#— t : isabella’s thoughts ‧༊*·˚

[equalscore]

1899 → OLEK & LING YI

— you won’t die. not today. i promise. 

[kyouka-supremacy]

The reason why Kouyou raised Chuuya well but failed with raising Kyouka is because while Chuuya was given a family where he never had one, Kyouka was taken away from a family she loved and that loved her back

[sseastar]

jacob bae and kanemoto yoshinori sit at the same lunch table

[klausinamarink]

The Munson Jinx

rating: T | cw: Eddie’s near-death experience, blood, mention of anxiety attack | tags: hurt/comfort, happy ending, getting together | wc: 885

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 10: First kiss

Eddie hates first kisses.

In his experience, kissing a stranger’s lips always goes wrong. You can ask Isabelle Thesault, the first and only girl he’d kissed who never spoke to him again after he threw up on her face in seventh grade and ruined her Barbie t-shirt. Or Riley Nicks, who immediately punched him in their freshman year. Or David Young, a drunk jock who threw up in Eddie’s mouth and ruined his appetite for two days. Or Mortimer Lee, who bit Eddie’s lower lip and tongue too hard. Or that one older guy at the Bloomington bar which gave Eddie an explosive anxiety attack. Or-

You get the gist.

Hence, first kisses have snuck into the Munson Doctrine. You shall not passionately make out with another man. Remember the Isabelle incident if you’re tempted.

That is not to say that Eddie still yearns for that kind of romantic connection. There’s really nothing more intimate than letting the barriers down and allow another person to come close and gently kiss you. But that’s all Eddie can do: imagine a perfect scenario where nothing happens and the Munson jinx doesn’t foil another kiss.

Then the Munson jinx seems to move on from let’s make Eddie’s every first kiss horrible to let’s turn Eddie’s life a literal nightmare where bone-breaking interdimensional wizards exist.

At least Steve Harrington’s in it this time.

To be honest, Eddie doesn’t have much to say about Steve. Sure, he thought the old King of Hawkins was a douche, but after seeing him try and help out with Eddie’s new life as a murder suspect and kill a demon bat with his bare hands-

To say that Steve is a nice guy might be an understatement.

But he squashes down the newborn puppy crush. He’s seen how Steve’s gaze lingers on Nancy recently, back on the boat and here as they walk through the Upside Down. He thinks about how lonely Steve had been a couple years back after the breakup. So Eddie tells Steve about going for that second chance and this time, Nancy Wheeler will stay.

Except while Eddie is talking, he notices that Steve’s just looking at him. His eyes are briefly unfocused, flickering twice to Eddie’s lips-

Oh no.

Eddie just stands there with wide eyes like an idiot, panicking internally, thinking back to Isabella and Riley and that Bloomington man as Steve starts to lean closer-

When a tremor sends them falling on their asses, Eddie’s thinking how lucky he is that this happened before Steve’s lips touched his.

They don’t talk about it. It’s been a blur of frantic panic and cold planning to kill Vecna once and for all that Eddie kind of forgets about the incident.

Until he lies bleeding on the frigid ground with Henderson weeping over him, only for Steve’s head to shove into Eddie’s blurry view.

The first thing he feels is Steve’s lips on his, breathing a lungful into his coppery mouth.

Immediately, Eddie jerks away. Stupid flashbacks of spoiled kisses flash before his eyes, which were way worse than his own life.

“Don’t move, idiot!” Steve shouts at him, hands pressing firmly against one of Eddie’s bite wounds on his side.

Eddie tries to say something back, but instead spits out a gross glob of blood and mucus and promptly blacks out.

—

“Any five’s?”

“Go fish.”

Eddie grumbles and drops the cards on his lap, “Now this is unfair. Taking advantage of a hospital patient like this.”

Steve gives an amused huff as he takes Eddie’s cards and reshuffles the deck. It’s been part of a weird routine once Eddie had woke up and slowly regained his motor muscles. Steve visits, they talk about whatever (mostly the kids or Hawkins gossip), play some cards, share a questionably tense staring contest, and Steve leaves.

This time, Steve breaks it and asks, “Are you still okay with me?”

Eddie blinks at him, fighting off exhaustion, “Hm, what?”

Steve just stares down at the cards. “You know that I tried to kiss you. Back at those woods.” He says with clipped words, almost like he’s trying to suck out any hint of emotions. “Just say you’re not comfortable with me and I’ll get out of your hair, man.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve, the man who tried to kiss him once and then again just to save Eddie’s life even as he nearly choked on his own blood. Steve, who does everything for his kids and friends, including Eddie who’s still too new to this shit.

Steve, who sees something desirable in Eddie and wanted to kiss him.

Before Steve can get up, Eddie shifts closer and cups the man’s face with his palm. He closes his eyes, barely catching Steve’s startled look, and leans in.

For a moment, nothing happens. It’s good because nothing is going to be ruined. But then it’s bad because Eddie can feel how stock-still Steve is. However, just as he starts to pull away, Steve seems to spark to life and his lips chases after him. His hand gently grips onto Eddie’s bicep, making Eddie smile at the contact.

As they safely make out in the sterile hospital room without either of them throwing up or freaking out, Eddie mentally gives the finger to the Munson jinx.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Life Is But A...

Title: Life Is But A... | AO3 | Rating: T

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie is ready to tell his daughter about you...

Warnings: Kissing. Mild-spicy thoughts. Mention of death and medical issues (not explicit).

You’re flipping through the pages of a Little Mermaid coloring book – Cranberry Red crayon at the ready – when you feel a strong hand grip your calf.

“Got a minute?” Frankie’s deep voice rumbles through the air.  

You glance at his daughter and quirk a brow, “You’ll have to ask Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella. We are very busy, after all.”

The three-year-old little girl, with beguiling brown eyes just like her father’s, looks up from her own artistic endeavors. She cranes her neck, gaze focused on her dad, and seems to consider his request. A purple and pink bejeweled crown perched precariously on her head, lips pursed, and brow furrowed – she’s clearly thinking hard, but it’s not until Frankie says the magic words, “pretty please,” that she finally acquiesces.

It takes only a few moments to scoot the basket of shared crayons closer to her and relinquish your own, much smaller tiara and white, feather boa. You roll your old bones back into order, elbow bumping up against the plastic cup and saucer from an earlier tea party as you move from lying on your stomach to sitting up.

Frankie’s knees pop when he stands, and as you look up at him, your mind immediately switches from coloring inside the lines of Sebastian, Flounder, and Scuttle, to appreciating the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever had the pleasure of digging your nails into. He offers you a small, knowing smile and a hand up, and you admire the strength and the flex of his bicep, your heart stuttering a bit at the way his eyes sweep over you in return. Frankie makes a motion for you to follow him, and you do just that, tiptoeing over toys and around laundry baskets. His long strides eat up the length of the hallway to the master bedroom in no time, and you’re right on his heels, stepping over the threshold when he gestures for you to enter first.

The door is left slightly ajar, allowing you both to hear his daughter and the movie playing in the background. Woody has just called Buzz “a child’s plaything” when he reaches for your hand, guiding you forward until you’re seated at the foot of the neatly made bed.

“Wanna talk to you about something,” Frankie starts.

Spine straightening, you clasp your hands in your lap, “Alright. I’m all ears.”

There’s a discernible shift – the air suddenly a little tense, a bit more serious. Lips pressed into a hard line and eyes dark with an as-yet-to-be-revealed purpose; he paces the small space between the dresser and closet like a caged lion, and you consider asking him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“I want to tell her about us,” he says, tone low and certain. “If that’s okay with you?”

Your body is engulfed with a combination of relief and excitement, as well as a hefty dose of nervousness.

You’d agreed from the start that neither one of you wanted to confuse Isabella or cause her any pain. And that pact you and Frankie made was exactly why his daughter – who is currently belting her ABCs with all the power her toddler's lungs possess – still believes you’re simply “a friend of Daddy’s from work.”

In the beginning, it had been a casual thing; more about sex (great, mind-blowing sex) and adult conversation than anything else, really. But as with all things tended to with passion and kindness, it grew, gradually morphing into something more – something significant. You knew about Isabella from day one, met her officially at month three, and then, just like that, Frankie and you were no longer simply dating.

A couple became a trio, and you were given a drawer and space in the medicine cabinet. You had a car seat installed in your sedan and your apartment was no longer a “bachelorette pad,” but a kid-friendly spot for the occasional weekend getaway. Purse staples, like lipstick, gum, and perfume, were replaced with a toddler-friendly gamepad, snacks, and sanitizing wipes. There are boxes of goldfish and teddy grahams in your cabinets, and string cheese and apple slices in the fridge.

You’ve been part of the bedtime routine – helping Isabella get into her pajamas and reading her a story before turning on the nightlight. You know she hides her peas in her potatoes and that she’s allergic to penicillin. You’ve noticed she prefers to wash her hands by herself and favors the giraffe toothbrush over the whale one.

You’ve seen Frankie handle her meltdowns and marvel at her milestones. You know about the handmade bracelet beneath the band of his watch, and that his iPod has more specialized playlists and audiobooks for her than it does for him. You’ve seen the preschool brochures and are aware of the college fund her honorary uncles, Ben, Will, and Santi, have started for her.

You also know about Isabella’s mother – have listened with a heavy heart as Frankie told you stories about their complicated past and too short-lived time together. You know the circumstances that took her away from them – the unknown, undiagnosed cardiomyopathy that snatched a mother from a five-month-old baby girl who needed her. You have smiled, lash line brimming – honored to be asked to help decorate a frame for a photograph of the very woman with whom Isabella shares the same chin and nose. It’s buttercup yellow, decorated with assorted beads and shells, and it has held a place of prominence on the nightstand ever since she got her big girl bed, which you and Frankie built together.

Isabella refers to you by your call sign, Hawk, and will “kree” excitedly whenever she runs to greet you. To her, you’re a playmate. A grown-up friend. You fix broken helicopters and sometimes sneak her cookies before dinner. You show up for movies on weekends and occasionally pick her up from daycare if Daddy is running late. The two of you work as a team to beat Frankie at Don’t Break the Ice and Go Fish. Bumper bowling and band-aids. Flus and fairy tales. Pinkie promises and potty training.  

“What’re you thinking?” Frankie asks.

There’s a hole in the knee of your jeans, and you tug at a loose thread until it begins to unravel. “Is she ready?” you wonder, winding the string around your finger and pulling hard until it comes free. “Are you? Really?”

Frankie reaches for your hands. Yanks you to your feet. You meet his gaze, finding an unwavering sureness that somehow steadies you and makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight. Eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth quirked, he switches his hold to your upper arms, giving you a squeeze and little shake for good measure. It’s all silent, affectionate admonishment for what he clearly thinks are very silly questions, but still, he follows up with a tender kiss to your forehead and softly spoken assurances.   

“I’ve been working up the courage to ask you since her birthday two months ago,” he admits. “And Isabella is braver than you, me, and her uncles combined.”

It’s an assertion you can’t argue with because it’s so very, very true, so, you don’t. You just smile and nod, which prompts a hug that brings forth tears, and then, Frankie’s kissing you – gentle pecks on your damp cheeks that morph into a lip lock full of relief and love and unrestrained happiness.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of chores and games and nap time that’s more about reading books and cuddling than actual napping. Frankie oversees the grill, while you and Isabella, sous chef extraordinaire, put a tray of fries and tater tots in the oven and set the table. Halfway through dinner is when he broaches the subject, reaching for your hand and holding it tightly while he tries to explain in toddler-friendly, simple terms that you’re more than a friend.

“You understand what I’m trying to say, querida?” Frankie finally asks.

“Daddy loves Hawk,” she chirps, swiping her index finger through a glob of ketchup and bringing it to her mouth. “Duh.”

You let out a burst of surprised laughter, and that, combined with Frankie’s admonishingly bemused, “Oh, mija!” makes Isabella kick her feet and giggle wildly. She dances in her booster seat, and as she worries a fry between her teeth and pulls the cheese off her bite-sized cuts of burger, you can’t help but smile because you adore her.

A bite of food. A sip of milk. After she’s declared she’s full and can eat no more, it’s bathtime. You do the dishes while Frankie has the fun, undoubtedly overindulging on the bubbles and toys. Row, Row, Row Your Boat echoes off the bathroom walls, but in this version, life isn’t a dream – it’s a bowl of spaghetti. You join back up with them in time to see the exciting saga that is hair combing and teeth brushing before the three of you head into Isabella’s room to get her dressed for bed.

“Daddy read,” she insists as her head pops through the shirt collar of her moon and star-themed pajamas. “Hawk tuck.”  

Two books, a potty break, and another book. Then, she’s conked out, with her favorite stuffed moose in her arms and owl-patterned sheets up around her shoulders. Frankie asks you to stay the night, and you say yes, the two of you spending what remains of your evening on the couch, chatting about everything and nothing, silently agreeing that the “what now” conversation can wait for another day. By the time you climb into bed beside him, your heart is full to bursting and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Daddy loves Hawk,” he mimics with a snort. “That kid… Already actin’ like she knows everything.”

“Can’t imagine where she gets that from,” you quip.  

He grunts, mockingly indignant, and waits for you to stretch out beside him before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. Nosing your hairline, he takes in a deep breath before exhaling a contented hum into the quiet, comfortable space between the two of you. You adjust your pillow, and when Frankie kisses you, it’s soft and sleepy, his mouth and bristly moustache brushing languidly against your lips and chin.

“I do love you,” Frankie rasps.

“I know,” you sigh. “And I love you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “You’re my bowl of spaghetti.”  

For a moment, he looks at you – all tired-eyes and quizzical brow – but it comes to him eventually, and when you start lightly humming the song, he groans low in his throat and gives your ass a playful swat.

“You know what?” he challenges.

You jut your chin, “What?”

A pause. A sigh. Another kiss – one that sizzles and lingers until he slowly pulls away.

“You’re my bowl of spaghetti, too.”

[nurse-sainz]

GIRL DAD NANDO (another lol) WHO'S DAUGHTER WANTS TO RIDE HORSES

Fic header by @kika-writes thank you love <3

I genuinely LOVE writing all the grid as horse girl dads, PLEASE send more!

When his daughter, Isabella, asked him if she could ride, he had to be honest with himself; he thought she meant karting at first. But when she laughed at him and told him, “No, Papa! Ponies! Can I pretty please learn to ride?” he couldn’t say no to her.

He began researching horse riding the very next day and learned everything he could. Fernando researched the closest stables, which ones had the best reviews, and which had the best ponies, because his daughter only deserved the best. He got her enrolled at a riding school the very next morning, and she had her first lesson that weekend.

He watched her smile grow as the stable hand fitted her with a helmet and boots. His heart was filled with joy and terror as he watched her climb on top of the huge horse they had tacked up and ready for her.

“Papa! Look!” she was giddy with joy as the instructor led her around the riding ring on the lead rope.

