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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

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The Forgotten Nest (Part 6) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Character Death (Sorry, Ice); Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Nickie finds some direction after Ice's death. Rooster and Cora talk.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

Nickie stared out at the crashing waves behind the Hard Deck, still dressed in his suit that was just a little small on him. It was the reception after Ice’s funeral and Nickie just wanted to be away from it all. It was over. Ice was gone. And Nickie didn’t want to talk about it with people who didn’t know the first thing about him.

He was tired of it. All of it. He just wanted to go home and let his bed swallow him whole.

Staring down at the metal tin that his Aunt Sarah gave him after the funeral, Nickie ran his thumb over the thin metal. The tin used to hold gum based on the stamped logo—though Nickie admittedly had to Google it—and there was something rattling around in there. There was a letter too, burning a hole in his pocket, but Nickie definitely wasn’t ready to read Ice’s last words to him. Not yet. Not for a while.

“Is that seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, causing Nickie to slowly turn around.

Viper stood behind the bench, dressed in a black suit. Although he retired from the Navy some years ago, Viper still resided in Miramar. He still saw Ice and Maverick at least on a yearly basis. And he still had that same knowing look about him every time that he ran into a new generation of Mitchell mess.

Nickie shook his head and gestured to the seat next to him. Viper walked around and slowly lowered himself onto the wooden bench. Leaning back, he folded his hands in his lap and stared out at the crashing waves, causing Nickie to do the same.

Viper was very much a part of Nickie’s life. He wasn’t in it as much as Ice or even Slider was, but Viper and his wife always had a party around the Fourth of July that Nickie and Cora would attend. And Viper picked up a babysitting shift here or there to make sure that Cora could work or go to school to support her and Nickie when he was still very young. There was no way that Viper would let Duke’s granddaughter get stuck in that position.

“Did you know?” Nickie croaked out, causing Viper to turn to him.

“Did I know what?”

“About . . . Ice,” Nickie clarified, earning a solemn sigh from Viper.

“No, I didn’t. From my understanding, the only people who knew were himself, Sarah, and a few souls here and there.” Viper studied Nickie’s expression for a moment before adding, “He wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”

“I know,” Nickie whispered out, begrudgingly sniffling as he stared at the ground. Wiping another tear away, Nickie turned back to Viper. “How’s my mom?”

“She’s fine,” Viper assured Nickie, nodding towards the Hard Deck. “Slider’s looking after her.”

“That’s good,” Nickie replied, looking back down at the ground. “She always finds a way to blame herself for things that go wrong. Even when it’s not her fault.” Picking his head up to look out at the waves, Nickie let out a shaky breath. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s a strong woman, Nickie. And she wouldn’t want you worrying about her.”

“I know, but with everything that’s happened this week . . .” Nickie trailed off, straightening up as he slowly turned back to Viper. For his part, Viper waited patiently for Nickie to ask the question that Viper knew he was going to ask. “Did my grandfather tell you?”

“I always knew,” Viper responded honestly, staring down Nickie for a moment. “You look too damn much like him for me to not know.”

“Like . . . Bradley?” Nickie suggested quietly.

“No,” Viper corrected Nickie, shaking his head. Nickie frowned a bit, looking confused for a moment. “Like his dad. Goose. Who he also looks the spitting image of.”

“Oh.” Nickie stared down at the ground again, gently swaying back and forth. “I guess he had some strong genes then.”

“Don’t worry,” Viper continued, leaning back again. “You got the Mitchell eyes.”

“My eyes are brown,” Nickie pointed out, turning back to Viper with a frown.

“I wasn’t talking about the color. I was talking about the look. The one that instantly makes people nervous because they’re waiting for the next thing you do,” Viper quipped, causing Nickie to pause. “I saw that look in your great-grandfather’s eyes some time ago.”

“You mean a century ago?”

“And there it is,” Viper replied without missing a beat.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments and when Viper saw the small smile gradually slipping from Nickie’s face, he turned back to face him. Thinking over his words carefully for a moment, Viper wore a somewhat grim expression.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Besides telling him to fuck off? No,” Nickie replied bluntly.

“Do you want to?”

“No,” Nickie blurted out without much thought. “He hurt my mom. He hurt my grandfather. Why the hell should I want to be around someone like that?”

“There could be many reasons,” Viper returned, staring out at the waves. “And I have a feeling that all of them have something to do with that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“Like you’ve got something to prove,” Viper stated, turning back to Nickie. “That’s wasn’t there before.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to him.”

“No, you don’t,” Viper agreed, nodding along. “So, don’t go around doing something stupid that you’ll regret because you feel like you have something to prove.” Viper turned back to Nickie with a more serious expression. “Whatever happens with Bradley, you are who you are. He doesn’t change that. No one changes that. You understand me?”

“Yeah,” Nickie replied quietly, causing Viper to pause for a moment.

“Your grandfather did that. Bradley does that. I don’t want you continuing the cycle.” Viper turned and watched the waves for a moment. “They flew like they were competing with a ghost. Trying to impress someone who’s not around to impress. And where does that lead them?” After a beat of silence, Viper turned back to Nickie. “Nowhere good. Nowhere your mom would want you to be.”

“There’s a lot of places that my mom doesn’t want me to be.”

Viper sat there for a moment, simply staring out at the waves. His expression didn’t give anything away and after a brief silence, Nickie picked his head up and turned back to Viper.

“I’m not shocked, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Viper replied, still staring at the waves.

“Are you going to tell my mom?”

“I think that I’m a little old for a tattletale,” Viper responded calmly, leaning back once more. “And besides, if you’re going down that path, there are going to be far more challenging moments in your path than talking to your mom about it.”

“You don’t think that she’ll freak out?”

“I think that she knows more about you than she lets on,” Viper stated honestly. “Mitchells are not exactly known for their subtly.”

“No, I guess not,” Nickie sighed, rubbing his face. After a moment, he straightened up. “And let me guess, you think I should talk with him, don’t you?”

“I think that you should have any conversation that you feel that you need to have so that you get that look out of your eye. Permanently.”

Nickie sighed, dropping his head until his chin practically rested against his chest. Taking a few shallow breaths, Nickie picked his head up and stared out at the waves.

“So, you think I should talk with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper defended himself.

“But you think that.”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper repeated, causing Nickie to sigh again. Slowly moving to stand up, Viper shot Nickie a look when Nickie moved to offer him a helping hand. “I’m old, Cadet, but not that old.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Nickie replied with a small smile.

“And Nickie?” Viper asked as he straightened up.

“Yeah?”

“When it comes to flying, it’s best to trust your instincts and not get caught up in your thoughts.” Viper’s face grew more serious for a moment. “But when it comes to relationships, you should take some time. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Nickie replied to Viper with a nod.

Viper gave Nickie’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze before turning back for the Hard Deck. Nickie turned back to the ocean, once again alone with his thoughts. Reaching for his pocket, Nickie pulled out the old tin of gum that Ice passed down to him. After a moment of delay, Nickie finally popped the tin open and pushed back the top.

Reaching into the tin with a shaky hand, Nickie pulled out a set of wings. Ice’s wings. The note placed at the bottom of the tin read a simple explanation in Ice’s loopy handwriting:

