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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Catch Me If You Can 3/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom Police officer reader

Warnings:

I really like this AU so while this is the final part, BUT I will write stuff for these two here and there (like the proposal and so much more I have in my head for them)

Part 1

Part 2

Your heart stopped as you stood near the door, hearing the conversation between your son and Bucky. The rest of what they were saying was drowned out with a dull buzz filling your ears, all your emotions coursing through your body all at once.

Dad.

A word Jordan had resented all is life, only associating the term with a man who wanted nothing to do with him. Dad meant loneliness, fear, abandonment, abuse.

Dad was something he never had an interest in.

No one you had ever dated in the past was worthy of being in Jordan’s life, something you put first whenever you went out. Not one person had made it even close to meeting him let alone standing in as a father figure to him. You soon accepted that your life would be just you and him until he grew up and had his own family as well.

But now?

Dad.

And Bucky, of all people.

You didn’t even realize tears were streaming down your face until you felt a drop slip onto your collarbone, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth and rushing to your bedroom, shutting the door. You buried your face in your hands, your heart twisting at the thought of how safe your son must have felt around Bucky. How he loved spending time with the mob boss, never wanting to leave, feeling like he was at home more and more each day.

He wasn’t the only one.

It wasn’t shock that Bucky felt.

It was pain.

Pain that he saw Jordan as his own but couldn’t take on that role.

Pain where whenever he spent time with either of you, he’d never want it to end, finding any excuse under the sun to get you to stay.

But how could he feel all that when you were both from two different worlds, one where the two couldn’t mix.

If only.

“I think you should ask mama bear how she’d feel about that” Bucky softly ruffled his hair while Jordan made a thinking face before nodding to himself. He was well aware that uncle Bucky wasn’t exactly in the all clear but he wasn’t blind either. You definitely used less no-no words when talking about Bucky. You’d mumble something occasionally, but he caught the little smile that graced your lips, often rolling his eyes when you’d try to wipe it off immediately after.

“I don’t think she wants to arrest you anymore but I can’t make any promises. Mommy takes her job very seriously” Jordan downed the rest of his juice while Bucky chuckled, nodding his head.

“Mama is very good at her job, she puts away the bad guys”

“But you’re a good guy” Jordan shrugged, continuing to work on his homework, hoping to revisit the topic later.

As soon as Jordan was ready for bed and tucked in, you went down to the kitchen for a late night snack, book in hand with your silk robe tied around your body. You figured everyone had gone to sleep, allowing yourself to lounge in something that made you feel good, the outfit on the racier side. You set your mug down on the marble counter top, popping a strawberry into your mouth and opening your book, too engrossed in the story to hear the footsteps that padded down the hall.

Bucky blinked as soon as he walked in the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on you. Wrapped in silk. Your lips stained with sweet berry juice. Your plush thighs on full display. In his kitchen. Where he could bend you over the counter-

He mentally flicked himself in the ear, letting out a cough to announce his presence, hoping some blood would flowback to his brain before you shot his dick off. Your eyes flicked up, your heart jolting at the sight of a very shirtless Bucky, his t-shirt slung over his shoulder, joggers riding low on his hips. Sweat glistened off his tan skin, the veins on his forearms prominent from the workout he just had.

“Thought everyone was asleep” You wrapped your roble a little tighter around yourself, ignoring the butterflies that rabidly bounced around your stomach, willing your eyes to look away from the dark trail of hair on his stomach that lead right down to his-

“Couldn’t sleep” Bucky broke you out of your filthy train of thoughts as he walked to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and debating on dumping it on his head to calm himself down. “I had an interesting conversation with the little one” He murmured, taking a swing from the water bottle, struggling to take his eyes off the way you fit so perfectly in his home, so pretty in silk, the type of thing he’d want to come home to everyday-

“I heard” You nodded, taking a long sip of tea, trying to calm your racing heart. Everything about him was perfect, except for the fact that his entire being was dedicated to a life of crime. While Jordan didn’t tell you about his request to call Bucky something different, he did talk your ear off about uncle Steve and Bucky’s motor bike collection. “Didn’t realize you’d all be so good with kids”

Bucky chuckled, equally surprised with himself over how easy it was for him to move with Jordan. It came naturally. He’d thought about having a family before but this was the first time he saw himself as a father-

Stop.

You’re not his dad.

“Again, I’m part of the mob sweets, not a monster. Family comes first”

You hummed, before continuing, “So how did that conversation go?”

“Asked him what his pretty mama would think” Bucky tossed you a charming smirk which you rolled your eyes to, biting down hard on your lip to keep from smiling.

“In those exact words Barnes?”

“It’s definitely what I was thinking” Bucky shrugged while you took another swing of tea to stifle a giggle. Neither of you said anything else, quietly continuing what you were doing unable to look each other in the eye. Jordan sat at the top of the stairs, smacking his forehead before trudging back to bed. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who adored his mommy.

Something about that night had changed things. You still maintained that the nature of your relationship was strictly because of Jordan's safety and nothing else. You’d even once jokingly cuffed Bucky, much to his surprise, his eyes growing wide when he found himself pinned against the wall, caught off guard with how swiftly you were able to hold him down.

He felt goosebumps erupt over his skin when you teasingly whispered his rights before uncuffing him and twirling the metal in your hands. Jordan found it hilarious, while Bucky was left a babbling mess, insisting he let you arrest him and that you’d never actually be able to disarm him so easily if he fought back.

In fact, he even insisted you try again.

And again.

Steve once had to slowly pull Jordan away, distracting him with another kinder egg, worrying your latest arrest would turn into something else, watching Bucky’s pupils dilate with the clink of the cuffs wrapping around his wrist. He also noticed the way you smirked, your hands lingering on him for longer than necessary for a lawful arrest.

“You like my mom”

Bucky’s eyes shot up, staring at the little thing that was sprawled out on the office floor, putting together Lego’s, the mop of dark hair popping up and staring directly at him.

“What?”

“You like mommy, your face does that pink thing whenever your near her, even when she tries to put you in jail. Have you no shame”

Steve cackled from the corner, while Bucky stood like a fish gaping out of water, his cheeks blushing heavily again.

“You’re doing it right now” Jordan narrowed his eyes while Bucky helplessly tried to make his face less pink, the color only getting worse. “You like her”

Well, the little devil spawn wasn’t wrong, there was no doubt Bucky was harboring a school boy crush on you, growing worse each day.

“And she likes you” Jordan stated, “so what are you going to do about it” He set down the Lego pieces and crossed his arms over his chest, making it clear he wasn’t going to let Bucky weasel his way out of this. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought while your son continued to stare at him.

“J, it’s complicated, it’s hard for your to understand- your mom- and me- she-”

“I’m sure it takes a real Sherlock to understand why mommy doesn’t want to date her sworn enemy” Jordan dead panned, giving Bucky another pointed look, not needing anyone to break down for him why there was so much unspoken tension between you two.

His mom was a police officer.

She followed the rules.

She respected the law.

Bucky didn’t follow the rules.

The law meant nothing to him.

You weren’t exactly a match made in heaven.

But Jordan wasn’t blind to the way you also got giggly around Bucky no matter how hard you tried not to. It wasn’t often he saw his mama looked so happy and relaxed. If his favorite new uncle made you swoon, who was he to stand in the way of true love and getting a new daddy.

“You like her. She likes you. Right?”

“Okay so it’s not complicated” Bucky huffed while Jordan nodded, expecting uncle Bucky to walk over to you right that instant and profess his feelings out in the open. “But I don’t think I fit into her life like that though kid” He tried but Jordan wasn’t having any of it.

“Ugh, but she has no life!" Jordan rolled his eyes while Steve wheezed, watching Bucky single handedly get taken down by someone that was a quarter of his size. “All she used to do is work and help me with homework and complain about you” He got up from his place on the floor and sat in the office chair opposite to Bucky. “And she still complains about you but now she giggles in between and she doesn’t call you that word that rhymes with mother tucker”

“What does she call me now” Bucky’s curiosity piqued while Jordan scrunched his nose.

“Welllll, why don’t’cha get yourself arrested again and see what she says” He kicked his feet innocently, looking at the mob boss in the eye, “Uncle Steve, he’s blushing again” Jordan shot out an accusatory finger while Steve howled, giving your son a high five.

“That’s my little man, you tell him”

“I’m trying to but he’s still sitting here drinking expensive spicy apple juice”

“You know too much for your age” Bucky rubbed his temples, torn between what his next steps would be and actually considering Jordan’s advice to have you cuff him.

What he wouldn’t do to have your hands on-

“You don’t know enough” Jordan countered, plucking the juice box he left on the table, taking a long sip, happy to have his uncle Steve as an ally.

All it took was a threatening phone call from your ex’s sister for Bucky to get you to stay even longer on his insistence. He didn’t care that she lived in an entirely different continent or that she was a delusional loon; he’d use any excuse possible to keep you near by.

“James, she lives in another country-

“Doesn’t matter”

“I’ve already stayed a month!”

“Stay another”

“But-

“No”

You didn’t like that your feelings were getting harder and harder to contain, your moral compass going haywire, trying to figure out what to do. Seeing Bucky with Jordan pained you the most. Your baby boys eyes would light up as soon as he’d hear the mob boss walk through the door, your heart swelling each time you saw Bucky parading around the house, carrying him on his shoulders. Steve, Sam and Peter didn’t help either, the three of them taking care of Jordan just as much as you did when they weren’t off on illegal shady antics, their line of work as wholesome and innocent as your son when he claimed he only had one kinder egg.

Bald faced liars, all of them.

You felt loved, safe and alone at the same time, conflicted over which direction to follow, your heart screaming to just look the other way at the wrong things he did. But that wasn’t the job. That wasn’t what you stood for. You took an oath to protect innocent lives and accepting full on gang activity didn’t align with that.

Did it?

Though Jordan wasn’t having any of it either, noticing more and more tension building between the both of you, more longing glances and lingering touches each time you were near one another.

If neither of you were going to do anything about it, he’d have to take matters into his own little hands.

Like tonight.

You found it strange that Jordan had insisted on only going out with Steve, Sam and Peter, your little one usually following Bucky around the most. He insisted he was perfectly fine with only going with these three, also throwing in that uncle Bucky was very very busy with lots of meetings, therefore couldn't join them for the movie they were going to see. You were hesitant at first but he gave you little room for argument.

“Jordan, the screen here is literally bigger than the movie theater anyway-

“But moooommy, pleeaaseeee?” He gave you his best puppy eyes and pout, something he seemed to perfect from his latest idol, jumping on you when you finally agreed, though not trusting why Sam, Steve and Peter looked equally giggly and guilty. They left for the day, giving you a night to relax in the quiet mansion.

You decided to pamper yourself, taking advantage of the large tub in the guest bathroom, filling it up with essential oils and bath salts, letting out a content sigh feeling the hot water ease your muscles. You stayed there till the water felt cold, rinsing off and toweling off. You moisturized and slipped on one of your nicer silk robes, figuring you could wear your pj’s later when you actually went to bed.

Not like anyone was home now anyway.

You went down to the kitchen to grab some tea before heading back to your room, curious to find the office door cracked open; typically closed when Bucky was working.

Was he working?

“I see you’re busy” You poked your head into Bucky’s dimly lit office to find him lounging with a book, sipping on dark amber liquid, wearing a soft tshirt and joggers, clearly the opposite of busy with lots and lots of meetings.

You’d have a word with your little one later.

“Where did everyone go” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the surprisingly silent house, mentally holding himself back as you stepped into his office in your robe again, desperately wanting to pounce on you. his eyes lingered on you, swallowing thickly noting he couldn’t see your sleep shorts from under the robe, were you wearing nothing underneath-

“My baby was an angel before he met you” You shook your head at your sons sneaky work of finding a way to get you and Bucky together alone. “He said you were busy today and then took off with your henchmen, they’ve been out for hours”

“Smart kid” Bucky snorted, secretly proud of the little mob boss in the making, though you’d probably serve his head on a platter if you heard his thoughts. “Want a drink?” He held up his glass, getting up to grab you one as well, dropping a few ice cubes in the crystal.

You bit your lip as you approached him, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell you felt like you had been doused in lava, your heart beating a mile a minute with the thick tension that hung in the air. A drink meant nothing; he offered it to you because he was polite. You’d have your drink and then your ass right back to your room because if you waited there a second longer, with him in those fitting sweats-

“You look very busy yourself, officer” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, nodding at your clothing, or lack thereof, shamelessly letting his eyes wander up and down your body while he handed you the glass, clinking it with yours before taking a long drag.

“Hmm, took advantage of the peace and quiet and clawfoot tub” You licked the drop of whiskey that clung to your lips, letting the burn distract your brain yelling at you to run while your heart wrapped bricks around your ankles, keeping you in place. “It was nice. I’ll miss it when we go back home”

You threw the last bit out there as a reminder for yourself; none of this was forever. All good things would have to come to and end at some point. Bucky felt his stomach drop at the thought; each day he’d find any excuse he could to have you stay just one extra day.

Just one extra day to bicker with you.

One extra day to spend with the little one.

One extra day to get on your nerves.

One extra day to spend with the family he’d always thought he’d have one day.

“You don’t have to go any time soon” Bucky whispered, unsure if he wanted you to hear those words, taking a step closer to you, “Stay...a little longer?”

“You say that a lot, I might just end up staying forever” You let out a breathless laugh, feeling the warmth of the alcohol relax your muscles, giving into the pull you felt towards him.

“Would that be so bad?” He smirked but the inside of him was on his knees, begging for a chance, just one.

“It-it would-” you couldn’t find the words, stumbling over them, getting lost in the baby blues gazing down at you, his eyes darting between yours and your lips. You didn’t realize you were leaning in, your body following what it needed, morals and ethics be damned.

“I know its not just me” Bucky whispered, hesitantly putting his hand on your waist to pull you closer, wanting to feel your soft lips on his, hug you and cuddle you, make you his. He didn’t want just one night, he wanted this for life. “Tell me you feel the same way”

You felt your throat tighten, your body tensing in his hold as he rested his forehead against yours, your nose bumping against his. He held you even closer to him, your hands gripping onto his shirt feeling his warm breath gently fan onto your face, his lips just brushing against yours, just as soft as you’d imagined they’d be. You nearly gave into him, pulling away at the last second, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, doll”

“We can’t-” You shook, hanging your head, overwhelmed over what all of this entailed, what this would mean to you, what you would do if this didn’t work, your baby boy came first-

“We can” Bucky cupped your cheeks, breaking you away from your spiral, swiping away the tears that fell, “We can baby, I promise we can”

“How- how do we make this work James, we come from two different worlds” You tried to reason with him but again this was more to yourself; how could you drop your entire life for this, risk everything for something so uncertain even though your heart yearned for it.

“Princess, I will show you everything, every damn thing under my name, I know it’s not perfect, but just let me show you. All of it. No secrets from you, not one. I promise, I won’t hurt you, not your baby, I care about you. I care about you both”

“James-”

“Just give me a chance” His grip around your waist tightened, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, bringing one hand to cradle your face, tilting it to look up at him. “C’mon sweets, you’ve been chasing after me for ages” He smirked against your lips, kissing them softly. “Now you got me”

“Then we take things slow” You stated firmly, pressing your finger into his chest, “and no funny business Barnes” You swatted his hand away when he trailed them to the hem of your robe, brushing your bare thigh making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. He chuckled at the pointed look you gave him, trying and failing at hiding how turned on you were. “And Jordan can’t know yet” His face softened, nodding in agreement, understanding where you were coming from.

“Just me and you” He kissed you again, gentle and sweet, a promise of taking things your way, baring his heart and soul to you in any way you asked. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to claim you in every way, make you his at the alter if you let him, be a daddy to your baby boy. He’d wait as long as you needed.

“Just me and you”

Steve and Sam had easily put two and two together as soon as they got back home, noting their boss was smiling like an idiot to himself most of the time, a stark contrast from his signature grumpy scowl. They never said anything, but they did pride themselves as being part o the reason this happened; after all they were the ones who conspired with your little one to get you two alone.