If you had asked him a few years ago if he thought he’d be spending his weekends at a riding stable instead of a karting ring, he’d have laughed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a few weeks, he knew there was no stopping her from continuing riding. The instructor told him she had natural talent, and she had learned how to ride around by herself and had even begun trotting by herself.

He knew Lando’s sister rode horses, and although he didn’t interact much with the young driver, he sent him a message to see if he could help with getting his daughter her very own helmet and boots. He had to convince Lando that, no, his daughter didn’t need his design on her helmet to match his sister Flo’s, but he did set her up with a shiny pink helmet and the best boots he could find.

After a few more months of riding and a conversation with his girlfriend, her mother, he had a surprise in store: her very own horse. He didn’t want to rush into it and again had Lando and Flo’s help, as well as some help from the instructor they’d all gotten to know over her time at the stables. After a month of searching, he narrowed it down to a few choices and sat down over breakfast with her.

“Bebita,” he kissed her head as he sat down at the breakfast table while she ate her cereal.

“Good morning, Papa,” she greeted back.

“So,” he began. He couldn’t help but smile as he got ready to tell her the news.

“You’re being silly, Papa,” she giggled.

“You’ve been enjoying horse riding?”

She nodded vigorously, “Yes! My instructor said I have been doing really well, and she said we can start learning to canter!”

He swallowed anxiously but kept up his smile, now knowing how his parents and girlfriend felt every time he drove around the track at 180 mph. “That’s wonderful news!” He matched her excitement. “So, bebita, Mommy and I have been thinking and were wondering if you would maybe like your own horse?”

The little girl couldn’t contain her excitement as she practically threw her chair back and launched herself into his arms. “Seriously, Papa? My own horse?”

He laughed as he held her tight, unable to stop smiling as she practically buzzed with excitement. “We can go and see the horses today, and if you like one, yes, bebita, you can get your very own horse!”

His little girl couldn’t contain her excitement as she practically shoveled down the rest of her cereal and sprinted upstairs to get ready.

When they pulled up to the ranch, a stable hand greeted them. Isabella’s eyes widened as she saw the row of stalls with horses lining either side. “We’ve got a variety of ponies and horses perfect for beginners and more experienced riders,” the stable hand showing them around explained, “Feel free to take your time and see if you feel a connection with any.”

Fernando watched with his wife as Isabella let go of his hand and went from stable to stable, stopping to talk to the horses and stroking their noses as they nuzzled into her.

After seeing a few of the ponies, she got to the next stall and stood still, her little mouth opened as she eyed the majestic black horse before her. He was larger than any of the others they’d seen with his glossy black coat and proud stance. His dark eyes stared at her with curiosity. She read the name on the stall: Diablo.

She held out her hand, and the horse gave it a sniff before letting out a snort and rubbing into her hand. Fernando could already see she’d fallen in love as the horse nuzzled into her side and bumped her hand looking for more affection.

As he came to her side, suddenly the horse looked even bigger; then he saw the nameplate on the stable door. “What about the little black and white pony we saw earlier, hmm? He looked very nice,” he tried to coax her into the kinder looking and smaller pony they’d seen.

“No, Papa. This is the one! He looks just like the one on the Ferrari cars!” She bounced excitedly.

His girlfriend squeezed his hand gently, grounding him. “If that’s the one she wants…”

With smiles and pleading from both his girls, he couldn’t say no.

The stable hand came over and smiled as he watched the interaction between Diablo and the small girl. The size difference was quite comical. “Don’t let his name fool you,” he said to Fernando as he saw the concern on his face, “He really is a wonderful horse. He’s gentle and well-trained.”

He looked at his daughter, who was happily talking with Diablo and stroking his nose. “I guess we’ll take Diablo.”

They completed the paperwork and made the arrangements for Diablo’s care and transfer to the stables where she rode. The bond between them was already evident, and it warmed his heart more than anything else to see his little girl happy.

[fanficimagery]

Be Somebody to Someone 1/4

You've lived your entire life in Forks, Washington without anyone paying too close attention to you. Then you befriend the new girl and suddenly you find yourself friends with the unexpected. And maybe even something more if a certain shapeshifter stops denying the Fates.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Words: 5.1K Author's Note: If this receives 100 notes, I will post part two as soon as possible instead of waiting for next Friday. Happy reading! Just so you know, reader indulges in edibles. I've never been high a day in my life, so everything in here is purely made up. Also, it's been a while since I've seen Twilight, so I forgot if Edward was "friendly" with Bella before Tyler nearly mowed her down.

For as long as you could remember, life in Forks was dull. The only time anything interesting happened was when the Cullens moved in from Alaska, but even at that they merely held your attention for a full day before you realized they preferred to keep to themselves. They were quite intimidating as well, but you learned to keep to yourself and focus elsewhere.

As the days turned into weeks, and the rumor mill ran rampant, the female population of Forks High seemed to become infatuated with the silent Cullen and Hale boys. It even got to the point that girls would ask you to switch seats so they could sit next to either Edward or Emmett, but you merely stared at them as you opened your textbook and sunk further into your seat. Unbeknownst to you at the time, that earned you an ounce of respect from the private siblings, even more so when students would try to rope you in to talking about the family. Since you sat next to a couple of them in class, everyone wanted to know if you learned anything about them, but you'd merely plug your ears with earbuds to tune them out.

The Cullen/Hale siblings ended up being quite the enigma- never speaking with anyone unless they were a teacher, but oftentimes you'd find class notes tucked under your textbook you'd never written, or answers whispered to you when the teacher caught you dozing in class. Alice and Emmett were the main culprits who found it in themselves to help you, also redirecting you in the hallways when you weren't paying attention to help you avoid knocking yourself on your ass. And every time that happened, you merely grinned or nodded to show your thanks, and then were on your way.

For a whole school year, you were the only student that part of the family acknowledged.

But then came Isabella Swan.

Sitting in the back of the classroom in Biology, you are able to see the way Edward reacts to the new girl. You also see the aftermath and how hurt she is.

"Hey Goose?" You dopily grin at her as you walk up to the desk she is still sitting at, slowly packing up her belongings. "Don't sweat Cullen's reaction. He and his siblings are- they're just- they tend to keep to themselves."

"Goose?" She frowns at you.

"Yeah. Your name's a bird or something, right?"

Her lips twitch in amusement. "It's Swan."

"Same thing." You shrug. "Anyway, I just thought I'd drop by and mention that thing about Edward. He and his siblings are all intimidating, but it's just who they are. Don't take it personally."

"T-Thanks."

As you're walking away, you hear Mike Newton ask, "What did stoner girl want?"

"Stoner girl?"

"YN YLN. That girl is always high, but no one's ever caught her smoking."

You chuckle to yourself, groaning a moment later when you hit your shoulder on the door jamb on the way out.

A week passes by before Bella Swan seeks you out, pulling out a chair across from you during lunch. You glance up from your tray of food, smile, and go back to ripping apart your chicken tenders before popping a piece into your mouth.

"Hey, Goose."

She huffs a laugh as she takes a seat, setting her tray down. "YN."

"How is Forks treating you?"

"It's okay." She takes a piece of cucumber off the top of her salad and pops it into her mouth. "Not a fan of the dreary weather, but I'll get used to it."

"Are you kidding me?" Your eyes widen dramatically, causing the pale girl to chuckle. "The weather is the best part! It's nap weather. It's my favorite."

Bella can only shake her head in amusement before trying to subtly glance over her shoulder at another table. The Cullen/Hale table, to be precise. "Hey YN, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

As Bella faces you yet again, she says, "It's just- out of everyone, you're most likely to give me some semblance of the truth rather than rumors you've heard."

"Okay," you drawl.

"Have you noticed anything weird about Edward and his family?"

You blink at her before glancing at the family in question, watching briefly as they pick at the food on their trays. "Yeah, I guess." You shrug. "I took note of some odd quirks and gene traits, but then I dropped it. To them, we might be odd so.." you trail off, ending the subject then and there. Bella flashes a tight smile in acceptance.

The two of you continue to make idle chit chat as you eat and she tells you a bit about living with her mom before deciding to move in with her dad. Then when asked why she's not sitting with her usual band of merry peers, you find out that Lauren and Mike are still as annoying as ever.

"Yeah, I never really cared for them," you tell her. "Angela is the only decent one out of the bunch. Jessica has her moments, but when her insecurities get in the way, she's just as bad as Lauren."

"You used to hang out with them?" Bella asks.

"In Junior High and the first year of high school," you admit. "Now.. now I'm just on my lonesome and perfectly content." Reaching into your backpack that had been sitting on the chair next to you, you pull out a baggie of gummy bears. "Want one?" You ask your apparent new friend.

As Bella reaches across the table, Edward Cullen pops up out of nowhere and takes a seat next to her. "Don't. It's cannabis."

Bella's hand freezes and you playfully wiggle your eyebrows. "Don't be scared, Goose. You'd have to eat a few before feeling any of the good effects." As she pulls her empty hand back, you shrug and pop a gummy into your own mouth before putting the baggie away. "Way to mess with a girl's fun, Cullen." He flashes you a grin which you return as you settle back in your seat. "So what brings you and your bronzed, perfectly coiffed hero hair to our table?"

"Can't I just want the company of two of my peers?"

"We've been going to school together for how long?" You ask, arching an eyebrow at him. "We both know the reason you're here and it's not for my company." His grin doesn't falter and Bella blushes while suddenly finding her food tray very interesting. You chuckle as you stand, picking up your backpack and pulling on the straps. Then collecting your tray in hand, you grin at them. "See you guys later."

"Don't eat anymore gummies!" Bella calls out.

You wave off her concern, knowing your limit perfectly well and try to figure out what snack you want from the vending machine so you could snack in class later on.

You continue on with your day in a relaxed haze, perfectly content to ignore anyone and everyone as you complete your school work and doze off at your desk. Though you tended to spend your school days a little high, none of it ever affected your grades. In fact, it helped you zone out your distracting peers and focus on your work.

Most of the time, at least.

At the end of the school day, you zip up your jacket and pull a beanie down over your head as you step outside. You're used to the walk home by now, but there were some days where you didn't quite enjoy it so much. Today, for example, was one of those days.

So as you near Bella's monstrous red truck, you're grateful when she waves you over and asks, "Are you walking home?"

"Yeah. My parents don't get off of work for a few more hours and all my siblings have lives of their own." You shrug. "I'm used to it."

"Oh." Bella glances around before saying, "If you want, I can give you a ride."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. It wouldn't be a problem."

"Then yeah." You smile at her. "Thanks, Goose."

"Don't mention it." She chuckles. "You can put your stuff in the passenger seat if you want."

Taking her up on your offer, you walk around her truck until you're at the passenger door. You open it up and set your bag on the seat, taking your time in opening it up to retrieve the bag of gummies once more before shoving the baggie into your jacket pocket. Then just as you slam the truck door shut, a blaring horn has your head snapping up.

Tyler Crowley's van is sliding on black ice right towards Bella's truck- towards Bella herself- and you can only watch on in horror as the events play out. Bella is frozen and the most you can do is stumble away from the truck right as the van hits where your friend was standing. But the strangest thing happens- a small gap being left exactly where Bella was standing while the rest of the van continues to slide before hitting the back of Bella's truck and coming to a stop.

Everyone's suddenly screaming and rushing towards the accident, and you startle when Edward pops up from the gap where Bella was last seen. He hops into the bed of her truck before hopping down on your side and you gulp, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Either I'm really stoned or you're stupidly fast."

Edward glances at you and you're surprised to see dark eyes instead of their usual golden. But again, you push that thought out of your head. The weirdness of the Cullens/Hales was not your business. "Are you okay?" He asks, voice rough.

"Yep. Not a scratch." You wave him off.

"Good. Make sure Bella gets to the hospital."

"Duh."

The school parking lot is complete chaos as everyone makes sure Bella and Tyler are okay. Then the sirens of an ambulance and a fire truck pierce the air, and then everyone's working on extracting both teens as safely as possible.

"I'm fine. I'm okay," Bella continuously tells the EMT's. "I don't need to go to the hospital."

But none of the adults pay her any attention and load her up in the back of the EMS.

By some miracle you get them to let you go with her and you keep her company on the way to the hospital. You manage to join her in the little cubicle they leave her in, sitting on the bed behind her as she anxiously awaits the arrival of her father and doctor.

"Stop jiggling your leg, Goose. I'm trying to nap back here."

Bella huffs a laugh. "Sorry. I just know my dad's going to make a big deal about this."

"Dude!" You exclaim, chuckling. "You were almost squashed like a bug. If I were you, I'd be downing gummy after gummy. And speaking of, I got some in my pocket if you wanna chill."

"No. I don't need to be high right now."

"Really? I'm seriously debating about popping another one or two, but I think I need a level head for when your dad gets here."

Bella grins over her shoulder at you, shaking her head. Then just as you start to relax once more, the curtain surrounding the bed is yanked open. You yelp, Bella snorts, and the Chief of Police freezes as he glances between you and his daughter.

"Bella, I am so sorry!" Tyler says once he has sight of the girl.

"You're damn right you're sorry," the Chief says. "You're lucky I don't take your license for this."

"Dad, it's fine. It was an accident."

"You could have died, Bells!"

"I didn't. I'm fine."

"I am so sorry, Mr. Swan, I-" the Chief suddenly pulls the curtain closed, cutting off Tyler.

Bella groans and you snort, and then the Chief is staring right at you. Your smile suddenly fades and you climb out of the bed. "Right. I should- I'm just gonna go and-"

Bella smiles as you shrink under her dad's gaze. "Thanks for keeping me company, YN."

"Don't mention it, Goose." Before you can exit the curtain-offed room, you say, "My bag's still in your truck. Mind if I just collect it Monday morning at school?"

"Yeah. That's fine."

You offer her one last smile before exiting the back of the emergency room, making your way down the clean and crisp hallways. As you turn one corner, you come across Edward and his sister Rosalie having a heated conversation.

Your eyes widen. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Edward says. "I needed to speak with you anyway."

Rosalie casts you a wary glance before walking off, leaving you alone with her brother. Silence briefly lingers and you reach into your pocket, pulling out your edibles. "Gummy?"

"No."

You shrug and put them away. "So what's up?"

"I need to know what you think you saw back at the school."

You arch an eyebrow at him, slowly grinning, and he fidgets under your stare. "Look, man, whatever that was back there.. it's none of my business. As far as I'm concerned, I'm too stoned to be a liable witness. Bella's alive and that's all that matters."

"Seriously?" Edward frowns. "You're not curious?"

"Of course I'm curious," you muse, "but secrets are secrets for a reason. We're not friends, not really, and that's fine. But I do have a favor to ask."

Edward, who'd seem to relax at your words, suddenly tenses all over again. "What?"

"Can you give me a ride home? It's a long walk from here and I would rather get home before my parents do."

"Yeah. That's fine."

"Thanks." Walking side by side with Edward Cullen, you can't help but ask, "So how much trouble do you think I'll get into if I attempt to get the Chief's daughter high as a kite?"

