question mark as he neared. "What's wrong? Did something happen to the booths?"

"You shouldn't be here by yourself. It's dark and you could cut yourself."

You blinked. "Steve, it's less than fifty feet away from the street. I think I'll be okay."

He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing, chest rising and falling too fast. For a moment, you feared an asthma attack, something you'd witnessed quite a few times.

"Hey, hey. What's going on?" you asked.

"N-nothing. C’mon, let's—"

"Steve." You rested both hands on his wrists. He stopped. "You've been acting off all night. It's clearly not nothing."

He bowed his head, shoulders hunching.

"I missed you," he confessed quietly.

"I missed you too," you smiled. "But you've got me, Steve. I'm not going anywhere."

"Stuff happened, when I was over there, and I saw—" Steve stopped, swallowing.

He wavered forward the tiniest bit, arms twitching. Then he froze, restraining himself. You took the hint, wrapping your arms around his neck and coaxing him into a hug. Immediately, Steve clung to you, hands on your back, melding you to his chest. You hummed, breathing him in.

"Yeah," you murmured, smoothing over the cowlick that just never seemed to settle no matter how much pomade Steve wrangled into it. "I think if anybody deserves to rest, it's you."

There was a heaviness, a weight that hadn't been there the last time you saw him, over a year ago. He pulled back slightly, nose nearly touching yours.

"Steve, I—" you fumbled, realizing how close Steve was, how you could count all the freckles on his cheeks if you wanted to.

“Yeah?” he breathed, warm air on your cheek.

Your arms were around his neck. His hands stayed dutifully on your waist. Steve’s eyes were like starlight, bright and earnest. Something delicate pulled in your chest, curling close to your heart. His eyes went to your lips.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

Steve surged forward like he’d been waiting all night to do so. He melded you against him. Your lips slotted together. Kissing Steve was coming home. You knew he felt it too, with how he made a small noise into your mouth, unable to get enough of you. You felt his worry, his weariness forged through war and being stretched in a hundred different directions.

Land here. I’ve got you.

Eventually you had to come up for air. But Steve didn’t go far. He merely moved to your sternum, resting his forehead. You held him like that, playing with the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’m glad you’re home, Steve,” you repeated, and this time he didn’t tense.

“Yeah,” he said against your skin. “Me too.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers fanfiction #40s steve rogers x reader #i get a prompt with protective steve where the reader is basically his wife and i lose my mind. am i that predictable? (yes)#inbox #blurb #kate tag 🍭

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starythewriter · 6 months

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KINKMAS 17 elijah mikaelson

WATTPAD

you met up with elijah, you loved everything about him he was the most noble vampire. you thought it would be difficult to fall in love with the other but you could tell from the first time you saw him that he was different. he was like a breath of fresh air and it felt natural to be around him.your eyes were drawn to each other when you walked together at the museum as you looked at every painting there was something about him you couldn't quite describe. it felt almost as if his beauty radiated out onto your skin. you had been standing in front of another painting, admiring its beauty when you heard someone come up behind you."Hi there," a voice said, causing you to jump and turn. you didn't know why or how you two were so attracted to eachother. it had been a blue moon since you last saw elijah…

you wanted nothing more than to see him again, even though you couldn't bring yourself to admit to him what you really felt."Elijah!" you exclaimed excitedly.you hadn't seen him for three years now, although you knew he missed you just as much."Hello." he smiled warmly at you. "It' been awhile," you replied softly.You couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach at seeing him again."Yeah, I have." he agreed.he took you out to dinner later that night and you were happy to have reconnected with him.

"lets go enjoy dinner together" elijah suggested. you agreed happily.the both of you sat down on a bench across the street from the restaurant that they served delicious food."how has life been?" you asked as you started eating your salad. "I've been busy." elijah admitted,"so am I." you replied, taking a bite of your chicken nuggets." "life has been very different without you, I did however meet a couple gods"

"seems someone has their fancy tickled by that thought" he said smirking, you loved his soft and smooth chin "now now lets not go there" everything was working out for you. you continued to eat your nuggets, elijah was entranced by you and your gaze. after some more dinning you both headed off to a disco ball dance.

the rainbow lights shining everywhere, his scent was so alluring. he thought the same way about you, you were perfect to him especially with your rose scent.

the music pulsated through the air and you were dancing close to him. he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him.you felt his hot breath against your neck and your heart fluttered, the feeling in your stomach was so intense. you placed your hand against his chest and slowly moved back until your back hit the wall. your heartbeat was racing and you could feel his. you closed your eyes tightly trying to calm yourself down, he seemed to do the same.he lowered his head, placing his lips on yours. you parted them slightly allowing him entry but he pulled away, leaving you confused.you turned your head back towards him, his face was inches from yours.

you kept dancing feeling a intense heat. his lips were moving closer to yours once more.your eyes widened as his lips touched yours again. this time he moved his hands up to cup your face as his kisses deepened.you opened your mouth slightly allowing him entrance. you felt his tongue run along your bottom lip gently before sliding into your mouth, exploring every inch of your mouth.