If Bucky was sweet before, he was tooth rottingly adorable now but only when it was just the two of you. You didn’t dare breathe a word to Jordan, not wanting to give him false hope if things didn’t work out. Truthful to his word, he came clean about everything. With each of his confessions, the world turned into different shades of grey instead of black and white.

Nothing he did was legal.

Nor was it hurting those who were innocent.

Your dead beat of an ex had a clean criminal record and was a standup citizen until it came to being a father and decent human being. Your son hardly thought twice about him. Bucky had killed more people than fingers on your hands but Jordan adored him.

When it was just the two of you, Bucky turned into a teddy bear, constantly kissing and hugging you, romantic as ever when he got the chance. He’d send the cooks away so he could make dinner, run you a bath when you had a long day, massage your feet while you sat on his desk in his office. He’d be on calls, the phone resting between his shoulder and ear while his calloused fingers would work at your toes, gently rubbing and pressing the aches out, before massaging up your calves. As soon as you heard the patter of little feet down the hall, you’d hop off and slink away, hiding the smile on your face when your son would take your place instead, plopping himself in Bucky’s office noting he was blushing again for some reason.

You still hadn’t been intimate with him yet. As much as he wanted you, Bucky didn’t let you feel an ounce of pressure, no matter how badly he wanted to love on you completely and show you exactly how much he adored you in the closest way possible. He relished in every second he got to spend with you, especially the select nights he got alone with you.

Like tonight.

“Promise you’ll try and be nice to Uncle Bucky?” Jordan cocked his head with hopeful eyes, still hoping his ship would sail of getting you both together. Thus far, nothing seemed to have changed and his hopes were starting to drop. “Please?”

“I’ll try” you giggled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before he slipped into the dark SUV with Bucky’s side pieces in tow, Sam, Steve and Peter all grinning widely for a boys trip over the weekend. “No promises though baby”

“Yeah officer, play nice with our boss” Steve winked while Sam cackled, closing the door and revving off, leaving the large mansion absolutely empty. The cleaning staff, gardeners s and cooks had been given the weekend off along with a generous bonus to keep them away for a few days. You slipped into one of Bucky’s t-shirts which hung loosely on you, not bothering to wear anything else underneath. You inhaled the soft scent of the fabric, his cologne and something distinctly him lingering on the fabric making you feel warm and fuzzy. The sound of keys hitting the keyboard carried through the hall; Bucky typing away at his computer but you couldn’t help wanting to be wrapped up in his arms, quietly peeking into his office and padding over to him.

“My pretty girl” He cooed, scooping you in his arms while you curled up on his lap, playing with his chains as he continued to work. “You miss me, baby?”

“You wish” You bit your lip, playfully rolling your eyes, knowing damn well you had missed him like crazy after he holed himself up with work business. “Don’t flatter yourself”

“You’re the one slinking around me, kitten” Bucky tilted your chin up pecking a tiny kiss on your nose, making you giggle. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle with my girl” He murmured in your ear making you shiver. He held you to his chest as he picked you up and carried you over to his room, setting you down on his bed before walking over to the closet and slipping on some sweats. He didn’t bother with a shirt, striding with his grey joggers riding low around his waist, giving you a pretty view of his Adonis belt, pointing straight to his-

“Angel” He crawled on top of you, humming at the feeling of your soft body under his, peppering kisses from your neck to your jaw, eventually pressing them against your lips. The kiss started soft and slowly, gradually getting more heated when you grazed his scalp with your nails, gasping at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothed core. You instinctively moved your thighs further apart, granting him more access to rut against you, panting each time he groaned, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He didn’t pull away until he needed air, his warm breath fanning against your face, hearts beating erratically. This had been the closest you’d ever been with each other, your thighs gently squeezing around his waist, making him thrust against you, drawing a out a moan. Bucky lost himself for a moment, gently caressing his thumb on your cheek, the other hand cradling your head, his large frame keeping you safely tucked underneath him, hidden from the rest of the world.

Exactly what he wanted.

Safe in his arms.

“Do you want this?” Bucky stopped what he was doing to check on you, his hand still softly stroking your skin. “We can stop, we don’t have to do this tonight-

“Don’t stop” you whispered, pulling him back, your arms clinging around his shoulders, eyes pleading for him to do something.

“I’ve wanted this for so long baby” He sat back on his heels, toying with the hem of your tshirt, his thick cock straining against painfully against his sweats. “Can I?” He waited for your permission before carefully removing your top off and ridding himself of his sweats and boxers, desperately just wanting to feel your bare skin against his. You felt too needy, too desperate for him, whining when he pulled away to settled between your legs, pressing a delicate kiss to your inner thigh.

“Just want you James, please?” You pouted, feeling empty when his leaky cock was right there, though his sinful mouth was tempting.

“Just one taste, angel?” He begged, inching down to your soaked pussy, spreading your folds apart before sealing his lips around your swollen clit, his eyes rolling back at the way your legs suffocated him.

“J-James” You moaned out, your hand going down to tug at his roots, grinding your pussy on his face, his groans adding vibrations to your sensitive nub. He felt greedy, burying his tongue deep in your cunt, lapping and drinking every drop your body was willing to give, his arms coming up to hold your legs apart, his head shaking side to side. He sucked and licked until you were a babbling mess, clawing at his shoulders to pull him back on top of you, bucking your hips up against his thick hard length.

“What do you need, pretty baby” Bucky cooed, soothing your whimpers with his cock rubbing through your folds, hushing you gently.

“Want you James, please?”

“I got you sweets, don’t worry, you ready?” He kept his eyes locked with yours, holding still until you nodded, the blunt tip of his cock pushing into your pulsating entrance.

“Oh fuck-” You cried at the way his girth started to fill you, your pussy tightly hugging his cock, a gentle delicious burn radiating through your lower half, stretching open for him. “Baby-”

“Shhhh” Bucky continued to slowly inch inside you, pressing soft kisses along your neck, his body weight resting on top of you, “It’s just me sweets, just your Bucky”

“Fuck, Bucky” Your nails dug into his shoulders, nearly breaking the skin, hissing at the way you could almost feel him in your belly.

“Breathe, Its just you and me baby, just you and me, yeah?” He kissed your temple, feeling just as desperate and needy as you, his cock throbbing at the way it felt to hold you, kiss you, feel all of you, be inside you.

“Just-just you and me” You whispered, clinging onto his body as he continued to press into you, groaning at the way your pussy fluttered around him, pulling him deeper.

“Thats my good girl” His large hand held your thigh up higher on his waist, fully sheathing himself inside you. Bucky panted against your neck in an attempt to calm himself down, feeing his balls already pulling towards his body, his cock thumping, ready to blow. He started with slow languid thrusts, savoring the pretty moans you made for him, your softness connected to him.

“Such a pretty mama” His lips brushed against yours, loving the soft touch of your skin, his hands feeling every inch of your body. He sat back on his heels, keeping his cock deep inside you, groaning at the sight of your body on full display just for him, your lip caught between your teeth, feeling hot under his intense gaze.

“Fuck- Fuck right there baby, please, right there!” You sobbed in pleasure as Bucky moved your thighs up, practically folding you in half, hitting an even deeper angle, rubbing perfectly at your gspopt. “Don’t-don’t stop-”

“I won’t stop, mama” He traced the delicate lines of stretch marks that were scattered across your lower belly and thighs, evidence of the sweet baby boy your body had given you, the boy he also now grew to love. “Wanted to make love to you for so long baby. wanted you to feel how much I care about you, make you feel so good” Bucky’s emotions were all over the place, feeling pleasure and love for you at an all time high.

His eyes were locked at there the two of you connected, snapping his hips forward, watching your tummy bulge with each thrust, cream covering the trimmed curls at his base. Your broken moans spurred him off, collapsing on top of you with your legs slung over his shoulders, his cock impossibly deep. His hands snaked up to pin your arms above your head, your fingers intertwined with his, keeping you completely surrendered to him.

“I love you” He whispered, voice thick with emotion, foreheads pressed together, not a single part of your body not touching his. “and everything you brought into this world”

“I-I love you” You half sobbed and stuttered out, eyes rolling back feeling him work his hips faster, pushing you against the pillows and pounding you into the mattress. “FUCK-JAMIE-THERE-R-RIGHT-TH-THERE”

“S’that your spot babygirl? Right there, huh angel, god you make me wanna blow, you sound so pretty with my cock in you” Bucky groaned, no longer able to hold back, moaning along with you, the sound of skin slapping on skin growing faster and louder. “Fuck-cum baby, cum on this dick, cum on my dick, s’all yours angel, give me that cream”

“YES-YES-OH-Jamiee!” Your back bowed, legs shaking and trembling as your orgasm started to pulse, waves of please growing more and more intense as he fucked you through your high. Your greedy pussy sucked him in deeper, pulling him closer and closer.

“Yeah, m’your Jamie baby” Bucky let out a soft chuckle at the new name you’d given him, one only you’d ever be able to use. It got him off more, his pace losing rhythm, his own climax just at the edge. “Just your Jamie angel, only for you, fuck baby, m’gonna cum for you, all this is for you” He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, moaning loudly and nipping against your skin as he started to pump you full of his cum, giving you sloppy thrusts, making sure you were filled with every drop.

You cooed and rubbed his body while he panted, his cock slowly beginning to soften, tucking himself further into your hold. You smiled at how soft and loving he was in that moment, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead, his blue eyes peering up at you at the feeling of your lips.

“Look at my pretty girl being all sweet on me” He grinned, yelping at the pinch you gave to his side.

“Don’t make me cuff you, Barnes” You huffed while pink dusted his cheeks at the thought, his mind now going other places.

“Threatening me with a good time, sweetheart?” He smirked, wrapping his arms around you and rolling over, pinning you back against the mattress again, this time his hands locking around your wrists. “S’that what you want pretty girl? To have my in cuffs? Do everything you ask? Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you have your way with me one day officer”

“Be a good girl for you?” You smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist, bucking your hips up against his sensitive cock, making him hiss, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper.

“Careful babygirl, don’t forget who you’re in bed with” His lips continued to brush against you, grazing your skin down to your collar bone. “Let me remind you, sweets”

As soon as the boys were back, Jordan ran full speed to you, jumping in your arms first, talking your ear off about all the ridiculous antics he had done with Steve, Sam and Peter. You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes while keeping him on your hip, before setting him down on his feet and instructing him to wash up so he could tell you everything properly over dinner. Jordan clung onto you for just a second longer, he could’ve sworn there was a faint scent of cologne that clung onto you, one just like-

While you were entranced with your little one, Bucky was entranced with you. Effortlessly swaying with your baby who was clearly not exactly a tiny baby anymore, the scrunch on of your nose when you smiled around him, the way your eyes sparkled. Jordan ran up two steps at a time to shower as fast as humanly possible while Bucky snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you to his chest, his sneaky hands pawing at your hips, slipping up your shirt.

“You’re such a milf” Bucky smirked while you gasped, smacking his chest, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone heard.

“Bucky” You hissed, squeaking, your face growing hot when he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your hair.

“It’s true though princess, God damn” He kissed up the side of your neck, “Such a pretty mama, can’t help it”

“Yeah, well your little side kick is going to want to tell you all about the weekend” You giggled, wiggling out of his hold and walking off to the kitchen to get dinner started while Bucky hummed, making his way to the office. Jordan scrubbed himself down within seconds before rushing back down to tell you everything, eyeing you curiously while you set his plate in front of him.

“Isn’t that Uncle Bucky’s shirt?” He pipped up, with owlish eyes, waiting for your asnwer.

“Oh-so it is” You looked down at the black tshirt you were wearing, one that went to the middle of your thighs. “Uh-Must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry” You shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t ask anything else.

As if you’d ever get so lucky.

“But it’s so big on you-”

“Tell me about your weekend baby” You cut him off while Jordan narrowed his eyes at you accusingly, deciding he’d have better luck elsewhere instead of prying with you. He gave you his best summarized version before running back upstairs and taking his designated spot beside Bucky (going to the fridge first to grab himself some juice).

“Mommy was wearing your shirt” He stated, inching closer to Bucky, noting the way the Mob bosses’ eyes grew wide, his cheeks blushing deeply, crawling down his neck and up to his ears.

“I-Uh-Oh-”

Not once had Jordan ever see Bucky get flustered except when it involved you, his hopes growing high again, also why did Bucky smell like your shampoo-

“Maybe-maybe it got switched in the laundry?”

“You never do laundry, the cleaners do”

“They were away this weekend, J”

“So it was just you and mommy”

“Yup”

“Whatcha do”

“......work”

“What did mommy do”

“....laundry?”

“The whole weekend?”

“Yup”

“You smell like her”

*silence*

*Blushing intensifies*

*Little shy smile creeps on Bucky’s face*

“Did you finally tell mommy you like her? Oh God, you’re pink again” Jordan sat right up, eyes wide with anticipation while Bucky bit his lip before answering.

“I did”

“So...”

“So?”

“Can I call you dad, now?” Jordan’s voice was a whisper again, the confidence he had all this time turning into nervousness, playing with his fingers, avoiding Bucky’s eyes. Bucky felt his heart melt, pulling him onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss to his head, the little one curling himself up slightly, still looking at his hands. Bucky felt warmth all over, thinking back to a conversation he had with you a little while ago, just before Jordan had came home, one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

“Are you sure this is what you want” You asked hesitantly, toying with the hem of your pj’s while Bucky tilted your face up to look at him, hearing the anxiety in your voice.

“What do you mean?” “It’s not just me Bucky, it’s both of us” You whispered, wondering if Bucky fully understood what he was signing up for. “I-I don’t want you to ever feel like-like he isn’t yours. I know he’s not and I know you care about him but I’m scared you’ll want us now and then later you won’t-” Bucky softly pressed his finger to your lips, silencing you, not willing to hear another word.

“Where is this coming from” He held you closer while you nervously chewed your lip.

“I’m a single mom. My job isn’t the most attractive. I’m not the first person people line up to date. I didn’t do any of this for so long because I’m terrified anyone that comes into my life will leave and I can’t do that to Jordan-”

“That’s my baby now too” His hands held your cheeks firmly, each of his words coming straight from his soul. “I want to be there for him sweetheart, if you’d let me. If you ever want me out, I won’t .Just say the word, I’m here”

“It’ll be a lot Bucky”

“What haven’t I seen yet, baby” Bucky shrugged while you began to list reasons. “Sometimes he’s moody”

“So is his mommy-OW”

“Sometimes he can have a temper-Don’t you dare say it”

“Occasional picky eater”

“He’s still learning how to multiply”

“He’ll be a teenager in a few years”

“He’ll want to drive the SUV”

“He’ll want to try the spicy apply juice”

“He thinks your a hero”

“You’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there”

“S’that what you want?” Bucky decided to ask Jordan one more time, giving your baby the choice to take it back if it wasn’t something he was sure about but your son eagerly nodded, his face splitting into a grin. He leapt off the sofa sprinting off down the hall, his voice echoing through the mansion.

“MOMMY, DADDY SAID I COULD CALL HIM DAD. UNCLE STEVE, OUR PLAN WORKED”

“You went from trying to stick him in prison to life to being stuck with him for life, how the turn tables”

You groaned, doing a terrible job and hiding the smile that crept on your face, your partner waving to the black SUV that was parked outside, waiting for you while you packed your things for the end of the day.

“Just to be clear, we’re no longer trying to arrest him right? You looooove him” You threw a pad of sticky notes at your partners head while she cackled, green eyes twinkling.

“Shut up, Romanoff”

“Set me up with his cute best friend, that blonde cutie sitting in the front seat” She cocked an eyebrow while you snorted, nodding to your boss as he walked by your desk.

“Took you long enough” Your boss playfully rolled his eyes, sending you a wink before making his way to his office. You smiled at the pretty blue eyes that watched you as you walked over, holding the door open and closing it for you, lips all over your face as soon as the locks clicked shut.

