#it's wee hours of the morning here and i have nothing to say for myself

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {I}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Please be sure to read the trigger warnings before reading the chapter or any chapter from this story! I hope you all enjoy reading these chapters as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Writing this fic has been a coping mechanism of sorts. Please like, drop a comment, or reblog if you wish. x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

My Dearest Sister,

I must apologize for Feyre’s absence in this letter. She is angry with you after your previous words and says that Isaac Hale is more of a man than you will ever realize. Now, I know nothing of their relationship so I cannot chime in, but even with her in a bitter state, I wanted to reply to your kind and loving words.

I’m so pleased that your life with Tomas is so grand. It’s like a fairytale, one we read of when we were young. You’re like Cinderella, saved by a prince that could give you the world. I can only hope that I, myself, find such a happy ending one day.

You were right in your speculations. Greysen and I are no more. He’s promised to another, in fact. They shall be married this season and although I understand - she is a beautiful lady of society, you see - I have still cried myself to sleep each night for a month. There is no need for you to come protect my honor. He has made his choice and it is one that I must live with. By the Mother’s grace, I shall move on. 

Do you think that there is a time when I can come visit you? A ball sounds so exciting. What are they like? I imagine lovely treats and drinks and magnificent dresses. Oh, and lovely music where couples dance until wee hours of the morning. I’ve been practicing my dances, although I have very few opportunities to use such knowledge around here. I hope to attend events this season to show my newfound skills. My favorite is the waltz. How romantic! 

Tell Tomas we say hello. Feyre, although angry, sends her love. So does father. We miss you, dear sister. I hope to hear from you soon.

Your sister,

Elain 

Nesta 

“Undress.”

I notice my husband comes into my room but he waits ten minutes before saying a word. Of course, the first word he says is demeaning, but I do not have the right to refuse him. Even so, I pretend to read my book for another moment, although there is no use in reading. The air is too thick when he is present to read. Even my escape becomes nonexistent. 

“Nesta.”

My name on his lips feels wrong. There is no awe in it, no love. There is only a hint of annoyance. Reluctantly, I place a ribbon between the pages of my novel and close it shut. 

“Apologies, my lord,” I say. I hardly recognize my own voice. “It is hard to put down a story so captivating.” 

“Ah,” he says, chuckling, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “I should have known, my headstrong wife. Come. Undress.” 

I am only in my nightdress, and it hardly hides a thing, but I don’t say as much. What’s one more layer gone? 

When I stand, I feel I am no longer in my body. I feel like an outsider, watching myself from a distance with an empty space where my heart should be. I hardly notice his eyes on me as I slip my shift off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I stand before him, bare and unfeeling, glad he is only looking and has yet to touch. 

I know the peace will not last long. 

He approaches me. 

As he begins stripping off his shirt and trousers, I lay back down in the center of my bed and wait. I find a spot on my ceiling, a spot next to the golden trim where it seems a spark flew too high out of the fireplace. I focus on the spot, then my breathing, and as my husband crawls on top of me, I force my body to relax.

As he pushes into me, that spot becomes my anchor. 

I did not want to marry Tomas. The truth of the matter is that I would have married anyone, and I probably would have hated every man pushed in my direction just as much as I hate Tomas. I have yet to meet a man worthy of anything other than disdain that has a title to his name and although me marrying a man with a title, with money, was necessary, I know that I would’ve been happier marrying a man that had absolutely nothing. 

I’ll never know.

We were wealthy once, when my mother was alive, but after her death everything seemed to fall apart. My father made a series of poor business decisions and it left us with nothing. It wasn’t until Lord Tomas Mandray visited our village for a weekend last Autumn that our luck changed. We were in the right place at the right time and he took notice of me. My father negotiated our marriage and that was that.

I had no say in the matter. Yet, I would stand by every time, would let it happen all over again if given the chance. My sisters are cared for, thanks to my husband’s generosity. As is my father, but I could care less about his happiness, if I may be so blunt. He has never given a damn about me. Why should I feel any differently? 

Above me, Tomas grunts. It’s a horrible noise, recurring, until his body grows tense, releasing inside of me. I keep still. The stiller I am, the quicker this ends. 

He collapses on top of me and catches his breath. I lay there, flat on the mattress until he rolls off of me and rises from the bed, redressing. I do not move until he’s gathered all of his garments and walks toward the door, his exit.

“I’m going to the club,” he says, and that’s it. The door shuts behind him and I’m being enveloped in the silence. For a moment, I cannot move. I continue to stare at the spot on the ceiling, its grand display becoming a comfort to me. I let Tomas’ release drip out of me, unsure if I want to become with child or not. A child would be a blessing, an heir, my duty, but it would also be Tomas’s, and there is a part of me, a selfish part of me, that does not want to progress his bloodline. Perhaps a man as brutal, as demeaning, as execrable as him should not reproduce. I know that children are not their parents, but I also know Tomas. 

The air suddenly becomes brisk against my bare skin but I can’t bring myself to move. When I move, I’ll have to get up, I’ll have to clean myself, I’ll have to redress and pretend as if everything is fine. 

Nothing is fine. Fine is irrelevant. 

The spot on the ceiling begins to blur and I cannot tell if I am crying or my eyes have simply given up. Either way, I feel nothing. I’m not certain how long I lay there, how many minutes or hours pass, but the sky outside remains dark as time goes by, dismissing my emptiness into nothingness. I pray to the gods, the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone who is willing to listen to give me an ounce of strength. 

I’ve no clue what time it is by the time I finally convince my feet to move, finally convince myself to rise and cleanse the remnants of my husband’s seed from my body. When I lay down again, I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep until it finally claims me.

~.~.~

Cassian

The numbers are not where they should be. 

I’ve gone over this month’s pages twice now and I feel a sense of panic rising up inside of me so I pour a drink, then another, until the numbers no longer scare the shit out of me. I’ve only started feeling the joyous buzz when the door to my study bursts open and my two closest friends, my brothers, stride through the door, unwelcomed and not caring. 

“Get up!” Rhysand says, grinning in that way that I equally love and hate. The grin that says something terrifying is about to take place. “We’re going out.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“You work too much,” Azriel mutters, plopping down on a settee against a far wall. “And that’s coming from me.” 

“I’m trying to build an empire to pass onto my children,” I defend.

Rhysand barks a laugh. “What children? First you need a wife and you won’t find that sitting on your ass alone every night.”

“It’s late,” I say, but it’s more of a groan as I let my face fall into my hands. 

“It’s not even midnight,” Rhysand mutters, shaking his head. “What happened to you? You used to be the fun one.”

“Yes, well, I’m nearly thirty. The fun had to end eventually.”

Azriel whistles. “Someone’s feeling morbid.”

“Hardly made a profit this month.” My words are muffled by my hands. “I think I’m going to have to raise the rents. Again. It’s been a shitty spring in the fields. Hardly anything’s been produced.” 

Rhysand sighs, sitting next to Azriel and tossing an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve some money set aside, yeah? Look to invest. My investments bring in far more money than anything else.” 

My hands fall from my face and land on top of the papers that are scattered across my desk. I nearly knock over a candle. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Sounds like a lot of work that I’m not prepared for.” 

“Yeah, work that’ll pay off. Quickly.” Rhysand jostles Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighs. “Are we getting a drink? I need a drink.”

“You two go,” I say, attempting to straighten the scattered papers. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” 

“Know who you should meet with?” Rhysand asks, paying absolutely no attention to the words coming out of the rest of us. “Tomas Mandray. I hear he’s gotten a hold of a few profitable mines up north. Always looking for investors. Easy money.” 

Just the name of that asshole makes me feel sick. “That guy’s a prick.”

“Yeah, a successful prick,” Rhysand says, and Azriel snorts. “You meet with him once a year and get a good payout every month. Surely that’s worth it.” 

“Leave him alone,” Azriel says, eyeing the half-full bottle of brandy on my desk lovingly. “If he wishes to dismiss solid business opportunities, let him.” 

“So you agree with Rhys?” I ask, picking up my empty glass only to realize there’s nothing in it.

Azriel’s lips thin. “I don’t care what you do, as long as it involves me getting a drink at some point.”

I lift a brow. “Something the matter? Seem agitated.”

“Az is always agitated.” Rhysand claps Azriel on the shoulder yet again, to his dismay. “I’ll set up a meeting. Go if you want, don’t if you want to keep crunching numbers until you fall asleep on your desk. Come. Az needs to be drunk.”

Azriel didn’t deny it. I suddenly feel a sense of selfishness, worried I’ve missed what’s been going on in both of their lives. Clearly something’s wrong with Azriel, something I should know about but don’t. I’ve been too engrossed in this shit. Abruptly, I stand up from my desk and try to smooth out my rumpled shirt. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Rhysand frowns and Azriel lifts a brow. The former asks, “With you looking like that?” 

I sit back down. “You’re right. I should stay here.”

With a curse, Azriel stands and hurries out the door, leaving Rhysand and I alone. 

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, quietly.

Rhysand shrugs. “Won’t say, but I know it’s bad. He needs us. He needs entertainment.” 

I sigh, fully aware I’m losing this battle. I realize that his carefree attitude tonight has been for Azriel’s benefit alone. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“I know Mandray is the last person you want to spend your time with, but he’s honorable. In business, anyway. It’ll be worth it. I mean it. I’ll call for a meeting.”

I stare at my brother for a long time, knowing he’s the only person in this city more stubborn than myself. “Fine, but if this comes back to bite me in the ass, you’re paying for it.”

His grin tells me that he doesn’t give a damn. “It won’t. I’ve been doing business with him for years.” 

Azriel comes back into the room at full speed, tossing a jacket and hat on my desk. “It’ll cover your wrinkled shirt. Come now.”

This time, when he rushes out of the room, Rhysand and I are following him. I’m not certain where we’ll find ourselves, in an opium den or brothel or a common gentleman’s club, but I must admit that as we walk out of my townhouse, into the cool night air, I feel a little bit lighter. 

If there is one thing I can count on, it is the company of the two men before me. We’ve known each other since we were children and they are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family.

My father was a man of nobility but my mother worked in a brothel. Being his only son, my father recognized me as his heir but never named my mother. I used to think it was a curse but after my father’s death I saw it for the blessing it was. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry, but if I do…and if I have children of my own…they will be well cared for.

Financially. Morally. All of it. 

When that day comes, if it comes, I’ll consider myself a lucky man. But, for now, I follow Rhysand and Azriel from one side of town to the other to be the fun, young bastard I once was. 

I’ll need it, especially if I’m getting into business with Lord Tomas Mandray. 

#fanfic #acotar #fanfiction #nessian #acowar #acomaf #sjm #period au #19th century au #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta

[jerzwriter]

All in the Past 3/3

FINALLY! I've gotten to the ONE scene request that inspired it all. @angelasscribbles asked for this classic scene from Grey's Anatomy for Tobias and Casey. Heaven forbid I should have left it simple lol I decided to make this a follow-up and alternate ending to one of my favorite short, angsty AUs, Unblemished, because we needed more angst. And here, is the conclusion.

Series Summary: Tobias & Casey were friends turned lovers whose different dreams led them to become friends once again. Two years after their painful breakup, Casey has moved on. Tobias is in town to attend his friend and one-time love's wedding with his new girlfriend on his arm. It's just the wedding of an old friend, or is it?

Part 3 Summary: Casey and Tobias's talk in the wee hours on the morning of her wedding has rippling effects on the couple and their partners. Where do they end up?

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Characters/Pairings: Casey MacTavish (F!MC) x M!OC, Tobias Carrick x F!OC, Sienna Trinh

Rating: Teen

Words: 3,100

Series Masterlist

Tobias x Casey Masterlist | OH Masterlist | Full Masterlist

“Hello, Tobias...” Casey whispered. “I’m glad I found you.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, attempting to make out the time on his watch through bleary eyes. But Casey shook her head in disapproval.

“The time is irrelevant. I’m clearly not going to sleep on the eve of my wedding. Fortunately, I hired one of the best makeup artists around. He’ll know how to make me look awake.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

Casey motioned toward the bottle of Scotch, and Tobias diligently handed it to her. She took a swig directly from the bottle and plopped down in the chair next to his. 

“Nerves? Overstimulation? Too many relatives, not enough friends? Realizing what I’m about to do?”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“I’m having thoughts,” she chuckled. “I don’t know if they’re of the second variety.”

She turned to Tobias, the way the moonlight illuminated his features took her back to another time. It felt so close she thought she could touch it.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? You and me standing here... on my wedding day?”

“Yeah, funny,” he sighed. “Then again, it makes sense. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“We sure have,” she smiled. “Tobias,” she asked tentatively, “are you happy?”

“What?”

“Someone asked me if I was happy earlier, and now... I’m asking you.”

“Case, you’re the one getting married in fifteen hours. Shouldn’t we be concentrating on you?”

“I’m trying to distract myself, Carrick,” she smiled. “Can you humor me?”

Tobias couldn’t contain a grin. Did she think he had the strength to deny her anything when she smiled at him like that? Even so, he struggled to offer an answer.

“Define happy?” He shrugged, taking another long sip. 

“You know what happy is. I’ve seen you happy.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was too stupid to realize what happiness was until it was too late.”

“Is it ever too late?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sometimes it is.”

Casey gazed at the stars, crickets chirping in the distance, the only sound between them. There was so much she wanted to say, yet nothing felt right. But Tobias was right; eventually, it would be too late, and she couldn’t pass up this chance.

“You’ve had three girlfriends since we broke up. Imani, Mandy, and now Meghan. Right?”

“Yeah?” He asked with a raised brow.

“I was your friend before... so I know. You never had girlfriends before me. There were plenty of... women... but they never rose to that level. I guess I stupidly assumed you’d go back to that after we broke up. I naively let myself believe I was so special that no one else could ever take that place in your life.”

Her face crumpled in embarrassment, and she lowered her face into her hands to hide.  

“I sound so fucking full of myself,” she groaned. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I didn’t take it that way,” he assured her, gently removing her hands from her face. The tenderness of his touch bringing a warmth she hadn’t felt in some time. “You were special, Casey. You are special. I didn’t think I’d ever play the relationship game again, either. But... I guess you showed me there’s something to it after all. Maybe it’s not such a bad place to be.”

Casey barked a bitter laugh.

“Well, isn’t that delightful!” She snapped. “How nice of me to teach you! Isn’t it something... you want that life now... after you broke my heart because you said it was something you couldn’t offer.”

“That’s not fair! I never said I didn’t want to be with you! We talked for months and came to a painful decision together. You know I was fine with a relationship; we split because you wanted marriage and children, and I didn’t. And it worked out, right? You’re getting what you wanted?”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Why am I here? For your big, beautiful wedding... you’ve got the white gown, the string quartet, the miracle worker cosmetician... wasn’t that the dream?”

“That’s what you thought I wanted? Some stupid wedding. This is my mother’s fantasy, not mine! And it wasn’t when I was with you. I wanted to know that the person I loved more than anything would consider marrying me. It was never about some stupid wedding. Not then, and not now!”

“Well,” he smiled. “I think it’s too late for you to elope now.”

She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to tell him off. But once again, he only made her smile.  

“I’ll say,” she chuckled.

“You know, you mentioned the girlfriends I’ve had since... us... Maybe I should mention your sole boyfriend.”

“Craig? What about him?

Tobias rubbed his hand over his head, taking a moment to compose himself.

“The night you called to tell me about him, I was devastated. I was convinced that I never really mattered to you... not if I was replaced so easily.”