My first pair of wings. May you get your own one day, kid.

~~~~~

Cora walked slowly around the Hard Deck, greeting people that she knew from long ago that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and hugging and chatting with those people that she missed over the years. She could feel Slider’s concerned glance every five seconds, but Cora held herself poised and together in front of the crowd. In front of her family.

When she was alone in her room at home, she would deal with her emotions then.

Avoiding the group of aviators gathered in the corner, Cora walked over to the window to look out at where Nickie was sitting on the bench. Viper was standing now and appeared to be heading inside, leaving Nickie alone again. Cora thought about going out there, though she knew that Nickie was getting overwhelmed with the day.

Ice was practically Nickie’s idol growing up and now he was gone. Nickie needed time to process it. So, she would give him some space. But he was still her baby and she was still going to keep a close eye on him during this time.

Rooster, from his spot in the corner that Cora was avoiding, stared after Cora as she stood at the window. He followed her gaze and spotted Nickie sitting out on the bench, staring down at his hands. Phoenix, who was sitting beside Rooster, glanced out the window too before turning forward and reaching for her beer.

“Why does Mav’s grandson look like your twin?” Phoenix asked quietly, not looking to cause a scene. “And before you answer, do I need to be drunk to hear this?”

“It’s a long story,” Rooster replied, turning back to look at Cora.

“And the tall guy over by Mav who keeps glaring daggers at you?” Phoenix added on.

“That would be Slider,” Rooster explained, not even having to look over at him. “He used to fly with Mav and Ice and . . . my dad for a bit.”

Phoenix nodded slowly, reaching for her beer again. Taking a slow sip, she turned back to Rooster, who was still staring at Cora, looking like he was itching to get up and talk to her.

“Did you fuck up?”

“Massively,” Rooster replied, causing Phoenix to nod again.

“Well, if you want to fix it, you have about a week to do it. Probably less,” Phoenix reminded Rooster. Sharing a look with Bob, who heard their whole conversation, but would be sworn to secrecy, Phoenix got up from the table. “We’ll give you some space.”

Phoenix and Bob walked off, chatting between themselves as they made their way over to where some of the other Daggers were sitting. Rooster sat alone for a moment, lost in his thoughts, before he slowly stood up from his seat. Holding his dress cap in his hand, Rooster made his way over to the window where Cora was still standing, watching Nickie out on the bench.

If she felt his presence or noticed him walking over, she did not acknowledge him. She just kept her gaze focused on Nickie.

“Cora?” he gently called with his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Bradley?” she answered, not moving her gaze from her son.

“Can . . . are you alright?” Bradley questioned, earning a long exhale from Cora.

“I can take care of myself, Bradley. Don’t worry about me.”

“And . . . Nickie?”

“I am more than capable of taking care of my son,” Cora practically hissed, turning back to Bradley with a sharp, defensive look in her eye.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bradley replied, bowing his shoulders a bit under the weight of Cora’s glare. “I just . . . can we talk? Please?”

Cora glared up at him and for a moment, Bradley wondered if she was going to reel around and smack him straight across the face. She certainly looked like she wanted to do that. But eventually, she broke the eye contact and looked back out at the bench, where Nickie was sitting alone.

“Fine,” she breathed out, turning for the door.

They walked outside of the Hard Deck, well aware of the number of eyes trained on them. Cora quietly asked Penny to keep a close eye on Nickie while she was gone, before leading Bradley down the boardwalk and away from prying ears and invading eyes. Cora didn’t say anything. She just simply wrapped her arms around herself and kept walking forward with Bradley trailing behind her.

Once they were towards the end of the parking lot and closer to the beach, she turned around sharply, the small heel of her shoe clicking on the worn wood of the boardwalk. Her pose was defensive and her gaze was hardened, like she was gearing up for a fight.

“What do you have to say?” Cora demanded, causing Bradley to look at the ground for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, earning a sharper glare from Cora.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific there,” Cora responded sharply.

“For the whole . . . incident. At your house,” Bradley added, lamely in Cora’s opinion.

“The one that you caused?” Cora suggested harshly. When Bradley didn’t respond, Cora let the maternal anger that she felt ever since she watched Nickie’s face crumble that night just come bursting out. “Why the hell did you decide to show up after seventeen years and traumatize the kid that you already fucked up by never showing up in the first place!?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“—I don’t give a shit!” Cora interjected, cutting off Bradley before she could hear any more of his ridiculous excuses. Because then she might have actually throttled him. “Do you have any idea of what it feels like to be rejected by one of your parents? To be tossed aside!?”

“I never—”

“—You have no idea what it feels like to have one of your parents just decide that they don’t give enough of a shit about you to stick around! You have no idea what it’s like going through your whole fucking life wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone to stick around, blaming yourself for other people’s actions!”

Bradley knew that Cora wasn’t talking about Nickie so much anymore, but rather herself. It was hard to forget the conversations that a much younger Cora had with Carole and with Maverick about her birth mother. And he remembered holding her as she cried when she found out that the woman who gave birth to her went on to get married and have three kids with another man.

And, based off the limited interactions that he saw between Nickie and Cora, she didn’t leave much room for doubt about the lengths she would go through to protect Nickie.

“You have no idea what it feels like to just think you’re a giant asshole because hey, one of your parents stuck around and loved you and cared for you and you have plenty of people in your life who stepped up to be there for you, but all you can think about is the one person who was always supposed to be there who didn’t bother to give a single shit about you in the first place! You don’t Bradley!”

Cora pointed a finger straight at Bradley’s face and he quickly noticed how hard it was shaking.

“You decided to walk away and never look back! You decided to leave! That wasn’t my choice, that wasn’t my dad’s choice, that wasn’t Nickie’s choice, that was yours. So, the only person that you have to blame for this is yourself, Bradley!”

“I know!” Bradley raised his voice, causing Cora’s glare to intensify. But the tension slowly seeped out of Bradley and his shoulders sunk a bit more as he dropped his head. After a few moments of silence, Bradley picked his head up. “I know, Cora.”

“Great,” Cora replied, somewhat sarcastically. “What are you going to do about it then?”

“I changed my will,” Bradley stated, causing Cora to stare at him incredulously. “Look, we both know what can happen in this line of work and I still have all of the money that my mom and grandparents left me and—”

“—You think I want your money?” Cora practically hissed, sending him a look that instantly made him feel stupid. “What? You think that the only reason I wanted you around was for money? You think that low of me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bradley defended himself. “But I’m assuming that Nickie’s going to go off to college in a few years and I can help.”

“I don’t want your money, especially if you think that all of this bullshit is just going to go away in an instant because you decided to pay for something for the first time in seventeen years,” Cora replied, waving her hands angrily around.

“I know that it won’t,” Bradley assured her, causing Cora to fold her arms across her chest again. “I know, Cora.” Bradley glanced back at the Hard Deck and in the direction of the beach, where Nickie was still sitting out on the bench. “But I . . . I want to make it right. With you. And with Nickie. And I know that there’s not a lot of time left, but I want to try.”

“Well, in addition to a lot of other traits that he inherited from you, he got your ability to hold a grudge,” Cora somewhat snapped, causing Rooster to wince and look away for a moment. “And frankly, he’s been through enough today. This century, actually.”

“I understand,” Rooster replied softly. He looked down at the ground for a moment before picking his head up again. “Do you think that . . . he would want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Cora stated quietly, honestly not sure about the answer herself. “That’s a question for him, not me. But I’m not going to force him to have a relationship with anyone. Dad or not. He’s not a baby anymore. He’s more than old enough to make those kinds of decisions for himself.”

Rooster nodded slowly, staring down at the ground again. Sniffling, he turned back to Cora, who stared evenly back at him. She had cried all of the tears that she had to cry over this. And now, she just wanted the pain, the suffering, the angst to be over. She wanted it over for herself. And she definitely wanted it to disappear for her son.

“Why did you name him after my dad?” Rooster asked Cora, causing her to pause.

“It wasn’t a tough decision,” Cora replied after a few moments. “I mean, I couldn’t count the number of times that you said you wanted to name a son after your dad. And with all of the stories that my dad and your mom told us . . . I wanted Nickie to have those same kinds of traits. Kind and caring. Smart. Loyal. Someone that people trusted and knew that they could turn to when they needed help.” Cora looked down for a moment. “A good, honest man. That’s who I wanted my son to be.”

“I’m sorry, Cora,” Bradley repeated again, causing Cora to breathe in and out to steady herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“All you had to do was come back,” Cora whispered out, her voice breaking with emotion. “That’s all I wanted you to do.”

She tried to compose herself when the sound of footsteps caused her and Bradley to turn. Slider approached them slowly, clearly not trying to sneak up on them. Cora took a step away from Bradley to face Slider, discreetly wiping her tears away.

“Nickie’s looking for you,” Slider stated, causing Cora to nod.

She spared one last glance for Bradley before walking back towards the Hard Deck. Bradley watched her go before turning to meet Slider’s sharp glare. Spinning his cap in hand, Rooster straightened up a bit as he met Slider’s stare.

“Slider,” Rooster greeted him stiffly.

“Rooster,” Slider returned, with quite a bit of sass behind it.

With one last harsh look, Slider turned and walked back the way that he came, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts.

Cora, meanwhile, stepped back into the Hard Deck to grab Nickie and Maverick and head home. Walking through the dwindling crowd, she paused when she spotted something pinned to Nickie’s suit jacket that wasn’t there before.

Wings. A set of wings.

Nickie stared at his mom, more than a bit nervous about how she would react to his choice. His grandfather hadn’t really shown any emotion since they got the news that Ice passed, so Nickie wasn’t expecting a reaction out of Maverick today. But Cora? Nickie was really worried about her reaction.

Cora slowly walked over to where Nickie was standing beside Penny and Sarah. She didn’t say anything at first, staring at the wings on his lapel. And then she simply pulling Nickie into her arms and gave him a squeeze.

“Did you want to go home?” she asked quietly, holding her son for a moment.

“Yeah,” Nickie replied, just as quietly.

“Then let’s go home.”

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357 @oatmealisweird @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @abaker74 @avengersfan25 @yogabigooby @daisydaisygoose @sgt-barnesveins @angelbabyange @percysaidnever @artemissunn @indiestrashfire @kidd3ath @luv4kani @lt-spork

(If I forgot you in the tags, don’t be afraid to ask again because I’m definitely scatterbrained when it comes to that but please have a reference to your age somewhere on your blog (bio, pinned post) or just message me!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster x oc #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster angst #top gun rooster

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englishstrawbie · 3 months

Note

For the fluff prompt list, Marina: :)

“I could never not love you.”

“I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Thank you for the prompt and for being patient while I write it! I hope you enjoy this. 😊

>>>>>>>>>>

Carina is quiet when they get home. Maya watches her from afar as she puts Liam in his cot for a nap before heading into the kitchen to make tea. Her lips are pursed, her expression downcast as she keeps her eyes trained on the steam that rises from the boiling water she has just poured into her mug.

Maya leans against the wall, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Carina turns her head over her shoulder, but doesn’t life her gaze to look at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her question causes Carina’s back to tense as a gentle sigh escapes from her mouth.

“No,” she says quietly.

Maya can’t really blame her. They have just spent two hours at the lawyer’s office talking and planning.

The final steps of Liam’s adoption had brought tears of happiness as they had signed the papers to officially be his moms. Liam had been unperturbed as they had cuddled him tightly, more interested in the plush teddy that Vic had sent from Washington a few weeks ago which he has refused to put down since it had arrived.

They had started the process of Maya’s adoption of the baby girl that will arrive in a few months. Carina had been the one to raise it, wanting to make sure that Maya’s status as mama would be equally recognised in law. Naively, it was only then that Maya had realised how few rights she would have over her own child if it wasn’t for a piece of paper.

Sometimes she hears Mason’s voice in her head, no matter how hard she tries to block it out. She knows he is wrong, but sometimes she can’t help but let a bit of doubt creep in – the voices of her past haunting her. Carina always notices it, as if reading her mind, and, the next thing Maya knows, little reassurances will start to appear. Last week, Maya had arrived home from work to a card from Liam, decorated with his handprints, declaring her kisses to be his favourites. It is still sat proudly on the shelf above the fireplace.

Maya knows it is not these things that have brought about Carina’s silence.

It was the talk of death and living wills and advance directives. It was thoughts of more loss, when there has been too much of that already. It was Maya’s adamance that she did not want to be hooked up to a machine and the thought that one day Carina might have to let her go. It was the image of a future without Maya by her side. It was the terrifying fear of leaving behind their two babies if their nightmares became real.

Maya pushes herself away from the wall and walks over to where Carina is stood, sliding her hands around her waist and placing them on the small bump she carries, her chin resting on Carina’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Maya says, grateful when she feels Carina’s demeanour soften a little.

“I’m okay,” Carina says, putting her hand on top of Maya’s and squeezing it gently. “I just…” She shakes her head a little. “I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Maya knows it is hard for Carina to imagine the worst, having lived through so much heartbreak already. For Maya, it has been drilled into her ever since she joined the fire service how important it is to have your affairs in order; and she has always been able to compartmentalise it – until now.

Now, she has a wife and a son, and a daughter on the way. She knows what it is like to love and be loved.

Now, she knows true happiness.

Now, she has something to lose.

“Me neither.” She brings her hands to Carina’s hips and encourages her to turn around. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

Carina’s eyebrows arch with curiosity.

“I want to talk to Chief Ross about my options within SFD and whether she’ll support my promotion to captain.”

Maya catches the way Carina’s left eyebrow crinkles.

“Not immediately,” she clarifies. “I want to stay at 19 for a while, to support Andy, especially with so many changes to the team lately. But I’m ready and it’s what I want, one day. And being captain takes me out of the fires – most of the time, at least. And that’s good for us, for our family.”

Carina inhales a shaky breath. “And what if Chief Ross says no?”

“Then I look at my options outside of SFD,” Maya says resolutely.

“No, bella, I would never ask you to do that,” Carina starts to say, but Maya cuts her off.

“This is my decision. For you, for Liam, for our little bambina.” A smile crosses her lips as she runs her hand over the bump between them. “I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

Carina responds with a bone-crushing hug, pulling Maya into her arms and holding on to her tightly.

“I love you, Maya.”

Maya smiles into her thick dark hair. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’ve gotta make sure you keep on loving me.”

Carina straightens, her hands lifting to cup Maya’s face. “Amore mio, I could never not love you. No matter what our future looks like, my heart will always be yours.”

Tears prick Maya’s eyes as she smiles. “And mine will always be yours.”

She draws Carina in for a kiss then, hard and slow, feeling every bit of tension falling from her body. Carina relaxes in her arms, the tea forgotten, left to go cold on the side.

“Come, my love,” Carina says in between kisses. “Let’s go to bed before our little principe wakes up.”

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #fluff prompt list #jbthegift

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emira-addams · 6 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel - Carmilla x Rosie - Hell calls Hell

TW: 18+

How Carmilla Carmine and her daughters ended up in Hell…

With each of her steps, high heels clacked sharp and swift against the rain-soaked cobblestones as Carmilla hurried through the busy streets of the city center in the late morning hours. Thick clouds shrouded the city in a blanket of gray fog and drizzle. Over and over again, Carmilla glanced anxiously at her wristwatch.

"Too late, I'm much too late," she muttered under bated breath as she glanced back over her shoulder again and again. Carmilla's breaths were sharp and shallow, partly due to her hurried steps and partly due to her fear of her husband. "He's not here..." she tried desperately to reassure herself as she glanced at her wristwatch again. "He doesn't know where you've been..."

In that very moment, her husband, Miguel Moreno, was sitting in a stuffy meeting room with their most important investors, discussing the promising results of the past financial year, while he sold himself to them as the business genius and concealed the contribution of his wife's hard work. She should have attended the meeting, but Carmilla found the idea of sitting next to her husband like some obedient lapdog, silently listening to these greedy bastards and Miguel's bloated lies unbearable.

Carmilla sold her husband her own flat-out lie. Her absence was unavoidable as the teacher of her youngest daughter Clara had summoned her for an important conference. Clara had allegedly skipped school once or twice and, as her mother, she absolutely had to clarify this abstruse misunderstanding with her teacher.

In reality, Carmilla had asked her driver to take her to a doctor far out of town. Her left wrist had gone untreated for weeks after a violent outburst of anger from her husband. The pain had become unbearable, but Carmilla couldn't just march headlong to the nearest hospital. Miguel knew everything and Miguel found out everything...

The consequences now were a compound malunion fracture and severe nerve damage that caused numbness and chronic pain throughout her left hand. When the doctor wanted to know where her injury came from, she lied to him and claimed that she had accidentally suffered a fall. When the doctor advised her to undergo urgent surgery to rule out permanent functional impairment in her everyday life, she lied to him again and claimed that she would have herself transferred to the nearest hospital immediately. Lying was so very easy for Carmilla, but she could never leave her daughters alone with their father for the duration of a stupid surgery. If Carmilla would fail in her absence to stand protectively before Clara and Odette, Miguel would raise his hand against them.

She jerked her head around as a deep voice suddenly sounded behind her. Her heart leapt out of her chest and hid in fear under the nearest park bench. "He's not here..." Carmilla heaved a sigh of relief; behind her, an older man was sternly reprimanding a rude boy who had bumped into him. "He's not here," she muttered again and again.

The background noise of the city center swallowed up her words. In the crowds and chatter, adults exchanged loud conversations regardless of their fellow human beings, traders shouted across the market, the many words becoming an incomprehensible mash. Small children with satchels on their backs, the elementary school classes were already finished for the day, screamed with joy and jumped in front of Carmilla's feet. Well-groomed dogs with the fanciest leashes defended their owners with loud barking. In addition, the entire soundscape mingled with the traffic noise from the streets, drowned out only by the soothing cooing of the pigeons and the ominous cawing of the crows perched on the gutters along the facades of the houses.

The drizzle intensified as the water from the sewers slowly leaked through the holes in the drains back onto the cobbled streets. Carmilla grimaced in disgust as her heel hit a puddle and the dirty water splashed against her ankles. It soaked her tights and stained the hem of her black skirt. The rain made the city stench, the streets drowned in dirty water.