"here love, lets take this somewhere else" "take this blindfold darling" he gave you a velvet blindfold it was so soft. you followed him. "look" you blushed finding yourself in a stall, "would you do the honors of sitting on my face" "yes elijah."

you responded and then he helped you get situated, wrapping his arms securely around you holding you close to him. he began to move his lips against your inner thighs, he slowly gave you a swirl making you moan. his teeth grazed your sensitive flesh causing shivers to course through your body. he moved to your inner thigh, grazing his teeth along it. you gasped when his teeth scraped lightly over your clit which caused you to release a small scream."love this feels so good, i'm so close" you moaned. you felt elijah's lips return to your inner thighs."close" his mouth covered you once again.

now you started to grind aganist his mouth, your hips bucking upwards. you were moaning loudly and he was responding to it, his tongue continuing to explore your inner walls. your legs were spread wide open, exposing you to any man who came into the room. he kissed your inner thighs harder sending more jolts through your body. his hands roamed up your body. touching your nipples as you moaned loudly hitting your peak… "fuck that was just amazing elijah" "you were tasty" he said with a smirk. he gave you a grin, you kissed him. you both relaxed you spent the rest of the night tracing his body over with your fingers.

THE END!

#send in concepts #smutty #smut #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikealson smut #elijah mikealson one shot #elijah mikealson imagine

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lulutaylorsimaginarium · 2 months

Text

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words:1375

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

AN2: You guys are surprising me with this weeks poll. I love it though. You have a few more days to vote

XxL

THE CHAIN MASTERLIST

Part Fifteen

Later that day the guys were busy all around and outside the house. She didn’t know what they were doing but she also knew that if they weren’t telling her, maybe she shouldn’t ask. Some things weren’t her business and maybe she didn’t want to know.

She sat on the sofa with a laptop in her lap typing away with the next step of the plan. Gabby just hoped that the plan actually worked. She knew that it was going to take a few trips over time but she was impatient and she wanted to move as much as possible, at least the first time over the boarder

The front door opened before Benny walked in and smiled to her.

“Do you ever get tried?”

“Trust me I am”

“I don’t believe you”.

“Hey?” she asked “When you take the interior panel of a car door off. The door is hollow, right?”

“I mean there is material and like waterproof stuff in there so it doesn’t rust but nothing we can’t take-out” he offered “Muscle cars might be better because of sheer size”.

“Do you just want me to buy you a muscle car. Benny?”

“Yes”

“You’re going to have to sell it again when we get back here”.

“That’s okay. It still a road trip in a hot car”

“Do you want a Camaro?”

“1967!!!!” he told her excitedly.

“It might have to be a beater.”

“Don’t care”

“Done” she agreed.

“You wouldn’t have to buy four the first time out. Buy two, we can do the work on them, and we can send Will and Frankie back to the states. Then buy the other two Pope and I can stay back to do the work.”

“Need time away from your big brother, huh?”

“It’s like I’m still five years old.”

“I’ll buy a Camaro first. How about that?” she chuckled “But, you have to take me for a spin.”

“Absolutely”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Suddenly the front door opened again.

“You’re meant to be sleeping” Santiago scolded her playfully.

“I’m on the couch. I’m not running a marathon.”

“You’re hopeless”

He kissed her on top of the head before she held his hand without even realizing she had reached for it.

“How are the guys?”

“They’re okay”

“What do you guys want for dinner?"

“Food”

“Very helpful. Thank you” she laughed.

She wanted to do it up big. Thanksgivings little sister. A thousand sides and a lot of laughter. Maybe she was trying to fix everything. The mood that was clouding the house. She hated tension. First Gabby and Frankie. Frankie and Santiago and now Will and Benny.

As much as it sounded corny, she liked a happy family.

An hour later she snuck out of the house and went to the store. She didn’t have much time, but she knew that pizza would be an easy home meal idea. Men liked carbs, right?

She somehow snuck out without anyone noticing her going but she was noticed when she came back lugging countless shopping bags up the front steps, Santiago shook his head as she smiled at him. He called her stubborn, she only laughed before moving into the house.

They were happy about it when the sun went down and they came back inside, the house smelt amazing with a feast waiting for them of homemade pizza, bread and salads. Music blaring around them and Gabby busy in the kitchen, with a tea towel hanging off her shoulder, red hair piled up on top of her head.

“How did you make pizza?” Will asked her

“There are two pizza ovens are out the back. One’s wood, one’s electric” she chuckled because clearly none of them had noticed, even though both ovens were pretty big. “You wash up. Everything will be ready soon”.

One by one they did, and everything was on the dining table waiting for them. Gabby however was still busy in the kitchen.

“Reina” Santiago called out “You going to sitting down?”

“In a second”

“We’re not eating down til you sit down” Will told her

They had been around her for long enough to know her well by now. She would have kept going until they were done.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed for bottle of beer out of the fridge and walked over to them. Santiago grabbed her gently by the hips and pop her in the chair beside him before she grabbed a piece of garlic bread

“Hey” Benny protested “That was mine”

She proceeded to lick the piece of bread and hand it over to him “You want it?”

The whole table laughed, including Frankie. Which was surprising.

“You do have brothers” Will smiled

“Dude, my parents had to buy me food to hide in my bedroom. So my brothers didn’t eat it all. Yeah, I have brothers”

They all fell into a happy hum of conversation and laughter, at a level that they hadn’t seen in a while. It was nice without a cloud of friction looming above them.

“You find me a car yet?” Benny teased

“I have. It’s a shit box but the engine is practically new, so it will you from point A to point B”

“Camaro?” She winked at him “I love you”

“How much?” Will asked

“Eighteen”

“It is a shit box” Will laughed

“With two different coloured doors” she chuckled “Which might be a good thing. It wont draw as much attention”

“Take the interior panels out. Put the money in, cover it back up”.