“Have a good day at work, officer?” He chuckled, pulling you to his lap, nuzzling into you while you sighed contently, tossing your gun and badge aside, melting into Bucky’s arms. You giggled at the glitter that was dusted into his hair after he spent the previous night helping Jordan with a school project, ruffling your hands through his soft locks, pulling him down for a long kiss. “Let’s go home”

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saerins · 7 months

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PREV: #002 PLAYING DOMINO 𖧧 #003 THE FIRST RIPPLE 𖧧 NEXT: #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — ever since the first meeting, you’ve proven to be an anomaly. and yet again, sae finds himself out of character, doing things he didn’t think he would.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. angst/fluff, profanity, physical/verbal abuse, violence, mentions of infidelity, broken homes, unrequited love, manipulation/gaslighting. word count: 6.7k

༝༚༝༚ more yn and sae for this chapter yay !! ty to all of you who are reading this heh mwah you guys are my motivation <3 let’s hope i keep this pace up so some of you can get the tea faster :p

somehow, the fact that you’d managed to help land an interview with itoshi sae has given you some perks at work. (you’d let sumi take the credit for it, but considering your voice is on the recording, it was hard to deny your involvement.) the best of it all? sumi’s right; mr tatsuji is so absolutely pleased that he barely bothers to visit your department to chide any of you.

that way, at least if your personal life is a mess, your career is not. (for now.)

after three days of staying over at eita’s, you’re finally lugging your feet back home today. besides, he has a date and you’re not about to play third wheel when he inevitably comes home with her.

that’s otoya eita for you.

he insisted that it’s fine and if he really wanted to get some that he’d bring her to a hotel, but you’d really rather not get used to putting up at someone else’s house. especially when, technically, you do have a place to stay.

as you unwillingly (and slowly, painachingly) trudge back to your apartment, you can’t help but revisit your messages with sae. ever since you told him you’d let him follow you if he made a private account, he hasn’t responded since.

were you just in over your head? maybe he was just bored and was passing time by texting you. maybe he didn’t really mean it. maybe someone else took his phone and texted you just to make fun of you.

time to time, you still think of the night you met, how his eyes fluttered close, how he stayed rooted in position, how you would’ve actually done it out of curiosity if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a public place with cameras littering every few inches of space.

you sigh, locking your phone and tossing it back in your purse. in the end, maybe itoshi sae really is just someone for you to admire from afar. maybe that’s for the best; you can’t imagine how it’d even feel like dating someone who has such a big spotlight cast on him.

the evening air is chilly, the lights of the nearby shopping mall a warm golden, the sea of people walking past you soon to drown out. if you didn’t know better, you’d think you’re living a privileged life—being able to live in such a nice district, with a better-than-average apartment that had been fully paid for since you were born. and if life had been kind to you, then maybe you’d like living at home more than you do now.

but as it is, going home only serves as a reminder to all your problems. unescapable, unavoidable, unbearable. and maybe it’s not such a good move for you to depend on eita a lot to be your escape, to help you forget about all of it, at least when you’re with him, but you can’t help it. escapism feels nice. it’s nice to be around someone who knows about it and still accepts you, even though you and him don’t see eye to eye about it most of the time.

your stomach’s growling, and the macarons at the bakery’s display that you walk past are both nostalgic and tempting. but you can’t afford that.

something as simple as a box of macarons.

hang in there for the long term, you tell yourself. one day, you’ll get everything back.

not ten minutes later, you’re at your own doorstep, hesitating to even enter. through the door you can hear the sound of the television. it’s loud and playing some drama that always airs at this timing. you’ve heard the same voices so many times before.

it’s funny to think that these sounds used to feel like home to you.

either way, you have to get this over and done with, so you slot your key in and walk through the door, carefully toeing off your shoes as though being quiet would make you escape her notice.

“and where did you go off to the last few days? can’t even come home and be a dutiful daughter and eat with her own mother?”

it hasn’t even been five seconds.

all that ever awaits you at home now is the vile spit of your mother’s. it’s laughable because all she says is nonsense. you haven’t eaten on the same table together in years, even if you have been living under the same roof.

some part of you can’t help but be defiant. you know it’s a bad idea, but she’s out of line, and yet you’re still helping her. and you can’t figure out why.

“how about you be a dutiful mother and stop spending all your daughter’s money and go find a job?”

there’s a sharp sound that bounces off the walls of the living room quicker than you can expect it, and it takes you five seconds and the sting on your cheek to realise your mother had just slapped you with all her might.

not an ounce of hesitation or regret. there is only fury in her eyes as she looks down at you, summoning every bit of disdain she can muster.

of course, how could you forget? this is what you get for talking back to her. it’s been a while since she’d last laid a hand on you, so maybe you’d gotten cocky, thinking she wouldn’t do it again.

“is this all you’re good for? you’re not using that filthy mouth to jack people off so you’re using it to spite me?”

there’s a lot you want to say.

you want to talk back to her again, to say that she’s the useless one out of the two of you. the one who doesn’t work yet gambles all day. the one who spent all the savings and insurance money so she’s fully depending on you month to month.

you want to tell her that you’re not some whore who goes around fucking everyone you see. she always hated eita, but that’s because he knows she’s no good. that’s also why you never tell him if she lays her hand on you. you don’t want to get them into any altercations. you also want to tell her eita’s taken better care of you than she ever has, and you don’t even have to jack him off for it.

but you stay silent.

because silence is the most comfortable you can get with her. no matter what you say or do, it will never suffice for her. she wants money, and she’s only angry because you haven’t been home to give it to her. it’s why you lock your own door every time you head out or go to sleep. you don’t want to find your own belongings gone by the time you’re back. neither do you want to find her snooping around your room in the middle of the night.

both of which have happened before.

taking advantage of your shock, she yanks your purse out of your hand, fishing for your wallet and grabbing all the cash she can find before tossing it back to you.

there’s no mercy in her eyes as she glares at her own daughter, the one she carried herself in her womb for nine whole months and once sworn to love. and now she blames the same little girl for ruining her body and refuses to take responsibility for her.

“listen, be a good girl and just give me what i ask for okay?” her tone is nothing but condescending and threatening. “if you’d just behave yourself, i wouldn’t have to do shit like that. think a little, would you?”

the demon that is your mother speaks as if you’re in the wrong, sighing to herself as she lights a cigarette and walks away, stuffing your hard-earned money in her purse before making for her room and slamming the door as she completely disposes of you for the day. she already got what she wanted, after all.

utterly defeated, you completely forget about your hunger, retreating into your room, locking the door behind you and falling to the floor. your vision blurs and your cheek still stings. you wonder if it’ll leave a mark like it did the last time.

your phone vibrates once.

blurry vision aside, you can tell it’s eita from the name alone. his talk to me if you need anything, okay? is bright on your phone screen, the only light in this room because you don’t have the energy to turn on the lights. you’re not feeling exceptionally hopeful today. the dark seems just right.

you’re thankful that you have a friend like him. you probably don’t deserve how nice he is to you. but you don’t want to talk to him. you don’t think you want to talk to anyone.

maybe just one person.

but he’s six foot under and inaccessible to you.

you’re not sure when you made it onto your bed—your head’s a mess. it always is when you speak to her. that’s why you scream into the pillow, willing your energy away, trying to drown your thoughts with your voice, dreaming of the day you can break free from this cycle.

thunder, pitter patter, raindrops against the windowsill.

the lightning helps you make out the time from the clock on the wall above your door.

1am. your lips are chapped and the tears are dry against your cheeks. you’d subconsciously slept on the right side, your left still aching from earlier.

slowly, you get up, legs crossed and sitting on your bed, your earlier distress dissipated just slightly, mind a little clearer. (and always questionable.) your phone’s dead and you honestly don’t really care—what you do care about is your stomach’s incessant growling.

it wouldn’t take a genius to know that your mother cleared out all the food in the kitchen. it looked barren earlier from what you could see, maybe just a couple slices of bread and some condiments. you wouldn’t want to start cooking in the middle of the night either, lest she wakes up and you have even more to deal with.

the rain starts to lighten up by the time you’re out of the house, comfortable in your oversized windbreaker. you walk slowly, your slides already soaked from walking in the rain. it’s a nice cooling temperature, the wind in your face making you feel refreshed, like everything that’s horrible could be just a dream.

if only.

a light ten-minute walk later, you’re browsing through the aisles of the convenience store, wondering which brand of processed food is worthy to be your dinner. you hover between the cup noodles on the shelves and the sandwiches in the chiller, taking your time because home is not a place you’re exactly aching to go back to.

can you even call it a home at this point?

eventually, you waltz out of there with a warm tub of noodles, palms relishing in its warmth and your nose inhaling every last bit of its aroma.

dinner could be better, but you suppose you can’t complain when you’re trying your best to save up. after all, it’ll be a pain if your mother figures out the stash of savings you’re hiding. the last thing you want is for her to steal that away from you. then how would you ever move out on your own?

shaking your head as you settle down on a park bench on the opposite side of the road, you decide to throw those thoughts aside for now. it’s not a current problem that you need to mull over right now and destroy your mood. no, right now, what you need is just a peaceful night.

what’s past (earlier) is past.

even though it’s easier said than done when your tears start flowing one by one, and suddenly these noodles are saltier than you remember.

“sure you can’t come?”

sae looks at bianca through the passenger side window, her pout ever present. “nah, i’m tired. besides, if i oversleep who’s gonna drive you to the airport, huh?”

bianca grins at him, seemingly pacified. she reaches a hand into the car, perfectly manicured nails in full view before she clenches it into a fist, holding just a pinky out. “promise you’ll see me off tomorrow?”

there’s something between the lines that sae doesn’t get, nor is he sure he wants to. in all honesty, he’s not even sure why a promise is wanted here but he sticks out his pinky all the same anyway, because he’s pretty sure he won’t miss the alarm when it rings.

“yay, see you!”

“see you,” sae echoes as she bounds towards her friend’s place, ready for a last night of catching up over a game of cards before she flies back to america. as she disappears from his view, he wonders why she even tried to invite him in the first place. they’re her friends, he’s not really needed there anyway.

tuning out of those thoughts, sae drives off, already planning the remainder of the night. it’s 1am, and it’ll be near two by the time he makes it back to his apartment. that leaves him around a six hour sleep before he has to get up and send bianca off.

now that he’s thinking about it, since when has it become routine for him to send her off every time?

before he can even gather his thoughts about it, he steps on the brakes abruptly, wondering what the hell is wrong with some people to not be looking at both sides of the road before they cross, nearly pressing on the honk before something tells him not to. it’s distracting; the fact that the passing silhouette looks familiar and yet not at all.

against his better judgement, he pulls over by the side of the road, deciding to trust his gut. it’s late at night and there’s no reason for it but is that really you sitting on a park bench eating cup noodles past one in the morning? alone?

sae steps out of the car, mask on, pulling his hat down and his hoodie over his head to conceal himself, though some might argue he looks like he’s about to kidnap someone like this. he’s painfully aware this is dumb, and there’s no point to this, because what if it is you? it’s not like he has any reason to talk to you.

he stops midway, checking his phone and scrolling to your messages, his okay still sitting in the text box, unsent. fuck, he didn’t even realise until now. it didn’t help that he had a hectic schedule back to back for the past few days either. he never got around to creating that private account. he’ll just have to do it later.

a fleeting thought comes to him, wondering if you thought he was just pulling your leg about wanting to follow you. sure seems like it to him.

but he continues walking towards that park bench, towards that girl he thinks might be you, without knowing whatsoever what his next move will be. all he knows is that if that really is you, he’d rather say hello than say nothing at all.

even if it means making a detour that would undoubtedly make him endlessly tired the next day. for some reason.

and call him crazy, but as he draws closer, even without seeing your face, he knows it’s you somehow.

there’s something off about you, he doesn’t know what it is yet, but he can feel it. maybe he’ll find out. maybe he’ll try.

“hey, rude girl.”

just by the way your body stiffens up, he knows you recognise his voice. you choke on your noodles, coughing a little and rubbing your face before you whip your head upwards to face him, your eyes going wide with surprise.

“itoshi sae?”

why doesn’t he like it when you call him by his full name? it sounds weird, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“what are you doing here? do you live in the area?” you ask, setting your almost-empty cup of noodle on the bench. your voice is a little hoarse than he remembers, and your eyes are slightly puffy. there’s a faint swollenness on your left cheek, something he can see you’re desperately trying to hide behind your hair. it’s not really working.

he shakes his head, hands in his jacket pocket. “no, i was just dropping my friend off.” his eyes shift from you to the noodles. “supper?”

sae notices your eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, your nostrils flaring a little before you grin at him. “yeah, i missed lunch so this is me making up for it,” you giggle, offering a thumbs up.

is it bad to say he doesn’t believe you? you’re alone in the middle of the night on a park bench eating instant noodles with a slightly swollen cheek. yet you’re in front of him acting like nothing’s wrong.

this is already far from what he’d usually do. if you were anyone else, he would’ve just drove past and forgotten in a few days that he ever saw them. but as it is, here he is, standing in front of you, car parked illegally by the curb, just to verify that it really is you for no apparent reason.

still, he’s glad he did. you look like you’ve gotten a year’s worth of bad news judging by the state you’re in. and sae usually doesn’t cater to people, expects people to tell him what they need, not make him guess, but he’s already guessing what you might need.

your stomach is still growling, though you’re trying to hide it by slumping on the bench, arms over your stomach. sae has no idea why you feel like you have to hide, or who probably slapped you in the first place, but he finds himself disposing of your noodles before he’s grabbing you gently by the hand, tugging you along with him.

“hey, uh, where are we going?”

despite your shallow hesitation, sae feels your fingers curl around his palm. his heart skips a beat. he stops in his tracks, turning back around to face you. there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring inside him when he looks into your eyes.

his free hand comes up to remove his cap, putting it over your head and pushing it down to fit better. he doesn’t have a mask for you, but it’ll do. something tells him you don’t really want other people to see your face right now. and while the circumstances are different, he supposes he understands how it feels.

maybe you think he’s doing this because he’d rather not be papped with a girl, rather not have any more dating rumours. he’ll let you keep thinking that. he’ll keep acting like he doesn’t see the wound you’re desperately trying to hide.

for now.

“i’m hungry, eat with me,” is all he tells you before he resumes dragging you along behind him, calloused hands wrapping over your own.

sae’s not hungry in the least. he’d eaten probably three meals worth of food with bianca before this since she’d dragged him to a korean barbecue joint.

but you’re hungry. you’re starving and you’re not acting like it and you don’t say a thing about it—he doesn’t really get you.

he wants to.

maybe that’s why he’s doing all this. maybe that’s why he lets you in his car, drives to an izakaya he knows all too well. maybe that’s why he keeps stealing glances at you in the car, and maybe that’s why he feels a little warm inside when he catches you smiling to yourself.

as you sit silently beside him as he drives, your fingers fiddle nervously with each other. never did you think that you’d end up in sae’s luxurious car tonight of all nights. as if it wasn’t apparent enough before, after seeing his car, this definitely looks like a life that’s far beyond your reach.

you wonder if sae is the type of person who likes cars. it’s never indicated anywhere if he is. you recognise the brand; you don’t know the exact model but it’s a maserati, wrapped a matte black, at that. the interior leather seats are comfortable, and his air freshener smells nice.

on top of that, he’s driving you to someplace because he’s hungry too. talk about luck and coincidence.

you were thinking of just taking a short walk before going back home, but you’d take his invitation over that any day. you’re not sure where he’s taking you, but your feet are tapping in anticipation, though you hope it’s not anywhere expensive because you’re definitely not dressed the part.

beside you, sae’s not exactly dressed in anything fancy, but with looks like that? he would look expensive dressed in anything.

“quit staring,” sae mumbles, and you hurriedly avert your gaze, embarrassed at getting caught although you snicker a little when you catch the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “what are you laughing at?”

you try to suppress a grin, biting on your lower lip. “you’re not as uncaring as the internet makes you seem,” you ponder out loud.

sae accepts your train of thought. he’s well aware that’s how he comes off in real life too. “and?” it’s a red light so he stops the car, turning his head to look straight at you.

is he asking you what you think of him?

you feel your heart skip a beat. he’s pretty, and he’s staring at you with those clear teal eyes of his and it makes you want to drown in them for some reason. he’s not as unfeeling as he comes across, and for him to bother taking you with him just to eat must mean you don’t fall into the category of people he finds to be just a waste of time.

you want to know what this is.