In her right hand, Carmilla balanced two cups filled with tea in a cardboard holder as she continued to make her way through the smelly streets of the city center until the monstrosity of a skyscraper, built of glass, stone and steel, loomed on the horizon, waiting to engulf her approaching figure. She had a profound dislike of the smell, which had settled foul in the carpet in the offices on all floors, and the bitter taste of coffee. Nevertheless, there was a coffee machine in every kitchen and never a single cup of tea for her in the entire building.

As Carmilla reached the front door of the skyscraper, faint sunshine suddenly broke through a gap in the dense cloud cover, the light reflecting off the countless mirrored window panes with a dazzling glint. The name "Moreno" glittered in gold high above. The gray clouds slowly disappeared, leaving behind a clear blue sky. The drizzle stopped.

She sighed sorrowfully. Everything belonged to her and her husband. Their company was doing well, well enough for a villa in the best residential area of the city as their own home, well enough for an expensive private school for their two daughters and well enough for a skyscraper in the middle of the city center as their headquarters.

The gleaming glass façade looked almost mocking in Carmilla's miserable sight. Carmilla had poured blood, sweat and tears into the company her father had founded. She knew his business inside out, she herself had helped to push it forward with innovation and saved it from bankruptcy during the Great Depression. Years of her life had been spent in the family business and yet her own father had preferred to make her husband CEO instead of his own daughter. She was a woman and not a man...

In that very moment, Miguel stood in front of their investors and praised his own supposed genius while Carmilla's work would not find a single word of mention. Her father would probably turn in his grave if he knew what Miguel did to his wife and two children as soon as they stepped out of line, and that in addition to his primary business, the worldwide arms trade, he sold their products in every shape and color to any wannabe gangster who put cash on the table.

The desperate attempt to open the front door with her right hand proved rather futile, the two cups hindering her movements. Carmilla's jaw gritted in frustration before she switched to her injured hand with a resigned sigh, her fingers gripping the damp metal of the door handle. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her entire arm and into her shoulder, tears gathered in her eyes and her vision blurred. Carmilla quickly pushed open the front door and entered the building.

"Good day, Misses Moreno, you're very late today!"

Stoically, Carmilla ignored the more or less friendly greeting from the receptionist, who was crouching behind the front desk among piles of files. With hasty steps, Carmilla hurried to the nearest elevator. The two doors slid aside and she rushed into the metal cabin. Only after the two doors were closed again, she was no longer able to see the receptionist and had pressed the appropriate button for the top floor, did Carmilla dare to close her eyes and release the breath she had been holding. Heavily, the elevator began to move with a clatter and a groan as Carmilla wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. She sniffled, ready to face the battlefield that the office had surely turned into in her absence and her husband's anger.

When the elevator doors opened with a harsh screech, Carmilla found herself face to face with her husband. Miguel Moreno stood in the middle of the room surrounded by their investors, all older gentlemen with thinning hair, crinkled and leathery faces and dressed in expensive tailored suits. They posed so proudly, as if they themselves, and not their money, were important to the company.

All eyes turned to Carmilla as she stepped out of the elevator. Miguel scrutinized her sternly from top to bottom before a very wide and very fake smile crept onto his lips, distorting his expression hideously.

"Darling!" he exclaimed with mock enthusiasm as he walked towards her and spread his arms. Miguel pulled Carmilla into an enveloping hug and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.

"Hello, Miguel..." Carmilla replied. She desperately tried to resist the urge to grimace and escape his grip.

"Gentlemen, this is my lovely wife Carmilla!" Miguel introduced her to their investors, who shuffled towards him with slow steps. "She helps out from time to time, otherwise she wouldn't even be here today."

Carmilla forced herself to smile politely. She felt the judging glances of their investors resting on her as Miguel suddenly grabbed one of the cups and took a sip. His face suddenly shifted from false joy to anger as he tasted the tea on his tongue. "The tea was meant for Ana and me," Carmilla explained, but a stern look from Miguel quickly silenced her.

"If you really were a good wife and mother, you would have thought of your husband and brought me a real coffee instead of this really disgusting concoction for you and your secretary..." he hissed in her ear without their investors being able to hear him. "Your husband, who works so hard for you and your two children and who you should be taking care of in a much more considerate way..."

"I'm sorry..." Carmilla replied. "I'll remember your coffee next time," she promised quietly.

Miguel smiled contentedly. "Good girl," he whispered smugly and lifted her chin. Before Carmilla could resist, he forcibly pressed a kiss to her lips in front of their investors. The gentlemen laughed derisively. "Come along now, my dear gentlemen!" Miguel announced proudly when he finally let go of Carmilla. "We're going to take a trip to the industrial area of the city! I really want to show you our manufacturing halls!" He disposed of the full tea in the nearest employee's waste bin, his leather shoe kicking impatiently against the metal basket. With one last stern look, he bid Carmilla goodbye before the elevator doors closed behind him and their investors.

Carmilla breathed out a sigh of relief. The rest of the tea had certainly gone cold by now, but she still wanted to give the remaining cup to her secretary Ana. "It's the gesture that counts," Carmilla thought quietly, making her way through the confusing maze of plastic walls in the open-plan office, the thought of Ana brightening her mood. Typewriters clattered, her heels echoed on the expensive parquet floor with every step she took and her employees bowed their heads in respect as Carmilla passed by.

Her secretary's office was down the long corridor behind the open-plan office, it was directly opposite Carmilla's office and Carmilla could see Ana from her desk through the two glass doors.

Of course Ana knew about her secret. Ana had persuaded Carmilla to go to a doctor, she had found her the address far out of town and she had rearranged her schedule for her. Ana, her lovely and reliable Ana...

Carmilla sighed longingly as thoughts of Ana made her heart beat faster. The tea in her hand was more than just a simple token of gratitude, for the two shared an additional second secret. The memory of the previous company celebration haunted Carmilla. Ana had kissed her, Carmilla had made the mistake of allowing the kiss and returning it. Ever since that evening, when her husband's anger became unbearable and she could no longer bear it alone, she imagined herself running away from her husband with her daughters and Ana. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere on the other side of the border, the four of them could start all over again.

"What a ludicrous dream..." Carmilla shook her head quickly to banish the thoughts. Running from him would be futile. He would look for her and he would find her, he always found her...

Carmilla's parents had raised their daughter as a very strict Catholic; their faith and God had been sacred to them. Same-sex relationships were a sin, her father always said, and although Carmilla felt few feelings of lust and love for men ever since she was a teenager and instead secretly doted on her best female friend, she was now a married woman and mother and should never ever have allowed her feelings for Ana in the first place.

When Carmilla entered Ana's office, her good mood died at the sight of the deserted desk. Disappointed, she closed the glass door behind her and retreated to her own office with a sigh. Exhausted, she dropped into her elegant chair and sipped her leftover tea with a sour expression on her face as she watched the abandoned desk on the other side. For some background noise, Carmilla turned on the radio and eventually the sound of Fats Walker's characterful voice poured out of the speaker of the small table radio, crackling and static riddled, and as it sang the lyrics to 'Ain't Misbehavin'', the rushing melody accompanied by his piano playing. She closed her eyes, humming softly to the melody while her lips lingered over her tea and she listened lost in her thoughts to the rushing music. She liked jazz.

"Misses Moreno?"

A unfamiliar voice suddenly tore Carmilla out of her wholesome world of thoughts and brought her rudely back to bitter reality. She almost spilled her tea over the tabletop and onto her clothes; a young woman was standing in the middle of her office, looking at her expectantly.

"Misses Moreno?" the young woman repeated her name, her voice a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her hands clutched a gray folder.

"Who are you?" Carmilla asked, more sharply than she had intended.

"I-I..." Startled, the young woman had taken a few steps back from her desk. "I-I'm your new secretary..." she replied quietly. She stared at the parquet floor at her feet, apparently not yet daring to look her new boss in the eyes. "I wanted to introduce myself to you and-"

"My new secretary? But Ana is my-" Carmilla's voice broke off mid-sentence. She blinked in confusion. "Who hired you?" she demanded to know sternly.

"Mister Moreno..."

Carmilla tried desperately not to grimace, her insides churning at the sound of her own name, Moreno. Her own name was becoming more and more unbearable to her ears, of course Miguel was behind it. "Please call me, Carmilla," she asked the young woman, forcing herself to smile crookedly for her.

"Of course, Misses Moreno- I mean, Carmilla, excuse me..." The young woman nodded eagerly.

Carmilla mustered a smirk. As she went to reach for pen and paper, she froze still in her movements. A sharp pain shot through her left wrist, her muscles gave way sluggishly to the pain and her arm came to rest heavily on the tabletop. She suppressed a pain-filled whimper.

"Are you all right?" the young woman wanted to know, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Yes!" Carmilla replied hastily, looking up at her with a forced smile. "I have... I remembered that I forgot about something important... Listen, I was... busy with an important matter before you interrupted me..." She gestured weakly at the scattered papers and her clunky typewriter.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to disturb you..." the young woman apologized again. She nervously adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Carmilla waved it off, the young woman was blameless. She hadn't deliberately disturbed her daydreams about Ana. "It's not your fault..." she spoke, softening her tone. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the young woman's rough reception in her office. Carmilla cleared her throat. "Um... Welcome aboard," she said, her heavy voice laced with a weary warmth. "Uhm... To be honest, I wasn't expecting a new secretary today and I have some very important tasks on my desk that need to be dealt with urgently," Carmilla lied. She massaged her aching temples. "Listen, take the rest of the day off and go home, you'll get paid for the full working day. I'll give you your first briefing tomorrow and familiarize you with your future tasks..."

"Thank you!" The young woman gave her a beaming smile.

As the glass door closed behind her new secretary, Carmilla leaned back in her chair, sighing sadly. Her eyes wandered longingly back to the deserted office on the other side of the corridor.

"She should have been here by now..." she murmured to herself. Ana was reliable, she was on time every day and she was neither on vacation nor had she called in sick. Carmilla had asked around about this, and the sudden appearance of the new secretary gave her additional cause for concern.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Carmilla quickly realized that typing on the keys of the typewriter with both hands was an impossibility and for the rest of the working day she ended up in a state of complete procrastination. She constantly stared back and forth between the white sheet in her typewriter, which seemed to taunt her, and the stacks of files that piled up endlessly on her desk. Again and again she moved file after file from left to right and from right to left on her desk, sorting all the files by alphabet and then by color, while she secretly glanced at Ana's office again and again out of the corner of her eye. The heavy ticking of the wall clock drove her insane, the hands on the clock face crept so slowly forward.

The dusk's golden light was already falling through the high windows when Carmilla's husband rudely pushed open the glass door and barged into her office. "Carmilla, darling!" He beamed from ear to ear with a confidence that bordered on the absurd. "I need your help! I promised them the moon, and you're going to help me build the rocket for them!" He slammed a stack of papers on her desk, while referring to their investors.

The other piles of paper began to sway alarmingly, almost triggering an avalanche. His face glowed, his ego seemed to have caught fire, while Carmilla roughly skimmed over the printed lines and shook her head, more or less stunned. In a flight of hubris, Miguel had grandly and gesticulously presented his largely poorly thought-out and impracticable plans to their investors and given them his promise. In the eyes of their investors, the results so far spoke in Miguel's favor, although they were entirely due to his wife's competence, but he preferred to leave this detail unmentioned.

"What do you think?" he asked proudly, but didn't wait for an answer. "Will you manage to redo the business plan by the weekend so that we can continue with my plans?"

Carmilla cleared her throat, desperately trying to control her voice, which was quivering with anger. Her face could barely hide her annoyance from her husband. "If my secretary was there, then maybe," she lied, seizing the opportunity for a confrontation, the sight of the empty office driving her insane. "Why did you go behind my back and arrange for me to get a new secretary? I want to know immediately where Ana is, Miguel..."

His smug slow smile was followed by a stretched reply. "Ah, my darling, I'll have to disappoint you for better or worse, but your little friend will no longer be with us."

"Did she quit?" The question trembled on Carmilla's tongue, despite her efforts to sound indifferent. "He knows everything!" a voice hissed in her head, telling her to run. Frozen, Carmilla remained seated.

Miguel laughed, a hollow and sinister sound. "Quit?" He shook his head, still laughing. "No, let's just say something terrible happened to dear Ana. Something that, fortunately, you'll never be able to accuse me of..."

Carmilla felt an icy shiver run down her spine. The meaning of his insinuations was clear. She felt her heart grow heavy and sink into her chest. "You... What have you done, Miguel?" she whispered, fear resonating in her words.

"Oh, don't look at me so scared, Carmilla. For my taste, the dear Ana got far too close to you, she was just a distraction for you. You know I warned you..." His voice sounded dismissive, bored and dull. "Be grateful, darling. Now you can concentrate fully on the new business plan without the distraction of Ana!" Miguel turned to leave, giving his wife one last stern look from the doorway. "You have until Monday afternoon to do so..."

Carmilla flinched as the glass door slammed shut.

Miguel had made Ana vanish before Carmilla could leave with her. Carmilla's chance had been lost and her hopes had been crushed.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to burst into tears for Ana and scream at Miguel. She should rebel against him, but she couldn't.

Carmilla couldn't.

The pain that still throbbed in her wrist was the constant reminder of what had happened the last time she had tried to stand up to her husband. It was the painful proof of her physical inferiority and her own inanity for daring to resist, she couldn’t without putting herself and her daughters at risk. "I'm so sorry, Ana..." she whispered into the empty room, her voice a strangled whisper. The sleeve of her top tried desperately to dispel the veil that blurred her field of vision. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry..." She silently sent a prayer to God, asking the Almighty to help Ana and her.

The high iron gates cast growing shadows as her driver stopped the car with squealing tires in front of the driveway. Behind the lurking shadows lay her daughters' school, a private school for girls. Her driver jumped from his seat, quickly rushing around the car and opening the door for Carmilla. She got out and to her surprise, her arrival was eagerly awaited by her two daughters accompanied by their teacher, an older woman with a tight bun and sour face. She walked towards the three of them, while Clara and Odette both lowered their heads to the ground with ashamed stares.

Carmilla's brows furrowed in confusion as she looked Clara and Odette up and down in turn. Her youngest daughter Clara wore a very grim expression, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes and threatening to fall. Her curly hair was frizzing in all directions and her otherwise clean school uniform was covered in grass stains and the expensive fabric was torn. Several scratches and deep scrapes adorned her face, blood stained Clara's knuckles. There were wide gashes across both knees, blood had run down her shins and stained her white socks. Their teacher had grabbed Clara firmly by her left arm and was holding her firmly in place.

Carmilla's eldest daughter Odette stood a few steps away from her sister, looking distraught. Her straight hair was completely disheveled and the fabric of her neat school uniform was creased, one of the lenses of her glasses was cracked. Odette's arms clutched her school books like a lifeline, clutching the remains of a piece of paper in her hand.

"Good evening?" Carmilla greeted the teacher of her two daughters. She held out her hand, but instead the woman crossed her arms sternly in front of her chest. "What happened?" Carmilla asked, confused. She gave her two daughters each a stern sidelong glance.

"Good evening, Misses Moreno..." the lady huffed angrily. "Your immature daughter Clara got into a fight with one of her classmates. During the break, she attacked the poor innocent girl in the schoolyard with hands and fists like a madwoman."

"Hey, I definitely didn't go after a poor innocent girl!" Clara argued furiously with her teacher. She hastily released her arm from her painful grip. "I went after her to protect my sister because she purposely destroyed all the blueprints for Odette's final project in physics class! My sister worked for days and nights on her final project, until she ruined all her hard work and-"

"How dare you insolent brat interrupting an adult!" their teacher cut the furious girl off with a very irritated look on her face. She silenced Clara with another very stern look before continuing her own explanation of what had happened. She cleared her throat. "I was able to separate the two girls and grab Clara before the situation escalated further. For the rest of the month, your daughter will have detention every afternoon instead of joining her classmates in afternoon activities on the school grounds."

"You let Odette's bully escape like a coward!" Clara protested in outrage. "She got away without being punished!"

"Clara, that's enough..." Carmilla admonished her daughter in a strict voice. "Both of you, go sit in the car, we'll talk about this later, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mom..." Clara replied meekly. With hung heads, the two girls shuffled to the car, Clara opened the door for Odette and they sat down in the back seat one after the other.

Carmilla and the woman watched the two girls. The woman cleared her throat again, her voice sounding like sandpaper, before turning back to the mother in front of her. "You really are damn lucky that I have a soft heart and was so easily persuaded by your daughter Odette to give Clara just detention," she spat. "If Odette's final project hadn't been destroyed, I wouldn't have shown any pity and would have happily expelled Clara for this incident." Bewildered, she shook her head and eyed Carmilla disapprovingly. "I would have expected more manners from an otherwise reliable girl like Clara instead of such an outburst of brute force, especially when she's almost of age." She sighed sorrowfully. "I don't want to put all the blame on Clara, after all, a good mother would have raised her daughter properly..."

Hastily, Carmilla suppressed the urge to grimace a grim scowl. Her jaw gritted and her hands clenched into fists, she struggled to keep control of her temper. No matter what this woman or Miguel said, she was a good mother to her girls.

Carmilla forced a slight smile onto her lips, her eyes sparked with anger. "I promise you that I will not let my daughter get away with this and I will punish Clara at home appropriately for what she has done. I hope you still will have a pleasant evening." Without waiting for a reply, Carmilla quickly turned away and walked back to the car. She opened the door and joined her daughters in the back seat before giving her driver the order to leave.

Of course, Clara and Odette had overheard the rest of the conversation between their mother and their teacher through the slightly open window.

Clara had her hands folded in her lap. She slumped her shoulders and looked up guiltily at her mother. "I-I'm sorry, Mom," she apologized weakly. "I... I-I will accept whatever punishment you come up with for me without further argument."

"Oh, dear..." Carmilla murmured. She watched her youngest daughter desperately trying to fight back her tears again. A surprised shriek escaped Clara's lips as Carmilla pulled her into her arms. Clara wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face in her shoulder, apologizing again and again between sobs. "It was really brave of you to stand up for your sister like that. I'm really proud of you both, how unconditionally you two stick together and look out for each other."