“Will, its like we know each other” she joked

“Don’t forget we have that paperwork that Sebastion made. Pope and I could go find a transit van. Take some 'coffee' through the boarder that way”

“I forgot about that paperwork”

“That way we could all go together” Santiago offered

“One of us should stay behind keep an eye on the rest of the money” she said “My name’s on the deed. It would look weird otherwise”

“You’re not staying here by yourself” Benny told her

“I’m a big girl”

“I’ll stay too” Frankie told them “Just in case”

Frankie and Gabby stared at each other for a few seconds. She would have loved that idea a few weeks ago. Heck, even a few days ago.

Now it made her feel uneasy for some reason.

She knew other places had the cook, not clean rule but it didn’t seem right to have the guys clean up after they had been working all day long. They had all gone their own ways as she gave the kitchen one more wipe down and reached for her little orange bottle of pills. She took two and gulped down ice cold water, not knowing there was someone behind her

“What are you taking?”

“Vitamins” she lied.

Frankie snatched the bottle out of her hand quickly. Knowing she was lying through her teeth

“Valium?”

“Oh” she sighed “It’s spelt different, isn’t it?”

“Why the fuck are you taking Valium?”

“Why do you think Frankie?” she sighed softly “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I don’t have it in me. I know life is crap right now and things are happening that you do not like. I get it, but I still need you”

“Gab”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah”

“Then why are we doing this, Baby? We’re under the same roof and I fucking miss you. I don’t know how to explain it” she shook her head gently

“I know”

“Then what are we doing?”

“I don’t know”

“Neither do I”

“I just..” he started but he wasn’t sure where to take that sentence “I don’t know”

“Can you figure it out please?” she asked gently “I’m going to bed before these kick in”.

He watched her walk upstairs and disappeared like she has done so many times before. Leaving him alone downstairs with his thoughts

#triple frontier #frankie morales #romanticism #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #netflix #santiago garcia x oc #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #oscar isaac #pedro pascal

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dudefrommywesterns · 10 months

Text

Ship: Mike x Joe Ricco

Words: 900

Description: Mike brings Ricco lunch at work.

Warnings: none!

Joe would be in his office at lunchtime. Mike had made sure of that. Ever since they'd been going out, they wanted to bring him a homemade lunch. They'd prepped some cilantro lime salad and sandwiches the night before so they could easily come to his law building from their job at the paper.

They walked into his office and were greeted by Jamison, his secretary. They'd heard quite a bit about her but had never met her.

Jamison was a woman about Mike's age, maybe slightly younger. She had short brown hair that was parted in the middle and surrounded her head, a bit like a long pageboy. She smiled professionally as Mike approached.

“Hello, miss,” she said, which stung a little. “It's Mr. Ricco’s lunch hour but I can make you an appointment.”

Mike lifted the bag they were holding. “That's exactly what I'm here for.”

Jamison eyed Mike's flared slacks and furrowed her eyebrows. “You don't look like a delivery boy.”

Mike chuckled. “No, I write the political commentary section of The Chronicle. Occasionally I publish short stories. I've been in a few publications. I'm hoping for The Atlantic next.”

“Ambitious,” Jamison said. “So then-” A lightbulb went on in her head. “You're the person he's dating? You're Mike?”

“Yep! That's me. Nice to meet you.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

Mike sighed. “Why does everyone ask that? I finished my English doctorate three years ago.”

“You're my age?” she asked, then cringed. “Ricco’s old. He's probably my dad’s age.”

“If we're done judging me, I'm going to have lunch with my boyfriend.”

Mike attempted to walk past but Jamison stopped them.

“Oh, I'm not judging! I'm just surprised,” Jamison said. “It's good to see him happy. He's been alone as long as I've worked for him. Maybe he'll stay out of my love life now and stop being such a busybody.”

Mike chuckled. “He told me he was trying to get you a boyfriend. Any success?”

“Maybe,” she said, stressing the y. “He was right about Markham anyway.”

“What's up with old Italians and the matchmaking?” Mike joked. “We were set up by Nino and Angela. They'd been setting him up on a bunch of dates he didn't want.”

“What a hypocrite!” Jamison exclaimed. “Doesn't like it when people do it to him but does it to everybody else.”

“Well, see you later,” Mike said, and walked into Joe's office.

“Hi,” Mike said. “Lunch is here. I got held up by a very confused Jamison. You didn't tell her I was coming?”

“No, I forgot.”

“You didn't tell her what I look like? How old I am?”

“It didn't seem relevant.”

Mike laughed. “She's probably still in an advanced state of shock out there. Wondering how you pulled such a pretty young thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're not so young.”

“I'm decrepit in women's years, don't you know? Dry as dust!”

Joe busted up laughing at that.

They added dramatically, “Like an overripe lemon!”

He shook his head fondly. “Come here.”

Mike set the bag down on a chair and approached his desk. They leaned in.

Joe gave them a gentle kiss hello.

“Not quite dry yet,” he said.

Mike gave him a quick peck back. “You're getting there.”

“Hm, I don't know. I sure drive you crazy.”

There was no denying that.

“Shut up and eat one of these sandwiches.”

Mike grabbed out a pastrami for him and a veggie for themselves.

“There's salad too,” Mike said. “Cilantro lime. It's really good.”

“It probably is, if you made it,” he said.

Mike smiled.

“Are you busy for the rest of the day?” Mike asked.

“Oh, there's this case and that case,” he said. “Why? Are you planning on playing hooky?”

Mike smiled. “Oh, no. I have to get back to the paper and write my thoughts about the latest White House sex scandal. Riveting stuff.”

“The readers like it,” he said.

Mike looked up from their sandwich. “How would you know?”

“Oh. People like to talk. People think you're funny. Right, but funny.”

“Well. That's good.”