“Tobias,” she gasped. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all! You don’t know where I was. Remember I said this place would never be home? Well, I was right. I was here with no friends or family... heartbroken over losing you! I never felt so alone. I was... broken. Everyone told me to get out there, make new friends, date other people... it was the only way to heal. But for all the talk of southern hospitality, I didn’t find it here. Then, I met this new surgeon. He was kind, funny... and he was crazy about me. For the first time in so long, I didn’t feel alone anymore. He never wavered in his feelings for me and was so confident about what he wanted... a future... with me in it. And that was so refreshing after...”

“After me....” Tobias mumbled.

“Yeah. After you,” Casey asserted. “We had this amazing love, Tobias. I never thought something so precious could end... it meant everything to me. So, when you told me it wasn’t enough....”

“Hey!” He shot back. “I never said it wasn’t enough! I never said I didn’t want forever with you. I just...”

“... didn’t want in it enough to sign on the dotted line.”

“And now you have someone who will. You can say whatever you want, but never say you weren’t everything to me. No one ever has, and no one ever will come close to being what you were to me. Now, I just have to learn to live with the regret of letting you go.”

“What?” she gasped. “What are you saying?”  

“I’m saying letting you out of my life was a mistake. The biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Wha... when did you realize this?”

“From the start, I was just too stupid to admit it. But the night you called me to tell me about Craig... it hit me like a ton of bricks.”

“Then why... why didn’t you say anything?”

“What could I say? You sounded so happy. I had already hurt you enough and had no right to do it again. And I never imagined he’d be the one. So I kept waiting for you to tell me you broke up, then I would have no reason not to tell you...”

“To tell me? Tell me what?”

That I loved you. I never stopped. I couldn’t if I tried... and God knows, I’ve tried. I would have moved heaven and earth for a second chance with you. I needed you as much as I needed the air I breathed, and living without you wasn’t living at all. That you took my heart when I let you go, and without you, I’d never have it back...and I still want you now...   

The words played repeatedly in his mind, but overclouded by one thought, they never made it to his. Today’s her wedding day. He took a deep breath and turned to her with a pained smile.

“Does it matter now? It was a long time ago, and... It’s your wedding day, Casey. I threw away my chance.”

She turned away, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her eye.

“We should have talked more back then. We said so much, yet we said nothing at all.”

“Casey,” he whispered as he held her hand. “You’ve spent two years building a new life with Craig, and you can’t throw that all away. You have brought me more joy than I deserved, and I’m a better man today because of you. I have no doubt that my life is immeasurably richer because you were in it. But,” he lifted her hand and traced her engagement ring with his thumb. “You’re not mine anymore. Craig loves you and will give you the life you want, the one I foolishly didn’t promise. So, when you walk down that aisle today... I need you to know it’s with my blessing... but it won’t be with my presence. You’ve found everything you wanted, and that’s all I’ve wanted for you. But now that you know how I feel... I hope you’ll forgive me, but I can’t watch you pledge your life to someone else.”

Casey dropped his hand, fear growing in her eyes as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

“You’re letting me go,” she sobbed. “You’re really letting me go?”

“You’re marrying Craig. I have to.” 

“But you’ll still be my friend, right?” she whimpered. “You still be my friend... after today?”  

“Do you think that’s a good idea, Case? Or deep down, do you know... maybe we both need to let go... for good. How can we start new lives if we still have one foot in the past.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you in,” she cried.

“You’re going to have a beautiful life, hon,” he whispered. “And one day, I’ll just be a distant memory that makes you smile. Come on,” he said, squeezing her hand. “This is a big day. Concentrate on your happy beginnings... not on what’s already lost.”  

 He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead and decided to bargain with God one last time, only to be let down again, for time failed to stand still. Casey stepped back and gazed into his eyes one last time.

“Promise me you won’t forget me?” she said with a quivering voice.

“How could I? You will always be my favorite... what if?”

Casey’s lips parted slightly. There was so much more to say, maybe too much. The weight became overwhelming, and when words couldn’t be found, she turned and rushed away, leaving Tobias standing alone in the moonlight, just as she had in Boston two years before.

~~~~~

The alcohol served some purpose, or maybe it was emotional exhaustion. Either way, Tobias managed to get a few hours of sleep. When the alarm went off much too early, he wondered if it had all been a dream. But it wasn’t, and he knew what he had to do. 

“Hey, Meg,” he said, nudging his companion awake. “Can you get up? We need to talk.”

~~~~~

Casey rolled her eyes as she sat in the makeup chair with rollers piled high on her head.

“Everything OK there,” Sienna smiled as she handed her friend a large cup of coffee.

“Could my mother be any more chipper? I don’t want to be arrested for homicide on my wedding day, but if she comes in here gushing over how beautiful I am when I still look like,” she motioned toward the mirror, "this! I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Sienna placed a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder and gave her a placid smile. She didn’t have to say the words for Casey to hear them.

“I know,” Casey smirked. “You’re thinking an arrest for homicide might not be the worst thing that could happen today.”

“Hey! I promised you one maid of honor-slash-best friend who would stand by your side today, no matter what you decided, and I’m delivering.”

“Even if homicide is on the menu?”

“I’m your ride or die,” Sienna grinned.

“You sure are,” Casey said, squeezing Sienna’s hand.

The room turned quiet as Sienna went to the closet and took out the garment bag containing Casey’s gown. She was about to unzip it when Casey’s words stopped her in her tracks.

“I saw Tobias last night,” she whispered. 

Sienna turned around, her eyes wide. “And?” She asked, rushing to her friend's side.

“Relax,” Casey smiled. “We didn’t sleep together... there’s no chance that I’m having his child or anything.”

“Gee,” Sienna simpered. “That’s a shame. Now, seriously... what happened?”

“He loves me. He never stopped. He said letting me go was the biggest mistake of his life and....”

“And?”

Casey pursed her lips together and fought back a sob. “And he’s skipping the wedding. He said it would be too hard to watch, and he won’t be around anymore. He believes we can’t move on if we don’t really let go, so last night was probably the last time I’ll ever see him.”

“Casey,” Sienna gasped. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s OK,” She smiled through tears. “He’s not wrong. Being friends was just an excuse to remain in each other's lives. We always wanted more; we just lied to ourselves.”

“Case... now that you know he loves you, and you love him....”

“Si. He made it clear. We’re all in the past now. And, as much as this hurts, it’s probably for the best. I want my marriage to work. So I have to give it my all. I just wish my wedding anniversary and the day I lost the love of my life didn’t have to be the same day.”

“I know you think you’re doing something noble,” Sienna started. “Of course, Craig will be hurt if you call off the wedding, but doesn’t he deserve a wife who's not crying about losing another man on the morning of their wedding day? What I’m saying is... in the long run....”

“I do love Craig,” Casey interrupted. “It’s a different kind of love, but it’s still love, and I know we can build a happy life together. Besides, my parents would kill after all the money they shelled out. So,” she said, looking at her phone. “The makeup guy just texted. Can you let him in the front door? It’s showtime.”

~~~~~

Meghan shot a look at Tobias as she shut her suitcase and zipped it closed. It would be easier to be upset with him if he didn’t look so forlorn.

“I’m really sorry,” he said for the umpteenth time.

“I know,” she half smiled. “Please don’t have to say it again. I meant what I said. I appreciate your honesty and, if I’m being honest... I was thinking of dumping you when we got back to Boston.”

“You were,” he chuckled. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“Nope. The writing was on the wall, Tobias. You’re in love with someone else, and I want someone who can’t imagine thinking of anyone but me.”

Tobias smiled when Megan reached for his hand. “You know you’re too good for me, right?”

“Oh,” she cackled. “You better believe it.”

The front desk called to let her know her taxi was arriving in ten minutes.

“Well, that’s my ride,” she sighed. “You know, at this point, I’d normally say after you do the work and get over her, call me. If I’m still available, maybe I’d give you a chance because you are a really good guy. But I’m not going to say that.”

“You’re not,” He chuckled.

“Nope. Because you’re not going to get over her. When it’s real, it’s real. And the last thing I will say is... she’s not married yet, Tobias.”

“Someone’s going to be lucky to have you.”

“Oh, I know,” she smirked. “I already matched with some guy on Tinder. I think you know him.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Ramsey,” she winked. “I kid, I kid... but maybe not. He’s kind of cute.”

“Get out of here,” Tobias smiled as Meghan shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts.  

~~~~~

The hushed sound of guests’ conversations could be heard over the soft music being played on the piano on the other side of the door. Despite a strong case of nerves, Casey smiled brightly as Sienna fluffed her veil and gave her a final once-over. The bridesmaids had already begun walking down the aisle when Casey’s father walked over and handed his daughter her bridal bouquet.

“Well, this is it, sweetheart,” he beamed.

“This is it!” Casey grinned.

“Last chance,” Sienna smiled ruefully. “Are your head and your heart all in?”

“They’re in,” Casey nodded. “Don’t you know, they always follow each other.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” her father said as he took her arm.

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“People always debate what’s stronger, the heart or the mind.  But the heart will always be the victor. The head can talk all it desires, but the heart will want it wants.” He kissed his daughter’s cheek before placing the veil over her face. “Always follow your heart, sweetheart. Trust me.”

Sienna and Casey locked eyes just as the doors opened, announcing the bride's arrival. 

Craig’s eyes were on Casey the instant the door opened, and his look of utter joy left her riddled with guilt. Casey smiled back but quickly turned her head toward her guests, taking in the faces of people who had meant so much to her throughout her life as she approached the altar. Between smiles and nods, her eyes roamed the room fruitlessly.   Selfishly, she hoped Tobias had changed his mind, even if it was only to see him one last time. But as her foot stepped to its final destination, she knew. He stayed true to his word. He wasn’t there, and she couldn’t blame him. The officiant began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.....”

The words began to blur together, and the room felt warmer.  Casey swore it had started to spin. While most remained oblivious, the officiant and Craig both took notice.

“Are you OK?” Craig whispered in her ear.

“Yeah, maybe a little dehydrated.”

“We can stop this thing for a pop run if you like,” he smiled, then he turned back to the officiant, but Casey’s eyes remained on him.

She felt nauseous. Sienna was right all along. Craig was a good person, and he deserved a loving, devoted wife... not one who swore she saw another man’s face before her as she stood at the altar. She peered over her shoulder at the congregation to find the smiling faces of their friends and family staring back.  She couldn’t ... she couldn’t do this to Craig... but she didn’t know which option was worse. She swallowed hard, feeling unsteady on her feet.

“Casey and Craig's closest friends and family are here today to bear witness to their union....”

Sienna moved closer and whispered.

“Casey, what do you need?”

“I need... I need...

“Will you promise to love and support their marriage in all the days to come? If so, please respond, and we will.”

The congregation responded in kind as Casey leaned into Sienna. 

“I don’t know if I can do this?”

“Well, your sucks, but if you’re going to....”

Sienna never finished her sentence because all eyes turned to a booming voice from the back of the room.  Tobias stood in the doorway, the bright sun illuminated behind him.  He looked terrified as he walked down the aisle.  He feared a punch to the teeth from Craig or any of his friends in the room, but that he could handle. His biggest fear was Casey’s reaction, but he had made up his mind... she wasn’t married yet... and this was one regret he wouldn’t be able to live with.

“I love you... Casey. I always have. I love everything about you. Even the things I  don’t like, I love....”

Her jaw fell as she turned to him, trembling, her eyes flickered between Tobias and Craig.

“... and I want you with me. I know I let you go, and I’ve regretted it every day since, so I only had two choices... live with the regret forever... or beg you for another chance before it’s too late. So that’s why I’m here. I love you, Casey, and I think that you love me too... Do you?”

Despite her jagged breathing, she could see Tobias nervously swallow, and while she shook like a leaf, it didn’t prevent her from seeing that he was doing the same.  In utter shock, she nervously searched the room as if an answer would be there.

“Casey?” Craig asked.