Carmilla tried in vain to reassure her youngest daughter, while Odette tried in her own way to comfort her younger sister. Wordlessly, she let her warm hand draw small circles on Clara's back.

"I'm not going to punish you, Clara."

Surprised, Clara raised her head. Very confused, she looked at her mother. "I won't be punished?" she asked bewildered. "W-Why?" But then Clara's expression changed, pure fear gathering in her eyes. "Are you going to... are you going to tell Dad about this?" Her voice trembled with fear, tear after tear ran down her cheeks and dripped into Carmilla's lap. "Mom, please-please punish me, ground me for the next year or so. I swear to you, I'll do whatever you want, but please don't tell Dad..." she sobbed, completely caught up in her panic.

"Hey, Clara, my dear, look at me..." Carmilla desperately tried to calm her daughter down. She gently lifted her chin and forced her to look at her. "Clara, look at me and listen to me..." she spoke in a soft voice. She wiped the tears from her daughter's cheeks while Clara stared at her, her eyes wide with emotion. "I'm not going to punish you." She shook her head quickly. She planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Besides, I promise you in all honesty that I won't tell your father a word about this. This incident at school will remain a secret between the three of us, all right?" Carmilla tenderly combed the frizzy strands of hair from Clara's face and pressed another kiss to her forehead; Clara had stopped crying and her sobs slowly died down. "How about we make chiles rellenos for dinner?" Carmilla suggested to her daughters, trying to smile encouragingly.

"Really?" Clara sniffled. She wiped her runny nose with the dirty sleeve of her school uniform. "We haven't eaten chiles rellenos for ages!"

Carmilla nodded and Clara and Odette cheered. She asked her driver to take a detour to the market to get all the ingredients for "Chiles Rellenos" with her daughters. Stuffed poblano-peppers were Clara's favorite. They were a rarity on their dinner table, as Miguel hated this dish, but this evening she didn't care about her husband's feelings about food. Her girls were much more important to her, Clara and Odette have had a bad day and she was determined to cheer up her two daughters.

"But first..." Carmilla eyed Clara up and down scrutinizingly. "But first I'll tend to your injuries." She carefully turned her daughter's head from left to right, her brow furrowing with concern at the sight of the dried blood on her cheeks. She scrutinized every single scrape and scratch. "Hm... You look really bad... Are you in worse pain somewhere else?"

"I think I'm fine." Clara shrugged her shoulders. "You should have a look at my opponent, she certainly looks a lot worse than me." Pride resonated in her voice.

"No!" Carmilla shook her head vigorously. "You're not fine, look at yourself in a mirror. Clara, you know that violence is not the answer."

"I know..." Clara spoke softly as she stole a furtive glance at her mother's broken wrist.

Carmilla sighed wistfully before pulling her two daughters into her arms. She only wanted to protect them. "I love you," she murmured as two pairs of arms wrapped around her waist.

"We love you too, Mother," Odette replied as she and Clara snuggled up to her.

The rest of the evening passed relatively peacefully, with Carmilla and her daughters remaining almost completely undisturbed. As soon as Miguel had set foot through the front door and the smell of "Chiles Rellenos" had crept into his nose from the kitchen, he had turned on his heel in a hurry. He had shouted over his shoulder to his wife that he would be eating out alone. He would certainly not make an exception for his own daughters and choke down this disgusting dish.

Miguel showed no understanding for his daughters, he had never shown understanding for his daughters. Miguel did not have a good relationship with Clara and Odette. He didn't pay any attention to them, neither as children nor as teenagers. He had no time for them, he was a businessman and work was more important. He didn't want to acknowledge them, they were his daughters and not his sons.

Carmilla knew that Miguel had desperately wanted a son to inherit the family business, but instead she had given him two daughters, which he despised.

He despised Clara for her eccentric ways. Clara could hardly sit still, for a few minutes perhaps, while she talked non-stop like a chatterbox. This girl had a completely over-excited flow of words and when she talked and talked, she jumped from topic to topic as if obsessed, leaving whole stories and half sentences unfinished, while those around her had serious problems following her train of thoughts. Clara shifted restlessly from one foot to the other on the spot or slid from left to right on her chair as she began to stutter and stammer more and more.

Miguel was irritated by Clara's behavior. When he lost patience with her, he went beyond shouting. Not infrequently Carmilla had had to protectively stand between her husband and her youngest daughter.

He despised Odette for her shy and quiet demeanor. Odette was able to immerse herself in the worlds of her books, between science and science fiction, while losing sight of the real world and time. Book after book was stacked in her room to form a labyrinth, amongst a multitude of papers with complicated formulas and several blueprints for weird inventions that had been inspired by the stories in her books. Odette spent hours at her desk.

Miguel thought Odette was delusional. He constantly told her that she needed to behave more ladylike and learn the most important virtues of a housewife if she didn't want to die alone. No man would want to marry a woman with Odette's career aspirations and besides, a woman in science was an utterly absurd idea, real scientists were men.

Clara and Odette despised their father and the reign of terror he had over their mother...

"Ugh..." Carmilla groaned miserably, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The next morning, Carmilla stood in front of the fogged up mirror in the bathroom, desperately trying to help her battered image.

Carmilla hadn't slept a wink all night. As soon as her daughters had disappeared into bed, she was alone again with her thoughts and her grief for Ana. Pulling the covers up to her chin, Carmilla had laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling with silent tears.

Miguel hadn't come home that night. Carmilla expected it, still she suspected bitterly that he had wandered through the bars yesterday after his visit to a restaurant and probably picked up a prostitute at the first opportunity on the next best street corner, it wouldn't be the first time.

Miguel would probably not be coming home, but instead would be heading straight to work that morning, although Carmilla had taken the precaution of locking the bathroom door and turning on the tap so that the sound of the water would silence her sobs. Neither her daughters nor her husband should hear her, her tears should be invisible, especially to Clara and Odette. She had cried for Ana in front of the sink on the cold tiles until she was hoarse and couldn't cry anymore, until her eyes were red and swollen and her head hurt as if her skull would split open.

The bloodshot eyes of her image gazed back at her. Sweaty strands hung down her face and as Carmilla washed her pale face with ice-cold water, she felt the tiredness in her heavy bones.

Suddenly Carmilla heard a thump in the corridor. The next moment there was a rattle on the door handle and a knock on the bathroom door.

"Mother?" Odette's voice rang out from the other side of the wooden barrier. "Why is this door locked?" she wanted to know, concern and confusion resonating in her voice. "You never lock the door... Is everything all right with you, Mother?"

"Yes!" Carmilla sniffled, before hastily wiping the last evidence of her tears from her cheeks with a towel. She turned off the tap. "I'll be right with you, dear!" She forced herself to smile for Odette. She would let her voice in the brightest tone tell her daughter the most believable lie as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door for her daughter.

To her surprise, she saw her two daughters standing in front of her in their nightgowns. "Good morning? Why are you two up so early at this hour?" Carmilla's brows immediately furrowed with concern as she looked them up and down. "Clara, my dear, are you all right?"

"Mom..." Clara mumbled, sweat beading on her forehead and her eyes glazed over. With a pale face, she leaned her entire weight on her sister, who was supporting her with difficulty. She couldn't keep her balance on her own. "I don't feel so good," she said in a weak voice. She suppressed a shiver from the cold. "E-Everything... Everything is spinning..."

Odette reestablished her grip on her younger sister's waist. "She was trying to walk to the bathroom and fell in the hallway," she explained to her mother. "I heard the thump and went to help her."

Suddenly her grief and tears were forgotten. Carmilla's whole world revolved around her daughter as she gently put her hand on Clara's forehead and felt her fever. "You're really burning up, my dear..." she said worriedly.

"Mother... What's wrong with her? Is she sick?" Odette nervously nibbled her nails.

"Not sick... I have a suspicion, but I want to take a look at the injuries from yesterday on her knees first..." Carmilla murmured contemplatively. She quickly wrapped Clara in her arms, ignoring the pain in her wrist and her daughter's protests. Carmilla carried Clara in her arms into the bathroom and gently set her down on the edge of the bathtub, her sister immediately sat down next to her.

"It hurts..." hissed Clara, her face contorted with pain, as her mother squatted down on the cold tiles and carefully undid the bandages around her knees with practiced hands. Soaked gauze revealed gaping wounds that burned unbearably and brought tears to Clara's eyes when they came into contact with air. She closed her eyes tightly, her fingernails clawing into the ceramic of the bathtub.

"I know, dear, I know..." Worried, Carmilla looked at the swollen flesh, deep worry lines marring her face. "I'm afraid your wounds have become infected..."

"What do we do now, Mother?" Odette asked anxiously. "Infected injuries like that are fatal if we don't-"

"Odette!" Carmilla warned her oldest daughter sternly as she saw her youngest daughter turn as pale as a ghost. She shook her head. "Don't you dare think about that. Clara will recover completely," she claimed. Carmilla sent a prayer to the Lord above...

Carmilla hastily rose from squatting and brushed the dust off her skirt before turning her gaze to her oldest daughter. "Odette, dear, can you get me the first aid kit and some linen?" Odette nodded and disappeared as she gently helped Clara to sit on the floor in front of the bath until she could lean her back against the cold ceramic. She did not yet trust her daughter's condition adequately; in the absence of her mother and sister, Clara could lose consciousness and injure herself further by falling from the edge of the bathtub onto the tiles. "Clara, I'll be right back," she promised. "Stay here and please don't do anything stupid, my dear."

Clara nodded silently as Carmilla stormed out of the bathroom and sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen. She placed the kettle full of water on the stove and turned up the flame, hastily grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and placing the container of salt on the countertop before rushing to the phone on the wall and picking up the receiver. While the water began to boil, Carmilla informed Clara and Odette's teacher that they would be absent from school today.

Then, with trembling fingers, Carmilla began to dial the number of Miguel's office phone. The mechanism of the dial clicked auspiciously. Dimly, the muffled sound mingled with static as Carmilla listened silently as the line was set up. Her eyes darted around the kitchen. The kettle was just starting to whistle when clicks and clacks sounded on the line; sure enough, Miguel was already in his office.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered Carmilla's early disturbance.

"Miguel, it's me. I'm not coming into work today, I'm staying at home instead. Clara is doing very badly and I have to look after her."

"But the new business plan-"

Carmilla ignored Miguel's inappropriate and silly nagging. "Your daughter's health is much more important, but I promise you I'll work through the next few nights. I'll manage to implement your idiotic idea for the new business plan despite Clara." Without waiting for his answer, Carmilla slammed the phone down. She sighed wistfully and massaged her aching temples, her sick daughter was much more important than all the work and all the consequences that Miguel's anger at her arbitrary decision would surely bring for her.

Carmilla carefully poured the boiling water from the kettle into the prepared bowl and generously mixed in the salt to prepare a saline solution. She carried the bowl into the bathroom.

"Are you all right?" she asked her youngest daughter softly as she placed the bowl with the saline solution on the tiles next to Clara. She also took an almost empty bottle of iodine from the cupboard above the sink.

In response, Clara gave her mother an exhausted smile. Odette was sitting next to her sister, she had a metal box in her lap and linen sheets draped over her arm. She held the things out for her mother.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but this is going to hurt..."

Clara closed her eyes as her mother opened the first aid kit and set to work first cleaning her wounds again with the saline solution and the linen cloths before disinfecting her injuries with the iodine. She then wrapped her knees with new gauze and bandages, all the while Odette held Clara's hand and tried to comfort her sister.

After Carmilla had finished her work, she scooped Clara back into her arms and carefully lifted her up. "Odette, can you soak the rest of the linen sheets in cold water? I need them for Clara's fever," she explained.

"Of course, Mother!"

Odette immediately jumped up, while Carmilla carried her youngest daughter back to her room with slow steps.

"Thanks, Mom..." Clara mumbled as her mother carefully set her down in her bed and half covered her with a thin blanket. Her sister entered her room with a pile of cold linen sheets in her arms.

"Of course," Carmilla replied as she gently stroked her daughter's sweaty curls out of her face. She placed the cold cloths on the back of her neck and on her forehead. "I've signed you both out of school for today. Odette, I need your help with Clara and the household." Her oldest daughter nodded. "I've already told your father that I'll be staying home from work today."

"No, Mom!" Clara sat up in horror. She shook her head vigorously, the linen cloth on her forehead falling into her lap. "You and Odette really shouldn't stay at home because of me. You're just unnecessarily upsetting Dad because of me..." She looked up guiltily at her mother with wide eyes, a guilty conscience reflected in her gaze. "I can handle myself and-"

"No, I definitely won't leave you alone and I won't tolerate any more backtalk from you," Carmilla interrupted Clara. Gently but firmly, she pushed her back onto the mattress by her shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll manage your father," she promised, "you need to rest..." She felt her forehead before she repositioned the slipped linen cloths. The fever had not yet begun to subside. Worry crept into her face.

"Mom?" Clara immediately noticed her mother's worried face. "I'm going to be all right, am I?"

"Huh?" Carmilla couldn't help but think of Odette's words. If they couldn't bring the fever down and stop the infection from spreading, then Clara would-

Carmilla shook her head quickly to banish the thoughts. She would not allow her daughter to die. Carmilla cleared her throat. "Yes, of course you'll be all right, my dear," she promised her youngest daughter and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I'll be right back," she claimed as she glanced at the clock face of Clara's alarm clock. At this time of day, her driver was already waiting outside the front door to take her daughters to school and her to work. "I'm just going to get some medication for you from the pharmacy. Your sister will keep an eye on you until then." Hopefully they had antibiotics in stock, this newly discovered little miracle cure would probably save Clara's life.

"Okay... I love you, Mom."

"I love you too!" Carmilla kissed her youngest daughter goodbye before turning to Odette. "You watch your sister for me, will you? I promise I won't be gone long. I'll be right back."

"Yes, you can count on me, Mother!" Odette announced dutifully.

"I know," Carmilla smiled and also kissed her oldest daughter goodbye before leaving the room. She followed the stairs downstairs and reached for her purse before stepping outside the front door. Her driver was already waiting for her. Carmilla took one last look back towards the room before pulling the front door shut behind her.

The little bell above the door announced Carmilla's entrance into the dimly lit pharmacy. Cool air and the earthy smell of several herbs greeted her. The clear sound of the bell made the pharmacist look up from her work. Miss Adler, an American-born woman who had served as a nurse and later as a doctor in World War I before settling abroad, wore a white coat, round glasses on the end of her nose and had her gray hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Known for her pragmatic demeanor, the elderly lady had earned a reputation as a formidable but somewhat grumpy character.

Carmilla felt an icy chill run down her spine as Miss Adler's gray eyes pierced her with a scrutinizing gaze. The elderly lady could read her loyal customer for painkillers like an open book. Miss Adler knew about Miguel, Carmilla was convinced of that. No matter how hard Carmilla tried, Miss Adler always managed to read between the lines. The older lady gave her the creeps and her grumpy character was quite intimidating.

"Good morning, Misses Moreno," Miss Adler greeted Carmilla dryly as she approached the counter. "What can I do for you? Do you need new painkillers already again?" Her Spanish had no accent.

"Good morning, Miss Adler," Carmilla replied as Miss Adler's stern gaze studied her from top to bottom. She shook her head quickly, her voice full of concern. "No, I don't need new painkillers. I... Uhm... I really need your help."

"Really?" Skeptically, Miss Adler raised her eyebrows.

Carmilla nodded hastily. "Yes... I urgently need medication for my youngest daughter, please, Clara is very sick..." Her tone was full of desperation. She quickly described the symptoms to the pharmacist, a high fever caused by an infection from inflamed injuries.

"Hm..." The pharmacist quickly realized the gravity of the situation. Miss Adler listened attentively to the worried mother before moving back and forth between the shelves and ladders with astonishing agility for her advanced age, collecting various forms of medication. "It's important that we don't waste any time with the treatment," she said over her shoulder to Carmilla, concern reflected in her experienced gaze. "Let's tackle the infection first." She reached for a dark glass bottle containing an iodine solution before adding fresh bandages and sterilized gauze wrapped in paper. "Clean her wounds carefully every morning and evening, keep them clean and covered," she advised her roughly.

Without expecting an answer, Miss Adler turned her back on Carmilla. She let her gaze wander searchingly along the many shelves. "You're hiding up there..." she murmured, before reaching the right height with the help of a narrow wooden ladder and retrieving a tin from the top shelf. "Aspirin to bring down the fever and help with the pain. Gentle but effective," Miss Adler noted, before adding a box of sulfanilamide tablets, an antibiotic. "These tablets should help fight the infection from the inside as well. Make sure Clara takes them regularly." Her stern tone emphasized the seriousness of the situation, while Carmilla could only nod silently. "Don't worry, Misses Moreno. If your daughter is even slightly as strong-willed as her mother, I have no doubt that she will survive the infection."

Miss Adler wrote the correct dosage of medication on a paper slip for Carmilla before putting everything in a paper bag. "Bed rest and adequate hydration are the keys to Clara's full recovery. Water, broth, anything to increase her fluid intake..." She pulled a small packet of lemon drops from under the counter and handed it to Carmilla. Her grumpy expression gave way to an encouraging small smile. "If I'm not mistaken, candy should help lift her spirits, and a simple smile can also help with recovery."

"Thank you, Mrs. Adler," Carmilla replied sincerely. As she reached for her purse to pay for the medication, a sharp pain shot through her left wrist, making her wince visibly.

Of course, Miss Adler didn't miss it, her eyes narrowed to small slits. "Your wrist..." she spoke softly, her voice softening. "Let me see it, please."

"It's really nothing..." Carmilla asserted, taking a step back from the counter. "I just twisted it awkwardly," she lied, hoping to avoid the pharmacist's further interrogation.

But Miss Adler shook her head. "Nonsense!" She wasn't so easily dissuaded by Carmilla. "I've seen enough injuries in my life to know that you didn't just twist your wrist awkwardly... Please, let me see it," she insisted, her tone allowing no further objection.

Reluctantly, Carmilla held out her wrist to the pharmacist and Miss Adler examined it carefully. "Broken... And the fracture wasn't treated properly," she quickly stated, her voice turning into a mixture of disapproval and concern. "Misses Moreno, how did you actually sustain this injury?"

Carmilla hesitated. "I... I fell..." she mumbled, her eyes lowered. The habitual lie tasted bitter.

Miss Adler looked at her sternly. "Falls very rarely result in such injuries," she said quietly. She sighed heavily. "I have seen many injuries. Both from wars and from battles fought in the shadows... Your husband holds full responsibility for your injury, doesn't he, Misses Moreno?"

"Yes..." Carmilla spoke weakly, ashamed and afraid.