“I found one of your short stories in one of those little literature journals,” he said. “You're good.”

“I didn't know you read literary journals.”

“I don't.”

“Oh.”

“You should try to aim higher,” he said. “Some big paper.”

“The Atlantic and the New Yorker keep rejecting me,” Mike said. “But that's understandable because only 0.00067 percent of people get into those.”

“You'll get in,” he said. “They'd be stupid not to at some point.”

“Thank you.”

After a while, both finished their lunch. Mike sipped their green tea as slowly as they could.

“Don't you have that sex scandal to write about?” Joe asked.

Mike sighed. “I'm trying to pretend I have all the time in the world.” They took his hand from across the table. “What if I want to stay here?”

“I'll have to kick you out,” Joe said, lightheartedly. “I can't enable you slacking.”

Mike did their best pleading eyes. “Just once? We could just go walk the dock together?”

“I'll see you after work,” he said. “The dock’ll still be there. Along with the stars.”

“Well,” Mike sighed. “I tried. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Good luck on that commentary,” he replied.

“I'm not leaving without a kiss goodbye,” Mike said.

They kissed him for as long as they could.

“You taste like pastrami and mustard,” they said with a giggle.

“Go, go,” he said, waving them towards the door.

“I'm going, I'm going! It's almost like you want me to leave!”

Joe shook his head. “See you later.”

“If you're lucky.”

“See you later,” he repeated.

Mike gave him one last smile, then left his office. They hurried downstairs and across the dock. They were 15 minutes over their lunch hour.

#self ship #self shipping community #j.r.#fun fact: i actually have submitted my original work to the atlantic and the new yorker. rejected of course #typewriter dings

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lailawinchesterr · 25 days

Text

ignore ignore ignore / Jensen ackles

series masterlist | main masterlist

one,

I don’t waste any time running into my best friend’s arms and because I’ve been on the set so much, it doesn't faze anyone, not even when i’m interrupting a scene (though i try not to do that often).

"Hey, Lils, what're you doing here? Thought you had an audition?" I did, but it hadn't gone well so i decided against staying at home, instead coming to see Jared.

"Yeah, but i wanted to see you. It ended early anyways." I’m sure he saw through my white lie, gladly he decided against pushing since we’re still around people. Greeting Misha and Gen with hugs and soft ‘how are you’s warms my heart as much as anything.

Now where's Jensen, is my first thought as i lean closer to the small group, listening to whatever they were talking about, enjoying some of Misha’s salad. I usually try to keep my distance from the older actor only because he makes me nervous and I don’t know how to properly act around him. Much less now that I don’t hang out with Danneel either.

It’s been years since we’ve met but i still can't seem to get over my crush on him. I always have some stupid excuse to not be in a room he's in, i’ve hardly been in a room alone with him the whole five years, unless we were with Danneel, though he hardly talked then, opting to stay on his phone.

Jared checks his phone which just pinged; "Jensen's done with Bob, my turn." Gen groans, holding onto her boyfriend a little tighter. It makes me smile, seeing them so in love when i know how hard last year was on Jared. He never thought he'd find someone like Gen in his life but he did. And one year later they're still the strongest relationship i have ever seen.

"Where’s my lunch?" That’s a voice i can recognize anywhere and it makes me freeze. Now where on earth does Jared think he's going? And Gen hanging on his arm too? Yeah, no way am I staying here alone.

"Here." Misha holds up a plastic bag and Jensen quickly snatched it, sitting where Jared was just a second ago, next to me. "Don’t thank me or anything." He rolls his eyes and Jensen starts opening up his burrito.

"I need to get back to work, bye guys." No one is even fazed as i throw a random 'bye' to whoever will catch it, walking back to my car.

"I need to know what i did to her, man." Jensen says, mouth full with the insanely incredible food that Misha got him. He could really kiss the man right now.

"I’m sure it's nothing, she's not used to you is all." If he wasn't so busy stuffing his mouth he would've scoffed and hit his friend on the head.

"She’s known you for one year and you're already friends," he swallows, putting down the food, "i've known her for what? five years? she used to come over all the time and i don't even have her number, i don't know how that's possible."

"She isn't in the cast, that's normal. Maybe you just don't initiate conversation."

"Yeah, cause she looks like she wants to bang my head in every time i see her, she's not exactly the 'let's talk' type." Misha wanted to tell jensen that he was being stupid but the truth is, he's right. Laila’s been very obviously ignoring Jen for the whole year he's been here to witness, never mind the four before that. Laila and Misha are close, but he wouldn't say close enough to bring it up to her, maybe he'll tell Jared. It does seem to be affecting Jensen, so it needs to be dealt with.

Or maybe it was better left alone.

#jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #spn family #jared and jensen #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x reader #spn cast #jensen fucking ackles

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hanarchy · 15 days

Note

top 5 skz songs to sing along to? and top 5 of your favorite dishes? and top 5 songs you’d like han jisungie to cover in full? sorry for sending fifty billion things i just love your insights and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions 💖

aah ana ilysm ok cracking my knuckles, lets go

top 5 skittles song to sing along to:

1. Topline (always and forever, i screamed so loud i nearly passed out)

2. Cheese (click clack, bang)

ur gonna laugh at me for the rest of these but

3. wolfgang (graaow we go wild)

4. gone away (ssshhh dont tell anyone that i like a skz ballad)

5. miroh (its a must, stray kids woo)

favorite dishes

1. bolognese pasta (am i 5? maybe)

2. bibimbap (i love how everyone makes it a little different, i love the variety of flavors, i love how indulgent it is without being super greasy)