“i don’t know, you’re like a cat,” you shrug, reverting back to your unserious self. “but i’ll let you know again once i get to know you better, itoshi sae.”

he looks away, the green light barely seeping through his windows. he doesn’t understand. “if you even get that far, that is.” (he likes how you already assume you’ll get to know him more. are you looking to spend more time with him?)

you grin, making an internal bet with yourself. “just you wait,” you tell him, confident in your abilities. “i have a habit of growing on people.”

(sae chuckles internally, because he doesn’t doubt you. you already are.)

“are you sure this place is open?” you ask, discreetly tapping lightly on your cheeks, deciding that maybe you look just fine now. and it doesn’t seem like there’s a soul here anyway.

once sae parks his car into the lot, you take his cap off and look around, the sleek stand-alone three-storey building looking completely closed on the outside. there’s no other cars parked here—surely they’re not still open?

sae takes his keys out of the ignition, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. he looks nonchalant for the most part. “don’t worry, i know the owner, let’s go.”

you shrug to yourself, placing his cap neatly on the dashboard before getting up. he waits and observes as you get out of his car, making sure you’re beside him before he starts walking towards the restaurant. you notice him matching your pace, with you shamelessly adjusting it just to check.

before he enters through the doors, he looks at you, “there’s no one else around. just the owner’s nephew who’ll be cooking for us.”

the shopkeeper’s bell chimes as he makes his way inside, holding the door for you, and you wordlessly enter, even though you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that. is it because you look like a mess and he thought you’d care?

it’s cosy and warm inside, classical music filling the air, every table wiped spotlessly clean that they’re shining as the lights from the ceiling bounce off of their surfaces. there’s nobody you can see here, are they in the kitchen?

sae puts his fingers around your wrist this time, walking you through the restaurant, meandering expertly like he’s been here a thousand times. your eyes fall to his fingers; they’re gentle yet firm, and you’re only hoping he doesn’t realise how fast your pulse is right now.

in the end, you find yourself seated across from him on a tatami seating in a private room, browsing through the menus that are already placed on the table.

“order anything you want,” sae says, not looking up from his menu.

you hum in excitement as you start to really look at all the options you have. “oh? if you say it like that i’m not gonna hold back, you know,” you joke around, though sae doesn’t really sense it.

he just shrugs, “sure, go ahead.”

sae ends up regretting it though, not because you’re shamelessly spending a lot on his card, but because he finds out you’re the type to over-order. by the time the food is all cooked and sent to the table, sae’s eyebrows twitch, eyes flicking over across the room to look at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“both of you must be starved, huh?”

you look to the side, only now noticing the guy in the white chef’s coat that came to deliver the food. he has curly light brown hair, with eyes a shade or two darker. a grin is plastered on his face, and by the way sae speaks to him, it seems like they know each other quite a fair bit.

“oh, by the way, this is naruhaya,” sae introduces to you, and the guy holds his hand out for you to shake. “this is y/n.”

“nice to meet you!”

naruhaya’s beaming, a contrast to sae’s usual stoic expressions, but he’s back to small talk with the latter in a second. you leave them to it, until your ears perk up when he mentions a certain model’s name.

“hey, weren’t you with bianca earlier? where’s she?”

bianca—that name isn’t unfamiliar to you. after a crash course from sumi (because somehow she decided you need to know more gossip about itoshi sae after getting to know him in person), you had learned that she’s the model that sae is most rumoured to actually be with. and you’ve seen her from the pictures sumi shoved up your neck—she’s beautiful.

was she the friend he was dropping off earlier?

“meeting her other friends. anyway, sorry to keep you open.”

naruhaya waves it off with his hand. “it’s fine, i was gonna stay and try to whip up some new recipes anyway,” he says, before shooting you a knowing look. what exactly it means, you have zero idea. “i’ll leave you two to it, enjoy!”

once he leaves, you begin to dig in, lathering your meat with sauce, unashamedly inhaling your food because that earlier stint with your mother was entirely too much and you need to destress.

somehow, with sae being as nice as he is, you feel a teeny bit guilty for trying to dupe him into that interview. but you doubt that if you’d asked him normally that you would be here with him tonight so maybe there’s some merit in being reckless like that.

“what’re you smiling about now?” sae sighs, taking a piece of meat and putting it over his rice. “pleased that you’re getting a free meal or something?”

partly. but mostly, you’re pleased that you get alone time with him somehow. maybe it’s stupid, and maybe you sound like half of the female population in the country, but you can see why people ogle over him. if they got to know him like this, then you’d have no doubt that he’d manage to charm their pants off.

though, something tells you he doesn’t treat people like this often, let alone someone he barely knows.

“mhm,” you agree, shit-eating grin on your face because there’s no way you’re going to be so upfront about it. the last thing you want is to ruin a friendship when it’s barely started.

yeah, maybe that’s what you want—friendship. is it weird if you say that itoshi sae gives you the feeling that you can trust him? the last time someone made you feel that way was eita. but somehow, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t explain.

as you’re both digging in, you ask him whatever you’re curious about; how he got into soccer, what his life was like growing up, everything under the sun, only because he entertains you like he did that very first night.

“you ask a lot of questions, are you gonna ask me to get another interview approved or something?” he asks, deadpan as he slurps up the soba.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “no. i just want to know you.”

sae stills at your honesty, this being one of the rare times you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. thump, thump, thump—it’s weird how you make him so aware of his heartbeats when you’re with him. it’s weird how he feels the same way.

then, he sees a familiar sight, you reaching your hand out across the table, your pinky pointed towards him. “i promise you, no hidden agendas this time.”

he swallows the lump in his throat, hooking his pinky with yours before he knows it, the inexplicable emotions only growing by the second.

even though he’s curious about you too, something tells him that you won’t answer him seriously. not tonight. so he keeps it to himself. he’ll find a chance to ask you next time.

if there is a next time.

he’ll just have to make it happen.

halfway through the dinner, you have about a quarter of the food left and sae looks like he’s about to burst. he didn’t really look hungry to you, eating slowly all the way. you probably ate at least twice as much as he did.

“you sure you were hungry?”

“not anymore,” sae deflects, putting his chopsticks down. he looks at you, leaning back and staring at the leftovers in awe. he almost snorts from how dazed you look. “i’ll get naruhaya to pack these, wait here.”

“thanks,” you call after him, knowing just how much of a food coma you’re going to be in once you’re back home.

sae stares at his phone as he navigates through the corridors to find the kitchen; it’s already 2.30am. time passes really fast with you for some reason. usually it’s a bore to sit with people he barely knows, they normally can’t keep a conversation. either that or he doesn’t really click with them. (as evident in the many times he was put in the same room with friends of friends and all that was there is awkward silence and forced conversations.)

not you though.

you’ve always been interesting. you’re intriguing, and a little bit more daring than he’s used to. you’re not that shy, by what he could tell when you so effortlessly reached across the table and snapped a picture of the both of you eating, telling him you want to give him something to remember you by.

as if that’s your last meeting.

he looks at the picture in his photo album. a subtle smile tugs on his lips, and there’s a flutter in his heart that he can’t seem to ignore.

maybe he’s jumping the gun but… he thinks you could be worth any amount of sleep he’s going to lose.

naruhaya enters the private room alone, armed with takeaway boxes, and you smile sheepishly at him as he does. sae must be in the bathroom if he’s here alone.

“sorry, i think i ordered a little too much,” you apologise, rubbing the back of your head. “but it’s all really delicious, really.”

it really is. you’ve never had meat so tender before, and you’re almost sad thinking you’ll probably never get to eat this again. not with the price tag on it.

“relax, i believe you,” naruhaya hums as he carefully places the leftovers in boxes. “so, how’d you get to know sae? photoshoot?”

you narrow your gaze at him, pressing your lips into a faint smile. “if you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working,” you joke, before shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not a model. i’m just a friend of a friend.”

naruhaya blinks at you like he’s surprised. “whose?”

“eita. otoya eita. why?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just… surprised sae brought another girl here for once,” naruhaya laughs nervously, packing the boxes into a clear bag. “usually it’s either oliver and gang or, well, bianca. but i haven’t seen her here in a while, actually.”

you get the feeling that sae and bianca are really, really close.

“i think he just came here on a whim,” you brush it off. “we only met a week ago so i doubt you’ll see me here again anyway.”

naruhaya’s mouth forms an ‘o’, before it reverts back to that knowing smile again. both of you hear footsteps against the wooden floors of the izakaya, so naruhaya takes this chance to whisper in your ear.

“i think… you must be pretty special then, huh?”

before you can even ask him what he means by that, sae strolls through the door, oblivious to the earlier conversation, gaze pointed to you. “ready to go?”

you nod, taking the bags from naruhaya as sae escorts you out of there. “bye, naruhaya! i love your cooking!”

he laughs as you wave enthusiastically to him, and he winks at you right before sae turns around to look at him. “oi, sae, bring her over anytime, okay?” to which sae only waves it off, leaving you to wonder if you’ll ever actually see naruhaya again.

“you keep those,” sae tells you after the both of you get into his car, referring to the takeaway boxes. he’d told naruhaya to give you some extra meat, just in case. if he remembered right, eita once said you have quite the appetite.

he pulls out of the parking lot after you give him your address, driving the speed limit all the way back. he’s honestly kind of tired, and he can see that you are too. won’t hurt to make it back a little quicker than you came.

“sure you don’t want some?”

“i’m fine, i’ll be busy for the next week or so anyway. i won’t even be home.”

there’s a hint of disappointment in your chest when you hear that, though you chide yourself for your wishful thinking. what makes you think you can run into a celebrity so easily anyway if he is in japan?

“oh, you’re gonna be away? try not to miss me.”

sae chuckles, softly, at the way you can be so unserious—it’s something you hear for the first time, and you feel the flutters in your heart going wild. there’s something about the way he looks so gentle like this, away from the cameras and the public eye that makes him so much more alluring than usual.

“i’ll try,” he says, though you know he’s just playing along.

usually, you don’t feel this type of way around people. you’ve never felt like this before so you can’t even think of ways to explain it. as you sit in the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel a certain attachment growing. it makes you think foolish things like i want to see you again and wonder about even sillier things like would you want to see me too?

but you’d never actually tell him that.

when your apartment comes into view, you grab at his cap on the dashboard, putting it on your head yourself this time, looking into the side mirror. “hm, think this looks better on me, what do you think?”

sae’s a little stunned at the sudden question. you have a way of making him exasperated—in all the good ways. “wanna keep it?” he’s guessing that’s where you’re headed. not that he minds.

“oooh, then maybe i get to sell it for a buttload of money. especially when i tell people it belonged to you,” you smirk, and sae finds himself wondering why your guard is up so high.

he starts driving a little slowly, starting to feel the reluctance brewing inside him. “it’s yours now, do whatever you want with it.” he knows you’re not actually going to sell it anyway. he might not have known you for long, but he thinks you’re not that kind of person.

he’ll bet on it.

you don’t say anymore about it, and he catches you with a blank stare straight ahead, aimed at your apartment.

does it have something to do with your family? was that why you were unhappy earlier?

sae can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about you. but you snap back to your usual self before he can do anything about it.

“anyway! don’t worry about tonight, i won’t tell a soul that a superstar like you took a nobody like me out for a romantic supper in a private room,” you tell him, winking as you place your hands on the door handle, ready to go.

sae nearly laughs. “can’t you say thank you like a normal person?” because by now, the both of you are comfortable enough to understand that nothing is ever said in hostility. you take it as his banter.

somehow, your hand finds itself back onto your lap, and the words haven’t left your lips. there’s no music in the car, so it’s just you and sae and the air between you, a tension looming in the air that you can’t ignore. there’s just silence as you observe him from your position, your head inching closer, ever so slowly it feels like you’re not even moving at all. you can see how sae’s gaze flickers from your eyes to the tip of your nose and then to your lips, and you think of how he looks almost like he did that night when you got close to him.

except this time, you’re really tempted. you’re alone, just the both of you, and he’s been really nice and you’re really tempted to feel how soft those lips are and what he tastes like. but that’s too much, and yet somehow his eyes feel like they’re telling you different. would he mind?

your fingers pull the cap down from your head, covering both your faces as there’s barely any space between you now.

maybe just something tame.

in one swift motion, your lips press against his cheek, a hurried thank you rolling off your tongue before you bolt out of the car and back to your apartment, hoping that sae doesn’t think you’re a complete psycho for doing that.

back in the car, sae freezes in position even after you’ve long vanished from his sight. his heart’s still beating wildly in his chest and he wonders what the hell just happened.

and then he finds himself questioning when it could happen again.

why does he want it to happen again?

before he starts the drive back, he does three things.

one, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and creates that account he forgot about. two, he sends you a follow request because he doesn’t think he can handle this curiosity anymore. and three, he opens your messages, breathing shallow as he tries to make plans for the first time.

an hour later, after you’re showered and your heart has calmed down, you check your phone, charged to full now on your bedside table. there’s a few messages from sumi and eita that you missed since it had been dead since before you left the house, and then your heart skips a beat when you realise that sae’s name is there as well.

for the first time in a long time, you go to bed feeling like a giggly high school girl who’s been asked out by her crush. and for the first time in forever, sae receives your message and finds that he can’t sleep now—wondering why he felt so relieved to finally get a text back, and wondering what this frantic rush of his heart really means.

extras !

no, sae did not get up late to meet bianca the next day. he did look extremely tired though, which made her suspicious and ask why—sae did not reveal anything, just said he couldn’t sleep. partly true.

sae was right; if he’d asked yn about herself that night (particularly anything pertaining to her family), she wouldn’t have answered seriously. there’s a reason why she won’t so easily divulge her family issues & doesn’t want sae to know about it.

yn genuinely believes that sae did not notice anything off about her and that he honestly thought she was fine.

otoya did end up bringing his date to a hotel. after she fell asleep, otoya went out to the balcony to call yn and make sure she’s okay since she wasn’t responding.

yn’s mother knows that yn and otoya used to fuck (and still thinks they are), and that’s why she used her choice of words “jacking people off”. she has been treating yn like that for the past few years.

random fact #1: otoya used to purposely get yn in trouble all the time in school so that they could spend time in detention together. that’s how they started getting close.

random fact #2: sae has, in his head, considered being together with bianca before because the guys asked him about it.

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk imagines #itoshi sae imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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sapphire-writes · 11 months

Text

Daylight ~ Down In Flames

pairing: Aegon x Reader, Aegon x DIF!Reader

summary: Aegon struggles to adjust after the events of Down In Flames.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: she/her pronouns, language, substance use, references around recovery, relapse (alcoholism).

note: this was so fun to revisit and explore DIF!Aegon my beloved! remember this guy? Well here he is! Enjoy loves!

“Fuck, stop stop!” Aegon says, tearing the headphones from his ears.

Helaena frowns at him from her spot outside the recording booth. Her silver hair has been plaited down her back, silver mirror ball earrings catching the light as she looks up. She presses the intercom and speaks into the mic.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, rubbing her temple.

“It just….shit,” Aegon says, running a hand through his hair, “It feels weird…like I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack or something.”

Aegon’s never sung sober.

He is approaching his year mark this time around. The longest he’d ever gone. Helaena won’t let him forget. She’s always been the most supportive; that’s why Aegon agreed to this in the first place.

“It’s a part of recovery,” Helaena had told him, the first time he’d relapsed.

Three months out of treatment. He’d never felt lower. Of course, with Helaena’s help he’d gotten right back on the wagon. Alicent had made a few calls and he was back in detox. You need to find different ways of coping with stress. Stress. Yeah. That was it.

In and out. Up and down. In and out.

But that was then and this was now. He was tired of feeling this way.

“Take five,” Helaena tells him, giving him an encouraging nod.

Aegon breathes deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can hear Helaena enter the booth, moments before her hands wrap around him, embracing him in a tight hug. Her face squished against his back, nose pressing in between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Aegon says, voice thick with emotion. He can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes and he refuses to open them, “I didn’t think-”

“It’s alright,” Helaena murmurs, releasing him and rubbing a comforting hand across his back, “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

Aegon bites his tongue, nearly wanting to apologize yet again.