He smirks as he keeps his face forward. "You really need to stop trying to get everyone high."

Over the next few days, you watch as Edward and Bella dance around each other. Some days they're happy and conversing with one another, and other days Edward is avoiding Bella and she wants to know why. She also hasn't let Edward's inhumane speed go, and every time she tries to drag you into that conversation you quickly remind her you were stoned and didn't know what it was that you saw.

And though you told Edward that his secret was a secret for a reason, and that you didn't care to find out what it was all about, he and his siblings seem to be more relaxed around you. Emmett especially took great joy in making you realize just how excellent their hearing was. And while you found it amusing and only added to your curiosity, you never voiced it. Nor did you speak about it with anyone else, something that the Cullen/Hale siblings came to appreciate.

Bella and Edward then became official, and all was good.

Rosalie obviously didn't like the girl, but the rest of the family seemed to take to her perfectly fine. The two of them were the talk of the school, and eventually you were too. They understood why the siblings spoke and interacted with Bella, but you were the odd one out. As far as everyone knew, all the siblings were dating each other, or Bella as in Edward's case, so no one knew why they accepted you into their exclusive little circle. Not even you knew, but you shrugged and accepted their appearances and conversations at your lunch table every now and then.

For a while, everything appears normal.

Until it isn't.

Bella and Edward had been the couple no one saw coming, but eventually came to accept, and then out of the blue the entire family just up and left. Bella was an absolute mess and you didn't think you were equipped to deal with the aftermath.

For months, Bella couldn't seem to leave her house and you weren't sure what to do. But you tried and tried to revive Bella 'Goose' Swan, and in doing so is what made Charlie Swan absolutely adore you.

Eventually there's a threat from Charlie that gives Bella a kick in the ass, and then she's calling you up to start hanging out again. You agree since she was the one with the vehicle and more often than not you found yourself in La Push to visit her friend Jacob Black.

After months of heartbreak, Jacob Black seems to bring your friend back to life a bit and you accept the weirdly obsessed boy into the fold. Especially when he accepts a gummy before Bella can warn him and the two of you spend the day scarfing down anything and everything edible in Bella's house.

You meet a few of Jacob's other friends, Quil and Embry, and both boys are immediately taken with you. Bella thinks it's absolutely hilarious, but you merely wave her off. It was adorable to watch them flirt.

But eventually, something else happens that you're not really privy to and Jacob seems to abandon both you and Bella. His words hit Bella a lot harder, especially after Edward's sudden disappearance, but you merely sigh when he gives you the it's not you, it's me speech and then wish him well with whatever he's obviously going through.

This time, however, Bella isn't willing to let things go or even fall back into a depression. Now- now she's pissed and she's determined to figure out what's going on with Jacob.

So here you sit in the passenger seat to Bella's truck, mind already in a haze after having popped two edibles earlier that morning thinking you were going to have a relaxing day.

Bella's truck skids to a stop in front of Jacob's house and she jumps out almost as soon as the engine is cut. You sigh and slowly climb out, following her to the door where she's speaking to a man in a wheelchair. You wince as she pushes past him, stopping and standing a few feet in front of the house as the man glances at you.

"Hi," you tell him. "I'm really sorry about Goose. That girl is the most stubborn person I've ever met and I'm too tired to be scolding her."

"It's alright, dear. I'm Billy, Jacob's father."

"YN," you introduce yourself. Before anything else can be said, sounds of laughter and whistles pierce the air. You glance in the direction of the noise, spotting four shirtless males- one of whom you recognize; Embry- who are walking out of the woods. They're playfully roughhousing with one another and then Bella's suddenly flying out of the house and marching in their direction. "Aw shit."

"Stop her," Billy urges.

"Goose, come on. Don't do this," you say as you chase after her.

"What did you do?" You hear her yell, advancing on three of the snickering boys. When they spot Bella, their amusement slowly vanishes. "What did you do?!" She asks again as she shoves one of them.

"Hey!" A man yells back, putting himself between Bella and the three boys as one leans towards her.

"What did you do to him?" She asks again.

"Goose," you sigh, shaking your head. You catch Embry's gaze and he grins at you, a grin which you return. "Come on, man. Let's just go." You reach for her arm, only for her to yank out of your grip.

"Easy," the one in charge says again, glancing between the two of you.

"He didn't want this!" She says.

One of the boys pushes up behind the one in charge, grin malicious. "What did we do? What did he do? What'd he tell you?"

"Both of you calm down," the mediator says. The one guy trying to get at Bella steps around his friend, ending up practically chest to chest with her.

"Nothing. He tells me nothing because he's scared of you."

The three boys start to chuckle and you step back with a groan when you see Bella rear her arm back. She punches the main culprit antagonizing her across the face and he whips his face back towards her, the seething anger now very much obvious.

"Paul, calm down!"

"Too late now," one of the boys muses.

Rolling your eyes, you step aside until you're by the only other person you know. "You're such an idiot, Goose."

"Bella, get back!"

The one they called Paul starts to huff and puff, his body pretty much vibrating in his anger. Then he starts to growl and your brow furrows in confusion, and then he is literally exploding out of his clothes and skin as he turns into a giant ferocious wolf.

Startled, you trip on your own two feet as you try to step back again, and fall on your butt.

"Bella! YN!" At the shout, you see Jacob running out of his house.

Bella, who had also fallen onto her butt, scrambles back up and starts to run back towards the house. "Run! Jake, run!"

Jacob jumps, exploding into a wolf as well. Your eyes widen, but you end up snorting as the wolves attack one another before disappearing into the woods.

"Survival 101 taught that girl nothing," you mumble when the drama is over with. Hearing a snort, you glance up to see Embry offering you a hand up. You take it. "Everyone knows you don't run from a predator. That only heightens their urge to give into the chase."

"You're taking this oddly well," the man in charge says.

Clearing your jeans and hands of any debris, you lazily smile at the man. "YN YLN. And I'm really high right now so the only urge I have is the urge to pet the giant doggo."

The three remaining males chuckle. "Sam Uley. Alpha," the one who had been in charge says.

"Cool."

Sam can only shake his head and then sighs when he stares at a dumbstruck Bella. "Boys, get the girls to Emily's. I'll track down Jacob and Paul, and meet you there."

As soon as Sam races off to go find the others, Embry introduces you to Jared. He's happy to meet you, especially your laid back attitude towards everything you've just witnessed. Embry then collects Bella and leads her back towards her truck, letting you and her jump into the cab while he offers to drive to Emily's. Then as soon as Jared jumps into the bed of the truck, you're off.

The wooden house Embry parks in front of isn't that far off from the beach and surrounded by the woods. It's small and quaint and a house you could see yourself living in, especially if it were close to the beach.

Bella mentions checking on Jacob, but Embry tells her that he'll be fine. He and Jared then quickly start betting about who'll be injured- either Paul or Jacob- and then Jared's laughing as he hops up the porch.

"Hey, about Emily," Embry suddenly says, "don't stare. It bugs Sam."

"Why would we stare?" Bella asks, but Embry merely smiles before hopping up the porch and inside the house.

When Bella hesitates, you sigh and sling an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. You made your bed, now it's time to lie in it. Let's go."

As you and Bella make your way inside the house, Jared and Embry are already seated at a table. There's a woman by a bar counter with her back towards you and when she turns, she hesitates. And while the three of you are staring at one another, you quickly realize why Embry said not to stare.

The woman has scars down the right side of her face, from her hairline down to her chin. "Who's this?"

You smile at her.

"Bella Swan and YN YLN," Embry says.

"I'm YN. She's Bella," you say.

The woman- Emily- smiles at you before setting her gaze on Bella. "So you're the vampire girl." She turns to continue plating a platter of muffins.

You tense and glance at Bella. "Vampire?"

Your friend fidgets nervously before stepping out from under your arm, heading towards the table. You arch an eyebrow at her and head towards the table as well. "So you're the wolf girl," Bella says instead.

Emily chuckles. "I guess so." She picks up the platter of muffins and takes them to the table. "Well I'm engaged to one."

"No way!" You exclaim. "The sex must be phenomenal."

Embry chokes on the muffin he'd just bitten into and Jared freezes as he's reaching for his own. Emily's eyes widen, though you can see the amusement dancing in her expression, and Bella is beet red. "YN! You can't say stuff like that."

"What? We're all adults." You glance at Jared and Embry. "Well, mostly."

Emily finally laughs and the boys relax, her hand shooting out to catch Jared's wrist as he finally takes hold of a muffin. "Save some for your brothers." She then leans back to shove both boys by their shoulders. "And ladies first." Emily then glances at you and Bella again. "Muffin?"

"Don't mind if I do." You step forward to take a seat at the table, reaching for a muffin to happily bite into.

Bella takes a little bit longer to accept, and when she does she merely picks at hers as she continues to stand.

"Leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam's gag order," Emily says.

"He.. didn't say anything to me." Bella fidgets.

"That's a wolf thing," Embry explains. "Alpha's orders. You gotta obey whether you want to or not. Oh and check it out- we can hear each other's thoughts."

"Would you shut up," Jared tells Embry, before looking at you and Bella. "These are trade secrets, dammit! These chicks run with vampires."

You frown. "What?"

"You can't really run with vampires," Bella says. "Because they're fast."

"Yeah? Well we're faster. Freaked out yet?"

"You're not the first monsters I met."

"Hold the fuck on," you finally say. "Vampires are real? Who are the vampires?!"

Embry, Jared and Emily go quiet, and all eyes dart to Bella. You turn around in your seat to look up at your friend. "You, uh, you never wanted to know," she mumbles.

It takes a second for her words to sink in and your mind to catch up, and then when you connect the dots, you bark out a laugh. "Edward and his family? Seriously?!"

"Jake's right. You girls are good with weird." Sam walks in, grinning as he makes a beeline for Emily. When she's in his arms, they share a chaste kiss before he starts to press kisses all over her scars.

"D'aww. Cute," you utter. And then when all gazes are on you, you shrug and get back on topic. "To be fair, I never knew I was associating with vampires, so you can't hold that against me. I just knew the family was odd, but I didn't want to know their secret because I like a mostly drama-free life."

"Yet you showed up with Bella to confront Jacob?" Embry asks.

"I'm easily manipulated when I'm under the influence," you say. Then looking back at Bella, you smirk. "So you were bangin' Nosferatu, huh? That must've been fun."

"W-We didn't!" She stammers as the group laughs.

"No?" You frown. "Not even once?" Bella shakes her head. "How are we even friends? If I was dating a vampire or a werewolf, I'd have slipped between the sheets with them immediately," you admit. "You know, for science."

"Well when you put it that way.."

"No." You immediately shoot Jared down which makes Embry explode with laughter. Even Sam and Emily smile at Jared's put out expression.

The screen door opening catches everyone's attention, and Paul and Jacob step inside in the best of moods. Jacob stays by the door and you situate yourself correctly in your seat once more, not paying attention as the one they called Paul pulls out the chair next to you. You do, however, hear him apologize to Bella before she walks off towards Jacob.

"Hey Paul, this is YN," Embry says. "Met her a while back. She's cool."

You turn to Paul just as he turns towards you, gazes clashing. You feel your breath hitch as Paul freezes, eyes subtly widening before his expression goes slack. You offer him a shaky smile. "H-Hey." You break the stare, only to find everyone else staring at you in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam immediately blurts.

You narrow your eyes at the man before shrugging and take a bite out of your muffin once more. Schooling your features into indifference, Paul suddenly pushes away from the table and marches outside.

"Don't worry about him," Embry says, watching his friend go. "That's just the way Paul is."

"He's a real charmer, huh?" You nervously chuckle. Then attempting to put the snub out of your mind, you say, "Emily, I'm sorry but I'm pretty sure you're gonna have an intruder every weekend from now on."

"An intruder?" She frowns.

"Yeah. Me." You take another bite of the muffin and groan. "These are so good."

Slowly, but surely the group all chuckle..

"Are you sure it's just not the munchies talking?" Embry teases.

"Could be." You shrug. "But I'm willing to continue testing that theory out if it means I get all the baked goods."

"Well I'm here everyday," Emily tells you. "I wouldn't mind the company."

"Yes! We need to exchange numbers so when I find a ride, I'll call to make sure it's alright to come over."

Emily smiles and immediately gets up to grab a pen and a pad of paper. Sam watches fondly as Emily writes down her number before ripping the paper and giving it to you. You accept it before taking the pad for yourself to write your own number and then pass it to her so she'll have your number as well.

The screen door creaks open and you glance over at it to see Bella. "Hey, we should head back to Forks."

"Yeah. Of course." Turning back to the table, you smile at its occupants. "Emily, thanks for the muffins."

"You're welcome."

"Boys, thanks for the entertainment."

"Anytime," Sam muses.

They all get up to watch as you join Bella and Jacob outside. Leaning into Jacob's side on the way to the truck, you ask, "So what will it take for you to turn into the doggo again and let me cuddle you?"

Jacob laughs as Bella shakes her head. "Get in the truck, YN."

To be continued..

[bellysoupset]

Bella was really tired and ready to call it a day by the time she made it home. She desperately needed to shower after nearly getting puked on twice by Vince, but all she had the energy for was to collapse on the couch and close her eyes.

Vaguely she registered the noise of the TV in her and Luke's bedroom... Then soft footsteps... "Hey," Lucas shaking her awake, gently. Light green eyes right in front of her.

"Uhmmm..." Bella groaned, closing her eyes again, "let me sleep."

"Yeah, but in bed, how about?" Luke whispered, grabbing her arms, "c'mon, baby..."

He wrapped her arms around his neck and Bella's head floated as she felt him lift her up. She let out a little groan at the movement, curling up further around him.

A couple more steps and then they were in bed, "help me here, Bell, you need to change out of these clothes."

Bella let out a whine, but forced her eyes to open. Lucas looked wide awake, which was surprising given it was nearly 10 PM and he now fell asleep at 8 most days.

He opened a smile, "back to the land of the living?"

"Just barely," Bell groaned, rubbing her eyes and letting Lucas help her strip down her clothes.

"Where were you? I thought you were only gonna have lunch with Wendy..."

"Still at Wendy's," Bella yawned, curling up under the blankets as soon as Luke helped her inside one of his old t-shirts, that she always used as pjs, "Vince was there."

Luke's soft smile all but fell as he cringed, "Bell you didn't do anything stupid, did you?"

She glared at him, yanking at the front of her husband's shirt for him to join her in bed, "it's not stupid, he hurt you. He hurt Wendy-"

"Wendy literally took him back," Lucas said, turning off the lights and rolling on his side, illuminated just by the television, "and he didn't do anything, baby, I'm just... I'm just sad, it's not Vin's fault."

"Part of it is," Bella scoffed, moving so much closer their noses were almost brushing, "whatever, I didn't do anything."

"Not sure I believe you," Lucas chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, "so you were there until now doing what exactly? Having tea?"