"I fear that treating this injury is far beyond my capabilities," she said softly, regret tinging her voice. "I'm sorry, Misses Moreno, a surgeon would have to take a look at it." Miss Adler sighed sorrowfully as Carmilla quickly withdrew her hand. The pharmacist noticed the fleeting look of pain on her face before she pulled a small bottle of Mercuric Chloride from under the counter and handed it to Carmilla with the medication for Clara.

Carmilla gave her a look of surprise. "What's this?"

"This is Mercuric Chloride," Miss Adler whispered, choosing her following words carefully. "It's a very toxic substance that we normally use very sparingly and in diluted form to treat stubborn external injuries." Miss Adler paused, making sure Carmilla followed her every word. "It is toxic and must be handled with extreme caution, the smallest amount, whether accidentally misused or not, is fatal if swallowed." She continued, emphasizing the risks associated with Mercuric Chloride. "Carmilla..." she firmly said. "In case anyone asks, you will tell them that you received the Mercuric Chloride from me as a last resort for your daughter..."

Carmilla swallowed sourly as she gripped the bottle. As Miss Adler spoke, Carmilla's first shock gave way to a rising realization. "Thank you, Miss Adler," she said firmly. As she reached for her purse again to pay, the pharmacist gently held her back.

Miss Adler shook her head. "I'm here to help, so please don't worry about money, Carmilla, the Mercuric Chloride is a gift from me..." she whispered. "Use it as a last resort for your husband… I trust you to make the right decision for you and your daughters, Carmilla."

Carmilla knelt in the kitchen. The floorboard squeaked softly as she removed it and paused. She stared silently into the darkness before letting the small bottle of Mercuric Chloride disappear into the shadows. She carefully placed the board back in place and hid her last resort under the floor in the kitchen.

"I can hardly believe I'm contemplating such an act..." she muttered with a shake of her head. "But what choice do I have for both of you, for your safety and for your protection?" She spoke indirectly to Clara and Odette, her daughters still unaware of her being home.

"Mom, are you back?" Clara's voice came from her room.

"Yes!" Carmilla replied with a smile on her lips as she climbed the stairs and entered the room. She found Odette still sitting by her younger sister's bed. Her oldest daughter held an old and worn copy of "The War of the Worlds" in her hands; in Carmilla's absence, she had dutifully not left Clara's side and had been reading to her younger sister.

"And then the Martians fired their heat ray, destroying everything in its way!" Odette read aloud, her voice filled with enthusiasm for the alien drama unfolding from H.G. Wells' words. She gestured theatrically with her hands as she imitated a melting human.

Clara's face twisted into a grimace. "Mom, you have to save me!" she shouted, she shifted uncomfortably under her thin blanket. Not only was she enduring the ordeal of her fever, she was also enduring her older sister's undivided fascination for her favorite science fiction story. "Odette, do those Martians kidnap bored-to-death sisters too?" she groaned, trying to push herself away. "Because I would volunteer as tribute for that..."

Odette snorted, slightly offended. "I'm just trying to take advantage of your bedridden state to broaden your literary horizons..."

"Mom!" cried Clara, her voice full of playful frustration. "Mom, please rescue me from those Martians!"

Carmilla laughed, setting the medication down on the narrow bedside table next to Clara's bed and sat on the edge of her mattress. "How are you feeling, my darling?" she asked her. She felt her forehead, the fever had gone down a little by now.

"I was hoping for a story that was a little less... doomsday-ish..." She looked at her mother with a begging look. "If someone read me a story like that, I'm sure I'd feel better very quickly." She put on a pout.

"Well, it seems I came back just in time to save you," Carmilla mused. "How about we put the alien invasion on hold for now?" She gave Odette an affectionate look. "Although I think it's wonderful that you're sharing your favorites with Clara, even if I think the Martians are a bit too much for her at the moment."

Odette shrugged her shoulders. "All right," she grinned and closed the book. "But you're missing out, Clara..."

Clara rolled her eyes, but mustered a relieved smile at her mother's successful rescue.

"How do you feel at the thought of setting sail with pirates?" Carmilla wanted to know from her youngest daughter as she pulled the book "Treasure Island" from Clara's sparse bookshelf. Clara nodded hastily and Carmilla sat back down on the edge of her mattress. "Let's see if Jim Hawkins can outwit the cunning Long John Silver," she said as her voice and the words of the story carried her daughters away to another world, on a ship out to the seven seas and a buried treasure.

"Long John Silver really is very cunning..." Clara thought aloud while resting her head in her mother's lap. Outside the windows of her room, dusk colored the horizon.

"But Jim is brave... much braver..." Odette murmured. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier as she desperately tried to fight her rising exhaustion. "Brave like you, Mother."

Carmilla paused, her heart tightening painfully in her chest. Again and again her thoughts revolved around the Mercuric Chloride in its dark hiding place. She cleared her throat. "Courage comes in many forms. In stories and in... our own lives. Sometimes courage means we have to make the hardest choices..." A soft smile crept onto her lips as her two daughters succumbed to their sleepiness. In the fading sunlight and growing shadows, they napped together in Clara's bed.

Carmilla quietly closed the book. Carefully, without waking Clara, she maneuvered her off her lap and back under her covers. She stood up. "I love you," she whispered softly before leaning over and kissing Clara and Odette's foreheads. "I'm sorry if I ever failed you as a mother. I fight monsters that you should never have to face, but I promise you that I will do everything I can to protect you from them..."

How much longer would Carmilla be able to protect her two daughters?

"Carmilla!" The peaceful moments vanished very quickly when Miguel slammed the front door. His voice seemed to tremble with anger. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Good evening, Miguel..." Carmilla's heart began to race in her chest as she took courageous steps down the stairs. She was ready to brave the storm for her daughters. "What's what?" she asked her husband calmly.

"You didn't cook dinner?" His face twisted with rage. "I come home from work dead tired and I'm supposed to starve here?"

"Miguel..." Carmilla replied in a firm voice. "I went to the pharmacy to get some medication for Clara. She's very sick and I had to look after her..."

Miguel laughed with a sneer. "You think that's an excuse?" he scoffed. "I don't want to hear your lame excuses. You know you still have to take care of the household," he hissed, his voice drenched in disdain.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Carmilla. Before Carmilla could react, Miguel's flat hand struck her face with one swift motion. Her hand cupped her cheek protectively. Her skin burned, she could feel the warmth where his hand had landed. She swallowed heavily, but her voice remained unwavering. "Miguel?" She cleared her throat. "Why don't you sit in the living room with the radio and relax? I'll make you some tea and then start dinner straight away."

Her husband seemed to like her suggestion. He nodded in satisfaction as his anger was temporarily appeased. "All right, but make it quick," he grumbled and disappeared into the living room.

"For Clara and Odette... For our freedom..." Carmilla whispered to herself as she walked quickly into the kitchen and resolutely pulled the small bottle of Mercuric Chloride from its hiding place. A satisfied smile spread across her lips as she prepared the tea with the utmost care and watched the Mercuric Chloride dissolve in the hot water in the teapot. She overdid it with the sugar until the tea was completely tasteless. Then she sent a final prayer to God...

"Here's your tea, Miguel," Carmilla announced with false friendliness as she entered the living room and placed the tray with the teapot on the table. Meanwhile, her husband didn't give her a glance or pay her any attention.

"I hope it doesn't take you ages to cook dinner too," he called impatiently over his shoulder as Carmilla returned to the kitchen.

Carmilla waited. Lost in her thoughts, she stirred a pot of water, having forgotten to turn on the stove. She listened intently to the deceptive and eerie silence that reigned over the house as she began to pace restlessly up and down the kitchen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly until Carmilla could bear the silence no longer.

Her heart pounding, she crept back into the living room. She was greeted by the eerie silence and the sight of an empty room. No Miguel and no tea.

"Miguel? Where are you?" Carmilla called out as an icy shiver ran down her spine.

Miguel's answer came from the second floor and made Carmilla shiver to her very core. "I'm in Clara's room," he announced, his voice alarmingly calm.

"He knows everything," shot through her head. Completely gripped by panic, Carmilla stumbled up the steps of the staircase. Her heart raced in her chest, her thoughts revolving around her worst fears.

"Oh, Lord..." Even the Lord above could never ever have prepared her for the sight that awaited her in Clara's room.

"Miguel, what have you done?" Carmilla gasped. Her voice barely louder than a whisper as she fell to her knees in front of her husband in the doorway, sobbing. Miguel stared silently at his two dead daughters, a sly smile on his lips. Two cups, still partly filled with poisonous tea, stood on the narrow bedside table next to the medication from the pharmacy. "We have to do something!" Carmilla shouted in desperation. "We have to save them!"

Miguel shook his head. "Save your efforts," he said with a coldness that made Carmilla's blood run cold. "You're too late, they're already gone and it's your fault."

"They were your daughters too! How could you do such a thing?" Tears gathered in Carmilla's eyes.

Miguel knelt in front of her and forced her to look him in the eyes. "Don't cry, my dearest Carmilla, this isn't the end," he whispered and tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's not a pity about Clara and Odette, they took after their mother far too much anyway and now we can start all over again, you and me. Maybe we'll be lucky and have a son this time. A son who is worthy of inheriting my legacy and my fortune," he enthused.

"It was never your legacy and your fortune, it was my father's legacy and my family's fortune that you usurped, full of greed and blinded by your self-pride, while I poured blood, sweat and tears into the company and our family day and night to keep all the gold and glitter," Carmilla spat, her vision blurred in a veil of tears. "You were too blind and too ignorant to realize how wonderful Clara and Odette were..."

Angrily, Miguel's eyes narrowed into small slits as he grabbed Carmilla's left wrist and squeezed it tightly. Carmilla screamed in pain as he leaned down towards her ear. "If you should even think of accusing me of murdering your daughters..." hissed Miguel's venomous voice in her ear. "Then I'll make sure the police discovers every little detail of what happened here today. Your tea. Your poison. Your plan."

Carmilla had failed. Carmilla had failed as a mother and she had failed her daughters.

Finally, Carmilla managed to free her wrist from Miguel's painful grip. She tore herself free and jumped up, while Miguel laughed at her with malice and mockery in his voice.

"Where are you going?" he wanted to know, laughing as Carmilla stumbled towards Clara's bed. "You can't go anywhere!"

Carmilla sank to the floor in front of the bed, sobbing, when the filled teacup suddenly caught her eye. Without hesitation, her trembling fingers closed around the cold porcelain and she brought the cup to her chapped lips. She emptied its contents in quick draughts.

Only when the teacup slipped from her tingling fingertips and shattered into thousands of shards with a loud crash on the hard floor did Miguel realize in his stupor what Carmilla had just done.

The effects of the Mercuric Chloride set in very quickly. Carmilla became dizzy, the ceiling above her head began to spin and suddenly her horizon tilted to the side as her field of vision became smaller and smaller. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Miguel's shrill scream came from far away, mingling dully with the blaring sound of sirens. Blue light stung Carmilla's eyes, flickering along the white walls. She tasted blood on her tongue. "Please forgive me for my sins, Lord..." she whispered her last words with her last breath before her world went black.

When Carmilla opened her eyes, she almost feared that the next second she would find herself in a snow-white hospital bed with Miguel at her side and in a world without her daughters. Instead, a blood-red horizon loomed over her aching head as she regained consciousness in the middle of a bizarre town square.

Carmilla blinked. Hundreds of hungry jaws with pointed teeth leaned over her curiously, saliva dripped from the corners of their mouths and they hissed, whispered and murmured excitedly. Carmilla stared directly into hundreds of soulless black eye sockets.

"Make way!" a voice suddenly rang out. With ease, the crowd of creepy creatures surrounding Carmilla was pushed aside and a woman clothed in an elegant dress and wearing an oversized hat with a feather on her head stepped into Carmilla's field of vision.

Her beauty was out of this world, Carmilla thought silently, as the woman leaned over her and looked her up and down skeptically.

"Oh, my gracious goodness... You're still alive..." she realized with some slight disappointment in her voice. "Well, no big flesh buffet for today…" She shrugged her shoulders and mustered a sharp smile before helping Carmilla to her feet and shaking her hand vigorously. "I'm Rosie! What's your name? Are you a newcomer in Hell or have you pretty girl lost your way? Oddly two newcomers have already landed in my town square today..."

"I-I-I... I'm... I'm C-Carmilla More-" She swallowed her old surname. She couldn't force herself to get it past her lips, instead looking around searchingly. Red. Red roses and red poppies lined the paths, pink cobblestones at her feet. Shades of red almost everywhere, while her gaze caught again and again on Rosie's huge hat, it was carmine red. Carmine...

"Uhm... Carmilla Carmine," she stammered. "Yes, I'm Carmilla Carmine," she introduced herself to the woman. Helplessly, Carmilla gazed up at Rosie as the woman gave her a sharp smile.

"Carmilla Carmine? That really is a pretty name, Milly!" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "Can I ask you where you're from?" Rosie wanted to know curiously, when Carmilla suddenly noticed two familiar faces pushing past the surrounding crowd.

"Mother!" shouted Odette excitedly. Resolutely, she and her sister pushed their way to the front, she clutched Clara's hand tightly in hers.

"Clara? Odette?" Rosie and the rest were forgotten as her daughters rushed to embrace Carmilla. They buried their tears in their mother's torso as they brought Carmilla back to her knees with their embrace.

"Mom..." Clara sobbed. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean, 'here'?" Carmilla wanted to know in confusion as she pulled her daughters tighter into her arms, her face puzzled. "Where are we?" She looked at them in disbelief, holding her girls close to her protectively. Silent tears made their way down her cheeks, Carmilla no longer understood anything. The last moment she was with Miguel, her two daughters were dead and she had drunk the poisoned tea, and the next moment she woke up in this strange place...

"The tea was far too sweet..." Odette complained. "Father really can't make tea..."

Rosie cleared her throat. "I really don't want to disturb your adorable and very heartbreaking family reunion, but I can at least answer the question of where you have ended up, Milly..." Carmilla looked up at her in surprise. "You're in Hell!" Rosie announced proudly with a broad smile on her lips. She spread her arms wide. "And I welcome you and your daughters to my beautiful little town, also known as Cannibal Town. Feel free to stay as long as you wish!"

"Thank you..." Carmilla whispered, her voice trembling and her eyes wide.

Free, Carmilla realized, finally she and her daughters were free...

35 notes · View notes

rxgueone · 2 years

Text

GOLDEN

Word count: 3,560

Summary: Austin wins the golden globe and goes home to celebrate with his wife.

Warnings: reminiscing, and fluff, that’s it.

Tags: none.

Note: Tumblr is still deleting paragraphs so if this story is a bit screwed up, I apologize. I tried making this as happy as I could given the circumstances.

MASTERLIST — SERIES

—

The tall blonde sat in the drivers seat of his car. He had just won the golden globe, and was staring at his name. ‘Best Actor Austin Butler.’ He brought his hand to his unshaven face, scratching it. He felt the hair of his stubble poke into his fingers. After, he rested his hands in his lap. His fingers fiddling with his gold wedding band. He was nervous, it felt like his heart was pumping in his throat.

He skipped out on the after party, wanted to go home and celebrate with his wife and child. He knew his daughter was asleep most likely, but his wife had stayed up. She was always there for him, always. No matter what happened, she would always cheer for him. Even from far away.

Grabbing the handle to the door, he pulled it towards him, and the car door swung open. He kept the award inside the car, knowing he’d leave again soon, he shut the door behind him, made his way towards the garage door. Seeing it open, he already knew who was there for him. And looking up, it was Fredrick, his butler.

“Not attending the after party, sir?” Fredrick asked him curiously. Austin shook his head, waving it off. In Fredrick’s hand was a metal chrome tray, holding a white glass plate with what looked to be porridge, as well as a tea cup. Austin stepped to Fredrick’s side, looking down at the soup. “I made you supper sir.” He clarified, seeing Austin’s curious eyes.

“Thanks dude.” He nodded his head, walking past Fredrick and down the hall towards the living room. With Fredrick following behind quietly. He noticed how quiet it was, which made sense, considering how late it was at the time. “Is Leia asleep?”

“Yes sir,” Fredrick confirmed as Austin made his way towards the dining table. He pulled a chair out, plopping down on it. He looked at Fredrick as he placed the plate down onto the table, “I tucked her in like usual.”

“When did she sleep?” He asked, seeing Fredrick hand him a spoon.

“She went to bed after your speech.” He explained, watching Austin pick up the plate.

Taking a spoonful of the soup, he was immediately hit with a cold texture, causing him to spit it out. Smacking his lips, then wiping them with the back of his palm. “It’s cold!” He looked up at Fredrick again. Was he gone for that long? Did Fredrick really make supper so long ago that it was this cold? His brows were furrowed from confusion.

“It’s vichyssoise, sir.”

Austin blinked obliviously.

“It’s supposed to be cold.”

“Oh.” He gladly took another spoonful, eating it.

“Anyways,” Fredrick rolled his eyes at how ridiculous Austin was being, “she was asking about her mother.” He started, and Austin, who had been eating the soup like he had never eaten a day in his life. Took a quick pause to listen closely to Fredrick. “She understands what’s happened to her, sir, but she’s curious about you and Mrs. Butler.”

“Mm…” he hummed, putting the spoon down on the empty plate. He brought his hand to his lips again, and Fredrick quickly intercepted. Placing a towel down onto Austin’s hand before it touched his lips. “Oh- thanks.” He smiled, wiping his lips dry.

“You ought to tell her how you and Mrs. Butler met, sir. She’s quite curious.” He reached into the inside pocket of his tailcoat blazer, holding out a letter. “Here, she even wrote this for Mrs. Butler. She told me to tell you to not read it.”

Austin took the letter from Fredrick, tucking it into the inside pocket of his blazer. “I will.” He nodded. “And I won’t.” He promised. He stood up, sighing as he stood face to face with Fredrick. “Lets go check up on her.” He suggested, and Fredrick nodded in agreement.

The two of then walked side by side, making their way to the second floor, down the hall to Leia’s room. Serpent the Doberman, had been sitting quietly behind the doorframe to her bedroom, keeping watch as usual. Austin leaned down to quickly kiss his dog’s head, ruffling up his fur before walking into the bedroom.

He stood over his daughter for a moment, checking up on her. Without thinking, his hand went to his daughter’s head. He was caressing her blonde hair, his face frowning a bit. Sighing, he pecked her the side of her head, wishing her happy dreams and a good night. Then he turned his back on her, walking back over to Fredrick. “I’m going to go see Rose.” He whispered to his butler. “Down by the farm.”

“It’s awfully late for that, you’ll be there by sunrise.” Fredrick muttered, surprised by the sudden gesture Austin was displaying. The blonde pulled away from the bedroom, stepping out into the hall with Fredrick close.

“I want to celebrate with her.” He insisted upon it. “I want to, I must celebrate with her. She’s my wife, and she’s the reason I’ve come this far.” He continued on, watching Fredrick to see if he was listening closely. Which, the butler was. “I’ll probably spend a few hours there.” He nodded to himself, his fingers fiddling with his gold wedding band once more.

Fredrick noticed the fiddling, he could tell that Austin was nervous to meet his wife again. He hadn’t seen her in about a week due to a hectic schedule. “I understand.” He knew there was no point in trying to stop his friend. What was the point? And who was Fredrick to tell Austin how to celebrate this triumphant moment. “I’ll watch the house, and Leia…” trailing off, “…obviously.” He added underneath his breath in annoyance. In response, Austin chuckled.

“Thanks Fred.” Placing his hand on the butler’s shoulder. “Thanks for… stickin’ with me n’ everything.” He pat Fredrick’s shoulder, walking back to the garage. Fredrick like usual, stayed by Austin’s side.

They both walked downstairs, then down to the garage. Austin kept his hands in his pockets, while Fredrick had his hands by his side. “By the way do you know what Leia wants for breakfast?”