3. frankfurter grüne soße (‘green sauce’ its technically a super simple dish, its usually just served with eggs and potatos. but its very specific.

theres herbs in it that are barely used nowadays, very old german cuisine vibes. and if you get the ratio exactly right and the herbs are in season it has such a delicate and specific flavor. a little sweet, a little mustardy, very refreshing. it’s hard to describe. also is excellent with white asparagus and young potatoes (in season at the same time) or surprisingly a really ripe avocado. anyway its hard to find most of the year in most of germany but since i am from frankfurt its a matter of pride)

4. sashimi or maybe a really good ceviche (i love raw fish but ceviche has become such a trend thing that its usually just not great here)

5. can i just say salad? like maybe its bc its getting hot but a really nice salad maybe with some haloumi or avocado or some grilled fish and some really nice bread is sooooo good.

ok top songs i want hanji to cover. now this is why i put this ask off for so long top 5 is SUCH a high bar to clear. ok that being said though i have some directions i would looooove him to explore.

(for convenience, a shortlist without my rambling:

1. kacey musgraves - golden hour/slow burn/ butterflies

2. the internet - get away | just sayin/i tried

3. paramore - misery business

4. arctic monkeys - leave before the lights come on/do me a favour

5. the strokes - is this it)

1. intimate acoustic guitar country songs like kacey musgraves did on golden hour (god i was obsessed with that album) this whole album has such a sunny warmth to it, and such a specific cleverness in the songwriting i think jisungs voice would just be so pretty on it. my top choices would be butterflies or golden hour or slow burn i think

2. jazzy, slow a little funky rnb like the internet used to make (rip to that band i will miss u forever) plus their breakup songs have a pettiness that just gels with jisungs vibes so well. i wouldnt really want a straight cover but like if he put some additional vocals and a little laid back rap verse on get away or just sayin/i tried uuuugh a perfect fuckin idea.

3. obvious one but paramore misery business but i would accept any of their like. earlier actually kinda emo stuff.

4. self indulgent but my favorite arctic monkeys song is leave before the lights come on i would LOVE to see what he does with that OR possibly do me a favour. again, petty but like… suuuuch great storytelling that i think would fit him

5. the strokes is this it idk i just think its a lazy existential dread/petty relationship sort of vibe that would fit him if he was allowed to make music like that lmao kind of similar vibe to those arctic monkeys songs but this is just the music i grew up on so i am biased

(if i could be self indulgent with songs that DONT fit him i would love to see him do patti smith because the night OR like. a fuckin hole song like doll parts OR theres this korean dj/producer(?) called cifika who did a remix for seulgis solo and i would loooooove to see him work with someone like that, her stuff has turned very futuristic and moody/dark lately OR because i cant /not/ mention him make the boy do tougher than the rest by bruce springsteen, it would be the cringiest fuckin thing in history and yet…. if he put his own production on it…. could be a vibe)

#duuude man wow #this took me several hours sshhhh #ask me #anyway thank u soooo much asahh

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onlyrosyjohnny · 2 years

Text

let’s grab some dinner [one shot]

-fluff/comfort

-Johnny x College Student!FemReader/OC; established relationship

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: College is beating you up so your sweet boyfriend wants to have dinner with you so you can have a little break

Warnings: over-caring Johnny (in a thoughtful way), mentions of not eating on time/skipping meals,

Recommended song: https://open.spotify.com/track/5XaGqclLmeuH0EBg75Li0n?si=551ffb352e324872

[8:43 pm]

Printed handouts, pens of different colors, paper clips, books, sticky notes, and many other things can be seen in your disorganized study desk. A usual scene in your one bedroom apartment as the season changes and the weather gets cold because it means the exams just started and you just know that many more assessments will be given in the coming days.

Getting your not-so-warm cup of tea and taking a little sip, you then check your phone for the time. It was almost 9pm and you’re still not done with the take home exam due the day after. Might be a little early for some to finish this, but you just don’t want this to coincide with a major exam on the same day of its deadline.

You do some stretching and then look at the overview of your work. “Wow, I am definitely not close to finishing this paper tonight. How long have I been just sitting here and doing this?” You can really give your full attention to tasks and accomplish them as early as possible. You try to keep this kind of time management so you can still have time for yourself before going to bed, but this take-home exam would just not allow it.

The white noise in your room was disrupted by your phone as a call came in.

Johnny Suh is calling…..

For someone in a 3-year relationship you have to admit that his contact name in your phone is a bit bland, and he’s been pestering you about it since the start.

Smiling widely, you answer his call and put it on speaker.

“What can I do for you Mr. John?”

“Wow, no ‘Hi babe, I miss you’ or something like ‘Hi baby, I’m glad you called’? What is happening to society nowadays?”

“Okay, fine. Hi Johnny, I miss you. There, happy?”, you reply dryly just to annoy him a bit.

Johnny is surely the more affectionate one in this relationship. The ways he makes you feel loved, it’s like he took a masterclass for it.

“You didn’t call me baby but okay. I haven’t heard from you the whole day, how are you? Are you very busy because of your upcoming exams?”

You explain to him that you are trying not to stack one assessment over another and that you try your best to finish your other assignments earlier so you have enough time to study for the exams and that you get a good amount of sleep too.

“Okay, I get it. But what were you doing the whole day? You didn’t even spare me a reply.”

It was evident from his voice that he was already pouting by now.