"Uhm... Vinsssick..." Bella slurred, sleep pulling her under as Luke held her to his chest, her favorite spot in the world. She heard him say something else, but whatever it was, her brain completely tuned it off as she fell asleep.

She woke up around 6 AM, still in Luke's arms, but now shivering violently. Bella groaned, blindly reaching for the blankets, only to find that she was already wrapped up in them.

She let out a whine, pressing against Lucas even more and causing him to groan, "Bell, you're suffocating me-"

"I'm freezing," she answered, pressing her nose to his neck. He was so warm.

"Uhm-" Luke mumbled, sleepily planting a hand on her back, but not doing anything besides that. She could feel his deep breaths...

Suddenly she was burning up, like all the cold was out of the window. Sweat made her hair glue to her nape and Luke's hold was suffocating. She pushed back, kicking the blankets, causing her husband to let out a groan.

"Isabella, really?" he whined, turning his back to her, and Bella sat up on the bed. The room seemed to tilt as she did that, her head suddenly really heavy as it hit the headboard.

Bella gulped down the sudden queasiness, rubbing at her face and slowly pushing out of the bed and making her way to the bathroom, slumbering like a drunk.

Her face was a weird shade of olive-white. Bella wasn't snow white like Luke or Leo. Her tone was naturally darker, a light brown shade with golden undertones, that got even tanner during the summer. The gold in her skin tone had turned to green now.

She washed her face, brushing her teeth and slumping over the sink when the toothbrush caused her to gag fruitlessly. Her stomach squeezed, but nothing came up aside from the foam of the toothpaste and some tears stinging her eyes.

"Morning," Luke said gruffly, a minute later as he slipped into the bathroom still half asleep and patted her ass on his way in, not paying any attention.

Bella dried her face, clutching the hand towel, "morning..."

He lifted up his head from the sink bowl, the cold water running down his neck and soaking his shirt, a lot more alert, "everything okay?"

"Yeah," Bella nodded, which was a bad idea because her head swam at the movement. Lucas straightened up, much more awake now.

"You're a little pale, babe," he noted, reaching for his toothbrush but still watching her intently.

"I know, I'm not feeling too hot... I think I caught Vince's bug."

"Oh yeah, you mentioned that last night," Luke made his best to sound nonchalant, but failed miserably. Bella smiled at that, he was so transparent in his concern, "is Vince okay?"

"Well, he's sick as a dog," Bell pointed out, "but Wendy's with him, so he'll be fine."

She really wanted to sit down. Her legs were starting to feel like jelly.

"What sort of bug?" Luke sounded suddenly much louder and Bella startled as she realized she had let her eyes drift off and that he had stepped closer. He wasn't holding his toothbrush anymore, it was nowhere in sight, "Bell?"

"Stomach flu," Bella mumbled, her face feeling all tingly, body suddenly cold again, "Luke..."

"You definitely caught it," he sighed, a big hand coming to feel her forehead and stayed there once Bella leaned against the comforting touch, "you've got a fever there, Bells."

"Vince is such an asshole," Bella grumbled and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to bed.

"How's your stomach?" Lucas raised the blankets so she could slip under them once more and Bella gladly fell against the pillows, sighing in relief.

"It's okay..." Bella forced her eyes to stay open, "how are you...?"

Luke frowned at the question, flicking a curl away from her eyes, "I'm fine, baby..." he tucked in the blankets around her, "if you're feeling alright, I'm gonna get you some meds for this fever, ok?"

She nodded, not bothering to answer and closing her eyes again.

Not even a second later Lucas was shaking her awake. Bella groaned, curling up. She was freezing and she only wanted to sleep, "leave me alone."

"Sorry, baby, but I can't," Luke, cupping her nape and holding her slightly up, almost sitting, "big swallow."

"Uhm-" she scrunched up her nose as a sweet liquid met her lips, trying to turn her face as the smell made her stomach churn and Lucas let out a huff.

"C'mon, one gulp-"

Bella swallowed down the shot of medicine, before coughing and forcing her eyes open. Their room was much brighter, the sunlight slipping through the curtains. She was clammy with sweat and Luke was wearing a completely different outfit.

"Did you give me children's medicine?" Bella groaned, gagging at the overtly sweet taste and Luke blushed, shrugging.

"I was scared you'd choke on the pills," he said, his ears turning pink, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I was run over by a truck, twice," Bella curled up again, "sleepy. My head hurts. I'm freezing."

"It's a low fever, baby," Luke said, brushing her hair and Bella let out a scoff.

"I'm dying of plague," she grumbled, hiding a smile against his wrist as he petted her hair, "be sympathetic with my plight and come cuddle me."

He let out a surprised chuckle, "you? Dying of plague? Bella, please," Luke rolled his eyes, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her brow, "you severely downplayed Vince's illness, by the way."

"Did I?" Bella scoffed, scooting on the bed so she could press her cheek to Luke's thigh, "he's a big guy, he'll live."

"I called Wendy and she said it hit him pretty hard, he's been pretty unresponsive..." Bella could hear the crystalline concern in Lucas' voice, "Jonah's over there to help though..."

"So you were ready to leave your sick, dying wife, to go coddle Vince?" Bella dug a finger on Luke's ribs, causing him to squirm and try and bat her hand away, "you're terrible. I want a divorce."

"I wasn't gonna leave you," Luke chuckled, stroking her cheek, "I was just worried, I would swing by if they needed meds and-"

"Oh shut up," Bella groaned, turning her face away, "go away," she rolled on the bed, kicking Luke weakly, "I don't wanna talk with you anymore."

The bed shook as Lucas jumped on it, grabbing her wrists and forcefully rolling Bella back to him, grinning the whole way, "green isn't your color, Bell."

"I'm a ginger, of course it is," she glared at him, but then grimaced, as the room continued to spin since Luke had pulled her so suddenly. She pressed her eyes closed, breathing through the nausea that churned in her stomach.

"Bella?"

"Give me a minute," Bella moaned, grabbing on his shoulder to push herself up on the bed, in a sitting position. Luke's playful smile had all but vanished, worry coloring his face.

"Are you gonna throw up?"

Bella shook her head no, but she didn't dare open her mouth. It was as if she was in a funhouse, everything distorted and weird. She gulped down nervously, "Luke-"

"Okay, okay, I got you," he cupped her face, pushing her curls back and forcing Bella to look up at the ceiling, "deep breaths, babe. You just moved too fast."

Her stomach rolled and Bella pressed her lips tightly together, before a gag shook her frame and she darted a hand up, shielding her mouth- "Bucket-"

Luke let go of her in a second, skipping away. Bella gulped down as another gag sent the super sweet medicine up and she was forced to swallow it back down. She whimpered, curling up-

"Here, I-"

Bella lurched for it, all but burying her head in the plastic bowl and easily coughing up the medicine, with a horrible gurgling noise.

"Shhh, I got you-" Luke whispered, pulling the hair away from her mouth and bunching it up in one hand, the other one steadying the bowl, "calm down-"

Bella panted over the bowl, groaning loudly as her stomach continued to churn, "now I'm dying."

"Nah, nowhere close," he answered her playfully, "done? Do you think you can handle some water?"

"Do- done," Bell punctuated the word with another empty heave, but all that came up was some purple colored saliva, "water sounds great."

"I'll be right back, lie down," Lucas instructed, helping her against the pillows and Bella groaned as a fierce cramp hit her. She pulled her knees to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and shivering in disgust as she could still taste the sweet liquid in the back of her throat.

She felt utterly miserable and, sadly, completely awake. Despite feeling drained and woozy, she couldn't fall back asleep. Bella was still curled up, trembling, when Luke came back into the room, holding now the packet of pills and a bottle of water.

"Bottoms up and if it stays down we can try the pills in an hour," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and handling her the plastic bottle, "small sips."

"I'm not a child," Bella grumbled, taking one tentative sip and making sure it settled, before taking a bigger one, "did you take your meds?"

"Quit worrying about me, you've literally just thrown up," Luke rolled his eyes, "that's probably how you got sick in the first place."

"How are you making this your fault, Atwood? You cannot have given me the flu," Bella raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," he pushed her back against the pillows, "but you've been worrying about me since November, it's no wonder you'd crash. That's one hell of a honeymoon."

Bella let out a frustrated huff, rolling on her side, "nu-uh, as soon as you're better we're going to the beach. I want to get so fucked up on mojitos I'll forget my own name."

He let out an amused scoff, "you already don't remember your name most days, Isabella Martinez-Atwood."

Bell opened a pleased smile at that, "I love it when you say it..." her smile morphed into a grimace, "I'm gonna puke again."

"You're so romantic," Luke teased her, reaching for the now clean bucket.

[myminecraftfantasy]

DSMP x Encanto AU

Character Concepts:

This post is about my thought process why I assigned each character the role they have. Along with some concept art. (I’m not an artist, but I tried T^T)

Character Selection:

Philza — as Alma Abuela. The reasoning is simple, “His name is Philza Minecraft and he is quite old...” Also, he’s part bird because the wings are iconic

Nihachu & Puffy — Niki as Julieta. when I made this AU, I immediately casted Niki for this role because of her kind nature and the bakery she once had (in DSMP). Puffy as Augustin. I originally had Wilbur in this role, but I changed it because I thought Puffy would be more fun and I wanted to do something else for Wilbur. It’s a shame I can’t make Puffy a sheep, but I made Niki a cat because she has cats irl.

Sapnap & Karl — as Pepa & Felix. I immediately knew I wanted this couple in the AU since they’re a really fun dynamic. Karl would’ve suited either of the roles well, but I thought that Sapnap would suit Pepa better than Felix. Also, I made Sapnap a panda because Pandas.

Technoblade — as Bruno. they’re both quirky & introverted characters that I like (yes, I’m a bit biased). Also, he would fit in the song “We don’t talk about Techno, no, no, no~”. I think it was meant to be. And of course I made Techno a pig, he is “The Pig”.

Dream — as Dolores. their characters both have a ‘lying in wait’ sort-of-vibe, it’s hard to explain. It’s also pretty entertaining in terms of character interactions, and I put George in Mariano’s role. I also made Dream a wolf because of that popular GNF video.

Quackity - as Camilo. they both have really fun and goofy personalities, I think it’s a perfect fit. Quackity likes to change his mc skin a lot, so it matches Camilo’s gift. Also, Quackity is a duck because quack.

Wilbur — as Antonio. I was originally going to have Wilbur as Augustin, but I thought this would be a more interesting dynamic with Tommy with the flip in ages. I made Wilbur a fox because of his son Fundy in DSMP.

(I really wanted the bench trio in this AU, and I thought the 3 siblings would be perfect)

Ranboo — as Isabella. The character dynamics and relationships is really interesting with him in this role (prolly gonna make a mini-post for some hcs for this). Also, with Isabella’s gift, I could give Ranboo a flower crown. I chose a deer for Ranboo because the antlers and ears matched well with popular fan interpretation.

Tubbo — as Luisa. Not much to say for this one, I’ve seen the strong Tubbo fanart. This combo is perfect. Tubbo is obviously a ram for popular easons.

Tommy — as Mirabel. Main character energy, of course. Not to mention, their characters are often underestimated despite the attention they get. Tommy remains a regular human until the Casita gets rebuilt. He gets a bird too)

(Also, Casita’s nickname in this AU is Chat.

So remember those scenes with Mirabel saying “Casita”, now imagine Tommy saying “Chat” in the same way

Idk, I think it’s funny)

[jungle-angel]

Show Me Your Firetrucks (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You, Bob, the Daggers and the kids get to experience an event in Bob's hometown that's been happening for the last 22 years

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the civilians and first responders of NYC, those who are still with us and those who were called home on that fateful day. To the firefighters, police and first responders, we are forever grateful for your service. (The music that inspired this fic can also be found here, I highly suggest listening to it while you read along).

Cheyenne Falls, Oklahoma

September, 2023

You and Bob were a little less than pleased at the prospects of having to get up so early, your children still at the age when they needed sleep and with them just having started school, which hadn't made anything easier.

Auggie and Patrick excitedly ran into the firehouse where Bob's brother, Sean and his teammates all worked. Both of them ran to their uncle who eagerly scooped them right up off the ground in a big hug.

"Uncle Seanie I ate a bug at school!!" Auggie exclaimed proudly.

"Oh did it taste like chicken?" he teased.

You laughed but Bob rolled his eyes. Typical of his older brother who had always told Bob that bugs tasted like chicken when he was little.

"Well hello, little brother of mine," Sean greeted rather cheerfully. "I see Auggie inherited the male line's shit eyesight."

"Yeah and that was only after he ran into the screen door and broke it two years ago," Bob chuckled.

You, Bob and Sean watched as Auggie and Patrick ran around the firehouse garage, wanting to try on the helmets, boots and jackets that were far too big for either of them. Sean's wife, Zoe, had come down the stairs from the loft just a few minutes later in a pair of ripped jeans and a navy blue t-shirt bearing an NYFD logo.

"Did we miss anything?" Natasha yawned as she walked in with her and Cole's son, Gabe.

"Nope, you haven't missed anything yet," Bob chirped.

"Good because I haven't had coffee yet and the ghoul is driving me crazy."

"Hey I'm going to the donut shop across the street for coffee, does anybody want anything?" Zoe announced.

Everyone put in their orders, including yourself and by the time Rooster, Rusty and the boys had all shown up with Baby Carrie in tow, Zoe was back with your orders.

"Looks like we've got some future firefighters in the family," Rooster remarked, adjusting four month old Carrie in his arms.

"Oof, I shudder at the thought," Bob answered.

Sean snorted and stifled a laugh but went stiff when Bob gave him the dreaded look as a warning not to say anything else.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Hangman announced loudly as he strode in with one twin girl on each of his hips. "I come bearing my trophies!!!!"

He set a giggling Missy and Molly both down on the concrete floors, their little sandaled feet flapping as they chased after their cousins. Mickey showed up with Isabella, Sebastian and Rodrigo some moments later, Coyote following with Paloma, Carla and Baby Tiago while Payback and Maverick were the last to arrive with their own kids and Amelia. Missy and Molly ran straight for Geneva and Neveah while TJ remained happily perched on his father's shoulders. Maverick's two little adopted ghouls were excited beyond words when they saw all the firetrucks and equipment on full display.

"I have never seen a bunch of kids so excited like this before," Sean chuckled as more people began to gather in the fire station.

"Doesn't even begin to describe it," Penny told him. "That's all they play with at home is toy firetrucks."

Everyone shared a few good laughs and caught up with each other over the coffee and donuts that Zoe had brought back. Soon, the whole station was almost full of people, some who were close to Bob and others who were just ordinary members of the community.

"Looks like it's gonna be a good ride this year, little brother," Sean remarked.

"I know," Bob chuckled as he sipped on the cinnamon flavored coffee. "We've got almost everybody in town here and more."

Sean nodded with a bit of a wistful look in his eyes, remembering Joe's two brothers, Stephen and Christopher who had been in New York, one a firefighter and the other a police sergeant. Though both had survived, Sean knew too well that there were others who had not been as lucky.