Sienna moved closer, her arms just inches away from wrapping around her friend, when Casey’s eyes locked with her father’s. He smiled timidly at his daughter, only wishing he could take her out of this place.  Then he lifted his hands before his chest and bent them to form a perfect heart. Casey gave him a smile, and her choice was made.

~~~~~

Euphoria was the only word that could describe it.  Her fingers slipped into his, intertwined as if they were made for each other.  They held on so tightly it felt like their lives depended on it.  Adrenaline had taken over, and there was no way to contain the utter joy and relief they felt. Tobias turned to Casey, beaming from ear to ear as they continued to race toward his car. He opened the door, and she rushed inside, giddy, lightheaded, and laughing with delight. But by the time he rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat, guilt and panic were beginning to seep through.

“Oh, my God...” Casey gasped nervously. “What did we just do?”

“Wait, he asked... are you sure about this?”

She turned to him, and one look in his eyes was all it took for her to understand.  There would be regret over how this came to be, but that regret would pale if they didn’t follow their hearts.  Their hearts knew they had always known; Tobias and Casey were two halves of a whole, never to be complete without each other.

Reaching over, she pulled him into a searing kiss, breaking away only when she realized people might come outside and she needed to be with him alone right now.

"I love you, Tobias," she breathed. "I love you so much."

"God, I love you," he smiled. "I'm going to spend every day for the rest of my life letting you know just how much."

“Good!" She grinned, "But, for now, DRIVE!”

And with a smile she’d remember forever, he happily complied. They could deal with the fallout later. It would be fine. There was nothing they couldn’t handle with each other at their sides. But right now, only one thing that mattered... she was his, and he was hers, and everything was finally the way it was meant to be.

A/N: And that's that! lol Yeah, it totally sucked for Craig, but if it makes you feel better, in the original follow-up to Unblemished, Unforgettable, Casey & Craig end up married for a long time, they had two daughters, and only much later did they realize Craig was always second to Tobias in Casey's heart. Casey didn't even realize it herself. While Craig was rightly hurt, he became pretty nasty to Casey as a result. Tobias & Casey still reunited, but they lost a lot of time. So, while this sucks for Craig, it's OK in the end. (Plus, if you ask me, he was a little TOO into her TOO quick. Some red flags there, folks; this is called rationalization!) Thanks for the prompt request @angelasscribbles, and year. I'm insane! :)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

@choicesprompts

More tags in reblog.

#choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x f!mc #tobias carrick x f!oc #oh!f!mc x m!oc #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

[kaitidid22]

Fanfic: If These Walls (Conrad/Billie)

Summary: Conrad floats an idea and old insecurities arise for Billie. Plus, Gigi is so stinking cute. (Canon-friendly...I think? Set post season 6.)

A/N: A few caveats here.

Firstly, I haven't watched the finale. I'm nervous about it. I'll watch it tomorrow. So, I have no idea if this is still canon-friendly.

Secondly, I've been sitting on this for a few days. I really did mean to have this out mid-week last week, but I kept second guessing myself on it.

I hope you like it!!

“Can we talk?”

Billie looked up from where she had been staring at the coffee pot with blurry eyes to find Conrad hovering at the edge of the counter, still in pajama pants. The early morning light was dim in the kitchen, and Billie hadn’t bothered turning on any lights when she stumbled downstairs at six-thirty. 

She had been in surgery late into the night and had only crawled into bed beside him around one in the morning. He and Gigi had both long been asleep, and Billie had almost gone home instead. But she and Conrad had planned to surprise Gigi with a brunch date—or what Gigi called “fancy breakfast”—at a restaurant the little girl loved the next morning. Billie had decided it made the most sense to go to Conrad’s, even if she would be forced to sneak in and creep up the stairs in the wee hours.

Billie was self-aware enough to know that she had used brunch as an excuse. She could have slept at her own house and told Conrad to call her when he and Gigi were awake. There would have been plenty of time to get back to Conrad’s for the brunch reveal to Gigi. But Billie preferred being in bed with him. There was comfort in hearing his breathing and being able to reach out to touch his back or chest in the dark.

Besides, she had thought to herself the night before. Why have a key if I don’t use it?

The fact that she had still woken up before either Conrad or Gigi, though, pissed Billie off. She hadn’t been able to doze off again, even with her hand against Conrad’s back as he slept peacefully next to her. So, she had stumbled down the stairs, accepting her fate, and flipped on the coffeemaker.

“Good morning,” she said in a sleep-rough voice.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning,” he murmured. He studied her face. “Are you still up for brunch? You look exhausted.”

“You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special,” Billie said. As Conrad laughed under his breath, she added, “I’ll be fine with some coffee. I didn’t want to miss it.”

“How’s your patient?” he asked.

Billie pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and opened it to the status update she had received from the ICU staff. She held it out to him, and he studied the page with a furrowed brow.

“Numbers look good,” he said in a soothing tone.

“He’s not awake yet,” Billie countered. “He should have woken up last night.”

Conrad locked the phone and stepped close to slide it back into her pocket. Then he brushed a kiss into the skin of her temple and murmured, “You know it’s not always that simple.”

“I know,” Billie said. “I’m not giving up hope. It’s just… floundering.”

He ran a hand down her hair, and she shut her eyes, letting the comfort flow from his hand and soft touch into the center of her chest. Sometimes, with some cases, nothing anyone could possibly say could make her feel better. But, somehow, Conrad touching her always settled the restlessness in her chest. Not completely, of course. The anxiety would remain until she was sure one way or another how her patient would fair. Closure was important to Billie. Even if closure meant hiding in her office with the lights off and crying. But with one touch or hug, Conrad was always able to turn down the volume of her anxiety to a constant static buzz instead of blaring sirens.

The coffeemaker beeped to let her know it was finished brewing. The sound caused Billie to stir, and Conrad’s hand fell away as he moved to the cabinet to grab his own mug. She frowned, suddenly remembering what he had said when he joined her in the kitchen. 

“Sorry, what did you want to talk about?”

“We can talk about it after brunch,” he said, lips curved upwards in a gentle expression.

Her frown only deepened as nerves burst to life in her stomach. He poured coffee into their mugs, her first and then himself, before opening the fridge and pulling out the milk for her.

“Is this because of last night?” she asked, ignoring the milk.

Confusion had him squinting at her, but he opened the milk himself and poured some in her coffee. “Last night?” he repeated in question.

“Because I came here instead of going home,” she explained. She sighed and ate the crow. “I’m sorry I did that without talking to you about it. I thought about having you call me when you woke up—”

“I’m glad you came here,” he interrupted.

“Oh.” Then what… Her brain stalled out, though, failing to supply any sort of explanation.

He folded his arms over his chest and faced her, leaning a hip against the counter. “Drink your coffee.”

She picked up her mug. “Right.”

“I kind of wanted you to be awake for this discussion,” he said. He looked amused.

“I’m awake.”

“You’re really not.”

“I am,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m going to drive myself crazy wondering if you don’t just tell me what’s going on.”

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I get that. I just… wanted to open the dialogue.”

“Okay,” she said. “About?”

He hesitated, then gestured to the living room. “Let’s sit down.”

Billie trailed after him to the couch and settled in the corner like she always did, surprised when he settled in the other corner instead of next to her. Six feet was left lying between them. She studied his face with growing fear. He looked… Was Conrad nervous?

“Okay,” she said, when he didn’t speak. “We’re sitting. Open the dialogue about what?”

“Moving in.”

“Moving in where?” she asked, stupid with exhaustion.

“Moving in together. It doesn’t have to be here.” His eyes flew around the room as if he had never seen it before. “Your place is bigger.”

And it was. Her place had three bedrooms, with a den, living room, and an eat-in kitchen, as well as a separate dining room.

“But I don’t have any furniture,” she said.

Conrad chuckled. “Drink your coffee,” he said again.

She took a sip. Her brain was trying to catch up—it really, truly was.

“We’ve only been dating for three months,” she said.

“So, that’s true,” he admitted. But he had a steel edge to his tone that told her he had anticipated this point and prepared a rebuttal. “But if you count all the time we spent together before that—”

“As friends,” she interrupted.

“Billie.”

“What?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat at his chiding expression and gentle, almost pitying, tone.

“We hadn’t been just friends for a very long time even before I kissed you on your porch,” he said. “I had been in love with you for… I don’t even know how long.”

Two years, seven months, and six days, her brain supplied. 

Not that Billie could pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen in love with Conrad. But she did know the exact moment she had realized she was in love with him, and her brain had sort of been in countdown mode ever since.

“True,” Billie conceded, brain finally chugging along as the caffeine began to sink in. “But we weren’t dating, Conrad. You were, in fact, dating Cade for about nine months prior to that kiss.” He winced, and she sighed. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just want us to be on the same page.”

“We are,” he assured her, the words quiet as he stared at the rug.

“Do you actually want to move in together?” she asked him. She kept her tone as gentle as possible, but even though her brain was working again she was still shocked. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He hesitated, and she held up a hand. “Wait. Sorry. We need to back up.”

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”

She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Her brain spun its wheels in mud going around and around the same points. Finally, she said, “I have no idea.” 

She laughed, putting a hand to her forehead as if holding her head together. His gaze was affectionate, and part of her wanted to crawl across the couch into his lap and kiss him senseless.

“Okay, first,” she said. “I really am happy you brought this up.”

His shoulders eased, and the crinkles she loved so much fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “Good.”

“Second,” she said. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He laughed, smothering the sound behind his hand. “Awhile,” he admitted.

“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?” she joked.

“A few weeks.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Weeks? We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, avoiding her eyes as he took a sip of coffee.

“Hawkins,” she said. His eyes flicked to her before settling on his coffee again. “Talk to me.”

“We said it already, Billie. This just feels right. I’ve only been in one other relationship that felt this right, and you can’t tell me that this doesn’t feel different to you, too.”

Her chest ached at the reference to Nic, albeit vague and roundabout. They rarely talked about her anymore. Not because they were avoiding it, but because Nic had ceased being a part of their daily lives and thoughts.

Part of Billie hated that and railed against it, even as she knew it was completely natural. They had over five years’ worth of experiences since Nic’s death. Five years, half a decade, was such a long time. Longer in years than Nic and Conrad had been together. Nearly all of Gigi’s life. And half the length of time Billie had known Conrad. 

And, yet, a piece of Billie would always think of Conrad’s place as Nic’s house. He had chosen it with Nic in mind, for the two of them, and Nic had moved mountains to make sure they got it after letting it go the first time. And that thought triggered a cement wall to slam into place between Billie and Conrad on the couch.

“Why do we keep doing everything out of order?” Billie muttered.

“There isn’t really a proper order,” Conrad pointed out, sounding almost hurt by the words. “And who are we answering to?”

Nic.

“No,” Billie said quickly, despising that she had hurt him, however unintentional that hurt had been. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant…” She licked her lips and hesitated for a long minute before saying, “I don’t know what I meant.”

The words were murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear, and she knew it was a cop out. But she felt trapped by old insecurities and frozen—in place, in time, sitting on Nic’s couch, talking to Nic’s husband about how right their connection was.

And she knew that looking at it through that lens wasn’t the full story, just a distorted view of everything that had grown between them. And she also knew that others—people who hadn’t walked next to them through the past five years—would judge and talk and say things that she prayed Gigi never heard. 

And Billie had told herself that none of it mattered. She had spent a lifetime either ignoring, dodging, or combatting preconceived biases. She could do it here, too. She could do it for Conrad and Gigi and a chance at the life she so very much wanted for herself. 

But this… Nic’s house… She forced the thoughts to silence.

“There’s no pressure here, no timeline,” Conrad said, and she could feel that he didn’t believe her lie. “Like I said, I just wanted to open the dialogue.”

She nodded, the movement jerky. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she said and fled.

#

At brunch, Conrad, Billie, and Gigi’s server was a young woman who adored Gigi on sight. The feeling was clearly mutual as Gigi began babbling as soon as their server seated them. She made the server go over the entire specials list twice, asking Billie for explanations where words were new to her.

“What are grits?” Gigi asked.

“You’ve had grits, sweetie. You didn’t like them,” Billie said, eyes still on her menu. “They’re yellowish beige and creamy? Kind of cheesy.”

“Oh yeah!” Gigi said. “I don’t like grits.”

“No, you don’t,” Conrad said. “But you like waffles.”

“I love waffles,” Gigi said, addressing the server.

“What about those pecan praline pancakes?” the server said in a sweet voice. “How did those sound?”

Gigi looked at Conrad, who gave her a significant look. “That sounds like an option, Bubble.”

Then Gigi turned to Billie. “Do I like pralines?” she whispered, with big, earnest eyes. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Billie saw Conrad and the server exchange amused glances. Ignoring them, she leaned close to the little girl. “You love pralines.”

Gigi popped upright with a wide grin. “That sounds good!”

The server nodded and jotted it down on her order pad. Billie dropped her eyes back to the menu and asked, “Could we both do a glass of the mango orange juice?”

“Of course,” the server murmured.

“And coffee,” Conrad added.

Billie nodded absently as she scanned the menu. “Can you bring a side of the breakfast potatoes, too?” She looked up at Conrad and tilted her head towards Gigi. “Those pancakes are going to be so sweet.”

His brow furrowed. “Maybe the sausage instead. Or both. Both?”

Billie shrugged. “She can’t live on carbs and sugar alone.”

“I can’t?” Gigi asked.

“I mean, you could,” Conrad said, with a shrug. “But you wouldn’t be happy for long.”

“I think I’d be happy for a really long time,” Gigi told them all.

“You’d also be bouncing off the walls,” Billie said. “Gotta soak up that sugar somehow.”

“Let’s go with both,” Conrad said to the server.

The server nodded, writing as they spoke. When they trailed off, she waited, pen poised, and then glanced up when they remained silent. “And what can I get for you two?”

“Oh,” they both said, raising the menus again.

“They’re going to split things,” Gigi said in a resigned voice. “They always split things.”

The server nodded conspiratorially. “My moms do that, too. It’s a parent thing.”

Gigi sighed with great drama. Meanwhile, Billie’s blood ran cold, and her chest squeezed with longing. A lump rose in her throat as her eyes ran over the menu, desperately trying to choose something, and she took a sip from her water glass to cover the moment. 

“I’ll have the huevos con migas,” she heard Conrad say.

Billie loved huevos con migas. Why did he always do this to her? Why was he so sweet? Huevos con migas wasn’t his favorite. What was his favorite? None of the words seemed recognizable through the haze in her vision.

Billie felt Conrad’s eyes on her like a brand against her forehead, but she kept her gaze firmly on the menu. Finally, her eyes tripped over words that made sense to her addled mind.

“I’ll have the baked eggs,” she said, holding her and Gigi’s menus out to the server. 

“Absolutely,” the server said, still smiling easily with no idea of what a bomb she had just dropped on the table.

“Oh,” Billie said, her brow furrowing. “Wait. Can we do those without mushrooms?”

The server nodded. “No problem at all.”

“I hate mushrooms,” Conrad explained to the server, tone easy as he lounged back in his chair.

Billie’s cheeks heated. 

“How come Daddy gets to not eat vegetables?” Gigi asked. 

“Oh boy,” Conrad said, though he was grinning at his daughter, love written all over his face.

“I’ll be back with your coffee and juice in a minute,” the server said, trying to hide a smile.

“Thank you,” Conrad called after her, and Billie was amused to see the server blush.

Her heartrate was slowly returning to normal after the parents joke, which Conrad hadn’t refuted. Of course, neither had Billie. Gigi hadn’t been bothered. But the mistake had been made before when the three of them were together. Billie was too maternal with Gigi—and Gigi adored Billie too much—for it to never cross strangers’ minds.

Billie had boosted Gigi higher on her hip, resisting the urge to check the time on her phone. But the barista had been flirting with each of the customers as they reached his register—thrilling the blue-haired old biddies to no end—and the elongated conversations had resulted in an extreme amount of tips and Billie’s patience dying a thousand deaths. 

No one is in your way, she had told her brain for the thirteenth time since they had joined the end of the line. Everyone deserves coffee just as much as you.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but your daughter is gorgeous,” the woman—old enough to be Billie’s grandmother, let alone Gigi’s—had said, wiggling her fingers at the one-year-old.