“I was doing my take-home exam, it’s due on Friday and I have an exam that day. I want to finish it already so I can study for my Chemistry exam without thinking about my other subjects. I’m about 60-65% done with it, I think”

“Okay, at least now I know you were not eaten by your closet monster.” He jokingly said. You can just imagine the big smile he had when he mentioned your closet monster, remembering that you told him about your childhood fear that Monsters Inc. was real. You smile shyly because he remembers the memories you treasure.

“Well, for me I just finished the varsity meeting and had my dinner there since they gave us salads. Now, I’m on my way to get some coffee. How about you, what did you get for dinner?”

Along with his affectionate side, your boyfriend has that kind of love a mother has.

“Actually I haven’t had dinner, I was ab-”, you were cut-off with a panicked voice.

“It’s already 9pm! Your last meal was around 1pm-ish. You should get enough sustenance, especially now that you're studying so much because of the exams. Having not enough food will make you sick. You being sick will make studying harder and-”

His over-caring side is sometimes annoying because of his never-ending sermons, but you do understand that it's from a place of love and since you go from different universities it's only seldom you can really spend time with him, unlike in highschool where you can have lunches together.

“Mom, chill. I get it, sorry I got lost doing my school work. Don’t worry after this call, I’ll have something delivered.”

“No, I won’t take that chance. We're going to get dinner.”

Of course you disagreed with what he said because you don’t want him to drive at this hour when he could be resting after his long day. “But John you just had dinner, I’ll just order something later”.

“No buts, I’ll meet you in our place in about 20 minutes tops.”

“Are you sure? I can just eat here in my apartment and you can just go home and rest already.”

“And don’t take the chance to see you and have yourself a little break? I don’t think so. I’ll see you there love.”

As you say your goodbyes and remind him to drive safely, a bigger smile is now plastered on your face. He’s a little stubborn but he's a very sweet guy. Maybe he was just using ‘dinner’ as an additional excuse to see you tonight? Maybe, maybe not. Nonetheless, you feel nothing but loved and cared for.

You got ready after the call and went straight to the café just below your apartment. This was the place where you and Johnny often celebrate milestones in your relationships since this is where you two first met. Your first encounter with him was in high school, when you were getting some pastry for an afternoon snack and he was ordering coffee and eventually you two started dating. Now, you are attending a university just near your high school alma mater while he chose a university downtown.

[9:17 pm]

You entered the cafe and there were a handful of students in there, some were studying and some were dining.

“Hey Y/N! Welcome, what can I get for you?”

The waiter asks as they recognize you.

“I’ll just order a cup of tea for now, I’m also waiting for Johnny”

“Sure, you can take your usual table.”

“Thanks you’re the best.”

Time went by quickly and you just received a message from him saying that he had arrived in the building and was just looking for a parking space. Seconds after, you see him in his after school clothes, and has that sweet smile he always does when he sees you. He approached you with his twinkling eyes and glorious smile.

“Hi love, did you order already?”, he leaned down a bit to place a short kiss in your forehead,

“Not yet, I was waiting for you.”

He sat down and asked for a menu from one of the waiters and politely said thank you when he was handed it. Both of you made your choices and the waiter wrote it down also noting that your food will be ready in about 10 to 15 minutes.

“So what is your schedule for the rest of the week?”

“I have this take-home exam due on friday, a major exam on friday too, and lastly a discussion forum by friday at 8PM. But no biggie, the discussion forum is gonna be a piece of cake.”

“That’s my smart baby right there.”

“I’m not smart, I just try to do my best in every assessment.”

“Yes you are the most hardworking person I know, but please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have breaks okay? For the times that things get overwhelming, don’t hesitate to call for me because I’ll be there. When you need breaks, I'll always be there to cheer you up. Always. Just for you.”

What he doesn’t know is that just by seeing his smile, you’re already energized and you feel like you can overcome anything.

“I know, thank you for everything Johnny.”

“I love you, I’m here every step of the way.”

Author's Note:

This is my first ever fanfic! I've only been a reader since I started my interest in fanfictions. I hope you'll like it! I would extremely appreciate it if you'll leave comment of what you think could happen next or what part you liked the most. Also, if you can, please share some writing knowledge with me so I can improve more! Thank you! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the people, characters, names, or concepts mentioned above. Please do not post my work in other platforms without my permission. Reblog, like, or any comment is gladly appreciated. Much love, dreamer

#johnny x reader #johnny fluff #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct oneshot #nct fanfic #nct au #nct johnny #nct 127 #nct #nctzen #nct 127 imagines #nct fic #johnny suh #boyfriend!johnny #nct u #nct fanfiction #nct drabbles

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majorbaby · 4 months

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💌 late to the game but why not? 💖

ahhh marley 💖 i'm going to embarrass you a little but you asked for it!!

that big huge brain of yours <3 but also how well you can articulate everything that's going on up there. reading your meta made me go 'i want to write like that'... almost two years ago now. not in terms of your style, but your standards: well-researched, well-argued... i think you're still leagues ahead of me in terms of articulating things clearly (as i may be demonstrating right now lmao) but tbh you're leagues ahead of most. and i think that's not just about 'sounding smart' it's also about writing in plain language that most people can understand.

like if i wasn't sooo delighted every time you asked my opinion on something, i spat out some word salad filled with "kind ofs" and "maybes" and "idk but" just for you to process it and rephrase it in a much clearer (and MUCH more brief) way, always to confirm, never condescend... then i might have developed an inferiority complex lmao.

also i think it's great that you ask people for their opinions on things whenever they express interest in your opinions. so much talk about 'fandom community' and it can just be like... talking to people, explaining what you liked and what you didn't like in your own words without relying too much on inside jokes and buzzwords... sharing meta and encouraging people to share their own.