"Hey," Joe greeted happily as he strode up to his sons. "You two numbskulls ready? Michael's got ants in his pants from waiting in the police cruiser with the K-9."

"We'll get the kids ready Dad," Bob told him.

Joe and his sons both hugged each other tight. "This one's for your uncles," he croaked.

Bob met up with you and the kids to help get ready for the ride. "Am I gonna do good Daddy?" Auggie chirped.

"You will Auggie," Bob laughed, putting the much too large fire helmet on his son's head. "Just remember what Uncle Sean and Chief McKenzie tell you ok?"

Auggie nodded, pushing his glasses onto his nose as his little hands helped button the tiny little jacket that Chief Dan McKenzie had found for him and some of the other children who had come to join the ride.

Father Daly, the firehouse chaplain, led everyone present in a short prayer, giving the blessing for the ride, praying for the souls of the departed and those who were still in the line of work. When he had finished, the brass bell in the yard began to ring loudly, signaling for everyone to jump in the trucks.

"Bye Daddy, we'll see you later," Auggie chirped as Bob lifted him into the cab of the truck with Sean and Chief McKenzie.

"Bye buddy, I'll see you when we get to the city," Bob said, giving his son a kiss before the doors were shut.

You, Bob and the others each jumped into a truck, the kids all riding in the cabs or in the backs with the other firefighters. You gave each other a look, his hand gripping yours tightly as the trucks began to roll out of the station, the sirens going as soon as they were part of the way down the road.

You and Bob hung onto the back rails as the truck rolled down the road with the long line of firetrucks and police cars not far behind. The wind rushed through your hair as the procession rode through Cheyenne Falls, heading towards Oklahoma City. So many others from in and around town had come to stand on the streets, cheering everyone on and to show their support.

You and Bob had never experienced anything like this before, the exhilarating feeling filling you both from head to toe. Bob held your hand even tighter as you hung on, ready for the 110 miles into Oklahoma City, side by side with the man you loved.

[sseastar]

dunno if anyone is gonna see this but if anyone collects photocards and would like to join a pocamarket go PLS dm me on my collecting account on ig (@/seungsie) - i NEED joiners 😭

[ghostwritcr]

never thought he would wish that seeing isabella was just his mind playing a trick on him . ' what are you doing here ? ' voice is harsher than he wished for , but that comes from the mix of the angst of seeing her there , added to the already preexistent adrenaline of being in between races . ' you shouldn ' t be here . ' / @slumpcd

[523rdrebel]

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - The Start of Something New

Chapter Summary: Crosshair, Bells, and the Batch enjoy the Festival. Bells and Crosshair take small steps to learn how to navigate their relationship.

Rating: T, SFW

Warnings: None

A/N: So so sorry for taking so long to continue this story. I went on hiatus and then hit an unfortunate bout of writer's block. Fair warning this chapter begins Part Two of Sunflowers and Blasters which will have a bit of a tonal shift. We are still focusing on Crosshair and Bells's relationship, but I'll be introducing more original characters, quite a lot of backstory for our favorite sunshine medic, and even some angst and action. If that isn't something you're interested in, no worries, and no pressure to keep reading. <3

Thanks so much for your patience with me and I hope you enjoy!

Crosshair divider by Snotbuggle, Star and Moon Dividers by Saradi

Wrecker came up in between them wrapping his arms around their shoulders and dragging them along with a firm squeeze back toward the festival, “Come on, you two! There’s a whole festival to enjoy…together.” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed, loud and boisterous.

“Ugh–” Crosshair groaned and rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight Wrecker guiding them back towards the Festival.

Once they reentered the bright, joyful lights, surrounded once again by the cacophony of sound from a village temporarily uninhibited by responsibilities, Wrecker released the pair and jogged off as he caught sight of Daisy passing nearby, drawn like a moth to a flame.

Left alone, there was this weight of uncertain pressure between Crosshair and Isabella. They’d flirted often, drawn inexplicably towards each other from the moment Crosshair had entered Isabella’s clinic, but now, they stood on the precipice of an undeniable change. They stood close together but not touching, hesitant but with an electric undercurrent of expectation. Isabella glanced to the side, observing Crosshair’s body language for any clues on his thoughts. Her hand twitched and she fought the urge to grab his hand and drag him along.

She heard Crosshair sigh through his nose, bringing her gaze back to his face as he rolled his eyes. The back of his hand brushed against hers, electric sparks shooting through her body causing a barely suppressed shiver.

“Well…” Isabella began, leaning slightly to brush her shoulder against his, “Where to?”

He leans in conspiratorially, “We could just leave…”

“Not so fast, Cross. You can’t go to a Festival and not play obviously rigged games. It’s tradition.”

“Rigged games–”

“Come on!” Instinctively she reached out for his hand, but stopped short and instead held out her hand palm up. An invitation.

Crosshair eyed the hand for only a moment before grasping her open palm within his, reveling in the sensation of her soft, warm fingers wrapped around his. He let her lead him through the busy streets of the festival, much as Omega had led them earlier that evening, his eyes cataloging her form- her hair, her smile, her bright, twinkling laugh. How long would he be able to hold on to her? How long until he broke her, too? But he pushed those unwelcome thoughts down, down into his mind avoiding the cold grip of fear he was all too accustomed to.

The evening passed in a dizzying blur of activity. Bells led Crosshair to all of her favorite sections of the Festival: Lantern lighting, hand crafted art and trinkets, exotic foods, dancers and musical performers and games of skill. At one game Wrecker took on a feat of strength, lifting a large boulder and spinning around to launch the rock across a number of lines indicating the distance thrown. Shep, surprisingly, tossed his boulder just a hair farther than Wrecker to the shocked cheers of many onlookers. Wrecker congratulated Shep with a crushing hug, lifting the man off the ground and laughing joyously.

Echo and Hunter challenged Crosshair and Tech to a game strategy and cooperation, followed shortly after by Wrecker and Omega who joined the competition. One of each team of two was blindfolded and sent into a maze, the partner perched atop their shoulders to direct them through the maze. It was a highly competitive game, each team yelling directions and orders or attempting to distract or mislead the opposing team. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker were blindfolded, their partners secured upon their shoulders and the game began. Echo kept purposely directing Hunter into walls when he tried to use his heightened senses to tell Echo where he thought they should go. Crosshair communicated almost solely through various forms of grunts and growls, frustrating Tech to no end, “Use. Your. Words. Crosshair.”  Wrecker and Omega made it through the maze in less than five minutes, having no difficulties communicating and Omega only directed them to a dead end twice. Wrecker and Omega were adorned with beautifully crafted flower crowns for their victory and Wrecker promptly offered his to a blushing, giggling Daisy.

Bells nudged Crosshair with her elbow, directing his attention towards Wrecker and Daisy, “He went off to talk to Dai-sy.” She beamed at the pair across the way, “She's my favorite baker on the island. Wrecker’s had a crush on her for ages…”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “I know– he’s been insufferable. Mooning at her for months.”

“He asked me for some advice, didn’t quite know how to start talking to her.”

“You?” He remarked dryly.

She elbowed his waist sharply this time, “Believe it or not, Cross, I am actually a woman. I’m familiar with our wiley ways.” She wiggled her fingers at him playfully.

“Do go on…”

“Excuse you! Those are protected trade secrets. I can't reveal them to just anybody.”

He snorted and directed another eye roll at her.

She sighed and shook her head, then shrugged, “Well, I’m hungry. Come with me?”

“I suppose. Wouldn't want to leave you and your wiley ways unsupervised…”

After their hunger was satisfied, they decided upon one last game. “Saving the best for last,” she’d said, and led him to a stall with a rudimentary game of accuracy. The stall was set up with holo-targets at three levels of difficulty and an old short-range training blaster rifle was provided for all who wished to take on the “challenge.” Crosshair scoffed, but Bells beamed at him and stepped up to the stall.

Crosshair stood back observing quietly, taking it all in. He was happy, happier than he'd been in a long time, if ever. He watched Bells laughing with Wrecker who had come over to cheer for her.

He watched as she set her stance like he’d taught her, leveled the rifle, and took aim. She was still wearing his borrowed jacket. The corner of his mouth twitched. He approached her from behind while she took her first two shots, nailing the bullseye, then just to the right. She aimed again, nailing the next two with intense focus. He smirked and ran a hand up her back under his jacket and leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Don’t get distracted…” She jumped, barely hitting the outer ring of the target and she turned on him, blushing profusely, “Cross!”

Crosshair chuckled quietly, “Works every time…” His gaze swept over the targets, “Well, you still hit the target…barely. Might have to work on your focus, Bells.”

She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, mumbling under her breath, “Kiss the man once in a secluded garden and suddenly he gets bold.”

It was getting late, the crowds had thinned and many stalls had begun to clear away. Lighting around the Festival areas were dimmed to a low, soft ambiance. Hunter and Omega had bid their goodnights an hour or so prior and the rest of the Batch had scattered elsewhere. Crosshair and Bells walked the darkened quiet streets of Pabu’s upper levels, meandering a path towards Bells’s home. When they finally approach the door, Bells tapped the entry pad and the door opened with a woosh. The pair lingered in the entrance, hushed and unwilling to break the spell and end the night.

After what could have been seconds or hours, locked in a stalemate with ever encroaching time, Crosshair wraped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. The other hand softly cradled the back of her neck and he pressed a soft, teasing kiss to her lips before releasing her with a knowing smirk, “‘Night, Bells.” Once again he walked out her door leaving her breathless and hopelessly wanting more. 

She shook her head and slowly began getting ready for bed, her mind occupied with a mixture of memories and sensations from the evening and fanciful fabrications of an evermore possible future. As she exited the ‘fresher, her busy mind was abruptly broken from its revelry by a strange beeping sound. Isabella froze, listening for the sound.  It came from a storage unit she hadn’t touched since arriving on Pabu some years ago. The sound stopped and she squeezed her eyes shut against the burning cold dread, clenched her jaw, and climbed into bed. With some effort, she redirected her thoughts back to the pleasant events of the evening, her breathing slowing until sleep finally found her.

She dreamt of a beautiful picnic with friends and loved ones from Pabu. Desi and Taayo were there, a young, nameless child crawling around them. Crosshair was there, as were his brothers and sister, the banter and laughter flowing freely. Other residents of Pabu made an appearance as well. All the while, a shadow hovered just out of sight, at the corners of her vision she knew it was there. She knew the shadow, but could not recall it’s name. She turned to ask, only to have it move once more just outside of her vision and then was gone. The rest of the night no more dreams troubled her.

Ye Olde Taglist:

@jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes @mythical-illustrator

@echoxbuggs @trixie2023 @ezras-left-thumb @sweetcream-coldfoam

@anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69

@littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @sev-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep

@clonemedickix @followthepurrgil @clonethirstingisreal

[kallie-den]

Marital Aid Ch. 2

When Isabella's first round of conditioning doesn't produce the desired result, Clea decides to kick things up a notch

This story was a commission from one of my patrons! Thank you very much to Myles_EXVS for their kind support

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

As soon as Isabella saw Clea come into her office in the morning, she knew it was going to be a very, very difficult day.

Ever since last night, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her secretary. She wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly. It had just struck her, suddenly, as she was closing up and heading home after watching Clea’s music video.

Isabella was a lesbian. She was a lesbian, and she was attracted to Clea.

It was an unbelievable, unthinkable, world-shattering revelation, and yet it hadn’t occurred to Isabella to question it. It was the kind of thing she just knew. It was like the words themselves had been etched into her soul; a sacred set of commandments Isabella had just stumbled upon in a moment of clarity.

She was a lesbian and she could only orgasm with women. She didn’t like men. She was attracted to Clea. She couldn’t resist Clea.

All evening and all morning, those thoughts and feelings had sat uneasily within Isabella. What was she going to do? She was a lesbian who disliked men - but she was married to one. She had promised her life to her husband, and it was a promise she’d always intended to keep. But if Isabella remained faithful to him, what room did that leave for her own happiness and fulfillment?

Certainly, sexual fulfillment was a forlorn hope. Things hadn’t been going well in that department anyway; now, Isabella couldn’t even stand the thought of spending a night with her husband. There was just no way she could ever orgasm with a man.

And her dreams of a family had never seemed further away.

But those concerns, however important, were relatively distant. A far more pressing issue was how Isabella was going to handle the beautiful young woman who had just stepped into her office.

“Good morning, Isabella!” Clea said in a bright, friendly voice. She came bearing gifts - Isabella’s regular morning cup of coffee, and a pastry to go with it.

“G-good morning.” Isabella cringed at herself as she immediately tripped over her words. She’d been bracing herself for this moment all morning. Clearly, it hadn’t helped. “Um… how’s it going?”

“It’s going just fine,” Clea replied as placed the coffee cup down on Isabella’s desk. “Thank you!”

She was smiling. That was the part that was truly unfair. The bright, warm, gorgeous smile on Clea’s face was like a sunrise. There was simply no way Isabella could have prepared herself for it, or for the way it made her heart pound. Clea was so pretty and so hot. How could a lesbian like Isabella resist her charms?

But that was exactly the problem. She had to. Isabella wasn’t just married. She was also Clea’s boss, and was years her senior. There were a dozen reasons why the attraction Isabella felt was wildly inappropriate. No matter what, Isabella couldn’t let her feelings show. That would be an HR disaster waiting to happen.

“So,” Clea piped up. “Did you get a chance to check out that meditation music video I gave you last night?”

“I did!” Isabella replied eagerly. “I tried it before I left the office last night, and… wow, it was amazing. I was so relaxed, I can barely remember what happened!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” A strange, creeping grin dawned on Clea’s face. “I’m so pleased.”

“I… actually watched it again after I got home,” Isabella confessed. “A bunch more times. I even gave it another watch this morning before I came in to work. God, it just really hit the spot. Thank you so much for that, Clea.”

“Don’t mention it,” Clea told her. Her smile was brighter than ever. “I’m just glad you’ve been getting a lot of use out of it.”

Her voice was just as strange as her grin. Isabella figured it was natural to feel satisfied about someone liking a gift that you made for them, but Clea’s demeanor hinted at a deep pleasure that went far beyond that. It wasn’t just satisfaction.

It was anticipation.

“Oh, hey, Isabella,” Clea said suddenly. Her eyes were shining. “I wanted to ask. How do I look today?”

“How do you…?” Isabella blinked, and then fell silent as she lost herself in staring at her secretary.

Clea, standing on the far side of Isabella’s desk, was wearing a perfectly normal outfit. She was dressed professionally, as usual, in a simple, white, button-up blouse and a pair of smart, black pants. It was the kind of outfit nobody would ever look twice at in an office setting.

But for Isabella, it was spellbinding.