“Waffles, which are no problem to make.” Fredrick brushed off. “Also sir, she wants a Star Wars story book.”

“Will do.” Walking to the car to open the door. He sat down in the drivers side, and Fredrick spotted the golden globe award in the passengers side. “I’ll buy her the prequels. Can’t go wrong with that.”

“Of course, Revenge of the Sith is a cult classic.” Fredrick agreed happily. He watched as Austin shut the door, the car roared to life. Backing out of the garage, he watched his friend leave. Sighing, he rolled his eyes once more. “Does he seriously not know what vichyssoise is??”

—

Austin was staring at his daughter who was sitting in the baby high chair. She had a plate set out in front of her, with a bib around her little neck. She wore a pink onesie that his wife bought for her.

Austin was holding a little glass bowl of apple sauce, with a small spoon. He sat there staring at his daughter’s brown eyes, she on the other hand, was making grabby hands at her father, babbling away.

He reached the spoon filled with applesauce to Leia’s mouth. She slapped the spoon away, laughing at Austin who let out a frustrated sigh. ‘You sure it’s alright for her to eat this stuff?’ Austin asked his wife, he looked down at the label on the glass bowl. He glanced back, seeing her in the kitchen. She was making dinner for the three of them.

‘Oh for Gods sakes Austin, she’s almost two.’ His wife said.

‘I know Rose but still-‘

‘Don’t but still me you silly man.’ She started, walking out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He smiled when he saw her. She was wearing his white shirt, some sweats, and an apron. Her hair was tied back, and her face expressed annoyance. To him however, she looked perfect. Even when she was annoyed she was perfect.

He could hear her sigh, as she crouched down beside him to look at their daughter who helplessly sat there. Leia smiled at the pair, babbling and reaching out for Austin. ‘I don’t think she likes apple sauce, darling.’ He mumbled softly to her.

‘Well honey, she doesn’t like peas or carrots either.’ She shot at him with a sweet tone.

‘I don’t like peas or carrots.’ He countered. She side eyed him, but a smile seeped through her lips. He listened to her as she let out a lighthearted giggle, shaking her head.

‘Yes, you don’t. I suppose she gets that from her father.’ She kissed Austin’s cheek gently. ‘Here, give me that, love.’ Austin handed her the bowl of apple sauce and the spoon. She took it from him gently, then the spoon from him. Scooping up the applesauce, she held it towards Leia. ‘Say ahh.’ She cooed gently, and Leia opened her mouth.

Gently, she took the spoonful of apple sauce, and Austin watched quietly. The whole time he had a smile on his face, and Rose could see there was nothing but love in that smile of his. She rolled her eyes at him, charmed really. Leia blurbed her words, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down excitedly in her high chair.

‘See? She likes it, Aus.’ She leaned against his shoulder. ‘You just have to be patient with her. She’s about to become a toddler, y’know.’

‘Toddler huh.’ He breathed out, scratching the back of his neck. Falling quiet again, he watched his wife continue to spoon feed their daughter. Cooing to her in a gentle tone. Austin kept smiling at the pair. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ She responded without missing a beat. ‘So does Leia.’ She added.

Austin knew Rose since he was a child. Somewhere in middle school, he had been pulled out to be home schooled. As a result their friendship went to a staggering halt, where they both didn’t talk to each other for a few years. It was only till he was around the age of 16-17, he had met Rose again.

He met her at a French cafe, at the time he wanted to buy beignets. When he revealed his name to her at the counter, she was shocked but happy to see he was okay. From that day on he would meet her every day at the cafe, where she would spend her break with him, talking about high school and how rude some customers were.

Eventually when they were 18-19 they moved in together. Rose knew about Austin’s acting career, but due to how insecure he was. A lot of the time he would doubt his acting skills, question himself. She however, never doubted him.

When those days came. She would cup his face, and whisper sweet things to him. How he was a talented man, and there will be a time when he would be recognized for his talent. ‘These things take time Austin, you can’t rush the future. You can’t rush time. Just trust yourself, your luck will come.’ She would say to him. ‘You’re a sweet man, as gentle as a dandelion, so don’t worry. Don’t rush this. Trust time.’ And he did.

He always listened to her. She was gold to him. To him, Rose was the most valuable person in this earth, most special person to ever live. She was the reason he breathed. He promised to be there for her always. Even in spite of their love, he was still a nervous wreck around her.

When the time came to propose. He was shaking like all of hell, and in fact, it wasn’t romantic at all. He blurted out that he wanted to marry her when the pair were cooking together. She was calm about it, and said she wanted to marry him as well.

He saved up as much as he could, and bought her an engagement ring. A year later, he married her. He was 20, and she had just turned 21 at the time. Their wedding was private, only four people attended. The priest, best man, his mother, and her father. That was pretty much about it.

Austin’s acting career was growing and more people were becoming his fans by the minute. Not wanting to attract any attention, they kept their marriage a secret until she became pregnant. His love for her grew by the day, and it was the same for her.

He adored her. He didn’t need to say it for she already knew. He didn’t need to say I love you, for she already knew that as well. But regardless, he would always tell her he loved her, any chance he got. When he would come home to her after a good days work, he’d kiss her and tell her he’d love her, maybe buy her flowers.

No matter what, he’d always adore her. It was the only thing he could do around her. Just stare and admire her for how perfect she was. Patient, understanding, and supportive, that was all it took. That was all he needed.

At one point in their relationship, Rose brought up the idea of a child. Austin agreed without any hesitation. He felt honored and happy that Rose would trust him with a child, that Rose would pick him to marry, and to have a child with.

When Leia was born, it was a bliss for Austin. He had a family with his forever, with the girl that he’d be with until his very last breath. He remembered the days when Leia and Rose had came home for the first time. He took care of everything, which was perfectly okay with him, he was happy to help.

At one point, when Austin was out for a drive with her. He brought up a touchy subject. ‘I was curious about something,’ he started.

‘Hm?’ She hummed in response.

‘I was wondering,’ glancing at her, ‘when you die- where would you want to be buried?’ He asked her.

‘Oh,’ she blinked, touching her jaw as she thought to herself, ‘hmph, never really thought of that.’ She tilted her head. Looked out the window for a moment, then back at him. ‘Make sure I’m faced between the west and east so I can always see the setting and rising sun, that way I can remember all the fine times we’ve spent together.’ She smiled.

‘That’s awfully descriptive.’ He scoffed, but nodded his head. ‘Will do.’ He grinned.

She smiled at his words, staring at his side profile. ‘What about you Aus? Where do you wanna be buried?’

‘With you.’

—

Austin desperately clung onto the few scraps of memories he had left of Rose.

He parked the car, and hopped out. He then looked at the farmhouse, holding the golden globe in his hand. He started walking towards the door, and held out his keys. Inserting the key into the keyhole, he twisted, pushed, and the door opened.

“Mr. Butler!” He heard a feminine voice. Blinking his deprived eyes, he shook his head. The voice sounded all too familiar.

“Ms. Coleman?” He called, and he could see a small woman poke her head out of the living room and into the hall. She had a bright smile on her face. “Have you been expecting me?” He asked curiously, walking to her side.

“Yes yes, Fredrick called and said I should be expecting you.” She nodded her head.

“I see,” he looked around his farmhouse, a house that he and Rose bought. Scratching his stubble, “are you usually up this early?”

“Of course! Someone’s gotta watch the stables!” She laughed, resting her hand to his arm. “I mean that is what you hired me for. To watch over the farmhouse and to take care of the horses and cattle.”

“Yes yes,” he chuckled lowly. He sighed, holding the golden globe with both his hands now, nervousness pricked at him like a rose bush. Gulping down his pumping heart, “is she…?”

“Oh yes,” Ms. Coleman gave a nod, “she’s waiting for you just outside, sir. Through the back door.” She pointed to the back of the house.

“Thank you Ms. Coleman,” he dipped his head in thanks before walking to the back door.

He was watching his dress shoes get dirty from the dirt he walked on. He looked at the horses in the ranch, then looked past them, to see a hill. He cleared his throat nervously again, his fingers fiddling with his gold wedding band. Nervousness was piling up, and he was as twitchy as ever. He hadn’t seen Rose in a solid week, and he was nervous as to how she’d react.

Walking up the hill of the meadow, he could see a headstone, and behind that headstone was a tree. He could see the sun rising beside the headstone, and barely he made out the words. ‘ROSEANNE BUTLER’ it read, and he bit his lower lip, nibbling on it nervously.

Stopping in front of the headstone, he stared down at it. Holding the golden globe with both hands, his fingers were kneading at it. “Hey darling.” He greeted her. “I um…” clearing his throat, “I won the golden globe.” Holding out the award, he crouched down. “I wanted to thank you, for encouraging me to continue acting. I wanna thank you for everything, for the happiness and joy you give me, for the peace you give me, I wanna thank you for existing in my life.” Gently, he placed the golden globe beside the headstone. “I wanna give this to you.” Standing straight again.

He stood in silence for a moment. Nibbling onto his lower lip once more, he could feel his heart racing in his chest. Absolutely trying his best to control his emotions, he was always a mess around Rose. Always. No matter what. Sucking in air sharply, he looked away from the headstone to stare at the rising sun.

His gray eyes showed nothing but sadness now. Now it felt like his heart was caught in his throat. His eyes welled up with emotions, and he stopped nibbling on his lower lip. Simply blinked his tears out, and he wiped his eyes. He expected them to stop, but they didn’t. “I miss you.” He revealed. “I miss you so much,” starting up on what he thought was a tangent, “I still dream of you every damn day. I think of you all the time. You should see Leia, she looks so much like you, hun.”

Sucking in some more air, he crouched down quickly to hide his face in his arms. Wiping his face again, he shook himself then stood up straight. He blinked repeatedly, trying to get ahold of himself. He wiped his eyes with the back of his palm like a small child would. A sharp inhale, and slow exhale. He stared at the headstone for a few moments. “Leia looks like you,” he started again, “Freddie… he uh, he says she looks like me. But she’s got your eyes. But um… she’s smart, Rose. She’s real smart. We read a book every night, loves Harry Potter… and I’m sure she gets-“ he paused, but, unfortunately cracked, “-she gets that from you.” He finished. “She- she wrote you a letter, actually. I dunno what it says, told me not to read it so. I’ll leave it here for you to read.”

Reaching into the inside of his blazer, he took out the little envelope titled ‘momma’ for Rose. Leaning down, as gently as he could, he placed the envelope underneath the award so it wouldn’t fly away.

Stepping back, he slid his hands into his pockets. If he was going to cry, he would cry. He wasn’t going to try to control himself. He was alone, out in the meadow, alone with his wife. “Y’know how, you told me you wanted to be buried between the east and the west to see the rising sun?” He looked towards the sky, watching the sun rise. “So we could dwell on the past.” He muttered. “I hope you like this spot.” He wiped his eyes again. “It’s real nice and pretty out here the meadow y’know,” looking at his surroundings, he stopped to look at her name on the headstone, “just wait a bit longer Rose. I’ll join you soon.” He promised. “I gotta make sure Leia is okay first, and I know you’re watching after us. But Rose, just wait a bit longer.” His tone, which was usually husky, now was soft and gentle, pleading with her, “just wait a bit longer for me Rose.”

Looking back at the sunrise, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. He could still remember her voice clear as day. Could still remember how she would fiddle with the strands of his hair to help him sleep. How she stepped on his dress shoes so they could dance to The Platters.

Rubbing face, he breathed in. Managing a smile, he looked at the headstone. “If you ever need anything, I’m right here darlin’ always.” He promised. “I love you, until the end of the time, I love you.”

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler angst #austin butler x oc #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fluff #austin butler series #fanfic #fanfiction

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grokebaby · 10 months

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Nan remembers what it was like having siblings.

Her brother - once the smallest daughter, is now old, fat and handsome, and integrated himself into the village. Finding two husbands, and by extension gaining a wife in law. He has lots of children and grandchildren. Siru babysits the lot of them.

Her sister, tall and clawed, never knew when to be quiet. Their father hated this. She never knew when to be quiet, until she slipped out in the heart of night, and was never seen from again. Their father hated this even moreso. He never called their sister by her first name again. Nan always wished he was mourning in secret. Or at all.

She always felt like the last person remembering her sister - though to be fair, her brother was much easier to remember by comparison. He was still here. Visible. She didn't like the siblings separating, but couldn't have left her father and brother behind in pursuit of the lost chickling. And Father Yngve, well.. He was done running after, when someone in his life went.

This all ran through Nan's mind, as she packed a fourth sandwich into the shoulder bag. It was.. Something akin to 3am - She thought, glancing at the grandfather clock in the livingroom. That clock stopped years ago. Siru used to crawl inside it when she was a wee peep. Nan smiled, but it dissolved. Yes, Siru.

She'd always compared her runaway sister to Lassi. Fair comparison, really, even though Lassi made his departure very loud.. Nan stopped to hold herself. But thinking about it now, the circumstances matched Siru better. The oppressive silence around it all. Really, the two women even looked like each other - all thanks to Old man Yngve's genes, most of which Nan hadn't gotten herself.

She heard shuffling. Siru was getting ready to leave again. So Nan had been on time with the preparations afterall. She'd always thought of herself as adaptable. She could hear her daughter trying her damnest to sneak past the kitchen - usually she was good at it, but unbeknownst to Siru, she often got away because Nan let her..

This time would be different.

"Rise and shine Siru darling. I made you some ehh, let's say early breakfast!" Nan said, barely turning back to spot Siru frozen by the doorway, gobsmacked to have been noticed. She didn't reply anything. But Nan was used to that by now.

"You could have one sandwich now or we can just hit the road. I already ate." Nan said, before she could slip away again, walking up to Siru with her bag slung over her shoulder.

".. Huh"

"Ykno.. Get going? Wherever it is you're going - I'm coming along." Nan clarified. Siru still looked a bit flabbergasted, creasing her brows. "No way."

Nan crossed her arms. "Yes way. You just show me where to." Siru's presence tightened at the words, and Nan could tell there was slight panic swirling within her, trying to come up with some excuse to leave her home.

See, Nan had done all this thinking. Unlike back then, now, she could afford to follow when someone was going. She'd let her sister walk out and slip away, same with Lassi. But really all that was left to stay for was the house. Siru of course still came back after her little trips, but really, why not go see where it took her?

Siru opened her mouth after a second of feverish thinking, but Nan stopped her. "Now firstly, I've taken time off work, and secondly if you dare say it's too dangerous for me, you underestimate your old hen!" she proclaimed, tapping the old gash on her jawline. Siru promptly shut her mouth. Nan walked up to the front door with a certainty and confidence, that could not have communicated how deeply she didn't know what might be in store for them. And how deeply she truly worried for her daughter. Speak of whom, was still stalling behind, barely ready to open the front door.

"Guessing you.. don't trust me..?" Nan let out, gaze falling to the floor humbly. Siru scrambled up to her, voice getting caught in her throat. "I-I do, I just.."

"But?"

"I do trust you. But.." Siru trailed off. But not whatever we're going to run into out there - was the implication. Nan tightened the grip on her bag for a bit, leveling her anxious mind. She sighed and took Siru's hand into hers, giving it a squeeze.

"Well, whatever is going on.." Nan looked up to her eyes. "It can't be worse than not having you around anymore. I love you, Siru. No matter what."

Siru seemed struck by her words. Torn, disbelieving even. "No matter what..?" she asked, almost a whisper. It felt gravely serious. Nan patted the back of Siru's palm with her other hand, putting a smile on her face. "Well of course, if you're up to something nefarious, I'll steer and scold you however needed, but that don't mean I wouldn't love you all the same! Quite the contrary, even, wouldn't you say..?"

And wasn't that fair?

#My writing #My ocs #Nan #Siru #Demon oc #Yay Nan's family mentioned yayy #Oc writing #Story writing #oc story #So yes I loved writing Nan actually. Damn.#I actually do have like a nice amount of stuff figured out for Nan's youth and her relatives. To an extent.#Yngve is her father and there's three chicks which are Nan Fen and Kulkuri #Anyway but that's a story for another time. Here have this #Uh yeah. There!#I'm actually quite fond of doing like short micro snippets of story like this #I'm someone who will easily say one million things always all the time but that also means I easily burn myself out so #This helps. It's like practice for trying to be more concise #And also lessen the stress I put on myself

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astarab1aze · 6 months

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Viresca's Family (cont.) - Trivia

Morgana was her great-great-great-grandmother's name on her father's paternal side; She was not Morgan La Fey (to clarify), but she did accomplish much throughout her life, elevating the Mandragora family's status to a modest height.

The Mandragora Family is known of, but not terribly well-known as they used to be; They were very picky with who they associated with, despite there sometimes being a relative or two marrying or bearing the children of...troublemakers.

Corvinus frequently attempted to write to Gwyndolin, but his letters were always intercepted and destroyed.

The Mandragora Family et al is neither particularly wealthy nor particularly poor - simply comfortable - though their overall wealth was once much greater.

Most female members of Viresca's family on her father's side were, coincidentally, multishifters.

The Mandragora Family was once noble, of higher status, in ages long, long past.

Uncle Morteatum is a scholar, but Aunt Andromeda is an expert on and talented tamer of magical beasts.

Her mother, Lutesce, was also a beast tamer.

Viscera, her great-grandmother and who she was named after, was a secret practitioner of forbidden magic and an open blood-purist.

Her cousins', Velravn and Vera, work has given the Mandragora name some further respect - in London.

Her father's closest friend, Finley McCarthy and his wife Anora, occasionally write to her and may also visit for the winter holidays. Their young daughter, Revina, has taken quite a liking to Viresca (she's 4).

Her maternal great-grandmother, Lamia Sylvia, was a dragon tamer who once rescued and tamed a Minor Hydric Basilisk.

Her maternal uncle, Lynceus, had a falling out with Lutesce and neither he nor Lyssa even showed up to the funeral.

She is in regular contact with her maternal grandparents; She plans to spend a month in the summer with them.

Her mother's side of the family is actually rather two-faced, pretending to be nice, polite, and caring yet ultimately being the types to outright ignore, deny, and lie about certain events. There is much family trauma here; They're completely dysfunctional, despite outward appearances, and they are unexpectedly very unkind (except her grandparents; they're cool).

Her father was a multishifter, like her mother, and he usually took on the form of a coyote.

There is a theory floating around the family that her paternal grandfather was a human and Gwyndolin is secretly obsessed with status; She's made her peace with that, despite that being utterly false. Better that than being associated with a lying snake.

The Mandragora Family publicly decries forbidden magic and users of, and some members absolutely align with that ideal, but there are plenty who practice in secret even now. Essentially, her family has been changing over the years to be better - they suck at it, though.

Her 2nd-cousin, Magnus, is an idiot and she is glad he still lives in London.

The Blackwood Family is a generally mixed bag regarding Belegerande's houses, though there are more Bells and La Feys than any other house in the family.

Lutesce was a La Fey graduate.

The Blackwoods are based in London, where Lutesce, Agrivayne, and Viresca all lived before the former were murdered.