There was nothing like Aegon and Helaena singing together. Their voices complimented each other perfectly. It was one of the reasons Dracarys became so huge. One of the reasons Aegon agreed to record with Helaena again. There was no coming back for the band; after everything went down in flames nearly two years ago, Aegon had hung up his microphone for good.

But when Helaena tentatively broached the subject of re-recording one of the first songs they’d performed for a limited release, it was hard to refuse her. And though Aegon hated to admit it, he missed making music. He had been forced into it by his grandfather when he was a child, and though there were rarely any happy memories surrounding his music, there was still some familiar comfort.

Aegon always craved a drink when he sang. Lyrics and liquor leave the same cloying aftertaste in his mouth. He sighs, breathing heavily as Helaena rests against him.

“I know you’re trying to be kind,” she murmurs, still rubbing circles on his back, “But you really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Aegon insists, “Just- just give me a minute.”

Helaena nods, pulling away from him. She moves across the small booth, the wide arms of her green shirt ghosting behind her as she does.

“I’m going to grab us some lunch,” she tells him, “What d’you want?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Aegon grumbles, sitting on the provided stool.

“Doubt you want a harvest bowl,” Helaena says, cocking an eyebrow at him. Aegon groans.

“Would it kill you to eat something other than rabbit food?” Aegon teases, rubbing his eyes and cracking a small smile.

“A burger it is then,” Helaena says, leaving the room.

Aegon sighs, removing the headphones from his neck and letting them rest on the microphone in front of him. He glances over at the instruments. The guitar, the bass, the drumset. Ghosts that won’t disappear.

The door creaks open and Aegon turns, surprised at how quickly Helaena has returned. She’s got a terrible habit of never leaving a room with everything she came in with. Helaena leaves a trail of breadcrumbs wherever she goes, her belongings strewn about every room she enters.

“Forget your keys?” he calls but is greeted by someone who is not his sister.

A girl stands, wide-eyed, holding a stack of papers in her arms and a camera bag slung across her shoulder. She’s pretty. Very pretty, Aegon notes to himself.

“Sorry,” she says, looking sheepishly toward the floor, “We’ve got this space reserved for half past three.”

Aegon glances at his watch. Shit. He’d wasted Helaena’s afternoon.

“Right,” he says, hurrying to gather himself, “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” she says, smiling politely.

Aegon moves to exit just as she enters, and they get stuck in an awkward dance trying to let the other pass. She chuckles nervously, the sound ringing in Aegon’s head like bells. Like music.

He pauses as she squeezes by him, watching her drop her things and take out her camera.

“You a musician?” Aegon asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Gods no,” she says, checking the settings of her camera, “Just a photographer. You know The Iron Fleet?”

Aegon nods, recognizing the name of the rising heavy metal band. They’re good, very good. A little rowdy from what he’s seen splashed across the tabloids, but who is he to judge?

“They’re my next shoot. Wanted some shots in the studio,” she tells him, glancing up. She tells him her name, though Aegon is a bit distracted by her eyes; bright and framed with long lashes.

“I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she interrupts, before pressing her lips together tightly and shaking her head, “Sorry, that was rude. I just- I knew Dracarys that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aegon says, feeling his face burn with embarrassment, “You don’t have the best impression of me then.”

“Not the worst either,” she tells him, flashing a crooked smile.

You don’t even know the worst of it, Aegon thinks to himself. There it is again, forming in his stomach, that feeling of guilt. The wave of regret grows so big it threatens to drown him completely if he allows it. He swallows the lump forming in his throat.

She seems to notice his discomfort and glances away, back down at her camera.

“Do you want to see something?” she asks, beckoning him forward with a nod of her head.

Aegon walks over slowly, his hands in his pockets. He’s feeling anxious now, and if his hands aren’t balled into tight fists he’ll bite his fingernails until they bleed.

“This was a few nights ago,” she says, showing him a photo of the lead singer of The Iron Fleet, mid-smashing his guitar to pieces onstage.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs, leaning closer to see, “That’s a great shot.”

“Thanks! Thought a shard of guitar was going to take my eye out,” she says with a chuckle, “But I got it! Firefly Weekly paid my rent for that shot.”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, “Impressive.”

“Cheers,” she answers, “What were you up to?”

“Oh I was…it was nothing,” Aegon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hmm,” she says, “Were you singing?”

“Trying to, I suppose,” Aegon answers, “It’s been…” Fuck. How does he even begin to explain this to a stranger? A pretty stranger nonetheless. “It’s been a while.”

Aegon never used to struggle talking to women. Charming them. Seducing them into bed with him. It was like a game almost, that’s how easy it was. Collecting them like charms on a bracelet. The past swirls down the drain in his mind much like his old stash of booze. It’s a whole new ballgame now. And it’s been fucking hard to learn the rules.

“Yeah,” she agrees, as if she knows exactly what he’s talking about, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it completely. He doesn’t know what he’s done to win her kindness, but he appreciates it.

The studio doors open and the members of The Iron Fleet begin to pour in. Aegon smiles awkwardly, shuffling backward toward the door. He’ll wait for Helaena outside.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” the girl calls, just as he’s slipping out the door.

Aegon pauses, looking back at her.

“Yeah,” he answers, “I’ll see you around.”

“Do you ever sing?” Aegon says, sitting and pulling the guitar onto his lap.

She moves to join him, sitting on the stool in front of him. They’ve been playing this game for a while now, running into each other at the studio. Each day, Aegon sings a little more; the music coming back to life within him.

“A little bit,” she admits, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink, “Just for fun though, nothing serious. I’m not a musician.”

Aegon snorts, dismissing her put-down. He reaches for his notebook and licks his thumb, flipping through the pages.

“I bet you sound lovely. Here,” he murmurs, finding the page he was looking for.

She takes it from his hand, reading the chicken scratch handwriting as he begins to strum a few chords. Aegon’s hands are steady as he plays. The guitar is an extra limb, the sweet sound of music filling the booth. He nods, encouraging her. She straightens, clearing her throat, eyes scanning the page before she begins.

There’s a monster in my bedroom

A beast beneath the boards

He comes out when I am lonely

Summoned by the chords-

That I play on my guitar in the silence of my room

Empty bottle

Bad decisions

Anger taken out on you

She pauses, looking up at him. Aegon nods to continue, still strumming his guitar. He remembers writing it. He remembers everything. She clears her throat.

Here it comes, the burden on my brow

It lies heavy, it is weighted

My bed becomes my shroud

Here I’ll lie, for the rest of my days

Withering and rotted

Ivory flesh turns to gray

She stops as Aegon finishes, meeting her eyes.

“It’s very sad,” she comments, “Beautiful, really, but terribly sad.”

“That’s one of mine,” Aegon says, bringing his thumb to his mouth, and chewing on the skin. A nervous habit.

“I didn’t know you wrote,” she says.

“Helaena usually,” he comments, watching her hands hold the notebook, “But yeah.”

“It’s good,” she tells him, handing him his notebook, “Really good, Aegon. You have a gift.”

“It’s been wasted,” he says with a dark chuckle.

“Not entirely,” she tells him, and he meets her eyes once more, “Life is full of second chances.”

“You sing beautifully,” Aegon compliments, not so subtly trying to get the attention off of him, “You sure you’re not in a band?”

She laughs, amusement evident in her eyes.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she teases.

“You’re starting to know me well,” he tells her, feeling his chest tighten with longing.

He’s been struggling with women ever since….well ever since his last relationship. He was in such a bad place, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Ever since then, ever since fully understanding how he treated his last partner. Well, Aegon doesn’t know if he’s even worthy of love anymore.

Ever since then.

Ever since her.

“Your thoughts are loud, Mr. Tortured Artist,” she teases, tearing him from his thoughts.

He blinks, giving her a cheeky grin.

“Sorry. Just reminiscing,” he says softly.

“About what?”

“A different life,” he tells her, “A different me.”

“I like this Aegon,” she tells him, smiling softly.

“They’re one and the same, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “But this one knows something the other doesn’t.”

Aegon’s eyebrows knit together and he looks at her curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Things will get better.”

Aegon chuckles, “Still not completely sure that’s true.”

They sit in silence once more. It’s not uncomfortable, and Aegon doesn’t shy away from her gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

It. No, not it.

Her.

Aegon swallows. Therapy, AA, group. They’ve all heard it. Everyone has. And each time it’s like opening a wound that never properly healed.

“Maybe another time,” he suggests, and she nods in agreement.

“Shall I sing another Aegon original?” she teases, flipping through the pages. Her eyebrows scrunch together, “What is The Pink Dread?”

“You’ve ruined it- oh my gods-”

Aegon freezes, hands leaving the computer as he holds them above his head, eyes wide.

“Shit, really? No, you’re joking shit!” Aegon says, panicking.

She laughs, swatting his shoulder as he sits frozen.

“I’m kidding, idiot, but you’ve completely fucked the color correction,” she informs him, tilting the laptop towards herself and correcting his mistake.

“This is complicated,” Aegon tells her and she hums in response.

“You’re just thick.”

“Rude!”

Aegon watches her as she snickers, fiddling with the computer until the image looks better. Aegon purses his lips. Perhaps she had a point, it looks a lot better now.

“We should get out of the studio,” Aegon suggests.

She’s clicking through different photos on her laptop as he says this, munching on leftover french fries from the takeout Aegon had brought her. He knew she was working on editing some photos, and while he and Helaena didn’t have plans to record, he stopped by anyway. It was becoming somewhat of a routine.

She turns her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “And go where?”

“Somewhere,” Aegon says, leaning back in his chair, “I want my picture taken.”

She smiles at him endearingly. She’s grown rather fond of their afternoons together. Aegon is easy to be around, there are no awkward or forced moments between them. It’s natural. Carefree.

“Oh do you now?” she says with a giggle.

When she laughs, Aegon can’t help but smile. He leans forward, resting his chin in the palms of his hands.

“Can you do one like those weird baby pictures? Where their bodies are all swaddled up and their heads look massive.”

She laughs again and Aegon swears he feels his heart grow in size. His smile widens as she shakes her head, taking a sip of water.

“A portrait then?” she asks, closing her laptop, “Just you?”

“If you’ll have me,” Aegon says, before an idea pops into his head, “Actually, I have someone else who would love to be a model.”

“Sunfyre down!” Aegon yells, just as his energetic golden tackles her to the ground, “Shit- oh shit sorry he’s excited!”

But she’s laughing hysterically as Sunfyre licks her cheeks, his tail wagging furiously as her arms wrap around him. They’d chosen a nearby park for the shoot; she’d been confident that the changing colors of the autumn leaves would be the perfect backdrop.

“It’s okay!” she giggles, turning her head away from the dog’s tongue, “Such a good by Sunfyre!”

“He’s a brute,” Aegon argues as Sunfyre seats himself in her lap on the ground, “Oh c’mon you’re not a fucking lapdog-” Sunfyre barks at the comment, smiling up at his owner.

She’s laughing all the while, legs crushed by the happy golden. “Really, it’s alright Egg-”

Aegon squats next to them, patting Sunfyre’s head.

“My sister calls me that,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed. She’s still giggling, laughter pouring from her lips like music.

“Sorry, just slipped out-”

“No no, shit! That wasn’t--I wasn’t,” he sighs, shaking his head, “I like it.”

Sunfyre is panting between them as they lock eyes. She smiles at Aegon, warmth creeping onto her cheeks. Aegon’s cheeks are pink from the cold autumn air, and the tip of his nose is as well.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning, “Now, let’s get some of those photos, yeah?”

It takes a while, Sunfyre is not the most patient model, but eventually, she gets some photos of the two of them.

“There,” she says, showing him as they sit next to one another on a bench. Sunfyre lays on a bed of orange and red leaves, eyes closed, “You’ve got your holiday card for this year sorted. Make sure to send me one.”

“Course,” Aegon says, his knee bouncing nervously, “Thank you, for real. This was…fun.”

She smiles at him, “Yeah, I had fun too.”

Aegon’s stomach flips pleasantly as she smiles at him.

“I’ve got this family thing coming up. I was just ... .I was wondering…..Would you maybe like to be my date?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“Aegon Targaryen,” she says, smirking slightly, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I mean, you could come as my friend,” he hurries his answer, nervous he’s made a mistake, “That’s alright too, I just like hanging out with you and your company would be great.” He’s rambling he can tell, gods he’s so fucking nervous. “And my family is fucking nuts. Like not crazy how everyone says haha my family is crazy, like actually crazy.” Shit. Shit, he’s not selling it, her eyes are wide, oh gods she’s regretting ever meeting-- “Um, I mean they’re not….I’m not..”

“Egg,” she says softly, placing her hand over his, stopping his knee from vigorously bouncing, “I’d love to be your date.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sighing in relief, “You mean it?”

She smiles, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s sweet, and it sends Aegon’s heart racing. He brings a hand to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss.

When she pulls away, they’re both smiling shyly at one another. The hand that rested on his remains, and she laced her fingers through his.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “What kind of family gathering? Should I be prepared for blood rituals and sacrifices?”

Aegon barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he says, squeezing her hand, “It’s nothing too exciting. My kid brother’s engagement party.”

“That’s wonderful,” she says, “A wedding, how exciting! You must be so happy for him.”

Aegon smiles, lost in thought, taking a moment before he answers. The past couple of years flash through his mind; faded memories.

“Yeah,” he says smiling fondly, “I really am.”

note: oh me oh my.....an engagement party oneshot in the future perhaps? 🤔 hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane!

DIF taglist: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax, @hiatuswhore, @issshhh, @echos-muses, @wrendermeuseless, @youcantbesirius, @partypoison00 @chainsawsangel @bellameshipper @wondergal2001, @arcielee @rwdkarla @sweetsweetpsyche @valeric-writes @sahvlren @ohdemimonde @geminidas @darkenchantress @sophielangdonx, @khaothick, @flavorofsalt, @spinachtz, @alitaar, @crazylokonugget @eddiemadmunson, @schniiipsel, @borikenlove, @afro-hispwriter, @whitefang1919, @sarcastically-defensive17, @paprikaquinn, @minttea07, @iiamthehybrid, @ghostheartbeat, @namelesslosers, @iiamthehybrid, @mendes-bae,

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likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected!

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

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Title: To Mark.

A Grab-Bag Commission For The Very Lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Biting/Marking, Set Before Wanderer Regains His Memories, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Manipulation.

You’d almost gotten used to the feeling of your husband’s teeth sinking into your shoulder.

A sharp sting, a tight stretch, then finally, the burning relief of his dull canines drawing back and warm blood washing over your skin. His chest was pressed against yours, your legs tangled loosely around his waist, but the closeness brought little comfort when his skin seemed to sap the heat from your own and his hands were wrapped so tightly around your hips. There’d be bruises tomorrow – pinpricks of discolored skin that he’d want to strip bare and examine as soon as they were visible, but you tried not to think about that. His little fixation was one of the more unfortunate parts of your relationship, and you did your best to keep it out of your mind whenever you could.

This, unfortunately, was not one of those times. He found a new spot – the tender junction between your throat and your shoulder – and latched on. Rather than pierce, he chose to suckle, catching your skin between the flat edges of his teeth and sucking gently until his chosen patch was irritated and reddened, until he could be sure there’d be a mark to match the collection he’d already painted across your collarbones, up the curve of your throat, at each corner of your jaw. Most of them were fresh, others older, allowed to fade before your husband remembered to revisit them. None would be allowed to disappear completely, and if they managed the impossible, he’d be sure to lay you down and spend the better half of a day making up for his negligence. Your husband had always been attentive, like that.

His teeth sunk into your jugular and you shrunk into him, an airy whimper escaping your sealed lips. Immediately, he detached from you, raising his head and bringing his stare up to meet your own. You’d never been able to say ‘no’ to him, not when he looked at you with those big, pleading eyes. “Did I…” A slight pause, his tongue darting out to swipe a dot of your blood off his bottom lip. “Did I hurt you?”

Obviously. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t like you, that pain wasn’t something he had experience with. His porcelain skin would never bruise, and in as much time as you’d spent together, you’d never seen him bleeding or burnt. You had to be empathetic. You had to be patient.