Time slowed to a halt as her eyes traveled slowly over Clea’s form. All she could think about was how well the outfit suited her. It made her seem so confident, so trustworthy, so professional - a perfect worker, despite her youth. The white of her blouse made her red hair appear all the more vibrant, like rich, autumn leaves against a pale sky. Then Isabella’s thoughts turned in a far more carnal direction and, even though she knew she should try, she couldn’t stop thinking about the toned, feminine, athletic body underneath those clothes. It made her body burn. She couldn’t believe she’d hadn’t thought about Clea this way before.

“Isabella?” Clea prompted.

At that moment, Isabella realized that time hadn’t slowed to a halt at all. She’d just lapsed into silence as she stared at her young secretary for several very long seconds. The older woman’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Y-you look, um, amazing,” she blurted out. “Or, no, I mean, not… you look… normal? Not that you don’t look amazing. It’s just that, um, well, you uh, normally look amazing.”

“Thank you!” Clea gigged, and Isabella thanked her lucky stars that her secretary seemed to find her near-incoherence charming instead of cringe-worthy. “But that’s not really what I meant. Do you think this outfit is appropriate for the workplace?”

Isabella’s brow furrowed. “Well, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’m just not sure.” Clea tapped a finger to the corner of her mouth in a thoughtful gesture. Her eyes, though, were alight with mischief. “It’s going to be warm today. I might feel like I need to do… this.”

Isabella’s mouth went dry as she watched Clea reach down and undo one of the buttons on her blouse. Immediately, the closely-fitting garment sprung open at the collar.

“Oh,” Isabella breathed.

Clea didn’t stop there. She undid another button, and the top of her blouse opened wide enough to expose her cleavage.

That was the end of any semblance of decorum or rational thought for Isabella. Her gaze locked on to the new region of pale, exposed skin and she started breathing hard. Suddenly, she didn’t care about how ridiculous it was to be staring at a younger woman’s chest like this. She didn’t care how inappropriately she was behaving. She just wanted to go on looking. Fuck, it was good to be a lesbian.

When Clea reached up to adjust her hair, her blouse shifted far enough to expose her bra, just for a fraction of a second. It was black and lacy. Isabella thought she was going to pass out.

“What do you think?” Clea asked insistently. She was acting like she hadn’t noticed how hopeless Isabella had become, but her grin suggested she was anything but oblivious. “Too much?”

“I… nnn…” Isabella was so far beyond words. She was even beyond rational thought. But in the face of Clea’s question, she had to try and muster something. “W-well… um… I g-guess…” She winced at the way her voice cracked. “I-I guess it… maybe… could be a l-little much.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. But on some level, she knew she didn’t want all the men in the office to see Clea like this. This view should be just for lesbians.

“Aww.” Clea pouted. It was so adorable, Isabella almost teared up. “That’s a shame. But doesn’t it look good on me? I really want to wear it like this.”

Isabella’s resolve snapped like a twig. “I-I mean, it’s not too much at all!” she blurted out. “It’s p-perfect. Just let me know if HR gives you any trouble about it. I can talk to them.”

She just couldn’t resist Clea.

Clea immediately changed tack again. Her ever-widening grin made it clear how much fun she was having, and Isabella didn’t have it in her to be angry.

“Are you sure?” Isabella’s breath caught in her throat as Clea suddenly bent over her desk at the waist, practically shoving her cleavage into the older woman’s face. “Take a closer look. I really need an informed opinion.”

Isabella simply whimpered. She could feel herself overheating. She wasn’t sure how much of this she could take. She was just such a lesbian, and she was so attracted to Clea. Her mind was blank. She couldn’t tell Clea to back off. She couldn’t look away. She was helpless.

“What do you think?” Clea’s voice dropped, becoming a proud, aroused purr. “Is this appropriate, boss?”

“I… c-can’t… uh… I don’t…” Isabella trailed off. All she could do was drool incoherently.

Clea leaned in even closer. “You know, if you wanted to, you could undo another button,” she whispered.

Isabella’s eyes bulged. She looked up at Clea pleadingly.

“It’s up to you,” Clea told her. Her breathy, sultry voice was like music. “All you need to do is reach out and touch me. I’m giving you permission, Isabella. Whatever you want.”

Isabella’s mind was melting down. She couldn’t think. She just needed. One of her hands lifted itself from her lap, and started reaching out hesitantly towards Clea. She couldn’t help herself. This was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

But, at the last moment, she froze. Something deep inside her began to clunk back into life and reassert itself. What did she want? She wasn’t sure, but the question demanded consideration. Her desires were a swirling, contradictory mess. She wanted Clea, yes. She wanted Clea so much. But she also wanted to remain faithful to her husband, no matter what. Her wedding vows had once meant everything to her. If she touched Clea now, they were broken, and there was no going back.

It was a sobering thought, and as it dragged Isabella back into some semblance of clarity, other doubts reared their ugly heads. She was Clea’s boss. That was another line to consider. Despite how eager she seemed, Isabella didn’t really know what Clea wanted. She would hate to make her secretary uncomfortable, to say nothing of what would happen if Clea went straight to HR. And what if someone saw?

Isabella couldn’t do this. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t. She was nothing more than Clea’s boss, and it needed to stay that way.

But what was she going to do? Isabella couldn’t resist Clea, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn her down to her face. She just needed this situation to stop, so she could get a better handle on whatever was happening with her.

In the end, she chose cowardice.

“I-I need to go to the bathroom,” Isabella announced in an uncharacteristic, strained, high-pitched voice.

She bolted to her feet so fast she almost tipped over her chair and, before Clea could recover from her shock, Isabella fled out of her office.

***

“And that’s how it always goes!”

Clea groaned as she finished her story and slammed her empty drink down on the bar. Sitting next to her, her friend Bruna offered a sympathetic smile.

“You mean… she always needs to go to the bathroom?” Bruna joked. “Maybe your boss should get that checked out.”

“No.” Clea flashed her an annoyed look. “I mean, whenever the mood is just right between us, something happens. No - Isabella makes something happen. She suddenly has a meeting, or needs to take a call, or needs me to go do something. Or she deliberately misunderstands the way I’m flirting with her. I don’t get it. I know what she wants. She knows what she wants. Why won’t she just say ‘yes’?”

Bruna reached across to squeeze her shoulder. Clea sagged, but accepted the sympathy with a grateful nod. She badly needed it. It had been like that with Isabella all week, and getting to blow off some steam at Bruna’s bar was the only consolation the weekend offered.

At least it was a nice place to throw back some drinks and pass the time. After a whole work week of spending time around straight people in an office, getting to come and hang out in a dyke bar was a breath of fresh air for Clea. Plus, the bar itself was getting better and better every time she came. Bruna had started investing in some major renovations. Evidently, the heiress she’d hooked using Clea’s hypnosis technology was paying serious dividends, both figuratively and literally.

“OK, but I don’t understand,” Bruna said. “You made it so she can’t resist you, right? So, why not be a little more forceful? Take the lead. Kiss her. Fuck her. Whatever. You know she’ll be into it.”

“That’s…” Clea sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I could. But that’s just not exactly what I wanted between us. I… I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing her. I want it to be mutual. I want her to show me how much she wants me. You know?”

Bruna pursed her lips and looked at Clea deadpan. “You know that you’re mind-controlling her, right?”

Clea bent over and planted her forehead on the bar. “I know. But I still love her.”

“Girl…” Bruna sighed reproachfully. “OK, let’s look at this differently. What if you could be a lot more forceful, but you could also be sure that was exactly what your boss wanted?”

Clea tilted her head to look up at her friend. “Explain.”

“You’re already in her head, right?” Bruna grinned wickedly. “All you need to do is make her a complete and total submissive.”

Clea pursed her lips. “I don’t know…” she said slowly. “I still want her to be Isabella. To be my Isabella. I’ve seen her at work. She’s anything but submissive.”

“Maybe in the office,” Bruna countered, “but who knows what she’s like at home? It might not be as much of a change as you think. But more importantly, I think that if you don’t do this, you’re never going to get what you want.”

Clea’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Bruna nodded. “You need to think about it from her perspective. She wants you and she can’t resist you, so why won’t she cross that last line? From what you’ve told me, it sounds like she’s hung up on something. Her marriage. Her vows. Her sense of fidelity. Something like that.”

Clea nodded in agreement. Isabella was one of the most faithful and trustworthy people she’d ever met. It was part of what she loved about her.

“That means you’ve got two choices,” Bruna continued. “You could change that part of her personality - but in that case, she really would be a different person.”

“No way,” Clea said firmly. “I won’t do that.”

“Or,” Bruna went on, nodding. “You can give her something she cares about even more: a bond with you. And, speaking from experience, nothing is more powerful than dominance and submission.”

“Huh.” Clea stared down into her empty class. “That… does make a certain amount of sense.”

“Plus.” Bruna leaned in conspiratorially. She spoke low and slowly, letting the rhythm of her words paint a picture. “I’ve heard the way you wax lyrical about her. You can’t tell me you don’t want her between your legs, staring up at you with an adoring, obedient look in her eyes as she does exactly what you want.”

She let out a filthy laugh as Clea’s cheeks turned visibly red even in the dim light of the bar. Eventually, the redheaded nodded.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. But both of them could tell that her mind was already made up.

***

Isabella shuffled nervously from foot to foot as she stood on Clea’s doorstep, waiting for her secretary to open the door. Being here felt wrong. It felt like a sin. She had spent the entire week trying to keep her chemistry with Clea under control. As much as it pained her, she had decided she needed to spend as little time with her secretary as possible. She was Clea’s boss. It was the only decent thing she could do.

And yet here she was, dressed up nicely, waiting outside Clea’s apartment on a Saturday night.

Clea had called her and asked her to come over for dinner. A girls’ night. Isabella had tried to refuse, but Clea had been very, very insistent.

Isabella couldn’t resist Clea.

Being dressed up was even less excusable. Isabella’s vanity had simply gotten the better of her. She couldn’t stand not trying her hardest to look good in front of Clea. She was wearing her finest dress, and her hair and makeup were immaculate. It was desperately embarrassing. She’d left her house looking like she was sneaking out to have an affair. She’d felt like that, too.

Of course, her husband hadn’t even noticed.

“Isabella!” Clea greeted her warmly as she opened the door. “Please, come on in.”

Isabella nodded gratefully, and tried not to blush as she stepped across the threshold. She was immediately flustered - not just because of how amazing Clea looked, but because of the memory of what had happened the last time she was here.

“You have a lovely place here,” she said, figuring it was best to address the awkwardness head-on. “I hope I’ll be able to appreciate it better this time.”

“I hope so too.” Clea laughed. “And I’ll try and make it nicer for you this time. As I told you last week, you’re always welcome. Plus, I thought that having someone cook you dinner might be a nice way to relax and get a break from everything.”

Isabella could only nod again. Clea was so wonderful. Her stomach was full of butterflies. She was trying very hard not to make this into something it wasn’t, but her head was already full of fantasies.

It didn’t get any easier when Clea led her through into her living room, and Isabella saw the scene her secretary had prepared for her.

The room was dim and intimate, lit only by a dozen or so tall candles that had been placed carefully around the space. In the center of the room was a table, set nicely with plates and cutlery. Quiet music was playing through Clea’s speakers, setting an easy, sensual mood. In the middle of the table, there was a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, and the divine scent of wonderful cooking wafted through from the kitchen.

This was, unmistakably, something romantic.

“C-Clea,” Isabella gasped. “This is…”

“It’s not too much, is it?” Clea asked hopefully. “I wanted things to be nice for us.”

Her optimistic smile set Isabella’s heart fluttering. “N-no. It’s perfect. I love it.”

She really did. That was the problem. Thinking about sharing a romantic meal with Clea was making Isabella’s heart beat fast with excitement. She was trying her hardest to keep herself tethered to earth. Maybe Clea didn’t mean anything by this. Maybe she was reading too much into it. That had to be all it was. It had to be.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Clea said, gesturing to her couch, up against one wall. “And let me get you something to drink.”

As Isabella watched, Clea opened the bottle of wine and started to pour it into the glasses. Just watching her was flustering. Isabella found herself focused on Clea’s swift, deft hands as she worked the corkscrew, and her measured precision as she poured. Once she caught herself, she groaned softly. She was hopeless. She needed to get a grip on herself.

But she couldn’t help it. She was a lesbian, and she was so very attracted to Clea.

“I’m afraid I need to finish up in the kitchen.” Clea handed Isabella her glass of red wine. “Our food won’t be ready for a little while longer.”

“Of course.” After taking a sip, Isabella set the glass down on the coffee table and rose to her feet again. “Let me come and help you! It’s the least I can do. I know my way around a kitchen, I promise.”

“Absolutely not,” Clea replied, with surprising firmness. “I won’t hear of it. You’re my guest! And you deserve to relax.”

“Oh, OK.” Isabella was a little disappointed - in part, embarrassingly, because she simply wanted to stay close to Clea.

“And actually,” Clea added, smiling. “I have something else you can do while you’re waiting.”

“Sure.” Isabella was surprised, but not displeased. “I’m happy to help.”

“Not help,” Clea clarified. “It’s more of a gift, actually.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone, along with a pair of earbuds. “I’ve made you another music video.”

Isabella’s eyes widened slightly. She was grateful, of course. If this one was anything like as relaxing as the first, she was going to get a great deal of use out of it. But did Clea really expect her to listen to it here? Right now? Meditation seemed like such a private activity. Doing it around another person, especially the secretary she had an unbearable crush on, seemed awkward. Not just awkward. Vulnerable. Way too vulnerable.

“Wow, thank you!” Isabella replied, hoping to defuse the issue. “That’s amazing, I’ve been listening to the first one a lot. I’ll check this one out as soon as I get home.”

“No, no,” Clea said, in that same, firm voice that sent shivers down Isabella’s spine. “Not later. It’s for right now, while I finish cooking dinner.”

Isabella glanced down at the phone uncertainly. She could see that a video was already loaded up and ready to play. For some reason, it made her nervous. So did the way Clea was behaving. She didn’t know how to deal with her when she was so insistent. Something about it turned her legs to jelly.

“I… I…” Isabella struggled. “I’m… not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Clea demanded.

Isabella felt beads of sweat on her forehead. She couldn’t put into words what she truly felt - that for some reason, watching Clea’s music video right now would be a very, very bad idea. “Um… w-well, I think… it might not work. I-I’m not sure I’ll be able to relax properly.”

“Don’t worry,” Clea told her, with a certain smugness. “It’ll work.”

“R-right. Great.” Isabella could feel herself crumbling. She couldn’t resist. “But… um… but…”

She tried to step away, over to the window, hoping for a little room to think. Clea was merciless. She just kept moving with her, standing even closer than before. When Isabella stumbled backward, Clea advanced on her again, and before she knew what was happening, Isabella was trapped against the wall with Clea right up against her, so close their bodies were practically touching.

“I promise,” Clea said breathily. “This one’s even better than the first. You’ll love it.”

For some reason, that was part of what Isabella was so anxious about.

“G-g-good.” With Clea this close to her, Isabella couldn’t think. “Amazing, a-actually.”