Gigi had hidden her sweet, tiny face against Billie’s neck, wet fingers sliding in and out of her mouth as the woman had continued to stare. Billie had frozen in place, smile brittle, and it had felt like her face would crack in half. Her brain had stalled out. 

Nic had been dead three months. Only three months and strangers had already assigned her daughter a new mother.

“She’s not mine,” Billie had said, voice flinty enough that the woman’s smile had wavered.

She doesn’t know, her brain had yelled at her in a panic.

Billie had never felt so grateful for all the years she had spent perfecting her poker face with the surface smile that never reached her eyes. She had let it smooth over her features, erasing the lines of tension around her eyes and mouth. And she had seen the woman’s posture loosen, smile coming back as if Billie had laid out the welcome mat.

“She’s my goddaughter,” Billie had finished. “We’re having a girls’ day.”

The woman had seemed even more taken with Gigi then. As if the idea of a godmother fostering a solo relationship with her goddaughter had been limited to a bygone era. And maybe it had been. To be fair, Billie had only taken Gigi solo once before Nic had died.

But Conrad had gone to a job interview that morning for a concierge service. His sitter had cancelled due to a stomach flu at the last minute. His father, Marshall, had been in Dubai—the lord only knew why this time; Billie had stopped keeping track—and Conrad had called her in a panic, spitting out all the words in a flurry over the phone line.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Billie had said, even though he had woken her from a deep sleep.

Silence had stretched on the other side of the phone, and Billie had frowned, about to ask if they had lost the connection. Then Conrad had cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m standing outside your door.”

As if to highlight that point, he had rung the apartment’s bell. Billie had blinked, wondering how he had gotten past the doorman and security guard of her high rise. All guests had to be announced. And then she had remembered: when she had added Nic’s name to the security clearance list, she had also added Conrad’s. At the time, she had never thought he would have cause to come to her apartment alone. But it had seemed better to be safe than sorry.

“If you laugh at my hair, I will kill you,” Billie had said. 

“You’re a hero,” she had heard him say as she hung up on him.

And, so, she had yanked off her bonnet, thrown on a robe, and met Conrad at the door. Without much more than a thank you, Conrad had shoved Gigi into Billie’s arms, told Billie the baby had eaten, tossed the diaper bag on the couch, squeezed Billie’s shoulder, kissed the baby, and run back out the door. Within ten seconds, Conrad had been gone, and Billie had been staring into Gigi’s happy eyes.

“Well,” Billie had said in the empty stillness of the apartment after he had gone. “I guess we’re going to have a ladies’ day, my sweet baby.”

Gigi had gurgled at her. Love had welled in Billie’s chest, and she had pressed a kiss to the little girl’s cheek. Then she had taken a surreptitious sniff of baby head and sighed in contentment.

“Let’s go do my hair, huh?” Billie had said to Gigi in an overly excited voice.

Gigi had giggled. The baby had remained thoroughly entertained by the ongoing commentary as Billie had used a heated round brush to smooth out her hair. Then Gigi had helped Billie pick out an outfit by pointing at random—completely unrelated—pieces of clothing. (Billie had sweet-talked Gigi into letting Billie wear a sundress instead.)

And that was how they had found themselves at the coffeeshop conveniently located in the ground floor retail space of Billie’s apartment building during the mid-morning, blue-hair rush.

The woman had turned to look over shoulder. “Maude,” she had said. “Maude, come here.”

Another older lady had come over. “Oh,” she had said on a gasp. “She’s beautiful.”

To be fair, Gigi had been rocking a bow the size of her face, thanks to her father. But Billie had still wondered if she should remind the women not to assume. And then she had decided she didn’t want the conversation to continue that long pre-coffee.

“Thank you,” Billie had said.

The first woman had nudged the other with her elbow. When Maude had glanced over in askance, the woman had said, “Godmother.”

“Oh, bless her,” Maude had said, grabbing at her chest. “You’re an angel.”

Billie—thoroughly uncomfortable—had licked her lips. Over the women’s shoulders, she had caught the barista’s eye, and he had nodded his head in recognition. Quickly counting the line as a group of women had moved to the side, she had found herself to be third from the front.

So close, Billie had thought to herself.

“It’s nothing,” Billie had said to them. “She’s my favorite little person.”

“Are you giving her parents a little time to themselves?” Maude had asked with a wink.

“Maude,” the first woman had said, scandalized. “You have no boundaries.” She had looked back at Billie. “She has no boundaries.”

Billie had been distracted by the pain that had suffused every inch of her, pumping through her veins. God how she wished she had been giving Nic and Conrad a day to themselves. She would have traded anything for that to be true. Instead, Conrad had been off trying to find a job that would allow him to single parent a one-year-old.

This time, she hadn’t been able to control the way her eyes welled up. The women’s faces had stiffened as they had studied her, and then they had both tilted their heads to the side with identical sympathetic expressions. And Billie had realized that, somehow, the women had known, had seen the pall of loss that hovered over every aspect of Billie’s life and visage, and known.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Maude had said in an impossibly soft voice. Her hand had reached out and squeezed Billie’s wrist. She had given Billie a stern look. “You’re going to be fine.”

The first woman—whose name Billie never did get—had added, “And so will she,” nodding at Gigi.

And Billie had found herself nodding in jerky agreement, though she would never be sure why, cupping a hand behind Gigi’s head and cuddling the little girl closer. The women had each silently patted her one more time, and then they had walked away, giving Billie the space she had so desperately needed to get herself back under control.

That had been the first time. The worst time, if she was being honest with herself, which Billie tried to be these days. Each subsequent mistake of maternity—as well meant as they all were—had been a little bit easier to handle.

But none of them had happened after she and Conrad had started dating. It was like a new first. And neither of them—not Conrad and not Gigi—had even reacted. Billie couldn’t figure out what to do with that, how to reconcile that against the guilt beating through her chest.

“So,” Conrad said, in that voice he had when he was being goofy. The one that cracked on a high note at the end of his sentences.

God Billie loved him.

“The whole Daddy hates vegetables trick,” Conrad finished. “I see through you, Giorgiana Grace.”

Billie watched Gigi try to fight her smile by staring at the table and avoiding looking at her father. 

“Besides, everybody knows that you can veto one vegetable in life,” Conrad said. “Mine is mushrooms.”

“That’s true,” Billie said. “Everyone gets one veto.”

“But you have to use it carefully,” Conrad told Gigi.

Billie nodded. “Because you only get one.”

All trace of amusement had been swept from Gigi’s face. Her serious eyes looked from Conrad to Billie and back again, clearly trying to figure out if they were messing with her. Billie and Conrad stared back at her, waiting for her next question.

Gigi’s eyes settled on Billie. “What’s your vegetable veto?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Billie said, keeping her tone calm. “It’s a big decision.”

The server came back to the table with their coffee and juices. “Your food will be right out,” she said.

“Thank you,” Billie told her before turning to Gigi. “Have some of your juice, sweetie.”

Gigi obliged, though her face was still screwed up in concentration. She drank deeply from the small cup. “So, I only get one,” Gigi said to confirm.

Billie’s eyes flicked up to Conrad, looking at him from under her lashes in the hopes that Gigi wouldn’t notice. Those crinkles she loved were fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

“You don’t have to pick now,” Conrad told his daughter.

Gigi nodded with a contemplative expression. She frowned at the white linen tablecloth.

“You could choose mushrooms, too,” Billie said. 

Gigi shook her head. “I like mushrooms.”

“Do you, though?” Conrad asked.

Gigi glared at him. “Yes,” she said, firm. “Billie and I get mushrooms on pizza, and I like them.”

Conrad raised his eyebrows at Billie. Defiantly, she jerked her chin higher and shrugged one shoulder. “You aren’t there, and mushrooms are delicious. What’s the problem?”

“Are you teaching my daughter to like mushrooms?” Conrad asked in shock. “Betrayal.”

“And pesto,” Billie said.

Gigi’s face lit up. “I like pesto!”

“Seriously?” Conrad asked, still in shock. Billie knew he appreciated a good pesto, but it was an awful lot of green for a small child, so she understood the surprise.

Billie held onto the defiance for a few more moments and then deflated. “I let her dip it in ranch,” she admitted. “I really wanted pesto that night.”

Conrad burst into laughter that had the other restaurant patrons glancing at them in indulgent amusement. Conrad held up a hand in apology to the room before rubbing it down his face to physically wipe away his glee.

“What’s so funny?” Gigi asked.

“Nothing, sweetie,” Billie said. “Hey, didn’t you say you had homework this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Gigi said, slumping a little in her booster seat.

“Did you show Aunt Billie your math workbook?” Conrad asked.

“No,” Billie said. She glanced between them. “Why?”

“Because Common Core is going to blow your mind,” Conrad said. “And I kind of want to be there when you see it.”

Billie’s lips twitched. But before she could respond, the server was back with their food. 

Within thirty seconds of getting her giant platter of pancakes with its teeny tiny pitcher of the praline syrup, Gigi had spilled the syrup across the table and into Billie’s lap. Gigi’s big eyes widened to saucers, and Conrad quickly stood to mop up the mess with his napkin. Their server dashed away, returning quickly with a cup of water and another clean napkin.

“Here,” the server said, soaking the corner and handing it to Billie.

Billie smiled up at the young woman, taking the dampened cloth. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

She finished soaking up what she could with her own napkin. And then Billie began to dab at the pant leg with the wet corner. She didn’t think she was making any progress, but with everyone hovering and watching she felt like she had to try.

“I’m sorry, Billie,” Gigi said, bottom lip trembling.

Billie smiled gently, looking up from the syrup stain. Billie suspected it was the attention that had cued Gigi into the situation being bad. She hoped Gigi knew Billie would never be angry about an accident, but, again, everyone was hovering and watching with careful eyes. That was enough to let any little girl know mistakes had been made.

“Did you do it on purpose? Was it a personal attack against my pants?” Billie asked. “I knew it. You’ve always hated these pants.”

Gigi giggled. “I don’t hate your pants.”

“Are you sure?” Billie asked with exaggerated suspicion. She heard Conrad chuckle, and he stopped leaning over the table to sit back in his chair.

“I’m sure!” Gigi cried.

“Fine, fine. I believe you,” Billie said. “And it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, sweetie. Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

“Eat your eggs, Billie,” Conrad countered.

“Eat your sausage, Daddy,” Gigi added, clearly believing they were just naming things on the table.

The server was still hovering with uncertainty, so Billie turned to her. “Could we get another teeny pitcher? I think she salvaged some of it. But…” Billie gestured at the table and her pants.

“Of course, I’ll get you a fresh napkin, too,” the server said. But when she stood, she hovered for a moment, shy. And then she said, “You have a wonderful family.”

Billie opened her mouth, determined to correct her this time, but Conrad said, “Thank you.”

And Billie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought back the flood of emotions. When she opened her eyes, he was teasing Gigi by pretending to steal her pancakes. As if the moment hadn’t happened. As if it was no big deal.

When he caught her watching him, he pushed his plate into the middle of the table with a smile, a silent invitation to dig in, and turned back to his daughter.

God Billie loved him.

#

Arriving home after brunch, Conrad unlocked the front door, and Gigi darted inside as hopped up on sugar as they had feared. She moved so fast that Billie barely saw Gigi hit the stairs.

“Upstairs, young lady,” Conrad said in a booming voice. “I want to hear the wheels of academia turning!”

“The wheels of academia?” Billie repeated as Gigi’s giggle echoed back down the stairs.

“She has homework,” Conrad said, as if that explained everything.

Affection swamped her chest, making her cheeks heat and her fingertips tingle. Conrad’s grin was bashful, but he winked at her as he held out a hand for her jacket. She ignored the outstretched fingers for a moment and stepped into his personal space, laying her hands against his chest and brushing her mouth against his.

He let her lead, responding with gentle brushes of his lips to hers. And when she eased away again, he let her go without chasing. 

“Thanks for brunch,” she whispered, an inch or two away from his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, sounding a little dazed.

As she smiled up at him, though, he came back to himself. He kissed her forehead as he slid his hands over her collarbone and up under her jacket to slide it down her bare arms. She managed to silence the hum of pleasure that rose in her throat as his palms skimmed her skin.

When the material cleared her fingertips, he leaned past her to get a hanger from the coat closet behind her. Billie took advantage of the new position to kiss his neck gently.

“Behave yourself,” he said, a thread of humor in the low tone of his voice, despite the edge she could hear starting to inch in. “My daughter is upstairs and very much awake.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Billie said sweetly. 

His hands were busy putting the coat on the hangar behind her, one arm on either side of her body, and she took advantage again, pressing closer to his chest. And it really wasn’t her fault since his neck was right there, so, of course, she brushed her lips over the tender place where his neck met his shoulder.

“Definitely not doing anything,” he agreed.

She swallowed a giggle and let her hands slide from his chest over his ribs and down to curl around his waist. Conrad’s hands stopped with the rustling fabric, and she heard the quiet click of the metal hook of the hangar settling on the clothing rod. Then the door snicked shut behind her, and Conrad pushed her against it. A hand slid into her hair to cushion her head from the wooden door. But he didn’t pause, didn’t speak again, before his mouth captured hers in a rough, open-mouthed onslaught of lips and teeth and tongue.

Conrad tended towards gentle and romantic, taking each step in his seduction very slowly, very seriously. It had become almost a game to Billie, seeing if she could push him to his limit. 

She felt a surge of victory as one of his hands wrapped around the outside of her thigh and yanked it up to his hip. The move let him push even closer to her body, sealing them together, and her fingers convulsed, squeezing the flesh of his sides and the chambray button up that separated them.

The fingers in her hair tightened into a fist, and the sudden flash of pain, as small as it was, made her gasp against his mouth. Immediately, he broke the kiss as his fingers unclenched, and he rubbed her head where he had accidentally yanked at her scalp.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, meaning it, knowing he would never hurt her on purpose.

She drew one hand up from his waist to wrap around the back of his neck and urge him closer, wanting his mouth back on hers more than she wanted air. He came willingly, and this kiss was gentler than the previous had been—but no less intense. His fingers, still on the outside of her thigh, tightened and squeezed. Her hand gently stroked the skin of his neck.

When he pulled back a second time, he nuzzled under her jaw and kissed the sensitive skin, sending tingles running through her body that curled her toes.

“We have to stop,” he said, murmuring the words into her skin.

She whimpered and dropped her head back against the door with a thunk. “I know.”

“Tonight,” he said. Then he swore under his breath. “That’s so many hours away.”

Billie couldn’t help but laugh at the dread in his voice. Conrad pulled back to look her in the eye, crinkles fanning out from the corners of his own.

“You think my pain is oh so funny, huh?”

“Your pain?” she repeated, incredulous. “What about my pain?”

“You started this,” he teased.

“Me?” she shrieked.

“Shh,” he hushed her, but his eyes were dancing. “Gigi’s going to hear you.”

They laughed, still pressed against the door and each other. As their laughter faded, they leaned their foreheads together, quietly breathing in each other’s air as their heartbeats settled back to their normal rhythms. With their bodies so tightly together, Billie could feel Conrad’s heart like it was her own.

After a few minutes of silence, Conrad said, “You should soak these.”

Billie glanced down to where his thumb was stroking the syrup stain on her thigh. “I think they’re a lost cause. They’re dry clean only.”

He swore under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re just pants,” Billie said, shrugging one shoulder. “No big deal.”

He hesitated before asking, “Do you need to go get more clothes for the week?”

He meant from her own home. And the reminder of their early morning conversation was like having cold water splashed on her. She didn’t mean to stiffen in his arms, but she did, and she knew he felt it.

“Yeah,” she murmured, tugging her thigh out of his hand and straightening. “I should actually… probably sleep there tonight. I have things I need to take care of.”

He let her go without protest and said, “Okay.” 

But he brushed a kiss against her cheek before stepping back away from her. Immediately, she felt cold, even in the rising humidity of Georgia summer.

#

Billie pushed her front door open and stepped into the entryway, setting the bag of takeout on the console table so that she could hang up her purse. The house was quiet, with a slight chill despite the eighty-degree evening, as if it had been closed up and shuttered for weeks without human life or even sunlight entering.

Billie felt that was unfair. She had slept there the night before and only left for work that morning.

“I was only gone eleven hours,” she snapped at the empty, judge-y air.

Feeling foolish, she snatched the bag of takeout off the console and marched into the dining room. Her table—the same one she had purchased for her downtown high-rise—sat lonely in the large space. The dining room was designed for a long table with at least eight chairs, like the one Conrad had at home. Instead, she had a small, circular table that fit four at a squeeze.