Unfortunately, patience wasn’t a skill both of you saw the value of. When you failed to answer immediately, he took your silence as affirmation and frowned, leaning towards you. “I’m sorry.” It was a familiar apology, but no less sincere than it’d been the first half-dozen times he’d used it. Hesitantly, he brought a hand up to your forehead before remembering that the gesture was meant for a different type of pain and letting it fall back to your waist. “Is it bad? I can get the bandages, if you need them. Or, there’s a pharmacy on the other side of the city—”

“I’m fine, I swear.” You forced out an airy laugh, letting your lips brush against his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a lie. You’d be nearly too sore to move in the morning, but for now, you were fine. “But, I think it might be time to stop. I don’t want the innkeeper to think that you, I don’t know, mauled me in my sleep or something.”

Immediately, his expression turned from worried to panicky. “But we just started,” he whined, his tone childish, desperate. You hadn’t – you’d been in his lap of just over an hour, now – but he’d always been prone to losing track of time. “I’ll be gentle, and.. and I can move to your chest, if you don’t want anyone to see! I don’t have to—”

“My love,” you cut in, sighing as you cupped his face in your hands. Reflexively, he nuzzled into your palm, melting into your affection far easier than you’d ever be able to melt into his. “I hate having to stop as much as you do, but I’m tired. I might not be hurt now, but I will be if we keep going for any longer.” You smiled, bringing him close enough to kiss properly. It was shallow, fleeting, but you could taste metal on his lips. You tried not to feel sick. “I want to get some sleep. I promise, you can dig your teeth into whatever you—”

It was his turn to interrupt you, this time, his request more simple than yours. "Just a little more?" And then, when your smile wavered, “Please?”

You started to sigh, to shake your head, but against your better judgement, you met those awful, saccharine eyes and…

And, it was over in an instant.

“Fine,” you muttered, dread and self-loathing already welling up in the back of your throat. “Just a few more minutes, the—"

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Your body was wretched away from his in a moment, thrown onto the downy futon below you in another. He was buried between your legs and attacking the vulnerable flesh between your thighs before you could so much as think about asking him to try to hold himself back. His teeth sunk into your flesh, but you didn’t scream, didn’t whimper.

You just let your head roll back, shut your eyes, and tried to pretend you didn’t feel a thing.

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ryukzakiii · 8 months

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insomnia

L’s been having a little more trouble than usual falling asleep lately. you have a feeling you know just how to help.

pairing: l lawliet x reader

warnings: none! just sweet (oblivious) L

L didn’t normally get much sleep, but he was going on four days straight now. he was growing more and more delirious by the minute and the words on the page in front of him jumbled in his view. he needed to sleep. in his defence he did try, to no avail of course. at this point he’d given up, figuring if he was going to be awake anyways he might as well get some work done.

when you’d come into the room, eyes half-closed and dragging your feet on the floor, you’d nearly scared him out of his skin.

“L, what’s the matter?” you’d asked him sleepily, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and walking over to see what he was looking at.

“oh, i was just going over some things for the case again, seeing if there’s anything i might’ve missed.” he held up a piece of paper to you, “you can never be too thorough you know.”

“yeah… just, do you know what time it is? you need to get at least a couple hours a night, i told you your concentration will waver if you don’t.”

“i tried, but no luck.” he smiled at you, “not to worry, i feel more awake than ever. i was thinking about revisiting my research into ray pember’s suspects again, see if anybody else seems to fit the kira bill.”

the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, his skin paler than usual and much more deprived of life, it would’ve been obvious to anybody that he hadn’t been sleeping. he was looking at you with wide eyes, trying to seem awake to hide the fact that they were dry and reddening with fatigue.

“i’ll stay with you then. if you’re gonna be up you should at least have company, right?”

“you don’t have to do that, please, go back to bed.” he sat up a little in his chair, hands falling from his knees, “i’ll be up regardless but there’s no need to deprive you of sleep in the process.”

“nonsense! i can do both, as long as you don’t mind sharing your seat.”

he looked at you, puzzled, “my seat? why?”

instead of answering him, you gently moved his arm out of the way for you to crawl over him, seating yourself on his lap in between his chest and his bent legs, “figured this would probably be the most comfortable for me to go back to sleep. ‘s this okay?”

“oh, well yes i suppose i can work around you if you’re lying down. are you sure you’ll be able to get comfortable?”

“don’t worry about me.” you laid your head down on his shoulder, nose pressed against his neck as your arms wrapped around his torso, “you just get back to whatever you were doing, i’ll be fine.”

at first, he sat quietly reading over the files he had spread out in front of him, blinking his eyes profusely to try and rid them of the tired blur they’d donned. soon he could feel your thumbs gently rubbing either side of his back, trying to coax him to sleep, begging him to put the papers down and shut his eyes. he did feel himself growing much more comfortable in his chair, and because he had to make room for you to fit he had lost the last bit of concentration he was clinging onto.

the slow rhythm of your breaths pressed against his chest were like a lullaby, his arms starting to grow heavier at his sides as he dropped the paper to the table, “what are you doing?”

you hummed in response, pushing him back into the chair with your head and trying not to giggle at the small huff that escaped him, “trying to help. is it working?”

he sighed, “if you mean your attempts at trying to make me feel tired, then yes.” his arms came up to wrap tightly around your upper back, elbows resting against his knees to not let his arms slip down, “i’d like you to sleep here for the rest of the night please.”

“don’t worry, i wasn’t planning on leaving.”

his chin came down to rest on top of your head, eyelids finally falling shut as a heavy breath of air fanned over you. he hadn’t felt so tired in years, so easily swept away by sleep. he could feel your heartbeat against his own, falling into a similar rhythm as they both slowed to a peaceful pace. he figured he could probably fall asleep whenever he wanted to if you came to his aid, and though his inexperienced mind didn’t yet know what exactly the reason was that you had this affect on him, he did know it most definitely wouldn’t be the last time it happened.

as he began to slip into his much needed slumber, you could hear him mutter,

“thank you.”

#l lawliet #l lawliet x you #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet fluff #l lawliet fic #death note #death note fic #death note fluff #l death note #anime #manga #anime fluff

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wish-i-were-heather · 1 month

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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY ⤵ JAMESON HAWTHORNE X AVERY GRAMBS

ABOUT: 1157 words

STORY: avery gets spoiled on mother's day by jameson and their daughter

WARNINGS: none!!

requested by anon <33

A/N: sorry to whoever requested this its actually embarrassing how long it took me to get to it, but i love jameson and avery as parents i may revisit this idea at some point!!

Jameson wasn’t an excellent cook. He wasn’t much of a cook, period. His whole life, he’d never really needed to learn to make food anyway, so he just never did.

But on special occasions he wanted to try. And mother’s day was one of the most special occasions ever, in his eyes. A whole day dedicated to Avery. To the woman he loved, the mother of his child, his heiress. In fact, he didn’t think that a day was enough. It should’ve been mother’s week, mother’s month.

But he could work with a day.

It’s not like he didn’t already treat her like every day was her special day.

Every year, Jameson made a tradition out of making Avery breakfast in bed. And this was the first year that their daughter, Hannah, was finally able to assist him. A big girl, three years old now.

“Oh my- sweetie, that is way too many chocolate chips.”

Hannah was standing on the step stool in front of him, trying to add the chocolate chips to her mom’s pancakes. She somehow dumped almost a quarter of the bag into the small portion of batter.

“I know!” She giggled. She tried to add even more, but Jameson took the bag from her. “Chocolate makes me happy and I want mommy to be very happy!

“Well, with that much chocolate, I don’t think it’s possible for her to not be happy.” That made her grin even wider.

Then, without warning, Jameson wrapped his arms around her from behind and picked her up. He spun her around, eliciting yet another chorus of giggles from her, and then carefully set her back down on the floor away from the counter.

“Can I trust you to get a plate and fork out?” He asked. Hannah nodded hard, her face set like it was the most important task in the world.

He sighed and turned back to the bowl that probably had more chocolate chips than anything else. It wasn’t… ideal, but it was adorable. Plus, he couldn’t be mad at her for trying. Hannah loved her mom as much as Jameson did, the kid only had good intentions.

Soon, Jameson had managed to mix the batter enough to cook the pancakes, even if it was 60% chocolate. He continued, pouring it into the pan and began to cook the pancakes. He called Hannah back over to flip them, guiding the spatula in her small hands with his own.

Once they were finished, she helped him slide them onto the plate that she’d gotten out earlier. Jameson then set down the spatula and turned to his daughter with a proud smile. He scooper her up into his arms and gave her a hug.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he said, squeezing her gently.

Hannah’s small arms wrapped around his neck as it transitioned from a hug to him holding her. She tilted her head curiously. “Why do you always hug me and mommy so much?”

He laughed at her adorable question. “That’s because I love you both so much, and I want you to know that.”

And it wasn’t a lie, not even close to one. Jameson Hawthorne loved his girls more than anything.

His girls.

His world.

Hannah’s face lit up in understanding and she hugged him tighter. “I love you too, Daddy!”

Jameson chuckled again, setting her back down and ruffling her hair softly.

“I know you do. Now come on, we need to surprise your mommy.”

The morning sunlight was peeking in through the curtains of their bedroom when the two made it back into the room. Hannah was still giggling in excitement, holding the plate carefully with both hands. Jameson followed, keeping an eye on her as she walked.

But he had to freeze when he saw Avery.

She was laying in bed, just as peacefully as she had been when he’d left. The way her brown hair was splayed out across the pillow, looking perfect as an angel’s. The way her eyelashes rested against her cheeks as she slept. The way she still had a soft smile on her lips as she rested. Everything about her was just so perfect.

Sometimes it was hard for Jameson to comprehend that Avery was real. Not only real, but his. Of all the men in the world, she’d chosen him.

Not everyone was lucky enough to fall in love with a goddess and have her love them back.

“Daddy,” Hannah whisper-yelled, tugging at the leg of his pants. “You’re not moving.”

He shook his head. “Right, right. I’m sorry, Hannah. Let’s go.”

Jameson stepped ahead and up to Avery’s side. Oh so softly, he placed a kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger a moment before stepping back and watching as her eyes fluttered open.

“Morning, heiress. Happy Mother’s Day.”

Avery sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “What is-”

“We made you pancakes, mommy!” Hannah bounced over to where her parents were standing and placed the plate in Avery’s lap. “I helped Daddy. I put in the chocolate.”

Her eyes widened at the surprise. Plus, the energy of a three year old girl was definitely a lot to wake up to. But after a split-second of pause, Avery smiled.

“This looks amazing, Hannah. Thank you.”

Hannah returned the smile, impossible wider this time, and climbed onto the bed next to her. And before her mother could give another response, she wrapped her arms around her in a sideways hug.

“I love you, mommy.”

Avery’s heart melted. “I love you too, princess.”

“Princess?” Jameson asked, sitting on the other side of their daughter, sandwiching her between them. “Do I get to be the king?”

“Yes!” Hannah answered before Avery could. “Daddy is the king and Mommy is the queen and I’m the princess! And then I need a brother so he can be the prince.”

“Oh, you want a brother, huh?” Avery asked, beginning to eat the breakfast they’d worked so hard to make her. Hannah nodded.

“Mhm. A baby brother. Because I’m the best sister in the world.”

“You’re not a sister yet,” she told her.

“Yet?” Jameson grinned. “So you do want to give her a sibling.”

Avery rolled her eyes affectionately. “We can try one day.”

“Oh, we can most certainly try.” He leaned over and gave Avery another peck on the cheek as she ate. Somehow, she was able to soldier through the alarming number of chocolate chips.

Hannah pouted. “Do I get a kiss too, daddy?”

“Yes, princess, yes you do.”

He then leaned down and gave her a kiss on the top of the head.

Hannah then sighed contently, leaning against her mother as she watched her eat. Jameson watched them both with a smile on his face.

The two people he loved most in the world, cuddled up right next to him. He couldn’t think of anything better.

Well, except giving Hannah a brother.

That’d be fun.

TAGS: (moved to the bottom and formatted werid cuz my tumblr is acting up) @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl

@emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

@maybxlle @xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @starrynightsxo - lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist <3

#jameson hawthorne #jameson winchester hawthorne #avery grambs #avery kiley grambs #averyjameson #javery #the inheritance games #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #tig #tgg #tig fanfic #fanfic #jameson x avery #avery x jameson #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

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m1ssunderstanding · 8 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 16

Not the Love Actually India footage! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40600110/chapters/101720886 by @inspiteallthedanger is a favorite I should revisit after this painful day.

“Yes, what Were we doing?” Literally, why did you start this conversation, Paul? What did you think John and George were going to do? Just let you have your little casual chat about the footage? Come on, you know them better than that. “In your room?” “Yeah, right. I remember, yeah.” You set yourself up for this, babe.

I would LOVE to know the real context for John’s mic-job. Because yes, that is real. He really did do that while staring like That at Paul. But it wasn’t after he said, “I don’t regret anything. Ever.” What was the real moment where John decided that was his move? And did Paul really just keep talking right over all of that? Beatles tumblr deserves access to all that footage just for all the obsessing we do.

It is noteworthy, certainly, that we know for a fact that a good chunk of John’s India footage is just Paul, but in how much of that footage, I wonder, is Paul also focused on John?

We all know Paul approves, but why did we have to use valuable time to show monkey sex? I did not need to see that.

“I have all the tapes, too.” Those laughs. You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are. Also, @ Lennon estate you won't release the tapes. Chickens.

George is just SO sick of their shit. “Because that was the purpose of going there was to try and find who yourself is.” AKA ‘I took your dumb asses on this beautiful spiritual retreat and you had to make it about your stupid psychosexual obsession just like you do with everything else.’ “And if you were really yourself, you wouldn’t be any of who we are now.” AKA ‘if you two would stop fucking hiding, we – me and Ringo too, you’ve dragged us down with you – wouldn’t be in this hellish mess.’ And here’s the thing. He’s pissed off. And rightly so. But he’s still going along with their veils and secrecy. A callback to his strumming over Paul ranting at him. He’ll still protect them even when he fundamentally disagrees. George is such a beautiful person and so underrated by people like me.

Paul’s appreciative little look as John finally ends the difficult conversation.

"Bye, Bye Love” is DEFINITELY *meaningful*

John calling Two of Us “Four of Us” is so sweet. Like saying to George and Ringo, “You are important too. Just because we don’t have weird thoughts about your physical adjacency to Elvis Presley, doesn't mean we don’t love you.”

I think John’s willingness to be taught is also an underrated leadership quality of his. All the old men obsessed with Leader Lennon won’t acknowledge it, but that’s what it is. It’s humility and a recognition of other’s strength and it’s leadership.

Literally everyone else: Just don’t look and it’ll go away. John: what? Don’t look at Paul? I don’t know how to do that.

George and Ringo honestly had the patience of saints to just sit there and play through Two of Us eight million times so John and Paul could do their little accents and silly voices.

And then John can also do the traditional leadership, too. “Start again, ey. Shh, don’t talk when he’s playing there, gang.” And really, he’s the best of the four for that job by far.But it’s far from acerbic or cutting. Get Back John is certainly almost undiluted Lovely John.

Quick reminder to anyone who may have forgotten: those boots George is wearing are literally Paul’s hand-me-downs. Earlier on the nagra reels, George was describing a kind of boots he’d like a pair of and Paul was like “I’ve got some you could have.” Permanent baby brother status.

“That’s a good idea, John.” “Yeah, well I’m full of ideas like that, I’m famous for ‘em. Literary Beatle, you know.” Puhlease. I know fics with more realistic dialogue.

“The things that’ve worked out best for us haven’t really been planned any more than this has, it’s just. You know, you just go into something and it just does it itself.” Yeah, George. Because of Brian.

Paul really wants to do a big Thing at the end, because he loves performing, yeah. But what’s this about John and Yoko’s black bag? Does he think that performing together will remind John that being a Beatle with Paul is what he loves? Or does he just want closure before everything falls apart?

He really does hate to see him upset, doesn’t he. Like, I think he does a lot of things purposely to get a reaction out of Paul. And sometimes he needs to see him hurt to know he even cares. But from the way he’s watching Paul chewing his nails and rocking, you’d think Paul’s worries affected John physically. And then he breaks into “I Lost My Little Girl” almost as a sort of knee-jerk comfort instinct.