Clea just nodded. She was grinning, too. Grinning the same grin Isabella had seen on her so often this past week.

“So,” Clea said, “you should watch it. Right now. Here.”

Before Isabella could say anything more, Clea reached up and started nestling the earbuds into Isabella’s ears. Being touched by her, even like that, made Isabella’s body burn with a shocking, shameful heat.

She knew she should stop this. She knew she should push Clea away. This wasn’t normal. Why couldn’t she stand up for herself? Why couldn’t she so much as refuse Clea properly? Instead, all she could think about was how to make Clea happy. She found herself yearning for the pleased smile she would see on her secretary’s face when she finally, inevitably gave in.

Isabella couldn’t resist Clea.

And so she didn’t resist when Clea held up her phone for Isabella to look at, and pressed ‘play’ on the music video.

The screen came to life, and within an instant it was spinning and unfolding with all the patterns and colors Isabella had already become so intimately familiar with. Her ears filled with low, humming, binaural tones that flowed into a soporific melody. Already, Isabella could feel her vision narrowing until the little screen of Clea’s phone became her whole world. The spinning, kaleidoscopic colors felt like they were bleeding over its edges, surrounding her, lapping at her like waves on a shore.

She was hypnotized. And it took just seconds. It didn’t matter that she was standing up. She just froze in place like a wax statue, moving only to breathe.

At first, she made a concerted effort to remain alert and clear-headed. She tried to tell herself that here, around Clea, she needed to stay awake. Anything else was too mortifyingly inappropriate to even consider. But even that single, simple goal, fixed firmly in her mind, didn’t protect Isabella. She was simply too vulnerable now. After a long week of constantly using the first music video, she had already conditioned her mind to succumb effortlessly to Clea’s techniques. Try as she might, she couldn’t help falling into a deep, deep trance.

And soon, even that little, hopeful rebellion was a forgotten dream. By the time Clea’s video started broadcasting fresh, new mantras into Isabella’s brain, she was too deeply entranced to do anything but unconditionally accept them into her psyche.

You are a lesbian, Isabella.

That was easy. It prompted no resistance or cognitive dissonance. Isabella had already accepted and internalized that completely. She was a lesbian. She always had been. But almost immediately, the mantra changed.

You are a submissive lesbian.

Isabella twitched a little. It was a deceptively large change. She was a lesbian, yes, but a submissive lesbian? What did that mean? Isabella had never once considered herself to be a submissive anything.

And yet she was. She was a submissive lesbian. She knew that now. It was beyond question.

And so, her mind started to search for rationalizations. What about the way Clea had been bossing her around just now? Why hadn’t Isabella put her foot down about it? Why had she just tripped over her words, and ended up meekly obeying?

Was it because, deep down, she’d been enjoying it?

Isabella’s first response to that notion was to reject it outright. But it had its hooks in her, and as time passed, she found herself dwelling on it more and more.

Didn’t it make sense? She wasn’t just a submissive, she was a submissive lesbian. And Clea was the person she had a huge crush on. It stood to reason that Clea would be the person she wanted to obey. It was the clearest way to make sense of what she’d just learned about herself. Sure, it was strange that she’d been so oblivious to it until just now, but given how long it had taken her to realize she was a lesbian, it wasn’t exactly unprecedented.

Isabella was starting to accept it. She was a submissive lesbian.

Obeying Clea makes you feel good.

This mantra made Isabella stir too, but not out of shock. It fit perfectly alongside what she’d already accepted, after all. Instead, what made her stir was the memory of what had just happened, when Clea had pushed her against the wall and made her watch the music video.

That experience was suddenly cast in a new light. It wasn’t shocking or confusing. It was hot. Really, really hot.

Isabella squeezed her legs together half-consciously as sudden arousal washed over her. A delayed response, she figured. She couldn’t believe how good it had felt to do what she was told.

She was a submissive lesbian, and obeying Clea made her feel good.

Clea knows what’s best for you.

This, too, deepened the new, submissive part of herself Isabella had just discovered. Clea knew what was best for her, and so it was only natural to be submissive towards her. Clea knew what was best for her, and so it was only natural that obeying her felt good. Strangely, nothing about that was surprising. Isabella could think of countless times when Clea, as her secretary, had anticipated her requests or made perfect suggestions. Yes, clearly Clea knew best.

As a submissive lesbian, Isabella was so grateful her crush knew what was best for her.

It was a little embarrassing that a woman so much younger than her knew what was best for her. But not unpleasantly so. Instead, for a submissive lesbian like Isabella, that was another exciting dimension of the fantasy.

You crave sexual contact with Clea.

Even though she was deeply hypnotized, Isabella’s lips parted slightly and she let out a low, needy moan. She’d already known that. She was a lesbian, after all, and she was incredibly attracted to Clea. But her awareness of her own desire redoubled. She couldn’t believe how worked up she was. Isabella’s libido had never flared like this before - certainly not with her husband.

She wanted Clea to touch her. Just thinking about little things, like Clea’s hand on her arm, right now, was dizzying. But that was the least of her desires. She wanted to Clea to kiss her. She wanted Clea to undress her. She was a submissive lesbian. She wanted Clea to dominate her. To mark her body. To grab her, to push her around.

Isabella was so wet.

And then the last mantra came.

You are in love with Clea.

That hit Isabella like a thunderbolt. But how could she deny it? She was a lesbian. She was attracted to Clea. She loved obeying Clea. Clea knew what was best for her, and she constantly craved Clea’s touch.

What was all that, if not some kind of love?

“I’ll let that sink in while I finish cooking,” Clea said out loud, knowing Isabella couldn’t really hear her.

With a smile on her face, she reached for Isabella’s hand and lifted it, pressing the phone into her hand and holding it up close to her face like she was posing a mannequin. She knew Isabella wouldn’t move. She had no will of her own right now. She was merely an empty vessel, in which new desires were taking form.

Clea left Isabella to keep hypnotizing herself, and went into the kitchen to finish their romantic meal.

***

Before Isabella knew quite what was happening, she found herself sitting at Clea’s dining table as her secretary was serving up their home-cooked meal. It didn’t occur to her to ask why she’d slipped into such a daze, or what had happened in the intervening time. She soon had much, much more pressing issues occupying her mind.

The meal was delicious. Clea was obviously a talented cook - as if Isabella needed another reason to be head-over-heels for her. But throughout the meal, Isabella was beset by strange urges that were proving more and more difficult to suppress. Whenever Clea’s wine glass was empty, Isabella immediately poured her another. She kept a close eye on Clea and made sure her every need was met at once. Salt and pepper? A fresh napkin? Some water? Isabella was eager to provide. Once they were done eating, she cleared the table herself, and instinctively started washing and tidying away everything that had been used.

She couldn’t help it. Isabella was a submissive lesbian, and it felt so very good to serve.

Isabella wanted to hold back. She knew the way she was behaving wasn’t normal. She was going too far for a guest. But the allure of obedient service was too strong, and she had never felt better than when she was scurrying about, carrying, and cleaning for her secretary. Every little act of service sent a fresh shock of pleasure through her body, one that was wickedly sinful and shameful.

Indulging her fetish like this around Clea was so wrong. But the way Clea looked at her, smirking over her glass, eyes shining with delight, made her feel like Clea knew and approved of what was going on. That was its own kind of titillation.

And all night, Isabella had been struggling not to call her ‘mistress’.

Eventually, once everything was cleaned and tidied away, Clea, relaxing on her couch, summoned Isabella to her side. Isabella walked over to her, looking down demurely, arms folded neatly in front of her, with a certain excitement filling her belly.

“Thank you for taking care of everything,” Clea said kindly.

Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. “Of c-course.” She bowed her head. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Sit.”

Clea said that with an amused smile. She was stretched out, leaving no space next to her on the couch, and perhaps that was why she gestured to the floor in front of her. That had to be why, Isabella told herself as her heart started to pound. Nothing more.

Nonetheless, she obediently sank to her knees on the ground in front of Clea.

“Thank you for taking care of everything,” Clea said. “Good girl.”

Isabella’s eyes flew wide. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. The praise hit her like a physical force and she whimpered as her head was utterly, hopelessly scrambled of all clear thought. Hearing that was the greatest possible pleasure. The ultimate validation.

“T-t-thank you,” she managed eventually. Now it was even more of a struggle not to add ‘mistress’.

Clea smiled down at her knowingly. “Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Isabella?”

“Yes,” Isabella replied immediately. There was absolutely no doubt about that. If anything, she’d enjoyed herself a little too much.

“But,” Clea pressed, “you’re not completely satisfied. Are you?”

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat. She knew. Clea knew. That was horrifying, but Isabella couldn’t bring herself to hide anything. “No.”

“In that case,” Clea told her, “I want you to tell me what it is that you want, right now. Tell me, completely truthfully, what you need to be satisfied.”

It was a command, and so Isabella had to obey. She needed to obey Clea. It felt so good. Her submissive nature overrode even her embarrassment. The only difficulty was in figuring out what to say. There were so many things she was craving. So many things she longed for. How was she to pick?

But when she looked up at Clea - at the woman she loved - her gaze settled on Clea’s lips, and an answer came.

“I want you to kiss me,” Isabella confessed, blushing.

Clea licked her lips. “That’s a very good answer.”

Isabella couldn’t believe her luck as Clea bent down towards her, lips prepared for a kiss. As their bodies touched, the need that had been mounting in her body all evening finally overflowed. She melted into the kiss and let Clea claim her, and as she did, she came.

“Fuck,” Clea panted when she pulled back. “I can’t believe how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Me too,” Isabella moaned, shivering from her orgasm. The pleasure was overwhelming.

Clea reached down and wrapped her hand around the back of Isabella’s neck. “But now you’re mine.”

Isabella just nodded. There was no question of it. She was Clea’s. She loved being Clea’s.

She didn’t care that she was betraying her husband. She didn’t care that she was having an affair. This was more important.

Clea pulled her in, and the two of them started kissing again. They didn’t stop until the sun rose.

---

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[bethanydelleman]

Catherine Morland: She’s Naive Not Stupid

Catherine seems to get hate because she comes off as unintelligent and because she marries a very intelligent man. Kind of an odd angle for me to take in character defence, but Catherine is worthy of Henry Tilney and this is why:

Catherine tells the truth, even when it is painful to her. It’s easy to tell the truth when it helps you (like explaining why you missed a country walk) but Catherine does not lie even when it makes her look bad or even lie by omission. She was walking around Mrs. Tilney’s room, imagining that she had been murdered by her husband, and when Henry finds her she tells the whole, mortifying truth. Given that Henry lives with two people who pathologically lie (General and Captain Tilney), it would be pretty refreshing to have Catherine in his life.

Catherine believes the best of people until proved wrong. (very Jane B., but Catherine’s also younger). She tries to believe the best of John Thorpe but quickly realises she doesn’t like him and that he must be lying. Isabella Thorpe is harder because Catherine likes her, but she does understand her character by the end. General Tilney is harder still, because he is much better at disguising the truth about himself. The suspicion that he killed his wife seems ridiculous, but Catherine is trying to fit the General into her understanding of the world. She cannot see how someone can have the appearance of goodness and yet be so bad. Given that the perceptive Elizabeth Bennet fell into a similar trap, I am inclined to give Catherine a pass.

Catherine stands on her principles. She thinks it is wrong to lie to Eleanor about having a prior plan and she resists her friend and her brother to set it right. Mr. Allen suggests that riding in an open carriage isn’t wise; she says no. It seems minor because she is only resisting peer pressure, but we can’t expect everyone to have the fortitude of Fanny Price.

Catherine is loyal in her affection, which I think would be attractive to a younger son like Tilney. When Catherine sees Captain T for the first time, she accept that he is hot, but has not a single thought of going after him, “She looked at him with great admiration, and even supposed it possible that some people might think him handsomer than his brother, though, in her eyes, his air was more assuming, and his countenance less prepossessing.” (Ch 16). I wonder how many times in his twenty-six years Henry has had a girl interested in him, only for her to go all Isabella Thorpe and try to use him as a stepping stone to his brother. Catherine never even considers it and unlike everyone else, she doesn’t seem to ask or care about Henry or his brother being rich. She is disinterested, not mercenary, and that seems like a hard trait to find (unless you’re an Austen heroine).

Catherine is a quick learner, she’s going to catch up. She has gone from living with a family that are, “plain, matter-of-fact people who seldom aimed at wit of any kind; her father, at the utmost, being contented with a pun, and her mother with a proverb; they were not in the habit therefore of telling lies to increase their importance, or of asserting at one moment what they would contradict the next” (Ch 9), to Henry Tilney, one of the funniest characters in Jane Austen’s collected works. But still she’s not lost! She is intelligent enough to find him amusing.

Lastly, Catherine is interested in improving herself. She doesn’t like reading history, but she wishes she liked it. She misunderstands people so she seeks help in comprehending their motives. She doesn’t resent people who are smarter than her, she is attracted to them. She’s only seventeen for most of this novel, she’ll never be as intelligent as say, Anne Elliot, but she’s not Harriet Smith either.

Also a quick comparison to the Mr. and Mrs. Bennet marriage, because this comes up a lot online. Catherine is nothing like Mrs. Bennet. When Catherine is told she is being thrown out of the Abbey, she asks if she has offended the General, tells Eleanor not to be so unhappy, and then assures her that she will be ready at an early hour. She doesn’t cry until Eleanor leaves the room. Can you imagine what even a younger Mrs. Bennet would have done? It would have been nothing like that, it would have been all nerves and wailing. Because Catherine and Mrs. Bennet have entirely different personalities.

Catherine Morland: She has many first rate qualities!

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Art of the Double-Cross

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: T (allusions to spice, but that’s it)

Word Count: 3200

Warnings: Descriptions of minor peril, enemies to lovers, allusions to violence but no actual violence, I’m choosing not to say much about this because it gives the whole game away. More notes at the bottom.

Summary: “People have been trying to solve the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum theft for decades,” she says quietly, putting her hand on his arm. “Decades, and yet you find the one detail everyone else had overlooked.”

A/N: Gif is Agent Greer because I can't stop thinking about this as "on the job" Marcus Pike lol

Masterlist

Agent Pike moves silently through the abandoned factory, deftly avoiding the pieces of broken glass that litter the floor underneath broken windows. Dust lies thick on every surface, filtering in and out of twin flashlight beams as they bounce slowly down the stale air of the hallway.

It appears as though not one soul has stepped foot in this building for decades.

Agent Pike knows better.

“Where do you think they’ll be?” a voice calls out beside him, the words quiet as thought their owner is afraid of disturbing the grave-like quality of the environment.

“Basement,” he answers at the same volume. “I’ll bet you anything there’s a hatch hidden somewhere.”

At the end of the hallway, the two investigators come to an old door with peeling paint.

“Locked,” his companion mutters as she tests the knob. “Agent, would you mind…?”

Pike nods. Drawing his sidearm as a precaution, he takes a small step backward for stability and then rams his foot into the door just above the lock.