The Blackwoods are disorganized and have been reduced to squabbling children in temperament. A fallen house in truth, who masquerade as perfectly normal, perfectly respectable witches and sorcerers.

#➥ Viresca.#/ i have 20 pages of viri lore omg

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brambletakato · 6 months

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if you’re worried the wordcount’s gonna scare away readers, it probably won’t. i’d absolutely read a 2k post if it’s about my guy jean desmond descole sycamore. honestly i’d read a 20k post about him if i could. pinky swear

... ok so i was actually working on this a few months back.. I wrote a very long draft, then I saved it and came back to it, cringed myself out and just. never posted it,,, but after a few months since I figured that its just because I went too deep into it right off the bat instead of giving a ""small"" summary so here we go ATTEMPT 2!!!!

(also if you're an oomf, you're a part of the campaign and you know what orange spoilers mean then do NOT read further pretty please bats my eyelashes at you) AND PROFESSOR LAYTON SPOILERS

So when I talk about campaign Des, I'm referring to a version of Descole that I've roleplayed for almost 5 years now (which is INSANE to me . has it been that long??? whar??? since when??? it's still 2019 is it not????)

The campaign hook is that it's essentially a mass isekai/amnesia plot; Your blorbo from some fandom gets sent into this world patchworked from other universes and whatnot, and they have to figure out their past whilst also finding out how to get back home. Super cheesy stuff on paper ngl, if you read it on some tv series' synopsis you'd probably skip

But its stupid fun to be a bit silly and have Jean Descole from the professor layton series interact with The Mario from the paper mario series and its a guilty pleasure :]

So as for a summary as to what happened over the 5 years (and then I can clarify on any points if anybody is curious (cricket noises));

To clarify who Descole is in this campaign, he only remembers bits of his life in regards to the canon/campaign rp. He remembers having a wife and daughter, but he doesn't remember that they're dead. He remembers his parents getting kidnapped and having to give away his brother, but he doesn't remember what happened to him after that. He remembers bits of his crimes as Descole, but never why other than for either the Azran or Targent. He's right in hindsight, but it's not he's expecting in the present time. He doesn't remember Raymond at all :( poor guy

He also accidentally adopted a young Trucy Wright (like... around 7-8 years old?) because her father is nowhere to be found and his group is actually nuts with close to no responsible adults. ... Actually why don't I talk about them for a sec;

He ended up in a party of like... 9-10 people and yes that is just as insane as it sounds. Some characters would join or leave the party but it has consistently been 7 characters attending excluding Descole. and yes they're all played by different people except mario who's played by the host, so thats like. 8 players at the table at one time

Anyway so this party is pretty much the source of most of his trauma in the campaign funnily enough. One of them blackmails him about his past and then tries to turn the rest of the group against him (meanwhile he dont know SHIT !!! given the amnesia situation), Descole gets defensive and accidentally fans the flames which ends up in the greatest betrayal for him;

When that person shot him in front of the entire group, both friends and foes alike, and they all turned their heads away from him as he bled onto the snow.

I'd love to get further into the party's hijinks(?), how the party came to be, and ultimately where they are now but that's the bare minimum you need to know (and I'd love to answer anything about them!)

Anyway, it's still unknown to this day how this one thing happened, but it's heavily implied to be because of psychological stress mixing with a third secret ingredient; Sometime during all of this, Descole kept finding himself in a room in his sleep-- And often his sleep was plagued by unspeakable nightmares, so this uneventful yet cozy room would've been a comfortable break for him...

... If not for the fact that Desmond lived there, too.

So Desmond is played by the fucking amazing host too and he's apparently a manifestation of his subconscious, and Descole REALLYYYY didn't like that (very much weirded him out, especially since Desmond was extremely blunt and near emotionless; he'd try and give advice but Descole was super nuh-uh about it)

His unease around his subconscious was enough to where he tried to sleep deprive himself to prolong seeing that guy + having nightmares, which that went well (he almost legitimately died lol)

As they have more chances to genuinely talk, their relationship changes. For better or for worse?... Can get further into that if anybody asks lol

Oh one more thing, because the canon roleplay took super long to have sessions, some players opted to have non-canon roleplays to fill in the gaps of time... Which ended up becoming their own side-campaigns that the host would sometimes join in as well. In fact the host has like... A few non-canon campaigns that he's running, and to be honest there's a few non-canon campaigns I end up thinking about a lot

You might've seen the terms "SS", "Chamber RP" or "Persona RP" in my tags and those are some of the non-canon campaigns. Right now we're focused on the canon rp and Chamber RP, which Chamber serves as a tutorial/introduction for a huge overhaul of the ttrpg system we use. We're still in Act I of canon, but Act II is VERY soon which will be using the new system.

SS; Player hosted, everybody fights an evil version of themselves that doesn't have amnesia while trying to take down an international cooperation. This is super fun because Descole in this one finally remembers WHY he did all of those terrible criminal things in the past...

Chamber RP; Host's campaign, amnesia is reversed; You remember your canon counterpart but not the campaign memories... But this doesn't last long as memories of the after starts to seep in. In a similar vibe of the Zero Escape series, you have to find a way out of a sci-fi laboratory while carrying the metaphorical torch of your forgotten hundred other attempts.

Persona RP; Host's campaign; In stark contrast it's super slice of life-y most times lol. Des gets a job as a teacher in this one??? It's set almost 3 years in the future of the canon campaign and as the name implies is SUPER Persona based. There's a strange other plane of existence that supposedly has the answers as to why they have amnesia... And the serial murders that's been going around town.

Anyway I'm definitely leaving out big details for the sake of brevity but I'd be happy to answer anything and thank you if you've read this far!! finally feels good to get this all out ngl

#campaign des #bram.txt.exe #sorry for the super late answer anon :(#let me be cringe for a second /SILLY #also this is long. like seriously long. and a huge infodump which i apologize for

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teenmomcentral · 1 year

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The months-long feud between Catelynn Lowell and her family–– namely her mother, April, and younger brother Nick–– reignited over the weekend when Cate shared a recent phone conversation she had with the two, in which Nick can be heard calling his sister a “fat ass.”

Nick’s alleged name-calling comes just a month after he posted a lengthy video to YouTube slamming Cate’s husband, Tyler Baltierra, for mistreating his sister and making insulting comments about Cate’s weight. (Nick even made a point to include a clip of the infamous “I don’t want no heifer for a wife” scene from Teen Mom OG in his video.)

This weekend, Catelynn took to social media multiple times to defend Tyler and state that he never weight-shamed her, and that it was made to appear that way on the show due to editing and strategic questions asked by their producer.

The Teen Mom: The Next Chapter star included a snippet from Nick’s video in her post over the weekend, along with the alleged phone conversation that took place last week, telling followers her brother is “the only person that has ever called me fat.”

Cate even went on to issue a warning to those following her brother on social media, stating that he is just posting these videos to build his social media following.

“My brother says Tyler calls me names etc. which he has NEVER!!” she tweeted. “But if you hear the end of this video it’s my BROTHER calling me names so if ur gonna follow him just kno what type of person he is! A fake clout chasing one! Lies on lies!”

Cate also took to Instagram Live to “clarify” Tyler’s past comments about her weight. In a clip shared by @teenmomfanz, Cate claimed that viewers didn’t know what was really going on behind the scenes at the time.

“The truth is, back in the day when it was, ‘Tyler was saying things about my weight,’ it was actually our producer at the time [who] was pushing that [storyline],” Cate said, alleging that the topic of her weight was addressed on the show because she had mentioned wanting to lose weight before her and Tyler’s wedding.

According to Cate, she did mention to Tyler (after giving birth to their daughter Nova) that she wanted to lose some weight and admitted that she struggled with accountability. Because of this, Cate said she turned to Tyler to help her with her goals, even asking him to “call her out” if he noticed that she was “failing” in her weight loss goals.

“But [the show] never showed that part of it,” she claimed. “On TV they would only show Tyler literally calling me out–- the thing that I asked him to do.”

She went on to accuse the show of using this storyline because she and Tyler were just “too happy” and “had no drama” to work though on-camera.

“They didn’t want to show the side of me being like, ‘Hey Tyler, call me out if you see me falling off,’” she said. “And at that time in my life, I wasn’t going to the gym, I wasn’t, you know, I was doing it all at home and on Weight Watchers. I had postpartum [depression] on top of it, not even knowing at the time that I had it … .”

(Cate also mentioned on Instagram Live that the “certain producer” she and Tyler had at the time seemed to only focus on her weight and Tyler’s alleged issues with her body-– something she also mentioned in an Instagram post on Sunday.)

“For the LAST TIME! My husband has NEVER called me fat or fat-shamed me!” Catelynn wrote. “S**t is edited and do you REALLY think I would stay with someone that [speaks] down on me? HELL NO! What type of woman would that make me while I’m literally raising little girls! It’s ridiculous but here I am again!”

“I’m just so sick of ppl bashing my husband and in the same breath making me seem like some quiet, held-down woman,” Catelynn added. “…that WHOLE conversation was edited and y’all took it WAY out of context! And I’m just SO SICK OF HEARING ABOUT IT!”

Cate defended Tyler (again) Monday on social media, telling fans (again) that the statements in question that were made by Tyler on ‘Teen Mom OG’ had been “edited HARDCORE,” insisting she isn’t “some weak ass b*tch” that would stay in a relationship with someone who body shamed her.

“My husband LOVES my body and I gave him 4 beautiful children!!” Cate continued. “You will all believe what you want! It angers me that people would truly think Ty is that way … Live a day here and you would truly see!

Cate shared her statement on both Instagram and Twitter, insisting that Tyler treats her and their daughters like queens.

“He loves my body, adores me, tells me how beautiful I am etc.,” she noted. “Now I’m DONE with this! Believe what you want! But remember I have ALWAYS been open, honest and raw with y’all!”

In response to the post, Tyler encouraged Cate to not worry about the “big conspiracies” viewers have about comments he made nearly 10 years ago; however, Tyler admitted that he agreed with some of the criticism from fans, claiming he “could’ve definitely used better delivery” and “been more compassionate” with Cate at the time regarding her health goals.

“ … I know you always tell me there’s nothing to apologize for, but I still want you to know that I am sorry if my words ever hurt you, because that was NEVER my intention at all!” Tyler wrote. “But regardless, people will believe what they want at the end of the day, even when you try to tell your truth…so just #LetThem…you know I love and adore you & that’s all that matters!”

#teen mom #teen mom the next chapter #mtv #news #catelynn lowell #tyler baltierra

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chechepierre · 2 years

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Film #1: Arrival (drama) 2016

We discover that Louise (Amy Adams) has access to different points of time in her life, i.e., she can be aware and interact with her past, current AND future parts of her life. This permits her to change past and current events that happen, and change future events. Louise ends up preventing all-out war against the aliens by calling General Shang on his personal mobile, and she relays the final words of his dying wife. This is information that she gained from General Shang in a conversation that is 18 months into the future, after the actual crisis. So she basically used the future conversation with Shang to change the outcome in the current timeline. She was meeting her husband (Ian) for the first time after the Arrival, and that her daughter Hannah, was yet to be born, and that at the end of the movie she recognizes all the terrible things to come but she moves forward anyway because it's important to fully love?! this just moved me to tears. The visions of her daughter are in her future. Basically, the heptapod language allows her to perceive time differently than that of humans (we can only see our present and remember our past). As she learns and understands more of the language, she can see more of her life; She can see her past, present, and future all at once. At the beginning, she meets the scientist for the first time. But in her viewing of her life, he’s the father of her daughter. Arrival is a gripping science fiction drama about alien life, the nature of language, and the threat of human extinction. But more prominently, it's a story about how communication happens, the nature of human fear and trust, and the way language shapes thought and understanding of the world.

Film #2 Dr. Strangelove (comedy) 1964

As such, it's a black comedy. Along the way, it has some of the funniest and most memorable lines/scenes from all movie history by lampooning the ridiculous, immature, adolescent antics of war hawks and the politicans who control whether WW3 would happen and showing us just how easy it would be for one crazy person, or a few, to actually trigger WW3 and make our species extinct. At first, Strangelove appears somewhat rational. He doesn't understand the logic of the Doomsday Machine. He goes on to suggest a means of survival in the event of disaster. Soon after, he begins to deteriorate, eventually fighting some kind of demonic inner compulsion. Stranglove's final declaration after standing; while memorable, left me puzzled as well. For me, Strangelove ended up being a goofball quack of some kind. Though I could once again have the wrong impression. The key to understanding the movie is all in the names of the characters and General Ripper's dialogue. You didn't mention it, so I'm just going to clarify: the point of the film is the idea that violence and war are rooted in male sexuality. Here's a few of the intricacies of this theory that are presented in the movie: Ripper's motive for attacking Russia is that they are trying to steal his "precious bodily fluids" (semen). Jack the Ripper was a famed serial killer who targeted prostitutes (i.e. promiscuous women who "took" mens' "precious bodily fluids" much like Ripper's idea of the Russians. I doubt this was the real Ripper's motive, though.) Lionel Mandrake is named after the Mandrake, a plant that supposedly resembles a human and is often a symbol of fertility and sex. Merkin Muffley is the most obvious name in my opinion, after Ripper: a merkin is a wig for the pubes, and you'll probably notice that Muffley is fittingly bald. "Muff" also refers to a vagina. Thus, the man whose name most refers to the female sex acts as the opponent to Ripper, who represents uncontrolled male sexuality. Finally, Buck Turgidson is named for the phrase "turgid erection". Not much more to say about that, except that like Ripper he is militaristic and has a name referencing male sexuality.

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Soft Landing

One Shot

Summary: Vacation get-aways don’t always let you escape the past, but maybe you can help bring Andy back to the present. Just be careful not to pick up too many bumps and bruises along the way… Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Angst, language!

A/N: So this is another entry for @imanuglywombat ‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Louise”. See here for more information. This is my first time writing for Andy, and it appears I can’t even do a single smutty one shot for Lawyer daddy without inserting a fuck tonne of angst so…sorry!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this story bar the reader and other mentioned OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Masterlist

*****

You stirred in your bed, turning over and reaching out for your husband only to be met empty space, your fingers grasping at the cool sheets. Blinking, you propped yourself up on your forearms, squinting as your eyes grew accustomed to the low light in the hotel bedroom before you sat up, stretched a little and swung your legs out of bed.

You made your way out of the bedroom, poking your head into the next room down and, satisfied everything in there was as it should be, you made your way through to the living area of the suite and glanced around, spotting that the curtains covering the door leading to the balcony were blowing a little in the soft breeze.

You padded over to the door, pulled back the curtains a little more and you could just make out Andy’s frame, his broad, bare shoulders silhouetted against the early morning sun. Shoulders which carried a much heavier burden than when you had met almost six years previously.

You had been fresh out of law school back then, and he was not-so-fresh out of a break up with his wife. Neither of you had been looking for anything, but as is always the case, you always find the best things when you’re not searching.

Simply put, Andy Barber had swept you off your feet.

At almost 10 years his junior, the comments at first had been unkind but not unexpected. You’d been labelled “the rebound”, his “early midlife crisis”, a “convenient way to keep his dick warm whilst he got over Laurie.” But talk is cheap, as you had both proven when three years to the date you’d met he got down on one knee and you became relabelled his fiancée.

A year post that you relabelled again as his wife. And some twenty one months ago you’d relabelled once more as the mother of his child. A daughter he claimed looked just like you.

Ironically, you’d actually fallen pregnant on the last vacation you had taken. A family getaway to Mexico following Jacob’s acquittal when you’d all wrongly assumed the horrific dream was over, and you could finally wake up and get on with your lives.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

In some sick twist of fate, you’d discovered you were pregnant the day of the accident that had claimed Jacob’s life, and later that of Laurie’s. The elation you and Andy had felt at the fact you were going to be parents together had been wrenched away from you in a single phone call from the police, and once more that shroud of dark despair had descended on your life turning the dream into a nightmare once more.

And for Andy the nightmares still continued, some two years post Jacob’s death and you knew without even seeing his face that was what had woken him and why he was now sat on the balcony of your stunning ocean view hotel suite in Cascais, Portugal instead of being in bed besides you.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as you slid the door open and he turned to look at you, his eyes carrying the familiar warmth that they always held for you, as you stepped into the balcony, taking care to leave the door open a crack just in case your daughter woke.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He gave you a smile as you approached the sun-lounger he was perched on, facing out over the Atlantic, the first glimmer of the mid-June sun peeking over the horizon. “I didn’t wake you or Lia did I?”

Lia, or Halia to use her full name. Chosen by you and Andy for its meaning. A Hawaiian name for remembrance of a loved one. In this case the brother she would never meet.

“No, I checked in on her. She’s flat out.” You assured him, as he moved his legs, dropping them either side of the lounger allowing you to sit in between them, cross legged as you faced him. You studied him for a moment, cocking your head to one side as he gave you a gentle smile. “Get out of there, Bubs.” You gently reached up, tapping the side of his temple and he took a deep breath, his hand curling round yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Sorry, just got caught in a memory.” He offered as explanation. And to be fair, you didn’t need him to clarify any further. You knew, you always knew.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He swallowed, so you didn’t press further. You respected his wishes, just like he did to yours.

“Do you want a hug?” You offered instead, and he gave a soft smile, opening his arms. You shifted onto your knees, scooting forwards a little, wrapping your arms around him as he pressed his face into your neck, taking a deep breath as your hand ran through his soft hair and down his neck in gentle, sweeping arcs. You sat in silence for a moment, the lapping of the waves against the shore the only noise you could hear as you held him close, feeling him nuzzle further into you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled against your skin and you pulled back a little, sitting back on your heels as you looked at him

“What for?”

“Everything.” He shrugged, his hand reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft as he studied your face for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before it went further down and he arched an eyebrow. “And for wearing that.”