These two shots are comedic gold.

My cabaret boys again. Heck, maybe I’ll write it just for myself. Honestly though I love that the two Beatles who loved performing and who would’ve been performers in any life (would’ve been performing circus elephants if they’d been reincarnated as animals) got to continue doing it into their eighties. One of the few happinesses in the end of the Beatles.

Get Back really is such a great character study, though. George hands John a drink. John takes it without looking at George, let alone the drink, and gulps. George hands Paul a drink. Paul smiles at him, then proceeds to sniff it and swirl it and inspect it like it might be poison before he gives it a taste.

John chewing the mic. I hope you didn’t do That to Paul’s dick in India. What if that’s all that happened?

Bitching and gossiping: top requirements in the job description for John Lennon’s Codependent Special Person.

In these last few minutes of the day, I’m relating more and more to George. I’m sick of John and Paul and all their drama and stupidity. John suggests they write another verse of Let it Be together, and Paul looks frankly horrified at the idea.

So John lays his head in Yoko’s lap, reminding me painfully of that “ . . . except you can go to bed with it and it can pet your head without . . .” quote.

And then a few minutes later, Paul’s spiraling again and asks to go home to which John responds with a tease. “I’m just tryna get the group working, you know,” and “You’re gonna have to be strict, Paul.” And it’s just dizzying and frustrating at this point. Where are they possibly going to go at this rate?

#sorry that this one was late #And probably less coherent or insightful #Two jobs and a teething baby and a depressed husband today so it is what it is #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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giggly-squiggily · 16 days

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Midnight Thoughts (Jojo's Bizarre Adventures)

*Walks out with folded hands* Ehem...I had a vision. And I went with that vision- and after so many months I finally finished it :D I love these dorks so much, your honor! Please enjoy some good ol' stardust crusaders antics!

CW: Swearing!

Summary: Polnareff and Kakyoin can't sleep. Antics ensue when they decide to make it Jotaro's problem aswell.

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@gladdygirl18 @t-wordiiish

“Superman is only super on earth, yeah? Do you think he’s just an average joe on Planet Krypton?”

“Kakyoin.”

“Please, have you seen him? He’d be an absolute hit with the ladies back home.” “Polnareff-”

“Yeah but what if that’s just the norm there? What if in Planet Krypton he’s considered boring or even ugly?”

“Guys-”

“You really think someone like Superman could be considered average?”

“I’m just saying- Superman to earthlings is like someone revisiting an early level in a game after making it the final few levels.”

“Would you shut the hell up!” Jotaro sat up with a glare, his eyes shooting daggers at the pair across the way. “It’s one in the fucking morning!”

“Technically it’s only 12:20 AM.” Kakyoin pointed at the clock on the wall, the face glowing softly in the dark room.

“Did we wake you? Apologies, Jojo.” Polnareff grinned from his spot across from the redhead, unfazed at the death stare he received. “All this traveling and stand fighting- it makes it hard for one to relax their mind.”

“Good Grief. Find some booze and drink until you pass out. Or go find somewhere else and play sleepover.” Jotaro grumbled as he laid back down, closing his eyes. He could understand the restlessness- there were many nights he would lay there and stare at the sky for hours- waiting to pass out from exhaustion or for morning to come.

That said- he spent those nights in silence. A simple courtesy he wished the two idiots would share.

“Wow, someone’s grumpy. It’s those moody teenage hormones, huh?” Polnareff teased, sharing a look with a smiling Kakyoin as he stood, walking over to the opposite bed. “Or is it that you’re feeling left out?”

“Neither- I want to sleep. Get out.” Jotaro glared before pulling the blanket over himself, the silent equivalent to slamming a door in someone’s face.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Jojo.” Kakyoin came over as well- crawling into the bed and flopping against the mound of blankets. “Here’s a question- do you think Star Platinum could win in a fight against Superman?”

Silence. Polnareff and Kakoyin shared an amused look.

“I know you're not asleep, Jojo. I can feel you brooding.” Kakyoin teased, tugging at the blanket gently. He received a low growl in return.

“Jojo~ Don’t be mad at us!” Polnareff climbed in on Jotaro’s opposite side, shaking the mound. “We’re your friends!”

Still nothing. Jotaro was stubborn as ever.

“He’s like a little kid- all pouty and such.” Kakyoin cooed.

“You know how we handle those kinds of guys, right Kak?” Polnareff teased with a wink.

The threat was there. Jotaro dared to peek over the blankets, making his look as scary as possible. “Touch me and you fucking die.”

“Bet?” Kakyoin grinned.

“Bet.” Polnareff agreed. Jotaro exhaled deeply.

Silence.

Then there was chaos.

“You’re not getting away!” Kakyoin yelled in glee, charging the bound of limps and blanket blindly. Jotaro was like a bull in the pit, all flailing limbs and sharp swears as he swung in every direction. “Come here, Jojo!”

“Give in! Just let it happen!” Polnareff was a mess of giggles, putting his muscular mass to use as he threw himself on top of the teen. Once there, he wrestled his wrists down until he they were pinned, straining. “I got him! I got him! Get him, Kakyoin!”

“On it!”

“Get the hell of-HMMPH!” Jotaro’s shout of anger was quickly muffled as Kakyoin dug into him through the blanket, raking his fingers up and down his sides. His squirms increased in frequency, leading to him nearly sending Polnareff flying once more. “Cut the shit! K-Kakyoin!”

“Oo, he’s feeling it now! Get him good, Kakyoin!” The knight giggled in delight as he readjusted his seat, putting maximum weight onto Jotaro and worming his fingers against his neck. “Here I come, you damn brat!”

“Not you too- get! Gehehehhahhaat!” Jotaro’s defenses melted when fingers dug into the middle set of his ribs. Not even the blanket could protect him from the ticklish feeling shooting up his nerves. “Dahahahahahm yohohohohou! Aheahhahahahaha!”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Jojo! You love us too much to say that!” Kakyoin tugged at the blanket with one hand while his other carried on tickling. Despite his current state, Jotaro was adamant on hanging on to the damn thing. “Fine then- you won’t give up the ghost, I’ll just come and take it!”

With that, he dived beneath the nearest corner of the blankets, squeezing his way towards Jotaro like an inchworm. Polnareff scooted some to give more room, preparing.

In a matter of seconds, the room was booming.

“AH! AHEHAHAHHAA YOU FUHUHUHUCKER!” Jotaro howled when his sides were grabbed once more- no blanket or shirt for that matter to protect him against Kakyoin’s claws. “GEHEHEHEHT THE HEHEHELL OHOHOHOFF! AH! NOHOHOT YOU THOOHOHOHO!” Polnareff had begun to double his efforts, worming a hand into any tickle spot within reach. “SCREHHEHEHW YOOHOHU TWOOOHOHO!”

“So mean! To your dear friends too, Jotaro!” The frenchman chided, drilling a finger into the birthmark and making him scrunch with an undignified squeal. “Take this! And that! And this and that!”

“You can’t get rid of me, Jojo!” Kakyoin laughed through his teases, clinging to the bigger boy with all his might as he scribbled into his ribs and stomach. “I’m stuck to you! Forever and ever- AH!”

Jotaro put his strength into use; twisting hard enough to send Polnareff flying. He crashed into the bundle of Kakyoin, rolling off the bed and inadvertently bringing Jotaro with them. They landed in a crash of blankets and sore limbs upon landing.

“Ow! Oohohoho my god, that hurt! Jota-ROOHOOHO!” The frenchman was about to check in with the boys when hands suddenly grabbed his waist, kneading his sides rapidly. “AHEHAHHAH WHOOHOHOHO?”

“Hehehe, tickle tickle tickle, Polnareff!” Kakyoin was truly a gremlin. “Gonna getcha good! Jojo, help me!”

“Nohohohohohohoho! Pleahahahahse, Aihihihihiites Pihiihihihiteehehehehehe!”

Get off me, you ass!” Jotaro yelled through the chaos, wiggling free from the bodies pressing him down. Despite this, he was grinning- a new light of playfulness in his expression. “Good grief- you two are annoying. All right- I’ll help.”

“Nohoohoho! Johohootaro! Johohoohtaro EPARGI MOOHOHOHI!” Bodies crashed once more as Jotaro threw himself at the pair, tickling with all his might. Alongside Polnareff’s squeals in french, Kakyoin’s own hysterics joined the fray as he pulled and shoved at Jotaro’s hand.

“DOOHOHON’T GEHEHEHT ME, GEHEHHET POHOHOHOLNAREFF!” The redhead squealed at the top of his lungs, writhing like a worm beneath the hand squeezing the life out of his thigh. “JOHOHOHOJOHOHOHO!”

“JEHEHEHEHE DOOHOHOHNE! JEEHHEHEHE DoHOOHOHNE!” Polnareff squealed as his upper ribs were dug into, swatting and kicking through giggly hiccups. Jotaro didn’t know much French, but he could tell Polnareff was at his limit with how red he was.

Releasing them, he sat back with a crossed arm glare, watching them groan and gasp for breath. “You two done?”

“Ehehehe..hehhehe yeahhahah, whehehe’re gohoohod.” Kakyoin wheezed out, Polnareff nodding through another round of hiccups. “Dahahahng, and yohoohu didn’t eheehven use your sthahahnd!”

“Didn’t need it.” Jotaro got up, tugging his blanket out from under the redhead before climbing back into bed. “Not with how ticklish you two are. Go to bed.”

“Pardon? What does that mean, exactly Jotaro?” Polnareff leaped into the bed once more, resuming their previous position. “I’d say we gave you quite the fight tonight, non?”

“Yeah! You were squealing and everything!” Kakyoin was on his open side once more, smiling brightly at Jotaro’s heated glare. “I’d say out of all of us…”

They paused, considering.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’m the most ticklish.” Kakyoin finished with an eye roll. Polnareff giggled and Jotaro smirked beneath his blanket. “But your reaction is super cute, Jojo!”

“Shut up.” The brunette waved him off before pulling the blanket overhead, hiding away from their devious grins. He waited for them to move, or to attack once more. Instead, the bed shifted as they got comfortable, taking up the minimal surface space. “Don’t you two have your own beds? Sleep in them!”

“No way, yours is suddenly so comfy!” Kakyoin snuggled close, pressing his face into Jotaro’s shoulder. “I told you already, you’re stuck with me.”

“Same here, Jotaro! Get used to it!” Polnareff laughed as he dragged over extra blankets and pillows, making a sort of fort for them. “Bonne nuit.”

Kakyoin let out a sleepy “Oyasumi” in response. Before long, the pair were fast asleep- tucking Jotaro between them. The brunette sat there frozen for a few moments before rolling his eyes, a rare but genuine smile on his lips.

“Goodnight, knuckleheads.” He let himself relax for the first time this entire trip, the sounds of his friends breathing on either side of him.

Thanks for reading!

#jjba #stardust crusaders #jean pierre polnareff #noriaki kakyoin #jotaro kujo #tickle #tickle fic #squiggily writes the things #fluff #tw: swearing #dorks being dorks #I love them your honor #they are good men!

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Four)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, a therapy session, some Ellie/Reader fluff but nothing else - let me know if I've missed anything!

Authors Note / You know when I said this would be slow burn? I really meant it. I really hope you guys aren't getting bored but I promise things are going to heat up from Chapter 5 onwards 👀 Thank you once again for all your love on this series - I say it every time but it's really close to my heart and to know you guys are enjoying it really does mean the world! If you like this then please considering reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask box with some love! I love y'all!

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a therapist. Even when your parents had passed in quick succession before the outbreak you’d managed to carry on with the distraction of normal life, processing your grief quickly, distracting yourself with finishing school and applying for college. Even now, when you thought back to them, it was with fond memories. Nowhere near the level of grief you had now after losing Mark.

Maybe it was the change in the world or the fact that Mark had been a part of your life longer than your parents had? You didn’t really know. Maria had suggested that trying to unpack your feelings with a therapist would be beneficial for you, someone neutral who could help you back to the person you’d been before he’d died. It had been six months since you first sat in this chair, the same feeling of anxiety you had then was apparent now, as Belinda poured you a glass of water and situated a box of tissues on the table, you took one, knowing you’d need it like you always did.

“So, how are you?” She asks, settling down in the chair opposite you with her notepad resting on her crossed knee.

“I’m okay.” You say simply.

This is a rehearsed response. You always say it. Because if you needed a therapist, were you ever okay?

Belinda nods like she always did, “I wanted to start today by revisiting what we spoke about last time,” Her voice is high and sweet and she’s at least twenty years older than you, “Remember we spoke about doing something to push yourself out of your comfort zone?” She asks, and you nod, “Did you do anything since our last session to work on that?”

You take a deep breath; how much should you tell her?

“I have, yeah.”

“That’s good,” She praises, a genuine smile on her mouth, “Can you tell me about it?”

“I went to The Tipsy Bison last week.” Is all you offer her.

“With Tommy and Maria?”

You nod, “And his brother and the little girl he’s got.”

She quirks her eyebrow a little, if you hadn’t been paying close attention to her face you would have missed it, “And would you say Tommy’s brother is a friend?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess so, he came around a few weeks ago and fixed my porch step and he’s helping to build the table and chairs that Mark was going to do before he got sick.”

“Do you talk to him about Mark?”

“We’ve spoken a little about him, he actually lost his own daughter on outbreak day, so I guess I feel like he understands what I’m going through.”

She nods, “Let’s go back a bit and talk about going to the bar,” She writes something down on her notepad, you never really know what it is she’s writing, “Was it as bad as you had expected?”

You look down at your hands, scrunched tissue in one hand as your nails pick at the skin of your cuticles, “I was nervous about going, and I think I stood outside the door waiting to go in for too long, my mind was thinking of what would happen, like I would open the door and everyone would stop and go silent and just look at me, but no-one really noticed, but when we sat down to have a drink, someone said something and it kinda ruined everything.”

“What did they say?” She pushes.

You sigh, “That I’d made a miraculous recovery all of a sudden.”

“And how did that make you feel?” Ah. The classic therapy question.

You take a moment to formulate your answer in your mind, “I was angry,” You reply, “But not at the person who said it, I was angry at myself because it was true.”

“But is it true?” Belinda pushes, “From my perspective, of course we’ve made steps since you first began coming to see me, but I don’t think either of us think you’re fully recovered, do we?”

You shake your head to agree with her, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sure, what was said wasn’t really true, but it’s the things they didn’t say which made me think they are,” Belinda is looking at you to continue explaining, “In the back of my mind I thought, well of course I’m recovered if I’m sat in a bar with a smile on my face, and if I can do this then why can’t I go back to work? Why can’t I start contributing to the community again? That’s what I think they’re saying in their heads about me.”

“But you don’t know that do you?” She asks, “This is something I’ve noticed about you, that you project your own feelings onto other people, even though you have no idea what else they’re really thinking.”

You nod because she’s not wrong, of course she’s not, “How do I stop?” You almost beg her.

She shrugs a little, “You’ve got to stop caring about what other people think,” She says it like it’s the simplest thing to do, “Of course not the people who really matter to you, Maria, Tommy, his brother, their opinions matter, but those people who you see in passing, what they think doesn’t matter because they don’t really know you.”

She looks briefly to her watch, “We don’t have much time left, but I’m proud of you, and if you think you’re ready to go back to work then challenge yourself, maybe ask Maria for a couple of hours a week, just to ease yourself back in, and we can talk about it a bit more next week?” You nod in agreement, “And it’s good to hear you’re making new friends too, I think Tommy’s brother might be someone to keep around if it makes you comfortable, friend’s with shared experiences can be helpful in recovery.”

You nod in understanding and spend a few minutes agreeing on what day and time you’ll meet next week before she’s ushering you out of her office in time for her next patient. As you stand in front of her office, a thought spring to your mind. This is the first time you’ve left having not cried. The tissue is still dry in your hand, a small victory that you can hand yourself on your journey to healing.

Just ten minutes later you are stood outside Maria’s house, knocking on the door. You can hear shuffling behind the door before she pulls it open, a look of shock written on her face that it’s you.