It crashes open with a bang that makes both of them wince.

Peering into the darkness, it’s clear that the room is just as empty as the rest of the factory, so he re-holsters his gun and steps forward.

The woman next to him laughs breathlessly. “That worked well,” she quips.

“What can I say,” he chuckles quietly in return.

The two of them fan out in opposite directions, pacing the perimeter of the room, looking for some method of entry to the space they know is lurking below them.

“Anything?” she asks from the other side of the room.

Agent Pike casts his eyes over an old filing cabinet and down to the floor.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Wait…”

His flashlight lands on a large scuff mark on the ground beside the cabinet.

“What is it?” She crosses the room in an instant, standing beside him again as he examines the mark.

“Hold this.” He hands her the flashlight and moves the large metal object to the side with a grunt—it weighs a ton—but he hardly needs to move it six inches before his suspicion is confirmed: there’s a hidden crawlspace underneath.

“That’s a tight fit, Agent Pike,” his companion whispers after he maneuvers the filing cabinet away from the small opening.

“I think we’ll manage,” he responds with a wry smile.

He lies down on the floor, covering the front of his suit in dust, but he hardly cares—this is going to be the biggest discovery of the art world in a century. Peering down into the black abyss, he signs his flashlight around. It’s just a small room, just as musty and seemingly unused as the rest of the building.

“Clear,” he murmurs under his breath. “I’m going down.”

“Be careful, Agent Pike,” she warns, her eyes wide with trepidation.

“S’alright,” he replies cooly. “Nothing bad down there except for thirty years’ worth of cobwebs.”

He swings his legs over the side and, with a quick, calming breath, lowers himself into the darkness.

“A-Agent?” she calls out from above.

“All good,” he answers. “Need a hand down?”

Agent Pike watches as she carefully dangles her legs in the beam of his flashlight. She shifts, trying to lower herself down while maintaining her grip on her own torch. Suddenly, she slips, a frantic “Oh!” cutting through the silence as she falls through the opening and into his waiting arms.

“That was farther down than I expected,” she confesses. “Thought I was gonna break a leg there for a second.”

He looks deep into her eyes, their faces impossibly close—closer than they’ve ever been.

“Would I ever let anything happen to you?” he asks softly, a tender smile spreading across his face.

Smiling back, she shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers.

“No,” he agrees. “Now let’s go recover some stolen art, huh?”

Together, they turn, flashlights pointed toward the far side of the small room. And there, in the harsh light, is the most amazing sight Agent Pike has ever seen in all his years on the job.

His heart is pounding as he hastily takes inventory.

Vermeer. Three Rembrandts. Five Degas. Flinck. Manet. Chinese gu. French Imperial Eagle.

“It’s all here,” he whispers. If she notices how rough his voice is with emotion, she doesn’t mention it. “Every piece.”

“People have been trying to solve the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum theft for decades,” she says quietly, putting her hand on his arm. “Decades, and yet you find the one detail everyone else had overlooked. The one little detail that brought us here to this abandoned paper mill in the middle of nowhere, Texas.”

“Middle of nowhere?” Agent Pike teases. “This is my hometown. Why else do you think I recognized the residue on the footprint immediately?”

“They’ll be writing books about this moment, Agent,” she says reverently.

“Wow,” he breathes, not able to take his eyes off of the priceless collection for one moment. “Books, huh?”

“Unfortunately, they won’t be ending the way you envisioned. This is the end of the line, Pike.”

Suddenly frowning, he whirls around.

“What do you mean?”

Her face is a maelstrom of regret as she slowly draws her sidearm. “I’m sorry, Agent.”

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m double crossing you.”

“What?”

“Y’know, I’m working with the uh… um… the bad guys.”

“…What?”

Completely and utterly bewildered, Marcus cocks his head to the side and scratches his head.

It’s such a comical sight that you start to laugh.

…Three Hours Earlier

“I wanna know…” you say teasingly, sloshing the amber liquid in your glass around in a circular motion as you stare at your boyfriend across the tabletop, “…what’s like, your craziest fantasy? Like the weirdest fucking thing.”

The drink buzzes pleasantly in your system, making your tongue loose and your motions languid.

It gives Marcus the giggles.

He looks back at you with a cheeky expression, raising his eyebrows saucily as he takes another sip of his drink. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says with a grin.

“‘S’why I asked,” you say indignantly. “Obviously.”

He laughs for a moment, then sets his drink down with a thoughtful look. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he begins. “I mean, I feel like you and I have… done just about everything,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink as he talks. “We’re pretty adventurous, after all. Anything I would have considered to be a fantasy, we’ve already done.”

You smile back at him, hundreds of memories swirling through your head at his words—flashes of images containing some of the wildest, dirtiest, and best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“That’s such a cop-out, though,” you pout, sticking out your lower lip. “There’s gotta be something. A daydream. A—A scene from a movie, anything.”

Marcus shrugs and holds out his hands. “I’ve got nothing,” he chuckles. “Well, nothing sexual, I suppose.”

The qualifying statement makes your ears perk up. You set your glass to the side and put your elbows on the table, your face resting in your hands as you lean forward and look expectantly at him. “Go on…”

“Oh—I just… No, there’s—haha—there’s nothing, I was—I don’t know why I said that.”

You lean further forward, almost halfway across the table, eyes boring into his with a challenging stare.

“Spill it,” you demand giddily.

Marcus’s face has gone from pink to beet red. Still chuckling, he breaks eye contact, staring down at his drink as he seemingly gathers his thoughts.

“I haven’t thought about this in ages,” he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement.

“Thought about what?”

With a heavy sigh, Marcus meets your eyes again. “Okay. So you know the uh, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum theft, right? Most famous art theft of all time?”

“You may have mentioned it,” you tease.

“No one’s ever found the art,” he says. “None of it. The trail is cold, now, but… I dunno, I just…”

“You’ve fantasized about being the one to recover it,” you offer.

“Silly, I know.” Marcus ducks his head.

“It’s not.”

You look at him—really look at him. You study his warm brown eyes, with the laugh lines that come from his near-constant smiles. His expression is open and earnest, his eyebrows upturned slightly as he takes in your sincere response. His hair, as always, is slightly unruly, even more so tonight after a couple of drinks.

How fucking cute is it that Marcus Pike’s ultimate fantasy is solving a world-famous art heist himself?

You tip back the last sip of your drink and set it down heavily on the table.

“Let’s do it,” you announce.

Marcus frowns in confusion. “Do what?”

Your smile is a sly one.

“We’re gonna re-enact your fantasy.”

Now:

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Marcus says, but his lips are starting to quirk upward in amusement.

You shrug. “Does it have to? This is all just pretend—why can’t I be the bad guy?”

“You’re supposed to be my love interest,” he counters.

“Why can’t I be both?”

“Isn’t the point of fantasy to eventually lean into the uh… romance bit of it?”

“What’s more romantic than a redemption arc?”

“How’s that gonna work, exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say indignantly. “That’ll ruin the whole fucking story!”

“I thought this was my story,” Marcus teases.

“Just trust me on this,” you pout.

Marcus holds up his hands placatingly. “Fine, fine.”

You clear your throat dramatically.

“I’m afraid this is the end of the line, Agent Pike.”

He doesn’t miss how the gun quivers in her hands.

“After all this time,” he remarks softly, shaking his head in equal parts disappointment and heartbreak. “After all we’ve been through together, this is how it ends? Fine. But before you do it, I want you to tell me why.”

“Does it matter?” she asks.

“It matters to me.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

At his words, a tear slips down her cheek. “I—I can’t. They… they said—”

“What did they say?” He can’t help the way his voice gentles at the sight of her crying.

“If I don’t go through with this, they—” she hiccups dramatically. “Well, I’d rather the entire place go up in flames, and me with it, than face that fate.”

“Don’t say that,” Agent Pike says firmly. “We can get you out of this, I can help you.”

More tears course down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “It’s too late for that.”

“Why?”

“The failsafe.”

He shakes his head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a reason I said I’d rather go up in flames,” she whispers.

It’s then that Agent Pike realizes he can smell the faintest tinge of smoke.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He looks around the small basement, quickly jumping to action—grabbing the old desk and dragging it to the center of the room below the trapdoor and standing on it and peering into the room above them.

“It’s no use,” she says tearfully. “We’re trapped.”

“No. Don’t say that. Never say that. I’m not giving up.” He jumps down, coming face to face with her. Carefully, so carefully, he takes her face in his hands and lowers his forehead to gently rest against hers. “I said I’d never let anything happen to you, and I meant it.”

“Stubborn,” she laughs shakily.

“Always have been,” he agrees quietly.

“Agent—” she whispers.

“Don’t call me that,” he entreats softly. “Call me by my name.”

“I can’t.”

“You never have,” he says, wondering. “Why?”

“If I let myself… be so familiar, I—”

“You what?”

“I’d never be able to stop,” she says breathlessly.

“Say it,” he commands huskily. “If this is really the end of the line, you’ll say it for me.”

She’s already leaning closer, her eyes half-lidded as they finally give into the pull they’ve felt for so long.

“Marcus,” she breathes—reverently, lovingly, desperately.

It’s the last sound she makes before he presses his lips to hers.

It’s a fervent kiss, spurred on by years of yearning and the peril of their current predicament. His hands grab, clenching around her hips, holding her jaw roughly as he deepens the kiss. She meets him with equal ardor—her teeth nip his lower lip and he groans deep in his throat. Just before he truly begins to lose himself, however, he tears himself away.

“Stop,” he pleads with her. “Stop this. I’ve gotta get you out of here.”

“Marcus—” she starts, but he’s already striding across the room.

“Help me with these,” he orders briskly, grabbing as much of the art as he can carry, climbing back onto the desk, and shoving them through the trapdoor.

He’s not as careful as he’d usually be with the art—hell, he didn’t even take his archival gloves out of his front pocket—but this isn’t exactly what he’d call an ideal situation. Even still, if there’s a chance he can save the art and their lives, well, he’ll damn-well try.

She grabs the Chinese gu and hands it up to him. “You’re beyond crazy, you know that?” she says, shaking her head as he sets it gently on the floor above them.

“So I’ve been told,” he shrugs, jumping down to grab some more.

“It’s why I love you.”

Marcus stops, nearly dropping the Degas he’s carrying.

“Even if we don’t make it out,” she says, her voice wavering slightly, “I’ll have died happy knowing that I told you.”

Marcus squares his jaw, leveling her with an even stare.

“Tell me again when I get you out.”

The smoke is starting to make his eyes water, but he grits his teeth and grabs the last of the art and shoves it through the hatch. Standing on the desk, he extends his hand.

“Come on.”

She hesitates, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Why are you saving me? I—I tried to kill you.”

Marcus’s eyes soften.

“You’ll have to wait until we’re outside for my answer,” he says with his characteristic wry smile.

Then he grabs her hand and pulls her up with him, not stopping until she’s able to grab the edges of the opening and pull herself up. Taking a brief breath to center himself, Marcus jumps up, just barely able to find purchase, and follows her.

The smoke is worse up here, making both of them cough. He can see flames licking up the door where they had entered, making it look as though all is lost.

“Oh, God,” she wails. “It’s too late.”

“Not yet, it’s not,” Marcus announces confidently. Pressing his hand to his ear, he clears his throat to dispel the smoke, and then speaks.

“Call in the calvary.”

Before she can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs her around the waist and pulls her away from the wall.

“I c-can’t breathe,” she says, panicked.

“It’s almost over,” Marcus says soothingly in her ear. He presses her against his chest, and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait for long before he hears it—the distinct rumble of engines coming from outside the factory. There’s a deafening crash and more dust and smoke fills the air as something smashes through the concrete brick.

She shrieks in surprise, burying her face into the crook of Marcus’s neck as he shields her from the falling debris.

When everything settles, all that the two of them can see is the massive combine tractor now sitting in the middle of the room.

“Wh… wha…” she stammers, too stunned for words.

“Told you this was my hometown,” Marcus reminds her with a grin. “I can’t come for a visit without stopping by the family farm, now can I?”

“Wait… wait—” you hold both of your hands up, forgetting to be in character for the moment. “When was this part of the story?”

“Well, you complicated things greatly by double-crossing me,” Marcus says seriously, “and I had to improvise.”

“With a combine tractor?”

Marcus shrugs. “Why not? My family does own a farm.”

“…Okay.”

“Anyway,” Marcus says pointedly. “We’ve got some art to save and some bad guys to arrest.”

She stares up at the giant tractor in awe. “I… I can’t believe it.”

“What can I say,” he says with a grin, “I always come prepared with a plan B.”

The tractor door opens, and an older man with greying hair, deeper laugh lines, but with a familiar set of warm, brown eyes emerges from the vehicle.

“When you told me you needed me to be ready to crash Bessie into the side of the old paper mill tonight, I thought you were crazy,” the old man remarks. “How did you know it was going to burn down?”

Marcus shoots his father a smile. “Had a hunch,” he says with a shrug, glancing down at the woman in his arms with a fond expression.

“Agent Pike—Marcus—you’re… you’re brilliant,” she breathes, staring up at him.

“Now, I believe plan A was recovering every piece of art that was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990,” Marcus says. “Do you mind…?”

“I hitched the trailer to the back just like you asked,” the older man says. “How about you an’ me carry this little makeshift museum back to the farm and alert the FBI.”

“Hang on,” Marcus says, gently grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving his side. “First, we need to address plan C.”

“What’s plan C?” she asks.

“I owe you an answer from before,” he reminds her. “You asked why I saved you after you tried to kill me.”

A solitary tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I need you to know—I did it because I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Her breath catches in her throat at the adoration in Marcus’s gaze.

“I love you too,” she says breathlessly.

Their lips meet for the second time that night—just as passionate, but far less urgent. He’s in no rush this time, after all. He explores her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers as he tilts his head and presses the length of his body against hers. She gasps softly when she feels his cock starting to stiffen.

“Wait!”

“H-whhuh?” Marcus stutters, appearing dazed.

“Is your dad still in the room?” you ask, raising one eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh! Uh… no,” he answers hastily. “No he, uh, he took the art and left already. So we’re alone,” he says, coming in for another kiss.

“Marcus,” you interrupt again.

He makes an impatient questioning noise, his lips still searching for yours.

“Isn’t the building still on fire?”

“Who’s fantasy is this, yours or mine?” he teases.

“I’m just pointing out the continuity errors.”

“We’ll make love as the factory burns around us,” he laughs, capturing your lips with a sweet kiss.

“Or we could just move this to the bedroom.”

Marcus’s eyes darken.

“Yeah,” he agrees huskily. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

You pout your lip coquettishly and stare up at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes.

“Lead the way, Agent Pike.”

**

OKAYYYYYY LOL so this absolute crack fic was based on this meme:

And @littlebirdsbookshelf and I decided that Marcus would ABSOLUTELY fantasize about solving the Isabella Stewart Gardner theft himself LMAOOOOOOOOOO