that had a really big impact on me early on in my mash fandom days. while it's possible i would've started this blog anyway and eventually started making gifs and memes etc, it started out with meta and i associate my earliest meta posts with our very first conversations about MASH.

one other thing: i feel like having you as an editor for my fics is the one brag i am confident and comfortable making re: anything related to fandom. i value your friendship first and foremost, but having a beta who is thorough, technically competent and willing to challenge me, has unlocked potential in my work that i don't think i could have ever achieved on my own. i have the best editor in the not-a-business, fight me :3

mutuals send me a 💌 and ill tell u something i love about you

#ok i will have mercy now but to anyone reading this you should also know #that marley writes really good MASH fic #and has a passion for vidding and makes great vids #and is quite welcoming of people responding to and reblogging her posts #💌

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rosiahills22 · 1 year

Text

Notice me

Jake “hangman” seresin x Rosie Seresin

Disclaimer! This is my first time writing so be kind! Let me know what you think please! Comment, message, reblog! Thank you! Also no use of Y/N

Warnings: pregnancy, birth, post partum depression, arguing, slight suggestion at the end

If you told me 5 years ago I would be married to Jake Seresin and now have a beautiful baby girl together, I would never believe you. Here we are married for 3 years together for 5 with our beautiful daughter, Daisy Grace Seresin who just turned 6 weeks

They always tell you about the beautiful things of having a child. The first smiles, the giggles, warm bath time and reading stories, all the sweet newborn cuddles. Watching your husband be a girl dad. What they don’t tell you is becoming a mother can make you feel like you are not your own person anymore. They don’t tell you that you will feel lonely, the most alone you will ever feel. I never understood why moms got the baby blues when they just had such a blessing, but now I’m on the cruel end of it.

It’s not Jakes fault he doesn’t notice how distant I’ve become or how I’m in my head most days. He has work, and a new baby to think about. But…why can’t he see I’m silently drowning,questioning everything I’m doing. Am I enough? Not only for Daisy but for Jake as well. Am I holding her right, am I spending enough time with Jake? Has he noticed I still have 10 pounds of baby weight to lose? All these questions swirling in my mind 24/7 makes the little sleep I get difficult. And now we are hosting a BBQ for the dagger squad to spend more time together and get Daisy used to her little family.

The dagger squad and penny and mav all started to arrive at the Seresin house around 4:30pm. Phoenix and Penny helping Rosie out in the kitchen while fanboy stole Daisy from her bassinet in the kitchen. “Don’t drop my daughter Mickey” giving him a pointed look that should have come off playful but came off more anxiety ridden than anything. All fanboy did was nod and joined the men outside around the grill and picnic table.

“So Rosie, how is motherhood treating you?” Penny asked while chopping carrots for the salad. You swear she was giving you a sympathetic look, almost like she knows everything going on in your head.

“Oh it’s great penny, thank you” Rosie smiled, more of a grimace, making penny and phoenix frown.

“Well let’s these sides out the meat should be done any moment now” Rosie said

Penny and Phoenix shared a look but followed Rosie outside none the less. Penny mentally promised to watch Rosie tonight and see if she notices anything else a little off with the seresin wife.

As the girls joined the guys and Daisy outside she noticed Rooster now holding little Daisy making her happy as can be.

“There’s my pretty lady” Jake smiled, reaching an arm out towards Rosie. Rosie put the bowl of salad down and reached towards Jake wrapping her arms around him. “Here I am” barely a smile on the girls lips. Rooster, mav, payback and bob seemed to notice the low energy Rosie was giving but seemed to blame it on being a new mother.

“Well everyone, let’s eat!” Mav said.

Rosie took Daisy from Roosters arms and held her while she ate, a salad because those 10 pounds have been nagging her all day, mocking her. It’s a little hard with one arm and a wiggly baby but, she’s mom she has to take care of Daisy, well that’s what her mind says. Once Penny was done, she offered to take Daisy.

“Here Rosie I can take Daisy so you can finish”

“Oh no” Rosie started “that’s alright I’m done anyway”

“Rosie you just had some salad…you sure you’re full”

“Yeah..I had a good lunch and you know how hard baby weight it to lose” Rosie laughed trying to play it off. But everyone shared a little look with eachother. A look saying that was a little off for Rosie to say. Usually Rosie is very body positive. This comment goes right over Jakes head as he’s too busy trying to get Daisy to laugh in Rosie’s arms.

The rest of the night seems to go smoothly, atleast for Jake it does. Every once in awhile Rosie makes a degrading comment about herself that she laughs off or a “oh you know just mom stuff I guess”. Everyone seems to notice the sad eyes and distant smile in Rosie, everyone but her husband. The daggers all agree to stay a little bit and see if they can get Jake away long enough to ask if Rosie is alright.

Daisy let’s put a long yawn, “well I think it’s time for little ladies bedtime” Rosie says. “You want me to take her darlin’?” Jake says. “Oh no I’m gonna feed her to sleep tonight, seems a little hungry” Jake leans over and gives a goodnight kiss to Daisy on her forehead and the daggers all day their good nights.

Penny thinks now is the time. “Hey Jake is Rosie okay?” Jake gives a curious frowns “yeah..why?” Phoenix looks around and then at Jake and says “Well she was making comments about herself all night, not nice comments either and barely smiled all night.”

Jakes frowns deeply and says “Well…what..she just is tired…right?” Jake is now thinking back, really thinking and is starting to realize all the comments about her weight, needing constant reassurance she’s doing something right. Now Jake is noticing how she barely touches him, sleeps towards the edge of the bed, pushes him away subtly by saying she needs to pump or change daisy’s diaper. The giant sweaters in this San Diego heat.