But her whole house was like that, really. She had purchased it only a few months before she and Conrad had begun dating and had procrastinated on decorating. The only rooms that felt lived in were her bedroom and the living room. The apartment had been a one-bedroom, and she hadn’t invested in anything new since she had arrived in the much larger house.

Even Gigi had teased Billie about it after she moved in. Conrad and his daughter had come over for dinner on Billie’s first night in the new house, and Gigi had spent most of the evening in the empty den—not just lightly furnished, but honest-to-Betsy empty—doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Are you going to keep it empty forever?” Gigi had asked.

“Unlikely, sweetie,” Billie had said.

She and Conrad had been leaning against the jamb on either side of the door. 

“She’s going to have to furnish it eventually,” Conrad had said.

“What’s furnish?” Gigi had called to them, taking another tumbling course across the middle of the room.

“You know furnish,” Conrad had teased his daughter.

“It just means to put furniture in a place,” Billie had said.

Conrad had jabbed her lightly with his elbow. “You always ruin my fun.”

Billie had jabbed him back. “Don’t tease your daughter so much and maybe I won’t.”

Gigi had finished her cartwheels and run over to them. “Why don’t you have furniture?” Gigi had asked, slightly out of breath.

Billie had been impressed, though she hadn’t said so. If she had been the one tumbling around the den, she would have been dizzy as hell, but Gigi had seemed unfazed.

“I haven’t bought it yet,” Billie had said, wrinkling her nose in a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Right,” Gigi had said. “But why?”

Billie had opened her mouth to respond and then shut it again. She could have explained that furnishing a house took time and money, but Gigi already had a vague idea that Billie was rich—which she was—and Billie had suspected the little girl would dispute that argument. And Gigi would have been right to do so.

Billie had known for months that she was moving into the house. She had specifically timed it so that it coincided with the end of her apartment lease. There had been plenty of time for Billie to pick out rugs or a love seat to create a cozy sitting room. Or maybe some bookshelves and a desk to carve out an office space. Or she could pick out a flat screen and some folding seats to create a home theater.

So, why the hell don’t I have furniture? she had wondered to herself. What the hell is this room even going to be?

As her brain had swirled through all the potential rooms, none of which had felt like hers, Billie had felt her expression grow troubled. Conrad had straightened next to her.

“Why don’t we go eat?” Conrad had asked, intervening. He had held out a hand to Gigi, who took it without another word. Then he had glanced at Billie, with an overly concerned expression. “You do have a table, right?”

She had shoved his shoulder towards the dining room as Conrad and Gigi had laughed. “Move it, rascals.”

And, yet, nearly nine months later, Billie was still eating at a tiny table in a mostly empty home.

Billie liked to tell herself she had just been busy—which had been true the first few months she had lived there. The hospital had been swamped and understaffed due to the lack of funds, and then Billie had been devoting a large chunk of time helping Kit’s fundraising team drum up more money for Chastain. 

Another part of the truth, though, was that she and Conrad had started dating. And when they had started dating, Billie had started spending three or four nights a week at Conrad’s and that had very quickly morphed into five or six, sometimes seven. 

With a pang, Billie wondered what Gigi and Conrad were having for dinner. He had texted her, inviting her to join them, but she had begged off. She had told him she had reams of paperwork to get through that night, given a bus crash that had flooded the OR.

And it was true. But it wasn’t true enough that she should be hiding in her echoing dining room with its too small table instead of trading bites with Gigi of whatever Conrad had prepared.

Billie forced her thoughts back to the house. What was the point of having furniture when she was never there to use it? But it left Billie’s perfectly lovely house feeling like an empty, echoing cavern.

Conrad and Gigi’s felt like a home. Billie’s felt like a…well, a house.

And the other part of the truth, the part that Billie didn’t like to think about, was why she had bought the house.

The house had been an effort to create space in her life for the family she had finally admitted she wanted. The complicated part was that the family Billie wanted was Conrad and Gigi, and she had wanted them for a long time. But Billie had decided that she needed to accept that was impossible, which had been heartbreaking and a constant struggle, but one she knew she needed to work through to get to the other side. And she also knew that, eventually, she would open herself up to someone new. After all, Conrad had proven to her that she could. And she wanted it. She wanted love and a partner and maybe even a kid or two—though she was still on the fence about the last.

The purchase of the house had been an investment in a future that Billie hadn’t truly wanted at the time but that she had hoped she would grow into. Like a pair of pants or a bottle of wine that needed to age. 

So, of course Billie hadn’t wanted to furnish it. She had barely wanted to live there.

When she had begged off of dinner that afternoon, the bubble of three dots that indicated Conrad was typing back had appeared almost immediately. She had watched them blink on the screen, then disappear, then appear again, over and over for several minutes. She had stayed glued to the screen hoping against hope that whatever he said would have been enough to fix all of it. Which was unfair. And not his burden. 

When he still seemed to be struggling after a few minutes, she had typed out “I love you” and locked the phone, setting it aside. She hadn’t dared to look at it again until leaving for the night, and she had finally seen that he had responded with “I love you, too. Tomorrow?” And her heart had leapt into her throat, and she had written back “Yes” before she could talk herself out of it.

Stop thinking about Conrad and Gigi, Billie ordered herself and set about unpacking her takeout.

She wasn’t avoiding Conrad. She was avoiding the conversation they needed to have. But she missed him like she imagined it felt to miss air. Or maybe it was more like dehydration—slowly drying out, feeling every painful crack opening in her flesh the longer she went without him.

But she didn’t know how to say everything that was battering around in her mind. None of it felt fair for him to deal with. It wasn’t his job to remind her that Nic would be proud of her or that Nic would approve of her choices. That was Billie’s role, her job. She couldn’t ask him for that. 

Between the two of them, Conrad had lost more, so Billie needed to take less. That was just how it was.

You have to stop, her brain begged her. 

Stop what? Admitting the truth?

You didn’t steal anything, her brain screamed back.

Billie resisted the urge to throw her takeout containers across the room to silence the voices arguing in her mind. Instead, she pulled the foil package towards her and carefully opened it as the scents of garlic and warm bread wafted up to her nose.

That night, she had indulged in her comfort food favorites from Curry A-Go-Go downtown: spicy butter chicken and saag paneer, with an order of garlic naan. If she was spending another cold, lonely night at home, she was absolutely going to allow herself to reek of garlic.

The smell of garlic was going to come out her damn pores.

#

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Gigi asked as she and Billie waited on the front porch for Conrad to unlock the door.

“Not tonight, sweetie,” Billie said, eyeing the bags of groceries in her and Conrad’s arms. Trying to cut off a potential tantrum—not that Gigi was prone to them, but still—she added, “But we could have a DIY pizza night this weekend?”

“What’s a DIY pizza night?” Gigi asked, tiny nose scrunched up.

“It’s a night where Dad gets a break from cooking,” Conrad said, pushing the door open and letting Gigi and Billie file inside in front of him.

“I’m too young to cook,” Gigi said. “You told me never to turn on the stove.”

Billie bit back a smile.

“You’re never too young to take over the chores,” Conrad told her, ignoring his daughter’s very valid point. 

Gigi rolled her eyes. “I’m a kid. You’re a dad. You’re supposed to cook,” she said, stressing the word.

“But pizza night is fun,” Billie told her, trailing after Gigi as the little girl skipped down the hallway to the open plan kitchen. “You get to roll out the dough and put all the toppings on. You can pick exactly what goes on your pizza.”

“Whatever I want?” Gigi asked as Billie set her bag of groceries on the island.

“Whatever you want,” Billie promised.

“Even if I want pineapple?”

“Sacrilege,” Conrad said, setting his own bag down next to Billie’s.

Billie raised an eyebrow at him. “Even pineapple, sweetie.” She leaned down to help the little girl take off her jean jacket and stage-whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll work on him.” 

“Yay pizza night!” Gigi cried. “I’m gonna go tell Mr. Biggles.”

Billie watched as Conrad gazed after his daughter until she disappeared around the bend in the stairs.

“You guys can’t gang up on me with mushrooms,” Conrad said.

“You have to let that go,” Billie said, slanting him a smile. 

“I just can’t believe you would betray me with mushrooms on pizza.”

Billie shook out Gigi’s jacket to straighten the sleeves and walked over to him. “I promise,” she said, very seriously. “I will take your side on the mushrooms… if you let her have pineapple.”

“Blackmail,” he cried.

“Negotiations,” Billie countered.

His eyes danced at her, and Billie smirked at him before striding back down the hall. Pulling open the coat closet, she hung up Gigi’s jean jacket and then her own sweater coat. She took out a third hangar, intending to grab Conrad’s from him, but his voice interrupted her train of thought.

“I’ve been thinking about it since our first date,” Conrad said.

Billie turned to find him stalled out where the hallway opened onto the kitchen, watching her. His jacket was still on, despite the humidity beginning to rise in the Georgia morning air. 

“Thinking about what?” she asked. Then it clicked. “Oh.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Awhile.”

“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?”

“A few weeks.”

He waited, eyes on her face, as she processed that information. He had given her space, she knew. She had been relieved when he didn’t push to restart the conversation when she had come back for dinner. But then a few days had become two weeks, and clearly he had gotten impatient.

“Our first date,” she said. Then again. “Our first date?”

He pulled off the light fabric jacket he preferred in the summer and early fall and closed the distance between them. She eased it out of his hand, sliding it onto the hangar, and shoving it in the closet with the others. His eyes were so tight on her face that she felt almost claustrophobic from the attention.

“Yes,” he said.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m really confused.”

“I know. I just don’t know why,” he told her. “You know I love you. You’re here practically every night—”

“Only twice last week,” she interrupted, feeling defensive.

“And I hated that you were gone.” He paused to let that sink in, and then he pulled out the big guns. “So did Gigi.”

Billie winced. “She did?”

“Of course, she did.”

“We need to put away the groceries,” Billie said, brushing past him and trying not to cry. “We bought ice cream.”

“Yes,” Conrad said, following her back to the kitchen. “We. We bought ice cream.”

Her hand clenched on the side of the grocery bag. She couldn’t look at him.

“I wanted to open the dialogue,” Conrad said, sounding lost. “I didn’t want to scare you out of the house.”

“You didn’t,” she said, but the words came out as a whisper.

“Billie, talk to me,” he murmured.

But she couldn’t say this to him. The words throbbed in her cut-open chest.

“Is this about Nic?” he asked, in a carefully neutral tone.

Panic swept Billie into motion. She turned and started for the hallway, already visualizing the front door. “I just remembered that I…” But she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him either, so she found herself shaking her head, swallowing against the vise-like grip around her throat. “I can’t. I have to go.”

Conrad stepped into her path, hands held up in front of his body. “Billie.” She stilled, and he edged closer. “Please don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running from you,” she said.

“Then what?” he asked, and she heard an edge of frustration to his voice. “What are you running from?”

“Me? Maybe,” she said on a wet laugh. 

“You? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t say this to you,” she said, losing the war against the tears.

“Why can’t you talk to me about this?” he asked. “We talk about everything.”

“Because it’s not fair,” she said. “It’s not fair to say this to you.”

“Please talk to me. Let me help.”

Conrad’s fingers found her cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away, only for new ones to replace the tears he had cleared. She slid her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest. His warmth slipped through the cotton of his Henley, and his scent—pine and musk and Conrad and home—enveloped her. Her eyes were pouring, but, somehow, she stayed quiet, muffling the little sobs against his solidness.

“I want to,” she said into the cotton.

“What?” he murmured to her.

She pulled back, surprised when Conrad’s arms tightened for a split second before he controlled the reaction and loosened his grip. She knew she was a gross mess, had probably gotten snot all over his shirt, might even have it smeared under her nose. And all of that was less uncomfortable and humiliating and tragic than what she was about to say to him.

The words lodged in her throat. She gestured helplessly.

“Why don’t we sit?” he asked, letting go of her to point at the couch.

She nodded, hoping against hope that Gigi wouldn’t come barreling down the stairs and catch her like this. As soon as she was settled in the corner—her corner—Conrad dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“I’ll grab you some tissues,” he said and hurried out of the room.

She took the few moments he was gone to suck in a deep breath. In through the nose, hold, and out through the mouth, she reminded herself.

That was as far as she got before Conrad was back, tissue box in hand. She told herself the breathing had helped, and the urge to bolt for the front door had faded.

This time, take two on the conversation, when Conrad came to sit, he settled in right next to her. He aimed his torso to face her, one arm across the back of the couch.

Poised to grab her if she tried to run. 

Billie knew he would never. Conrad was a huge proponent of bodily autonomy. If she dashed to the front door, he would try to persuade her to stay, but he wouldn’t lay a finger on her even to stop her.

He set the tissue box in the scant inches between their thighs. His eyes were tight on her face. 

“Billie, is this about Nic?” She grimaced before she could control it. He nodded, once, decisively, and then he said, “Okay. I’m going to go first. Is that all right?”

The gesture she made as she wiped her face with tissue was caught somewhere between a shrug and a nod and a full-body shudder. But Conrad seemed to understand that what she meant was knock yourself outbecause he chuckled softly.

“We delayed facing this for so long that we were already on the same page before we ever made a move,” Conrad said. “So, I have to keep reminding myself that we’ve never actually talked about it.” He paused, considering. “Well… directly. Out loud. Each other anyway. I think we both talked to other people, if some of my recent conversations with A.J. meant what I think they mean.”

He was right, and he was right that they hadn’t said all of this out loud. Bits and pieces, but never all of it. 

They had each gone through their self-flagellation and dealt with their guilt silently in the shadows. By the time Conrad had leaned in for that first kiss, they had both been long at peace with the idea of moving forward together, which inevitably left Nic behind. Their hesitation had been centered in insecurity around how the other felt, if the other had found that same peace, as well as risking the friendship that had meant so much to both of them for five years. 

And, once they had kissed, cementing those feelings and answering those questions, they had each known exactly what the other thought without any words needing to be exchanged. So, they had never really talked about it.

Conrad took a deep breath. “When you were talking to Gigi that night, you said we were a family. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Not that I didn’t consider you family,” Conrad amended. “But it wasn’t a conscious thought, you know? You were just a part of our life. A fact of it. And then you said it out loud to Gigi, and I was like ‘Of course.’ It just fit.”

“We’re just right,” Billie said.

“Yes,” Conrad said. “We’re comfortable together. Completely, one hundred percent comfortable. I don’t want to assume anything about you and your past relationships, but I’ve never felt like that before. Like this before.”

Billie’s eyes shot to his face. Conrad was staring at his hands in his lap rather than at her. 

“It was different with Nic,” he said. “I loved her with everything in me. Every piece of me loved every piece of her.”

“I know,” Billie murmured.

“But I knew from the second I laid eyes on her that…” He shifted, hesitating to finish his sentence. 

“You wanted to be together,” Billie supplied, feeling rather prim even as she said it.

A grin flashed across his face. “That’s the PG version anyway,” he said, voice gravelly. “We weren’t… We didn’t know anything about each other, and that physical part—the sex part—was there from the beginning. Always there. It…complicates things. And we broke up and got back together so many times. And it was always exciting and wonderful, and she fit, too. She fit me. But even when I asked her to marry me, I was only ninety-five percent sure she was going to say yes.”

He laughed, but it was bitter, almost self-deprecating, and he cut it off to swallow hard. Billie felt her stomach twist in nervous anticipation. Somehow, she knew what was coming next, and she wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to feel his warmth and his skin. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists around the tissues still in her hands.

“You,” he said, careful and tentative. “You were my friend first. Strictly platonic and someone I could rely on, could say anything to, without worrying you might disappear. And you became a part of me. I know that sounds crazy. But I meant it when I said we grew together over the last five years. Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. I know you in a way that I have never known another human being. I know how you’re going to react. I know how you think about things, how your brain approaches a problem. I know why you do the things you do, why you make the decisions you make, without you ever having to explain.”