You chuckled a little as you glanced down at the pale blue silk slip, one of the thin straps had slipped down your shoulder slightly, your nipples pebbled against the thin fabric. “Well, someone bought it for me.” You looked back at him, smiling as you tugged your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“Yeah?” Andy’s eyes moved back to yours. “Anyone I know?”

“No, just someone very special to me.” You leaned forwards to press your lips to his.

“He’s a lucky man.” Andy whispered against your mouth

“I’m the lucky one.” You mumbled back. “And, whilst we’re on the subject, I would also like to thank you for what you’re wearing.” You grinned, your hands flat on his chest, smoothing down a little before they trailed back upwards, curling over his strong shoulders.

“I’m not.”

“Exactly.” You smirked, kissing him softly again.

Eventually the teasing pecks flowed into something much stronger, Andy’s arms curling round you, pulling you closer, domineering swipes of his tongue against yours set every single nerve in your body on edge. Your hand moved back down his chest, tracing his soft abs before you palmed his growing bulge through the sleep pants he was wearing, causing him to grunt a little.

Without a word, one of his hands trailed up the outside of your thigh, the other making its way along the inside of your opposite knee and you shifted a little, parting your legs, as his fingers delicately danced upwards to where you wanted him the most. When they softly parted your intimate lips he gave a little groan as he realised you were wearing no panties, and you swallowed as his fingers swirled in your slick, the pad of his thumb grazing your nub ever so gently.

“Always so ready for me.” He hummed.

“Yeah, it’s a curse.” You whispered back, as his spare hand slid the other strap of your slip down, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the front of the garment down, freeing your breasts. As he kissed his way along the swell of your cleavage, his tongue softly teased each taught nipple and your whimper caught in your throat, emerging as nothing but a soft squeak of delight. You felt his mouth curl up into a smile against your skin and you gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, halting his teasing fingers.

“Andy, I want you.” You whispered, your head falling back as you rocked your hips forwards against his hand as you held it in place. “Please.”

Andy didn’t reply, but with a grace unbefitting a man of his stature, he moved, kneeling up as he pulled his sleep pants down, his gorgeous cock springing free and slapping gently against the thin strip of hair that led down from his belly button. He drew his knees apart slightly as his hands grabbed your hips and he hauled you towards him, his lips pressing back to yours.

You positioned yourself over him, your knees hugging his torso as you lowered yourself down, both of you giving a groan as you took him in. Your feet remained by his knees, one hand sliding round his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other gripping at his forearm.

Andy rolled his hips upwards as you pressed your forehead to his, noses bumping together as he moved you gently, his rhythm slow and needy from the off. Large hands slid along your thighs, gently palming your ass before they slid up the back of your silk slip, coming to rest tenderly on your spine, holding you close. As he rocked upwards, you let your head fall back slowly and let out a soft sigh of delight as his lips caressed your throat, barely there kisses moved down your neck, that beard you loved so much scratching your skin as he went. Your grip on his arm and neck tightened a little, your nails softly grazing the nape of his neck as he once more lavished affection on your chest, and this time it was his turn to let out a soft groan into your skin. He loved when you touched him there, you’d often made a joke about how if he was a cat it would make him purr.

His mouth moved upwards again, tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat, tracing a path up to your jaw before his lips caught yours again, the kiss deep and needy, like he was at that moment. Your tongues danced lazily together, matching the slow, steady roll and rocking motion your hips were making. With a low grunt, Andy broke away, pulling back a little, his nose nudging your chin as he placed a soft kiss once more to your neck, his rhythm never changing as his hands pulled you even closer, pressing your chest into his.

“Baby, look at me.” His voice was a whisper, and it was a request not a demand, but a request you were more than happy to meet. Your eyes locked onto those deep, ocean blues which were blown with love and lust and you simply held his gaze as he continued to rock up into you, stroking that spot inside that drove you wild.

You could feel the burning, deep in the pit of your stomach, and your hips started to move a little more as you ground down against him, desperate for the friction against your clit and you let out a little cry as you found it, Andy bucking up a little deeper and faster, reading your body language perfectly, just like he always could.

Moving your hands, you cupped his face, the pads of your fingers tangling in his beard as he closed his eyes, those ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks and you pushed down again, rotating your hips, watching with satisfaction as he tipped his head back, a groan flowing freely from his lips, the softly whispered “don’t stop” barely audible, his voice was that deep.

Seeing him so suppliant was something you would never get tired of, because you loved this beautiful, wonderful man with everything you had. You’d both been through so much, yet still made it through the other side as strong as ever, the ultimate sign of your love sleeping in the room inside as you gave yourselves to one another whilst the dawn continued to break over the ocean, tendrils of light purples, oranges and yellow snaring around the pair of you, enveloping you in their warmth, heating the very depth of your souls.

“I love you.” You pulled his face back to yours, kissing him once more, your lips resting against his as you told him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, so fahkin’ much.” His Boston twang grew more pronounced as did the movements of his hips, his rolls turning into thrusts as you met him movement for movement, pushing down, rocking yourself against him. The burn you had been feeling was now boiling hot as it bubbled to the surface, and you knew that any moment now you were going to erupt into flames.

“Fuck, Andy, I need…”

“Take it, Honey, it’s all yours…” He surged upwards, his hands flat against your back, pulling you to him as you kissed him deeply, before you’re head tipped back as the world around you tilted on its axis, your stomach tightening as you clenched down around him, your release crashing over you like the waves on the shore below. Your entire body went rigid, his name on your lips became nothing but a choked, strangled moan as he continued to rut up into you, his face pressing into your neck as he chased his own bliss.

"Fuck, Sweetheart..." Andy growled as with one final thrust upwards, his body stiffened and he spilled himself inside you, his cock twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm kept your walls clamping down on him. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut and his jaw clenched before he relaxed a little, chest sagging as his arms clutched you to him, as if he never wanted to let you go.

Which, if he didn't, that was perfectly fine by you.

You leaned forward gently, sliding your nose along his, your lips brushing together as he gave a soft smile. With a satisfied sigh he leaned back, taking you with him as he made to settle you down against the back of the lounger you were laying on. Only he didn't stop, he kept going, his eyes flying open with surprise as the back of the lounger collapsed and you were suddenly pitched forward as the other end tipped up sending Andy crashing backwards onto the balcony with a loud bang as the metal frame of the lounger hit the sandstone tiled surface, you still clutched securely to his chest.

There was a pause as the pair of you looked at each other in surprise before Andy's head fell back and he gave a huge bellow of laughter and you hastily clamped your hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise, trying to supress your own giggles. One of Andy's hand's moved from your back as you sat up a little, legs still straddling his waist, his softening cock still stuffed deep inside you. He curled his fingers around the wrist of the hand you had pressed over his mouth and he pulled it away, pressing a kiss to your palm, his beard twitching as he continued to chuckle softly, his eyes crinkled at the corner.

"You okay?" He asked, his lips curling up into a smile and you nodded, running your hands through his hair as his fell to your hips.

“Yeah, I had a soft landing.” You teased, causing him to snort out another laugh. "All these years and you can still make the Earth move for me, Barber."

"Well, I aim to please." he quipped as you leaned down to press your lips to his.

"Is everything alright?" You head a voice say which stopped you mid kiss. Your eyes flew open, as did Andy's and the pair of you looked at one another, as Andy started to laugh again.

"Yeah, fine, just a little...mishap with the sun lounger." You called over to where the voice had come from, the next room down to yours.

"But thank you for asking." Andy added, polite as always.

"No problem!" The male voice shot back, before you heard the sliding of a door and the click of a lock as it shut.

"Reminds me of that time at my parents when we broke my old bed." You giggled and Andy snorted, his hands smoothing over your thighs.

"In my defence, that thing was almost as old as me.”

"Well that's a load of shit." You grinned, looking down at him, your hands sliding through his rumpled, fluffy hair. "I only got it when I was eighteen, and given that you're ten years older than me that would mean-"

"Yeah, okay, shut up." He mumbled as his hand reached round the back of your neck, pulling you back down to him.

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #reader insert #andy barber smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 3 years

Text

Tom’s Big Day

I swear I didn't mean to go so long without posting! I just got a little sidetracked with other things I've been working on 😅. But here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

The Big Day (AO3)

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

Everything was a blur. How his little girl had gone from sitting on his shoulders while he kneaded dough to taking the fashion world by storm. The way she had gone from giggling over pictures of a blond model to exchanging soft, sweet smiles with a rising rock legend. The way she went from running around Paris with her friends to nervously pacing the room as his wife followed behind, murmuring comforting words in a soothing voice.

It was all a blur.

He mopped the tears from his eyes, but only the image of his daughter in her wedding dress cleared. How she had gone from a baby to a girl to a woman was still a blur.

Already, he could feel fresh tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. From the moment he had first seen Marinette in her wedding dress, the waterworks had started for him. And he didn’t know if they would stop anytime soon.

He couldn’t help it; she was his little girl.

And he was just so happy. And proud.

But he also wasn’t ready for it.

“… And Hawkmoth decides to akumatize someone?”

“Then Ladybug will handle it,” Sabine said soothingly, reaching out for Marinette. “Chat Noir too.” But it seemed his wife’s words did nothing to comfort their daughter, as she just turned to pace in the other direction.

It wasn’t impossible that Hawkmoth would target a wedding. He had done so a few times in the past.

But there were more pressing matters to worry about, in his opinion. His mother and Anarka hadn’t seemed very put out when the pirate canons had been vetoed. In fact, they had been rather calm about losing something they had fought so hard to have included in the wedding.

Suspiciously calm…

To say nothing of the fact Jagged would be giving a toast.

“Sweetheart, don’t you think there are other things to stress over today?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what he had just said. And how it sounded.

Sabine shot him a look before turning her focus back to their daughter. But before he could clarify what he had meant, Sabine was already trying to soothe their anxious daughter.

“Not the there is anything to worry about, dear! It’s your wedding day; this will be one of the happiest days of your life…” he thought he saw Sabine glance at Fang in concern, but Marinette was already on another tirade about akumas.

“But weddings always make people stressed! All it takes is one miscommunication between the florist and the venue, and poof! Suddenly there’s an akuma that turns people into topiaries!”

He remembered that akuma all too well, and they were not fond memories. He and Sabine had come too close to being turned into bushes themselves. Thankfully Ladybug had swooped in to save them.

The scratching of scales against wood pulled him out of his thoughts. He watched as Fang crawled over to his daughter and laid his head on her foot in what could only be described as a comforting manner.

“Thank you, Fang,” she whispered as she knelt to scratch the flower girl’s head.

“Honey…” Sabine reached out to their daughter, gently clasping Marinette's hands in hers. “Are you sure it’s really an akuma that you’re worried about?”

“Marrying Luka is the easiest decision I'll ever make.” The conviction in her voice was like a comforting blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Marinette had always been indecisive and anxious. But then she had gotten together with Luka, and she had learned to calm the storm inside her. “I love him, mom. He makes me happy.”

He could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks again.

“I know, darling.” He crossed towards them, settling a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

And then they were all hugging and crying.

“Mama, Papa! You’re making me ruin your makeup!”

“You look beautiful, darling,” he managed to choke out between his sniffles.

“But let’s get you cleaned up! You have an aisle to walk down!”

***

He smiled down at his daughter, tears once again welling up in his eyes.

And then he caught Sabine’s eyes. And he knew. He knew she was feeling everything he was, reliving every memory he was. Wondering the same things he was.

He had always known Marinette would grow up one day. But it felt so soon. It felt like just yesterday, she was a baby.

Had this been how Sabine’s father felt? All those years ago?

How was he supposed to be ready for this moment? When it felt like just yesterday, he was holding Marinette in his arms for the very first time. How was he supposed to be ready to let her go?

He knew he wasn’t losing her. He was gaining a son. And a boatload of in-laws and a rockstar for an in-law as well.

But it felt final, somehow. He had already watched his daughter spread her wings and soar. But he still didn’t feel ready for this new wind beneath her wings.

But maybe he never would be ready. And that was ok. Because Marinette would always be his little girl.

Sabine smiled up at him through watery eyes.

Luka loved Marinette so much, and they had so much happiness ahead of them.

The music from inside the ceremony room swelled, and Marinette squeezed his arm. And then the doors opened, and they stepped towards Marinette’s future.

***

He clenched his fists and jaw. Adrien had some nerve interrupting the ceremony like that. He turned around completely in his seat to glare daggers at the boy. Hadn’t he put Marinette and Luka through enough?

He had never blamed the boy for the heartache he caused Marinette when they were young. Adrien had never been obligated to return Marinette’s feelings. But then he had seen the way the blond would lead his daughter on at times. And while it may not have been intentional, the boy should have had the sense to understand his actions.

But he had cut the boy some slack due to his isolated upbringing.

In hindsight, it reminded him of how Chat Noir had dealt with Marinette’s feelings as well. Perhaps not intentional, but certainly insensitive.

But then Adrien had finally seen how wonderful Marinette was. Long after she had moved on. And after she had become engaged to Luka.

Everything that had happened after that, he had fully blamed Adrien for.

Suddenly, and alarmingly, Adrien had been everywhere. Even places he should have had no way of accessing, like Marinette’s balcony. And the boy had been incessantly persistent, always pushing some narrative about him and Marinette being soulmates. Even when Marinette had begged for him to stop pursuing her, to stop trying to win her over with grand gestures and expensive gifts, Adrien had just kept pushing.

And Marinette hadn’t been the only one upset about the situation. Luka had spent countless nights comforting her over the situation. It had been Luka who had been her rock through it all.

He turned back to look at the couple. They were both glaring daggers at Adrien as he continued on about he was Marinette’s soul mate. He could see the icy fury in Luka’s eyes and the tension in his jaw.

Which stood in sharp contrast to the gentle way he held Marinette.

From the moment she had been born, he had promised Marinette he would always look out for her. She was his daughter. And Luka was about to become his son. Which meant he would always look out for him.

Which was how he found himself rising out of his seat to go have words with Adrien when Marinette’s voice rang out in the silence with the strength of pure steel. She sounded eerily similar to Ladybug when she was dealing with Chat Noir.

The cowed expression on Adrien’s face as he sat down was enough to bring back a bit of a smile to his face.

***

Tom watched as Anarka hauled Adrien out by the ear. He was happy to see the model go. After all the heartache he had caused his daughter and his new son, it served him right. But he couldn’t help but think dragging him out by the ear was a bit much.

But then again… after the little stunts Adrien had pulled during the ceremony and just now, not to mention the many stunts he had pulled in the past year? Maybe it wasn’t enough.

Still… “Should we do something?” he asked as he watched Anarka and Adrien disappear into the crowd.

“Yes, we should dear.” He felt Sabine’s arm wrap around his. When he looked down, she was staring after Adrien and Anarka with the most serene smile he had ever seen. “We should head back in before we miss the rest of their first dance.”

He smiled as she led him back into the reception hall.

***

As he watched the two of them dance, he wondered if they had even noticed Adrien trying to cut in. They were so lost in each other’s eyes, blissful smiles gracing their faces.

Long gone were the shy looks they exchanged in their youth. Long gone were the fears and anxieties over the future. Long gone were the growing pains of trying to fit two lives together into one.

But the love he had seen spark between the two back when they were teenagers was still there. Stronger now- a warm and glowing light that blanketed them both and shone out from within them in their eyes and smiles.

He had never seen either of them so happy.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes.

***

He watched in horror as Jagged launched himself onto the table, guitar swinging close, dangerously close to the croque-en-bouche.

The croque-en-bouche he had spent hours toiling over. The croque-en-bouche that he had poured his love, sweat, and tears into. The croque-en-bouche made up of hundreds of hand-filled creampuffs.

The hundreds of cream puffs he had painstakingly dipped into molten sugar. The hundreds of cream puffs he had artfully arranged into a giant tower.

To say nothing of the spun sugar roses carefully arranged among the cream puffs.

And then the table legs collapsed.

He had never had a heart attack before, but he was sure this was what it felt like.

The croque-en-bouche plummeted towards the floor. It was like watching a train wreck- everything happened in slow motion, and he couldn’t pull his gaze away no matter how hard he tried.

Some of the sugar roses that had been strewn loosely on the plate around the base of the towering dessert shattered on the floor. But miraculously, some of Marinette and Luka’s friends somehow managed to catch the croque-en-bouche before it hit the ground.

He had no idea where Nino, Rose, and Kim had honed such quick instincts. But he was grateful to them.

Even if the sugar flowers were ruined.

He looked to the newlyweds, ready to reassure them over the near disaster. They were half out of their seats, ready to rush over. But then they caught each other's eyes, and they were still lost in their own little world.

***

“My little fairy,” his mother murmured as she leaned against him, “all grown up and married now.”

Tears were welling up again as he watched Luka and Marinette glide across the dance floor. “She is.” It was the last song of the night. But they were just as lost in each other’s eyes as they had been the moment they first saw each other during the ceremony.

“They look just like you two did on your wedding day.”

He couldn’t say how he had looked on his wedding day. All he could remember was Sabine and the way he had felt knowing they were husband and wife. Everything else from his wedding day was a hazy dream.

But looking at how Luka and Marinette were looking at each other, he had no doubt they wouldn’t remember much of this night other than each other.

“It’s been a perfect night,” he said quietly. Because it had been. Despite all the things that had gone wrong. What mattered was that Marinette and Luka were happy. And looking at them, no one could say they weren’t.

“It has been.”

The couple began making their way towards the doors, waving goodbye to the guests who hadn’t already left. Glowing in their happiness.

“Even though you and Anarka didn’t get your pirate canons?”

When his mother didn’t reply, he looked down at her. She was smiling, entirely too innocently as she watched the couple exit through the doors.

#endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #tom dupain #sabine cheng #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #anarka couffaine #gina dupain #adrien agreste #jagged stone #the big day #not the croque-en-bouche!!

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt 😢

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can’t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #dad!tony #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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