Jake wants to punch himself now, how could he let his amazing wife think of herself as anything less than perfect. Jake starts to look around at everyone, all giving him sympathetic looks.

“How did I not see her hurting?” Jake starts, before he could spiral anymore Penny says “I think she has post partum depression, Jake, it’s very common, especially in first time moms” Jake just can’t believe his sunshine is having cloudy days. Rosie is the most amazing human, Jake thinks, she should be nothing but happy all the time, she deserves it.

“Doesn’t she have a 6 week appointment coming up soon?” Payback recalls to the group. “Uh..yeah it’s on Monday” Jake states. “Maybe she needs to bring up these doubts and feelings to the doctor.” Bob says “she’s hurting and she may need more help beyond what we can do” Bob finishes.

“We will be by you guys through this all, babysitting, just sitting with Rosie if you need to be gone” Coyote starts “but you need to help Rosie realize she needs help too”

Jakes head feels like it’s spinning, like a bomb just dropped. But he needs to get it on straight and buckle up, because his wife is hurting and he needs to help her anyway he can.

“Talk to Rosie tonight and give us a call in the morning with anything we could do to help” Maverick says. “I think it’s time to call it a night everyone” Rooster states. The daggers all give Jake reassuring smiles and hugs and Penny reassured him again that it’s normal and he couldn’t have prevented this. Jake closes the front door and makes his way upstairs.

When he gets to their bedroom Rosie is combing through her wet hair, having just took a shower. “Hey, everyone leave? Sorry I didn’t come back down I just needed a shower” Rosie says. “Yeah they left, don’t worry, they send their love” Jake says.

Jake is now just starring at Rosie wondering how to bring this up with her. Rosie notices jakes starring and asks “…you okay?”. Jake just sighs and decides to bite the bullet, “Are you okay?”. Rosie looks around confused “yeah…why are you asking?”. Jake decides to just put it all out there. Rosie just gives Jake a confused smile.

“The others pointed it out to me tonight and I don’t know how I never noticed and I will beat myself up everyday for it but you’ve been distant and making mean comments about yourself” slowly the confused smile drops from Rosie’s face. Her mind is going crazy, the others noticed? Was I acting that weird? Maybe they notice I’m not that great too.

“Jake…I’m fine.” Rosie turns to the vanity to put lotion on her stomach, trying to get these stretch marks gone. She is so in her head she doesn’t even realize she’s rubbing her skin raw and tears are starting to line her eyes, Jake is trying to talk to her. “Honey!” Jake says loudly. Rosie finally snaps out of it and looks at Jake. Jake walks over to Rosie and grabs her hands.

“Baby what is wrong?” Jake says. Rosie just looks at him and all of a sudden feels like a dam burst in her chest and she just starts sobbing. Jake is quick to bring her to his chest cooing at her and telling her everything is ok.

“I don’t know what is happening to me!” Rosie cried “I feel sad and lonely all the time! It’s like I’m a stranger in my own body, I hate myself! I hate the stretch marks, I hate this fucking 10 pounds I can’t lose! My hair is ugly, I never sleep and I feel so horrible because I know I can be better for you and Daisy, you both deserve better than what I’m giving” Rosie is still clutching onto Jake for some sense of grounding. “ I just don’t know what to do, I can’t keep feeling like this, I can’t.”

Jake feels awful standing their holding his wife. Not noticing she was drowning in her own mind.

“Baby..baby look at me” Rosie looks up at Jake. “There’s my pretty girl” Jake gives a small smile. Rosie just stares at Jake.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m sorry I didn’t see you hurting earlier. But I see you now and I’m going to do everything I can to help you see what I see.” Jake starts “wanna know what I see?” Jake says. Rosie just nods her head. “I see my entire world when I look at you, I see my gorgeous wife who has the most kind heart, I see those beautiful eyes that I could get lost in for hours, I see you being the best damn mother I have ever seen. I see you baby, you are so gorgeous to me, stretch marks and all, and those 10 pounds? Yeah that went straight to those hips I love to grab” Jake smirks, Rosie rolls her eyes fondly and gives a slight chuckle.

“There’s my girl, all I want to see is your smile, what can I do baby?” Jake says

“I don’t know…Jake I think I need help, like professional help” Rosie states. Jake looks at her with nothing but fondness and pride. She’s so strong Jake thinks.

“Okay baby we will talk with your doctor at your appointment on Monday, ok?” Jake says. “Sounds like a plan to me” Rosie says. Rosie looks over at Jake smirking. Jake looks at her with gleeful curiosity. “What are you smirking at?” Rosie looks at Jake and smiled innocently “you know I’ll probably be cleared for certain activities on Monday, but for now I think hugs and kisses will make me feel better till then”. Jake just smirks at his wife and says “Now I can definitely do that” Jake and Rosie lay in bed together all night holding eachother and laughing, kisses here and there. In their own peaceful quiet bliss.

Until Daisy felt left out and and starting crying over the baby monitor. “Duty calls” Jake says kissing her forehead. Rosie looks as Jake goes and gets Daisy, realizing she didn’t need to be alone in her mind, cause she has the best support team out there. She also set a reminder to thank the dagger squad. They sure are the best family.

MY FIRST STORY EVER! Remember to be kind! Feedback is always welcome! Comment, reblog and message and follow me! ❤️ thanks for reading!

#top gun #top gun maverick #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #glen powell #hangman #top gun maverick hangman

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