He shook his head, and the motion looked a little rough. “And the fact that I missed how you felt about me is completely bonkers because, of course, I should have seen it. I think I was so scared that I was reading it all wrong, that I just… shut it out. But I’ve already told you that,” he said, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“I think Nic and I would have gotten here,” he said, gesturing between himself and Billie. “But we weren’t there yet. So, no, Billie, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s not better, it’s not more. It’s just—”

“Different,” she whispered. 

He raised his face to meet her eyes, clearly encouraged by her speaking, even if only one word. “And part of that comfort is because I saw you with Gigi, how pure and open and honest you are with her. No matter how she tests you, you never falter. And part of it is that we grew together and shaped each other,” he said. “We’re not the same people we were before Nic died. That changed us. But we also wouldn’t be the people we are now without each other.”

Billie nodded, tears starting to spill down her cheeks again. 

He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “And all of that is to say that I understand why this house is a problem. We changed. But the house didn’t. So, you feel like you’re sliding into Nic’s life. Like you’re replacing her.”

Billie pressed a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t sob loud enough for Gigi to hear.

“And it’s one thing to visit,” Conrad said, bravely forging ahead. “It’s another thing to move in.”

“I’m sorry,” Billie said, covering her face so that he couldn’t look at her. “I’m so sorry. It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair is you not talking to me about this,” Conrad said. “Billie, it’s me. This is us. We talk about everything.”

“Not everything,” she muttered. 

Against all odds, Conrad laughed. The sound was relieved, almost giddy. He eased closer to her on the couch, arm sliding behind her but not touching her.

“I’d like to change that,” he said. “Everything would be really, really good.”

“There are certain things I will never talk about with you,” she said, but her lips were curling up in the corners, just like he knew they would.

And as soon as he spotted the curls, Conrad’s arm moved from the couch back to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer into his heat. She felt a shudder run through him, and she realized he had been afraid. Her not talking to him, shutting him out, had terrified him and made him question his own confidence.

With all of that swirling through her mind, she said, “I don’t know how to get past this.”

“You don’t move in here,” Conrad said, as if it was the simplest decision in the world. 

The words were firm, and the world dropped out from under Billie. He was taking the invitation back. 

He didn’t want to live with you anymore, her brain hissed at her. Because he knows you’re right. You’re stealing Nic’s life. You’re the worst friend who has ever—

“Gigi and I can move in with you,” he said.

The voice cut off, and the world righted. A second later, a wave of shock swept through her as she fully registered what he had suggested.

“My house?” she asked.

“Why not?” he asked. “Gigi loves it there.”

“She loves to visit,” Billie pointed out. “Not to live. When she’s spent the night, she slept with me. She didn’t even want to go in the guest room.”

Conrad’s arm tightened around her, and she heard him swallow again. “Uh-huh.”

“And you know I bought that place in a hurry,” Billie said. “I barely even looked around the market. I took the first one that was nearby.”

“It’s a great house,” Conrad argued.

“Sure,” Billie said. “But this is Gigi’s home. She’s lived here her whole life.”

“True, but—”

“And the yard here is way better,” she said. “You even have a hot tub. I do not have a hot tub.”

“The hot tub can move,” Conrad pointed out. “I can’t move the yard, though.”

Billie made a complicated hand gesture that said See? My point exactly.

“But this place is small,” Conrad said, relaxing against the back of the couch. “Yours is bigger. If we decided to have more kids, where would we put them here?”

“Okay, we’re putting a pin in that,” Billie said in a dry voice. “Because that’s a whole different emotional conversation and a long way off if it happens at all. We could certainly find a new, different, third house option long before that happens. And, besides, selling my place would probably cover the cost of putting an addition on this one. And don’t you own that hillside? We could build up and maybe out off the back—” She paused, hand outstretched as she pointed out his windows, and took in his expression with suspicion. “What? Why are you grinning at me?”

He shrugged, still grinning like he had won the lottery. “I only ever wanted to open the dialogue.”

And Billie suddenly realized that she was quiet inside. The voice telling her she was stealing Nic’s life was gone. 

The fear wasn’t gone. The anxiety and guilt were still roiling in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to move into Conrad’s house. 

But the voice that had been berating her for two weeks was silent.

“How do you do that?” she asked him.

“Do what?” he asked, contentment on his face. He intertwined their fingers and brought her hand up to brush a kiss against the back.

“Make everything better,” she said.

His eyes squeezed shut like she had hit him, fingers tightening around hers. He sat like that for a moment, pressing her hand against his lips, his eyes closed to the world. And when he opened them again, they looked bruised. But not the bruised that Billie had become used to—the darkness of grief, of pain, of longing. All she saw in Conrad’s eyes was…gratitude and relief.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice gone gravelly again. “But I’m really glad I do. Honestly… you have no idea.”

#the resident #billie sutton #fanfic #conradbillie #conbillie #cobillie #conrad x billie #billie x conrad #gigi hawkins

[bohemian-nights]

Must be sad for you that even Matt Smith likes Daemyra :/ That you want to admit it or not, GRRM wrote Daemon for Rhaenyra and he stated that one of his favorite things about him is his relationship with Rhaenyra. Whereas Matt and Ryan Condal have both said Daemon loves Rhaenyra. Ryan even said Daemon killed Rhea because it prevented him from marrying the ‘woman he actually loves’. He also backtracked from the choking when Matt admitted he didn’t understand that scene and didn’t want to do it (with Emma) sooo. Stay in your delusions and hatred for Rhaenyra and Daemyra but I promise you: the things you want and hope for Nettles and Daemon isn’t happening.

Also, you can claim as much as you want that you love Nettles just as an individual character but no one is stupid. Every time you bring her up its either to talk about Daemon or Rhaenyra. Be serious

This is the third Dumbnyra anon(and the second one trying to use Matt to prop up your dying/dead ship) within less than 12 hours(these anons were literally sent in the wee hours of the night/early morning where I am. If you are living anywhere in US of A this is extremely pathetic behavior especially since it’s a holiday) so to save myself some effort I’m going to do this:

Y’all need to decide if Ryan is trying to “ruin” your ship or not and stick to it because the back and forth is exhausting.

Sweetheart, what will happen will happen and the only way what you want to will happen is if Nettles is cut completely(not just from this upcoming season boo boo) from the show.

The show is heading towards Maidenpool. We all know what happens in Maidenpool😗 If you actually believed what you people say you wouldn’t be sweating it or spazzing out in my inbox right now.

And if you want to ignore all the moodboards, edits, fics, fancasting, character analysis, and gifs (I even created gifs for her mother who isn’t even a character) I’ve done for Nettles, knock yourself out my friend, but the only one here who doesn’t value Nettles as one of the most compelling characters of the Dance is you people.

As for GRRM, he never said what y’all are saying which is why y’all can’t even produce a source(an article or a video) for him stating he created Daemon for Rhaenyra and that she’s his great love. He’s talked about his love for Daemon(he loves his grayness and Rhaenyra is part of that grayness since he flips on her when she needed him the most to save who again?), but not that.

👆🏽Look I provided the actual source for the chocolate you are trying to make out of cow dung.

George doesn’t even agree with your a**es about Nettles being nothing special since he has expressed his interest in writing a whole novella about her😚

You people can call me crazy and delusional all you like, but don’t go saying I’m a fake fan. Nettles is freaking awesome. She's the sole reason I’m still watching this crap show.

She comes from literally nothing and ends up not only surviving the Dance with Sheepstealer but also becoming a goddess-like figure to a whole group of people. I find it strange how she has haters in the first place.

I haven’t had to constantly lie for my fave or my ship(which is why you people get mad when I bring in the text), but y’all literally make up sh*t(fake leaks, changing the lines, removing texts, taking texts out of context, saying one of the few characters who survives the dance is irrelevant and can be replaced with anyone Black) every five seconds to prop up your delusions.

Now I’ve been nice enough to throw some crumbs to you pigeons since you are begging for my attention, but the next anon who wants to start some sh*t in my inbox is getting blocked.

#bnasks #bnask #dumbnyra anon #strike three

[soranihimawari]

Serpens

word count: 1.4k

pairing: nanami x neighbor! reader

rating: t/m due to medical scene involving reader helping stitch up nanami

there are a few things you are required to know before you walk into the clinic. one, curses are real nasty. two, your friends keep thinking you aren't read into their world behind the scenes. three, you have an unnatural talent to sense when death rears its beautiful head. and four, when death truly comes to visit, you hiss like a cat to scare it away.

three months later from this personal revelation on a sunday afternoon, your neighbor struggles with opening his door. he was tall, super blonde, and downright gorgeous in cobalt blue paired with khaki. he moved in around a month back stating he had a new job starting in the finance department of a small start up company. you also pick up on the subtle way he leaves as quietly as possible before your alarms set off and returns in the wee hours of the night.

jumping back to the present, you are coming home from a late night bar hopping night with your girlfriends from the law office. you were the most sober by the time you arrived at your door, still a little tipsy, but sober enough to notice your neighbor frustratedly trying to open his door. you ignore the blood on his shoes as the drip trail is due to the cut on his mid-torso. you smell sulfur though, it is a thing you do not comment on, however you tell him to hand his keys to you.

"i got it," you softly smile up at him.

post unlocking his front door, you hand him back the keys and usher him inside his own home.

"have a good night, err..." you read the nameplate next to his unit number. "nanamin-san."

you bow and enter your own home after he nods and closes his door.

you prepare yourself for bed post washing off the grime of the bar and at the three am hour, you wake up with a jolt. something was terribly wrong. you sense it, you know you do, even your cat meows in the corner facing one of the walls that align with your neighbor's apartment. you grab your jacket within the closet to only head out to protect your neighbor from certain death. you knock on the door for as long as you can before he, disheveled hair and pajamas pants and all, answers.

"nanami-san, are you alright?" your brows are furrowed concerned.

"...mmhm," he hums. "it's three in the morning, what is it?"

"death looms near," you warn. your face is earnest and honest, thus causing him to straighten his posture up; nanami invites you inside and you walk behind him. the door closes, you pick up on the subtleties of his motifs: simple colors, bold furniture choices. he puts a kettle on the stove and you divulge in his curiosity.

“been seeing less of ‘em,” you explain. you’re a bit bashful when you thank him for riding this block of its afflictions.

“you see them too, now that is something i’d never expect to hear from a neighbor,” nanami casually states after the water boils and the steam whistle blows.

you tell him about your childhood, how you thought the “curses” were just other people’s imaginary friends until one year in high school there was a disappearance case of a small manned chess team—“they were never seen or heard from again. only clue was their sponsor’s decapitated head rolling around the forest.”

you don’t expect him to believe you, but he does… until four in the morning rolls and you both seem to have exchanged enough bb takes of survival for one night.

“i’ll see myself out, nanami-san , just rest, ok?” you smile right when you reach the door. before you go, you turn around to peek over your shoulder: “don’t move so much, it will cause your self-inflicted stitches to tear and your wound will be infected. i’m taking the day off, but I have more steadier hands. leave this unlocked for me and i will return with other items besides that alcohol you seem to be an avid fan of.”

he says nothing but he nods. leaning back in his chair, he stares up at the ceiling with a sly smile. perhaps moving here wasn’t such a bad idea.

returning less than twenty minutes later, you gently, but firmly announce your presence and nanami hunts a bit.

“did anyone ever tell you that in a fight you should dodge?”

he chuckles, yet seriously masks it when you ask him to lift his shirt.

“you’re bleeding through it, i’m a medical examiner for crime scenes, so let me stitch you up properly, ok?”

humble beginnings for two young adults began this night. you stayed up with him through every slight wince up until your needle was put to rest. nanami thanks you for your time and you ask him if it's ok to nap on the couch saying you'd return to your abode next door the moment you need to, "because work is a thing and also, aren't you a part-time teacher?"

nodding, he tells you what he does outside of the office. there are brief mentions of his high school senior's students he takes under his wing to help them sharpen their tactics when fighting the cursed spirits.

it's nearly christmas the next time you truly cross paths. work in the clinic and end of quarters reports have been causing you both to sleep less at home and more in office. though when you have time, you slip a note under your neighbor's door wishing him safe travels if he asks you to pick up his mail and/or if you know he seems a bit stressed out, you send him your favorite adage to help him turn the work he does around: "take it easy, nanami-san."

imagine your surprise when he shows up to your door one december morning, you still half dressed in your scrub pants and dry-fit long sleeve undershirt, you answer post checking the peephole.

"i think you have the wrong unit, nanami-san," pointing to the door to your left. "your place is over-"

"yln-san, have dinner with me?"

"huh?" you're sure you heard him right, yet he slightly rambles a bit. he is slightly shy and coy when mentions he never really thanked you for taking care of him the night you came over to stitch him up even if you had an ominous pit in your stomach.

"...hauntingly bleak 'death looms near,'" he concludes. "so, will you have dinner with me?...please?"

your eyes sort of soften and you sort of blush since he brought up the notes you seem to like (now love) to sneak under his door. the latest one? a fun fact about the constellation of of serpens. it's one of the longest constellations ever and you mention you hope your acquaintanceship turns into a friendship especially now since you remind him rest is essential to survival.

"tonight," you answer. "i'll be ready by eight tonight. is that a reasonable time to come over? i worked the night shift..."

nanami runs a hand of his through his blonde hair, boyish smile and all, saying he's looking forward to seeing you then.

"get some rest doctor," he chooses to be bold since he notices you eyeing his hands (your imagination running away with you for the moment). "you may need it."

as he walks away you close your door, walk toward the couch, grab the nearest pillow and squeal/scream into it. that was unequivocally one of the hottest moments you have had with him. you flip over on the couch, drift off to sleep, while nanami joins the rest of the daytime workforce.

so as you finish the wicked cat-eye winged eyeliner. since it was a casual dinner among friendly neighbors, you decide to bring a wine you had yet to open. dressed in a semi-casual attire (jeans and collared shirt with some easy slide on boater shoes), you head out of your place with said bottle of wine in your hands and your phone in your back pocket with good luck texts from your work girl friends from the clinic.

inhaling deeply before raising your fist to knock on his door, you feel your heart flutter in hoping this leads to new, exciting things. what you don't know is nanami secretly is hoping for the same.

perhaps tomorrows are not promised to sorcerers out there, but the truth of the matter is, when one becomes entangled with a healer of sorts, things seem to align for the pair to seize the night.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #nanami x neighbor!reader #sora after hours #🎋.jjk🎋 #🎋nanami.jjk🎋 #strangers->potential lovers

[esha-isboogara]

by your side

okay hear me out...kira is the most underrated jojo villian. i will not be taking comments. anyways this was inspired by an old song fic i did years ago. i updated it and made it a little less cringe. i have so many jojo ideas so hopefully i will post them here

short glimpses inside the sweet love shared between kira and his love

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝐎𝐡 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐝,𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 , 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐤.

The love between you and Kira Yoshikage was indescribable. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life. Actions that would normally cause someone to turn their head in disgust only drew you towards the man more.

The love the two of you shared was special in its own unique way. The mind boggling high you got from doing such horrible acts along side the love of your life is what kept you so alive. Your veins were always full of adrenaline.

Warm evenings spent watching and waiting. Coming home in the wee hours of the morning , clothing stained with fresh blood. Making love over the mutilated bodies of women that had been unlucky enough to cross either of your paths. Even the very smell of blood was enough to get you off.

Being with this man was like a drug and you didn’t plan on quitting any time soon. You were addicted

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤.

“Mmm~Kira what do want to do with this pathetic creature? After all it’s no fun if you don’t play along as well”. You would sneer as you paced around the trembling women. The terrified look on your victims faces was always especially funny to you. They were like stupid rats trying desperately to escape a maze.

Kira snaked his hand around your waist , a wicked grin playing across his lips.

“I’m not sure my love. Originally her hands looked wonderful ,enough to catch the eye of someone like me. But upon closer inspection it seems that I will be not be in need her hands after all. The ones on this women are far too muscular and defined, too much like a man”. He remarked , slipping his hand down your skirt. “I have no use for her anymore”.

You giggled and pulled away from him. “Not in front of herrrr”.

The woman was now thrashing and screaming through the gag you had placed in her mouth to ensure neither of you would get caught.

You rolled your eyes at her antics. “Must you be so dramatic ? Now we won’t have to torture you, you can die a nice peaceful death”.

Her eyes widened , the blues of her eyes shone with fear. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.

𝐖𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐭. 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 , 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭.

Out of all the women you’ve been so lucky as to capture you hated the especially noisy ones.

Of course you enjoyed the tortured screams that left your victims body but when a crazy women was screaming in your ear while you’re trying to cut her into precise pieces ? Well it’s not easy to say the least. Even through the gag she managed to project her voice.

Wiping the blood off your hands onto a dirtied cloth you wrapped your arms around your lovers waist.

“You look so handsome with blood all over you”.

“Mmm you’re one to talk”. He mused , eyeing you like a piece of meat. “I just want to devour you whole”.

Pulling him closer you ghosted your lips over his. “What’s stopping you”?

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤. 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤.

Getting rid of the unnecessary body parts was always the most tedious part of your work. Hands were easy to store in freezers or small coolers. Legs,heads and torsos were a different story.

The entire process was a days worth of strenuous work. Until Kira developed some kind of magic creature called a “stand”.

“What the hell is it”?

“I’d tell you but I don’t know much about it myself. But in short it’s magical cat...like thing that makes stuff blow up”.

Cats had been your favorite animal since you were just a toddler. You loved this being already.

“Can I pet them ? The kitty is so cute”! You said happily.

Kira just shrugged. He figured no harm could come of it.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 , 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Oh how you despised that women. Shinobu Kawajiri. She got to spend all her time with your husband while you were stuck on the side lines keeping that Higashikata kid and his idiot friends from finding any clues.

Every day you watched her wake up and act like some kind of common whore. Trying her best to seduce him with every bone in her body. Pitiful.

You were lucky to have such a loyal man. Honestly you couldn’t wait for her to make one wrong move so you could pull her eyes out of their sockets and crush her skull beneath your foot. A worthy death for a women like that. As long as you were patient you would have a chance.

𝐖𝐨𝐰. 𝐎𝐡 𝐈'𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 , '𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐞.

“I missed you my love”. You whispered bringing his body close. During the day Kira would spend all the time he could with you. You truly loved this man.

“Oh you have no idea my dear. Every waking moment you’re not by my side my heart aches immensely. I need you Y/n”. He murmured , pulling you into his lap. There was nothing more on this earth that he adored as much as you. Gently he placed light kisses on your neck, giving you a tickling sensation.

“God I missed you”.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 , 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐡. 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤.

Despite the copper taste of blood in your mouth you stood back up. You could keep fighting. You didn’t care if it killed you.

“You don’t have to do this Miss Y/n ...don’t you remember who you used to be”? A ridiculous looking school boy shouted at you. What possessed him to wear his hair like that ?

“I am Y/n L/n. I know who I am and I refuse to listen to you brutes. Look at my husband ! He’s almost dead because of you. If you leave us alone there will be no problem”.

The school boy was pushed back , replaced by a large man with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. They contrasted perfectly along with his white coat. “He kidnapped you three years ago. I’m sure it’s hard for you to bring those memories back but Y/n it’s the truth”.

You seethed in anger. You didn’t have a stand like everyone else but you were determined to hurt them as best you could.

“I am not a little girl. I went with him by choice. Stay out of of my love life it’s none of your concern. Just leave us be”.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 , 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Pain shot through your body. The last you remembered was a bullet coming straight to your face. you weren’t sure how you managed to survive that but you had better things to worry about it.

“Kira ? My love “? you called out , getting to your feet slowly. There he was about a few steps away. He wasn’t moving.

Running over to him you lifted his head off the pavement. There were a plethora of wounds on his head , blood stained through his normally clean suite. His black hair was messy.

“Wake up please wake up”.

You couldn’t imagine a world without Kira. Your life started when you met him.

Slowly his eyes opened. You held his head close to your chest.

“I’m so sorry you got wrapped up in this mans mess” a female voice said sadly placing her hand on your shoulder. You looked up only to be met with a child. She had the most beautiful eyes , her pink hair pulled back neatly.

“W-who are you”

She smiled sadly , a dog...with its throat cut open approached , resting by her side.

“I was your husbands first victim”.

Your face went pale but you refused to abandon him just because of a strangers words.

“No...you can’t be his victim you’re still alive”. You said gesturing to her obviously functioning body, it was too much for your tired brain to process.

“Look Y/n ...you have a choice. I can take you to a beautiful place. You’ll be happy there. Anything you want is yours. Or you can stay with your so called love and be tortured forever”.

Thoughts raced through your head. What was this girl talking about ? We’re you dead ? Is this the work

of an enemy stand user ?

You took a deep breath and held Kira closer.

“I would rather be tortured for all of eternity then live a life without this man. No matter what i’ll stay by his side in life and in death”.

No sooner had the words left your mouth you were surrounded by black. Pain and anguish overwhelmed your body. All you could feel was Kiras hand in yours.

“I’m sorry darling. I should have never brought you into any of this”.

“No..as long as you’re with me everything is okay”.

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

#my evil baby boy #kira yoshikage #kira yoshikage x reader #kira yoshikage x you #jojo x you #jjba x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizzare adventure diamond is unbreakable #jjba part 4 #anime x reader #song fic #anime fanfic #jojo fanfic #Spotify #yandre if you squint #fluff with a sad ending #sort of #angst and fluff #stockholm syndrome

[mermaidsirennikita]

I feel like I’ve really been struggling to find books that I enjoy/am super excited to read. Can you recommend any books that you love or that have helped you get out of a reading slump? Contemporary/historical/paranormal are all great! Thank you!

Yeah, for sure! I haven't been in a true slump for a while. I have been through a bit of a book hangover these past few days just because I keep wanting to reread what I read before versus committing to new stuff, but that's different. I will say that I think combining audiobooks and standard reading has helped me avoid slumps. But audiobooks aren't for everyone, obviously!

Anyway, here's a lot of books with more info than you needed.

Okay, so.... I've been trying to lay off ranting about them too much because I still have friends who need to read them, and I'm working on a powerpoint/intro thing about them, but it's hard because Mila Finelli's Kings of Italy series is like. The best shit I've read in a while. Easily the most a series has consumed me since the next series I'll mention, which I read around October of last year--and it's a lot shorter, so it's easier to read through. I literally just ran through these books like a madwoman. I read through the wee hours of the morning; I read on a bus with a weird individual reading over my shoulder; I read on the subway; I read waiting for the subway; I read on a bench; I read in a restaurant while doing a solo bottomless brunch which was one of the most transcendentally peaceful experiences of my life. And now I've just been reading again, and trying to convince myself not to get the audiobooks because that would be RIDICULOUS but IS IT??? IS IT THO???

The series should be read in order, imo, and the first two books are a full duet, so not standalones. What I think makes this series stand out, aside from the emotionality combined with eroticism (these are.... definitely among the very hottest books I've ever read) is the choice to focus on the mafia in Italy, versus the mafia in America, which is what a lot of mafia books do (from what I'm told). So you get like, actually Italian characters and culture, versus Eyetalian (the Americans that love chicken parm and have their own unique culture that is nonetheless *nothing* like Italy Italians, who to be fair have many different cultural nuances due to the regionality of Italy, dialectal differences, economic--). I'm not Italian, but I have lived in a couple different parts of Italy and make it a priority to travel there whenever it's possible (which isn't often because money, but if I can I do it). The dudes in these books feel like Italian men, albeit with obligatory romance novel exaggeration. In most romances, they feel Eyetalian.

Mafia Mistress and Mafia Darling are about Fausto Ravazzani and Frankie Mancini; he is a don in Siderno, her dad is a part of a Toronto branch of the organization who runs afoul of him, Frankie is basically given to Fausto's son and heir Giulio in marriage. But before Giulio and Frankie can marry (she is not happy about this arranged marriage thing, and tbh neither is Giulio) Fausto decides "fuck it, she and I are vibing, she's not a virgin anyway, she's gonna be my new mistress" because Fausto is That Guy. It is age gap, it is very daddy, it has a heroine who's like defiant but is she really? Because she really does love the daddy thing. There is spanking and some light degradation and rough sex and a loooot of spoiling. And also DRAMA. If you have ever wanted to try an age gap romance.... this shit nails everything I personally love about it. Fausto is classy and old school and will also cut a man up into a million pieces and feed him to dogs, probably.

Mafia Madman, my favorite in the series, comes next, and it is a VILLAIN ROMANCE. The villain of the previous duet, Enzo D'Agostino, kidnaps Frankie's sister Gia as a part of a REVENGE PLOT, because he is both very smart and incredibly cracked. Like, my dude is living on a VILLAINOUS YACHT. His plan is to keep Gia in a cage and break her will and then dot dot dot, he hasn't thought it COMPLETELY THROUGH, but then! Gia turns out to be the greatest weakness for a man such as he: a FUCKIN' BRAT. This bitch is doing naked yoga in her cage, she's telling him all the filthy things she'll do to him (not that she waaaants to ohhh nooooooo, she haaaates him especially when he DOES STUFF to her), she's driving him out of his mind which is already very tenuous! A new classic for me, I can't stop thinking about it, and again, even better if you read the first two books first (and they're absolute bangers so you should). 15/10, would stay in the cage. Enzo and Gia are a perfect match of wills, and watching them break and fall in love is gorgeous. A top tier grovel, too, if you see

Mafia Target, the most recent release, also incredible. This one follows Giulio, Fausto's oldest son, who's hot as fuck, and naturally a MAFIA TARGET. Someone, someone whose name perhaps rhymes with Schmenzo, has in fact taken out a hit on Giulio (and semi forgotten about it? Because Gia's pussy is God? Gia fucked that man so good he deadass forgot about a really important mafia hit he put out? I love them) and has hired the best assassin in the game, Alessio Ricci. Anyway, Giulio sees a guy in the club, he gets head from him, as he does, and then he's advised that Alessio Ricci is trying to kill him and realizes THE GUY IN THE CLUB WHO SUCKED HIM OFF WAS ALESSIO RICCI LMAO. Anyway, this one is a extremely hot, extremely emotional, and probably the most straightforwardly romantic book in the series? Because Giulio and Alessio are better at Feelings than Fausto and Enzo, if still very Bad At Feelings. Another top fuckin' tier grovel. (For the record, Fausto does a good grovel in his duet, but imo the subsequent books have better grovels.)

These books are pEAK. And if you're interested in an historical series by the same author with a different name to break you out of your slump--Mila Finelli is Joanna Shupe, and I'd recommend reading her Uptown Girls trilogy for slump breakage. I also love love LOVE her Fifth Avenue Rebels series, but Uptown Girls might be a bit more... compulsively readable? The similarities and differences between her historicals and her mafia books are fascinating (Clay Madden -> Enzo D'Agostino... there is a pipeline).

The other series (and I do feel like a good series is a great slump breaking tactic, because if the series is good you domino them) I find incredibly readable is, of course, Kresley Cole's Immortals After Dark. There are like, 19 books in this series, I enjoyed all of them though some are stronger than others. They are probably best read in order. I just blazed through them, but you could always read a few, break, read a few, break.

Of course, Lisa Kleypas's Wallflowers is a great historical series. I also find her Gamblers of Craven's duology so so good from a duology POV, and I say this as someone who read Dreaming of You by itself and read Then Came You years later.

Lorraine Heath is obviously incredible. I'd read her Once Upon a Dukedom series for slump breakage; I adore the first book as one of my favorites of hers, and the second is a general fan favorite.

Tracey Livesay has an amazing contemporary called American Royalty, which is about a British prince falling in love with an American rapper. It's very "Harry and Meghan if Meghan was MEGAN (Thee Stallion)" and it's super hot and lovely. The sequel is out this summer, so you might wanna get a head start!

Heated Rivalry and The Long Game by Rachel Reid are two of my favorite contemporaries ever--and it's a duet! Focuses on Ilya Rozanov (cocky, charming, self-assured) and Shane Hollander (golden boy, uptight, anxious), hockey arch rivals who have been hooking up on the DL since their rookie season. Very much a FEEEEELINGS duet, but also very, very hot. I've read both a billion times.

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb and The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (in that order) by Cat Sebastian is a pair of queer historicals that can be read as standalones but read better together and in order. Kit is a retired highwayman who's approached by Percy, a nobleman. Percy and his stepmother, Marian, need Kit's help to rob Percy's father; in the process of training Percy to do it, Kit, of course, falls in love with him. Percy is one of the more relatable characters ever, he is a BITCH AND A HALF LOL.

Something Fabulous and Something Spectacular (out today!) are a pair of hilarious queer historical romcoms by Alexis Hall. Begins with Something Fabulous, which is about Valentine (a duke!) proposing horrifically to a woman he's been pledged to since childhood. She responds by running away, and Valentine goes on a cross country adventure to catch her, alongside her twin brother, Bonny--who he begins falling for.

Lush Money by Angelina M. Lopez. Self-made lady billionaire wants a baby, and convinces a prince of an impoverished nation to marry and impregnate her in exchange for a financial bailout. HOT. ENEMIES TO LOVERS. INSANE.

Nobody's Baby But Mine by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, for an older contemporary. A fucking insane book wherein a genius scientist tricks an aging NFL star into knocking her up so that she can have a baby of middling intelligence, who's "normal". Her thought process is that she's super smart and he's super dumb, so they'll make an a average kid. Except oops, this motherfucker is actually QUITE smart, and when he figures out her deal he's like "nO KID OF MINE WILL BE A BASTARD" and forces her to marry him. Has a scene where he shows up at the class she's teaching, leans against the doorway, and menacingly goes "CLASS IS OVER" and honestly? It worked real hard.

Priest by Sierra Simone. Erotic romance about a Catholic priest who starts getting worked up by the woman telling him all this dirty shit during confessional, except they actually fall legit in love and there's some really gorgeous religious pondering throughout.

Queen Move by Kennedy Ryan. Childhood friends torn apart by circumstance meet again later and feel sparks, but she's a hardcore political fixer and he has a id and a baby's mother. Angsty drama and reconnection, I fuckin love it.

Ruby Dixon's Aspects and Anchors series, which is a cross-universe fantasy romance series in which the heroines get thrown through portals into this high fantasy world. They basically have to serve these gods as their tethers to the mortal realms, and obviously... the gods fall for them. Can be read a standalones but I'd read them in order. Hot, romantic, and fun in a way Ruby Dixon excels at.

Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre is a romance about a woman who becomes her CEO billionaire boss's dom. It's hot, it debates whether or not a billionaire can be ethical, and he gets. on. his. kneeees.

#romance novel blogging #book recs

[e-wills-afterhours]

Hi there! How are you?

I'm so sorry to be bothering you with this, but I just really, really need to know what happens in Vetrnaetr. Do you plan on writing more? If not, would you just tell us how the story ends? Do things between Hiccup and Astrid get better? Do they forgive eachother and try to get the relationship right?

Your story is just too good, makes me wonder about it all the time. Thank you for writing such wonderful stories ❤️

Hey friend!

You are not bothering me! I do plan on finishing it, but writing anything at all is a bit difficult for me to manage right now--a multichapter longfic is peak difficulty. I haven't worked on the next chapter in ages (all I recall is it starts with Astrid regretting the letter she wrote and stressing over whether she just killed her relationship), so I would have to find the time to re-read what I've published of Vetrnaetr so far, for the sake of continuity, before I could get back into chipping away at it. My personal life is not allowing for such a blessing of free time at the moment. I can't even give you an estimate of when that will get better. Nothing bad is going on; quite the contrary, my cup runneth over.

Additionally, my creative focus is changing. While I wouldn't say I've completely lost interest in Hiccstrid or HTTYD, I've found myself gravitating more and more towards original work that I haven't posted here, simply because there's not really a want for it. I don't think anyone really cares that much about my worldbuilding and novel plotting that will probably never result in anything anyway but it's nice to have dreams.

I won't give you all the nitty gritty details below the cut, because I might actually finish Vetrnaetr one day, but I will provide some vague and general spoilers below in case that never happens. For your peace of mind friend.

Spoilers:

Hiccup returns from Helgafell but since the Vetrnaetr festival is kicking off, he and Astrid do not have much of an opportunity to talk and reconcile; Astrid can tell Hiccup is distant and she is afraid that their breakup is inevitable. She also laments all the implications of a breakup after everything they've been through privately and publicly.

Stefnir takes more opportunities to be a smug asshole, because of course he does.

Hiccup struggles with expectations of change and personal growth from both his father and Astrid; reflects on what that growth and change looks like and what it would mean for him, personally.

Festival is a blast. Astrid realizes she's been a bit of a demanding asshole toward Hiccup and should have been more understanding and tactful in her approach instead of giving him ultimatums to become someone he fundamentally isn't. Damn Ruffnut was right. Astrid gets drunk.

Hiccup realizes he does have a lot of growth left, and not just for others' sake, but his own too. He realizes Astrid had some valid points and if staying in a perpetual adolescent mindset means he loses her, then he doesn't want it. He understands, unintentionally, he has been a bit self-absorbed and selfish.

Hiccup confides this to Gobber who gives some sage advice about growing up in all facets of life, but no more than is absolutely necessary to preserve joy.

First night of festival winds down in the wee hours of the morning. Astrid is passed out now. Hiccup and Toothless get her home. Shenanigans occur because, in a village of drunk Vikings, of course they do.

Astrid wakes up hungover with no recollection of how she got home in bed, but notices whoever got her home took great care to make sure she was comfortable.

Hiccup comes to check on her. They finally get to talk after some self-reflection the night before. They both admit their wrongs and acknowledges where the other person was right, but also refine their personal boundaries and expectation. Yay for healthy reconciliation and open and honest communication. Commitment to one another renewed.

Fic ends with emotional and very physical expressions of love.

[askcmcarscrew]

Chapter 4: Chores

Morning in Radiator Spring and both Sarge and Fillmore are up and going through their usual morning engagements.

“ Will you turn that disrespectful junk off!”

Sarge shouted over the fence into Fillmore’s yard as he heard Hendrix playing.

“Respect the classics man. It’s Hendrix!”

Do to habit Applebloom's up bright and early Sarge was a bit surprised by that it's usually him and Fillmore that are the early birds while everyone else are still asleep.

“Yoo- wee! Alright everypony let's get to bu-”

Applebloom stopped mid-sentence just remembering that she’s not home at the farm signing she stepped outside. Sarge watched as she plopped herself on top the fence. Seeing the look in her eyes Sarge walked up putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Applebloom? Are you alright?”

At first she just gives him a look of sadness sniffling a little before speaking

“I-I miss home. Ma family ma farm. Sniff I miss em. I know we’ve only been here for a short time now. But it's normally at this time that I've got ma usually chores ta do. I know it sounds ridiculous but… sniff it's just another reminder that I ain't home. And… and sob I just don't know what to do.”

She bringing hands up to her face she started crying

Never being in this kind of situation before Sarge did something completely out of character. He picks up Applebloom and held her close giving her a comforting hug while gently rubbing soothing circles on her back. Applebloom just held on to him crying into his shoulder while Sarge held her close giving her the chance to let it all out. It took a while until Applebloom had finally stopped crying still sniffling a little, still thinking about what to do an idea popped into his head.

Seeing as how the problem here is her not having her normal chores that she has back on her farm. Then maybe having her helping me with my chores will cheer her up enough where she's not crying every morning she wakes up. The kid’s really missing her home right now. She taking this so much harder than the other two are. And I don't blame her if I was ever this far away from home it be tearing me up inside too.

After thinking it through Sarge decides it's the perfect idea.

“ Hey Applebloom.”

Sniff

“ Y-Ya.”

“ You know I've got quite a few chores here myself to do. You can help me out if you want.”

Applebloom paused thinking about it for a moment. Maybe helping him out with his chores might help her feel a little more at home while being in this new world.

Sniff

“OK”

Sarge sets her down on the ground giving something even more out of character a small and gentle smile and they both head inside to get started on the chores. It took a few hours of working on the chores until they finished all of them. The first thing they had to do was clean up all of the materials on the shelves which took an hour or so to do. Then they had to sweep up the whole store floor, and mop clean the windows, vacuum the rooms and make up the beds which took another hour or so to do. After finishing up they’re now heading over Flo’s place to get breakfast.

“Howdy everyone!”

Applebloom greets everyone as she and Sarge walk inside.

“Hi Applebloom! Hi Sarge!”

Everyone inside greets the two. Sarge takes his usual seat next to Fillmore while Applebloom takes her seat next to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

“Alright Sarge spill.”

Fillmore suddenly turns to Sarge with a smirk on his face

“Excuse me?”

Sarge gives him a confused look.

“ Come man you know exactly what I mean.”

Fillmore nods his head in Applebloom’s direction. Looking over to Applebloom than Fillmore and then back to Applebloom again. Heat rises in his cheeks realizing what Fillmore is implying

“It ain’t nothing like that Fillmore alright. I’m just looking after her until they get back home. Ain’t nothing more than that.”

“Alright if you say so...So what do you think it’ll be like having a daughter?”

Sarge immediately shoots him a warning glare and Fillmore shuts his mouth.

#ask-cmcars-crew #cmc #pixar cars #human au #ask blog #fanfiction #sweetie belle #apple bloom #scootaloo #cars fandom #mlp humanized #human cars #sargemore #cars sarge #cars fillmore #cute #sweet #fatheranddaughter

[juliacoller]

Day 26: Choking/Breath Play

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!ethan, degradation, teasing, oral (male receiving), thigh grinding, nipple play (male receiving), begging, vulgar explanations, CHOKING, use of "good boy, darling, sweetheart, my love", there is short aftercare at the end

Y/N's POV

He just looks so perfect in anything. His all-black suit from UA fits his body in all of the right places, and his loud button-ups compliment his broad chest, but more than anything, he looks good in nothing.

In the wee hours of the morning, after long movie marathons and delving deep into Reddit and TikTok, we lay in our bed, in very few clothes grasping onto each other desperate for some kind of friction.

"Please, Y/N- I need something" Ethan groans, his voice deeper as his tiredness is catching up to him. I smirk in response to his pleas, simply climbing on top of him as I remove any of the clothing remaining on my body. I see a grin shine over Ethan's face as he discards my top from my body, simply happy to have access to some of my most sensitive areas.

I feel Ethan's hands slide up my back and press me down to force my boobs towards his face, his lips glide over my skin, leaving soft kisses and nibbling on the delicate area. Ethan's tongue slides over my nipple and causes a gasp to leave my lips open in surprise, I slowly pull away so I can help myself to his body. I slowly pull his sweatpants down to see his lack of underwear, with his meek smile glaring down at me.

"How sluttish of you, can't even wear boxers in our own home" I softly regard, lifting myself and straddling his thigh, not providing Ethan any satisfaction. Ethan lets out a quiet whine at this comment and reaches out to grab my thighs, squeezing and pinching the pudge that lies there, knowing just how deeply he adores each inch of my body. I lean down and kiss Ethan's chest and suck gently on his skin, truly relishing in each desperate gasp he takes as my teeth graze over him.

"Please, darling. I just want you, anything" Ethan desperately whines, "Oh, can't you be patient for me, please?" I sweetly say, as I look up at him with innocent eyes, I see his residual begs stopping in his chest as he huffs out impatiently. I resume my sweet assault on his chest and start to lead my mouth lower, awkwardly shuffling downward to find myself above his dick. "Can you be a good boy for me? Let me enjoy this?" I politely ask, I am met with eager nods that cause a mischievous grin to spread across my face.

I slowly pout my lips and allow spit to fall directly onto Ethan's cock, his eyes are wide and follow the bead of saliva slide down his body. I smirk and lean my head down to suck him into my mouth, relaxing my throat and falling as far down as I could, mentally smiling as I feel him hit the back of my throat. "Please" I hear him pathetically whine, and I take that as my sign to begin moving on him.

I hollow out my cheeks as I slide upwards on him, a shaky breath leaves his chest and I can feel him pulse in my mouth out of arousal. I continue the motions and can tell Ethan isn't arguing with that plan. I sneak my hand up and tighten it around Ethan's thigh, securing the other on his hip to support myself, knowing just how much he loves those finger print bruises. "Y/N I-I'm going to cum, get up here" I hear Ethan beg above me, that nearly causes me to stop, but then I remember that lovely, warm and sloppy feeling of his cum traveling down my throat, "Y/N- please". I love his whining, just his begging for me-"Y/N, please I need to be in you-", I abruptly pull off of him, unamused and quickly making my way up to his face.

Ethan quickly notices my irritated manner and I see concern flicker in his eyes, "You can't let me have one thing for myself can you? It has to be what my slut wants, doesn't it?" I snap, and I see Ethan stutter to find a response. "I-I" he starts, "No." I cut him off, trailing my hand up his body tracing his nipple then finding my way to his jaw. "I have to please you don't I? You rely on me for pleasure, can't rut against anyone else begging to cum can you? They couldn't handle you, but when I just want to suck you off, I can't even do that?" I continue, as my hand finds its was to trace the veins in his neck as he puffs out labored breaths, "Please, Y/N" Ethan whines.

My hand then fully wraps around Ethan's throat, squeezing and staring into his eyes as they roll back a bit, knowing that he whole heartedly is enjoying this. "God, you're enjoying this, just reveling in your own selfishness? I bet you don't even understand what I am telling you" I degrade, I see his eyes widen at my last statement but he struggles to respond.

I then find myself straddling and rocking against Ethan's thigh, hoping to rut my frustrations out onto his thigh. He manages to meekly sputter out a version of my name and plead, I smile and I can tell he is nearly spent so I lead myself to over his cock and only releasing his throat to lead his cock into me. My hand is yet again around his throat and I sink down until he is fully sheathed inside me, I puff out a deep breath and smile as I stare down at Ethan's desperate face.

I start to bounce on him, so in love with the feeling of his cock rocking within me, I lean down to leave a desperate kiss on his lips. Small and inconsistent moans release from my lips, which is puny compared to the amount of whines and full blown moans that Ethan lets out, knowing just how desperate he becomes when I ride him, and not to add choke him.

With only a few more pumps I can tell Ethan is getting close, by the way his eyelids flutter and his lower abdomen tenses, I say in a sultry tone "Come on, cum for me, be my good boy", and with that I release my hand from Ethan's throat and I feel him cum for me, and with his deep release I feel the coil in my stomach unfurl and with a moan and a tense squeeze of my eyes I cum around him.

I take a deep breath and pull myself off of Ethan, taking a breather and grabbing a rag from the bedside table, wiping down Ethan's thighs and cleaning myself off after. I toss the rag off to somewhere in the room, to hold Ethan and calm him from his high.

"You were so good for me, my love. You did so good" I praise him, giving him the most comfort I can, doing so as I run my fingers up and down his arm. "May I hold you, darling?" I ask, prioritizing his comfort in this moment. Ethan nods and holds his arms out to me, "No, darling, come here" I say as I lay down, offering my chest for him to lay upon. He does exactly as I intend, nuzzling his face into my breasts and wrapping his arms around me, "Thank you, Y/N", "No need to thank me, I love you so dearly, I want nothing but for you to enjoy what we do" I respond, reminding him that I do this for us. "Do you enjoy our sex? Do you want anything more? I mean I can give you head right now if you'd-"

"Darling, it's ok" I stop his freight train of thoughts, "I love our sex, good lord I would have se with you all day if I could, and even though I hate to turn down head from you, it's ok. You satisfy me and go above and beyond every single time", I explain. "You promise?" Ethan asks, "On everything, but if you are more intrigued to give me more head I won't decline" I say, and get the response of a toothy smile and a deep kiss from Ethan.

A/N

Thank you so much for reading, truly. I have received some requests for more chapters so here I am lol, I am preparing for the next part of my life and I have been struggling a bit, and I found that writing (even this vulgar shit) has been something I can fall back onto for comfort. Thank you guys for being so amazing and interacting with these stories, you have made this a safe place that I can write in. Thank you guys so much! Love you all!

[theiceofangel]

Life after Grad

In the bed at 4:33am, it was a night full of thoughts. Full of what ifs, imaginations, and dreams. As a person who just recently graduated, there are a lot of things I ponder. Why no one told me it would be hard to deal with one's self while eveyone's expect you to be good at everything?

When I was still studying, I used to laugh at the elderly for telling me that it was better to study than work. I replied at my mind with "that's not true" why? Because I am struggling with my studies with nothing to look forward to except to get my diploma and finally land a job. Unlike with work or job, I may be struggling atleast I get to earn my own money.

That was when I graudated that I realized that studying is indeed much better. There were a lot of things to consider on finding a job. But no one told me that landing a job would be harder than studying itself. The every day and night I stressed about how I would be a good student to maintain a good grade to have a latin honor, all of it is now nothing for a fresh graduate like me. The competition of getting a job was war. There were a lot of people better than me, who probably deserve that job than me, and a lot of people who may be just like me trying to be the best version of theirselves.

I don't really know where this would go... I think that no matter how a person dear to me would say that we have our own pace and the right time would come for us, I can not stop to think that how would I be able to keep my own pace if I am just going circles without any signs of going forward. It was so easy to remind myself with that phrase but thinking about it, there would always be a pressure. Noting that on a household where I grew up, they were good at certain things and landed a good job... While me, I was still here contemplating things. Did I really chose the right course for me? What if I just study again but that would mean that I just wasted 4 years for a course that I grew to love and it would be nothing because I am good with none at all.

In the wee hours of morning, where everyone was getting ready to start their day, I am here at my bed wishing that I could also start my day just like everyone else. Having a purpose to do something would be great, I may not like it but atleast I got to distract myself and finally have a motivation to be somehow a better me than where I am currently at.

If I could only turn back time, I want to stay as a kid forever. I don't want to deal with adult things anymore.

[mythoughtsaretoodark]

I'm super all in my head today!! Every little thing is getting to me in the wrong way.

The dentist called my youngest by a shortened name that I have never let anyone call them EVER. So I asked the dentist if she would call them by their preferred name (which has nothing to do with the name I gave them at birth) the dental assistant was like there's nothing in the chart that said that to which I responded with "I put it on the paper work I filled out last night". We left there and I have been anxious that I was too snippy or too mean- I can't shake it.

Hubby was a bit grouchy this morning- my mind says it was bc of me (no it wasn't, I haven't done anything to make him grouchy).

I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and I'm not sure why. It's a feeling that something bad is going to happen or has happened.

Could be that I have been spending huge amounts of money (also been told this is a part of my mental illness), most of the stuff I have no choice (doctors and dentist, drivers ed, bills) but some of it is just because I wanted it (pool and deck stuff, new juice containers, things for the kids).

I'm super lonely emotionally, physically, and mentally.

I took some hot pictures of myself and sent them to hubby- told him to let me know which ones I can post on FetLife- no response so I'm going to add a few of my favorites- I am in need of some attention and my exhibitionist side wants to get out to play for a minute. I haven't been liking my self much for a while now so me wanting to share these feels like a step in the right direction.

I have always been super sexual, but for months now (until like 2 days ago) I've wanted nothing to do with sex- not even masterbation. So I was super horny and all worked up all day Tuesday (that's when I took the pictures) I was wet and throbbing all day, shared all the pictures with hubby (ones of me masterbating too) I got more of a rise from him this time than ever before. But he came home from work and ended up going out for the night. When he came home in the wee hours, he woke me up to have sex- you've been waiting for this all day haven't you?- which is 100% fine, but I was so sweaty and hot, none of it felt good, and I didn't orgasm. What the fuck is wrong with me?????

I need a female friend, a bestie, to share things with..... But here is where it gets kind of weird- I want more then just a best friend- I want a girlfriend- someone to give me all the little things I'm missing and craving and have been off and on for a long time.