“Is everything okay?” She asks.

“As fine as it normally is,” You respond, “I was just coming back from Belinda’s and I wanted to ask you something.”

“You want to come inside?” She asks, “I’ve just made coffee.”

You gladly accept and before long you’re both sat on the couch, sipping coffee, “I think I’d like to go back to work.” You say simply before you get the opportunity to chicken out.

She almost chokes on the coffee she’d just taken a drink of, “Are you sure?”

“Definitely not full time,” You’re quick to add, “I just want to start with a few hours and see if I’m okay.”

“Where’s this come from?” You let out a sigh, “I’m fed up Maria,” You speak honestly, “Fed up of people thinking I’m useless, fed up of spending every day in the same four walls,” And then you add, “And I’m fed up of thinking that Mark would hate what I’ve become over him.”

She pauses for a moment, “Let me speak to Kate and see if we can sort something out from next week,” She smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you back, she always complains that Charlotte still doesn’t understand the library system,” She puts on a poor imitation of Kate’s accent, “Jane Austen next to Philippa Gregory.”

You both laugh and you think it’s truly the first time you’ve properly laughed in what feels like forever. You spend a little more time with her, finishing your coffee before leaving her to it and as you walk down the street towards your own home, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter than normal.

It’s Monday afternoon, one of two afternoon’s you’ve agreed to step back into the library to help. Kate had suggested it because it was the afternoon that the teacher’s brought the kids down to choose a book to take home. It would be busy enough to distract you and meant you wouldn’t spend your time sat thinking.

You’d already helped two classes this afternoon, the last class we’re due in a few minutes, so Kate and you were enjoying a moment to sit and recuperate over a cup of tea. Well. Tea was stretching it – it was Kate’s usual concoction of boiled water and water flavourings she could get her hands on. Today it was lemon slices and honey, but it was warm and soothing so you wouldn’t complain.

“I’m really happy to see you.” She speaks honestly, grasping at your arm to give it a squeeze, “I know this can’t have been easy, but I’ve hope we’ve not scared you off.”

You offer a small smile, “I’ve actually enjoyed it, I guess my therapist was right when she said finding distractions would be helpful.”

Kate is about to speak again when the library door swings open and the older children start filing in, their teacher doing his best to corral them into the middle of the room. It’s just as you remember, he tells them they’ve got fifteen minutes to browse and choose and book and once they have, they need to come to the front desk to check it out.

You notice Ellie is part of the group, she’s hanging back, shuffling from foot-to-foot, but once her teacher lets them go, she’s just as excited as everyone else, picking up books and reading the covers. She’s one of the first to bring her choice over to the desk. You smile as you take it from her.

“Artemis Fowl?” You grin, “Great choice, it’s really good.” You write her name in the checking-out book and then the title of the book, before writing the date three weeks from now that she needs to bring it back on the inside cover of the book.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” She comments, taking the book back from you.

“I’m only here for two afternoons, trying to ease myself back into things, but yeah, before everything happened with Mark, this was my full-time job.”

“I bet you’ve read everything here, right?”

“Not quite,” You smirk, “But pretty much, if you ever want to know what else is good to read, you know where to come.”

She smiles and says thank you and just before she turns to leave, “Say, you don’t think you could ask Joel to pop by sometime and finish up the table for me, could you?”

She smirks, “Only if I can come so you can teach me how to make pie?”

You hold out your hand and she takes it to shake, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

It isn’t until Sunday that Joel and Ellie turn up at your front door. Summer really is in full swing now and it’s warm. You’ve been padding about in the garden trying to clear up, tank top now slightly sticking to your back from the thin sheen of sweat you’ve worked up and you think it’s possible the skin on your legs will be burnt when you finish up for the day.

Joel heads straight for the back porch with his toolbox in hand, Ellie lingers at the kitchen table.

“Do you want coffee?” You ask, tilting your head around the open back door.

He shakes his head, “Water would be nice though.”

You head back to the kitchen and pour three glasses of water from the jug in your fridge, adding lemon slices to give it a little flavour. Joel thanks you when you had him the glass and you smile at him before heading back to the kitchen to focus on Ellie.

“Alright, you ready?” You ask and she nods with enthusiasm, “I tried to get apples at the market, but they were all out, so I’m afraid it’s cherries today.”

You bring out a bowl of cherries from the fridge and put them out the counter, “The first thing we need to do is wash them and take the stones out, it’s a bit fiddly but it’s fun, I promise.”

You rummage around in your cutlery drawer for the pair of chopsticks you know are hidden somewhere. You can almost imagine the family living in this house before the world went to shit, sitting at their table, eating Chinese food with them. God, what you wouldn’t give for fried rice right now. You had one of the sticks to Ellie once she’s washed her hands and rinsed the fruit.

“So, you take a cherry and pull the stem off,” You do it to show her, “And then you eat the first one to make sure the fruit is okay,” You smile as you pop the cherry into your mouth, watching as she does the same, “You think they’re good?”

She’s smiling at you, “They’re fucking great!”

You spit the stone into your palm and put your hand near her face for her to do the same before you discard the stones in the trash bin next to you, “Okay, now we know they’re good, what you need to do is take the smaller end of the chopstick, and can you see where you pulled the stem out from?” You point to the spot on her fruit, “You just push the end through it and hopefully….” You draw out as you push your stick into the cherry between your fingers, the stone pops out through the bottom, “That will happen!”

You watch as Ellie copies your movements, the stone popping out through the bottom of the cherry, “Does it matter that the fruit broke?” She asks, placing her destoned cherry in the bowl with your own.

“Not at all, we’ve got to break them to eat them, right?”

Joel is working studiously just outside the kitchen window and when you reach the last cherry in the bowl, you take it in hand, opening the window, “Hey Joel?” You call, he looks up from his work and you dangle the cherry out into the open space, he smiles as he takes it, popping it into his mouth before mirroring what you’d done, spitting the pip into his hand and slinging it over the side of your fence.

It strikes you in this moment that being with Joel and Ellie is effortless. Although they both know what happened and a little about how you’ve delt with it, they don’t seem to judge you, neither of them look at you with sorry written in their eyes, they don’t press you to talk about things you don’t want to and they both seem genuinely interested in what you have to say, or in Ellie’s case, teach them.

You take Ellie through the rest of the steps of preparing the fruit, drizzling them in a little honey in place of sugar, teaching her how to make the pastry, which involves more flour ending up on both of you that it does in the recipe. You let her pour the fruit into the pastry and decide which kind of top she wants on it. She’s a girl after your own heart and opts for lattice.

Once it’s in the oven baking, Ellie sits on your couch with her book whilst you tidy up. You refill her glass of water before heading out to do the same to Joel’s. He’s almost finished with the table, just a few more planks of wood to hammer into the top and he’ll be done.

“Thanks,” He says simply when you fill his glass, he takes it and drinks deeply, brushing his forehead for sweat, you stand with him for a while, “Ellie says she saw you at the library earlier this week, is that where you work?” He’s making polite conversation and you smile.

“I worked there before everything happened,” You explain, “I was speaking to my therapist a few weeks ago who said she thought it would be a positive step for me, so I’m just doing two afternoons a week to ease me back in,” You refill his glass when he’s finished with it, “Baby steps and all that.”

“S’good,” He nods, “You seem a bit happier today.”

“I think it’s more to do with her,” You speak honestly, motioning your head inside to where Ellie is, “She’s a great kid Joel.”

“She is,” He agrees, “I’m glad she’s finally gettin’ the chance to be a kid for a while.”

He’s finishing up with the last few bits of wood for the table, “You wanna stay for a slice of pie?” You ask, “It shouldn’t be long coming out of the oven.”

“If it’s anythin’ like the last one then I don’t think I can say no,” He smirks, “Let me finish up here and I’ll come in.”

“Oh no, stay out here, we need to make sure your handiwork is sturdy enough.” You give him a little wink just to play with him, before wondering whether that was too much. He doesn’t suggest it was, just beams his lovely smile at you.

You turn on your heel and head back into the kitchen. You kneel in front of the oven, and you can see through the door that the fruit is bubbling through the lattice top and the pastry itself is looking lovely and golden.

“Hey, Ellie, you wanna take your pie out of the oven?” You ask, she’s folding the corner of the page she’s reading and is by your side in record time.

You hand her the oven gloves, another souvenir from whoever lived here before, it’s white, or would have been before they’d been used to death and had a pretty floral pattern on it. Not what you’d have chosen if you’d been filling your new home, but you always tried to remind yourself that beggars couldn’t be choosers in this world.

“Careful when you open the door, it’ll be really hot.” Ellie shoots you a playful look that tells you she isn’t that dumb.

She pulls open the door and steps back to let the steam flow out before she’s wrapping the oven gloves around the pie and putting on the stove top to cool, “As the expert,” You speak, “I have to say that looks and smells fantastic.”

You peer out of the window; Joel is just shutting his toolbox and you watch him takes his hands a brush the tabletop of any dust and debris left over from him building it. He then takes the chairs he’d made and sets them around the table. You turn your head when he starts moving to come inside.

“Kiddo, that looks great,” He praises Ellie, looking over her shoulder at her creation, “Let me wash my hands and we can dig in.”

You busy yourself with grabbing some plates and forks, handing them to Ellie to take outside, whilst you take the oven gloves and take the pie outside, setting it down on the table. You stand back and look at what Joel’s made. In the old world, this would have cost you a pretty penny and you can’t help but realise how talented he is. There’s nothing to suggest that you hadn’t been down to the best furniture store and paid thousands of dollars for it.

“I brought a knife.” Comes Joel’s voice from behind you, he’s brandishing your biggest kitchen knife and you think that in any other circumstance you’d be threatened by him, but there’s something about the goofy grin on his face that you know means that he would never hurt you.

He gives the knife to Ellie and sits down in one of the chairs, you follow suit, taking time to warn her to be careful if she needs to touch the pie tin because it’s likely to still be hot. You catch Joel smiling at you and you know it’s because he’s her dad – whether by blood or not, you can tell that he cares deeply for her and he’s thankful, in some small way that you are too.

Ellie cuts into the pie and struggles to get it out of the tin, the pastry below breaks and the fruit spills onto the plate that she only just manages to catch the slice on.

“I’ll take that one,” You smile, holding out your hand for the plate, “Got to break it to eat it, right?” You echo your words from inside the kitchen earlier on.

Once everyone has a slice on their plate and has left it to cool for long enough, you’re all digging in and you have to admit it’s just as good as the one you made yourself.

“Maybe I should sign you up for kitchen duty,” Joel jokes as he spears another bite with his fork, “You can start earning your keep, kiddo.”

Ellie looks disgusted at the very notion of being put to work and you all laugh together. It’s in this moment that you think to Mark. Would this have been your life if you’d been blessed with children? When you’d arrived in Jackson it had been a serious conversation. You were safe. People had been having children for months. They had a real midwife for God’s sake. The lack of children hadn’t been through lack of trying either. You remember lazy Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, hands raking over naked bodies, moans and praises spilled from mouths. You’d just never been blessed. You’d never talked about who might have been the problem, it didn’t matter anyway, if it couldn’t be with Mark then it wasn’t meant to be.

And perhaps now you’re thankful. If Mark had still died, there would have been someone else to care for during your grief. A constant reminder, in the flesh, of who he was, who he’d been. You hated to think of not being able to look at your own child because they reminded you too much of your dead husband. No. Better to be alone in your grief than add that kind of complication.

Once the slices were finished on everyone’s plate and you’d packaged two extra slices for Joel and Ellie to take home, you’re standing on your porch. Ellie is already making her way down the street, but Joel is hanging back.

“I really don’t know how to say thank you,” You admit, “You’ve been a real lifeline since you came here so just… thank you.”

He smiles at you, secretly wishing he could reach his hands out to touch you. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch you. He didn’t even think he had that with Tess. Sure, she’d been a comfort and he cared for her, but it had never been love. Just a means to an end, a way to ease each other’s pain for a moment. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t love either. Sure, you’d spent time together and all he really wanted to in any moment he saw you was kiss away the furrow of your brow, but he couldn’t love you. Not yet.

“I just like helpin’ out,” He offers, quickly looking down the street to find Ellie talking to someone from school, “I like knowing it makes things easier for you, that’s all the thanks I need.”

“Well, consider Ellie and you guests of honor when I can finally host that dinner on your handiwork.”

He winks at you, and you think you can feel a slight flush across your cheeks, but you think if it is appearing across your skin, you can pass it off as the hear, “Consider it done, sweet pea, I’ll see you around.”

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hollowed-theory-hall · 5 months

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Do you think gay marriage is legalized in the WW (at least in Harry’s time in the 90s)? I lean towards no as I don’t really see the WW being that anymore progressive (most likely less) than we are when it comes to sexuality (Also I don’t think it helps that they are a culture that highly values continuing the magical bloodlines). What’s your take?

I agree with you here. I don't think it's likely that they legalized same-sex marriages.

In Hogwarts Legacy, there are Nora and Priya Tradwell who are two women who were married to each other in 1890. That being said, I don't really consider HL 100% canon since other aspects of it contradict the books (the castle is gorgeous but why is the potions classroom not in the dungeons?!). So, I'm kinda picking and choosing what's canon when it comes to the video games.

But in the books, we don't see any indication that it's legal or treated any differently than in the muggle world at the time.

The only real reference I could recall from the books to anything gay (explicitly) is Dudley taunting Harry about being gay (because this happened):

“What d’you mean, I’m not brave in bed?” said Harry, completely nonplussed. “What — am I supposed to be frightened of pillows or something?” “I heard you last night,” said Dudley breathlessly. “Talking in your sleep. Moaning.” “What d’you mean?” Harry said again, but there was a cold, plunging sensation in his stomach. He had revisited the graveyard last night in his dreams. Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter then adopted a high-pitched, whimpering voice. “ ‘Don’t kill Cedric! Don’t kill Cedric!’ Who’s Cedric — your boyfriend?” “I — you’re lying —” said Harry automatically. But his mouth had gone dry. He knew Dudley wasn’t lying — how else would he know about Cedric? “ ‘Dad! Help me, Dad! He’s going to kill me, Dad! Boo-hoo!’ ” “Shut up,” said Harry quietly. “Shut up, Dudley, I’m warning you!” “ ‘Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He’s killed Cedric! Dad, help me! He’s going to —’ Don’t you point that thing at me!” Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley’s heart. Harry could feel fourteen years’ hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins — what wouldn’t he give to strike now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he’d have to crawl home like an insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers — “Don’t ever talk about that again,” Harry snarled. “D’you understand me?”

(OotP, 15)

I can't say much more than Harry is bothered, whether it is about the assumption that Cedric is his boyfriend or that Dudley makes fun of Cedric's death is up to guesswork (I think it's probably a bit of both). But it doesn't appear other sexualities are any more accepted or openly talked about in the WW compared to the muggle one. I'd say even less in all likelihood.

I also agree with you on how important having children and continuing the family line is for pure-bloods (which is at least 50% of their population), I doubt they encourage gay marriage. Honestly, the more accepting pure-bloods probably treat it like: "Sleep with whoever you want in your free time, but get married and give us an heir", while other families are probably worse.

That being said, we do see on the family tapestry that both Alphard Black and Cassiopia Black didn't get married or have kids, so if you have enough siblings to carry the family line for you, you could get away with not getting married and having children. But with how Andromeda was disowned for marrying a muggleborn, it's likely anything less than the perfect pure-blood marriage would have had to stay fairly hidden for you to not get disowned.

I also agree that with how archaic many aspects of their culture are (from quills to their education standards, to candles, to the fact canning students was practiced at Hogwarts when Molly and Arthur Weasley were students, etc...), it's highly unlikely they're more progressive than muggles when it comes to, well, anything. Like, indoor plumbing supposedly came to Hogwarts in the 18th century alongside the muggle advancements in this field, but it was noted in Pottermore that wizards rarely copy from muggles to such a degree. So, I don't think wizards would be pioneering gay rights or anything like that.

So, yeah, I agree, I don't think same-sex couples could legally get married in the Wizarding World as there is no indication they can, but I don't think they're getting executed either (as was the case in the UK in the late 19th century), so, there's at least that. I think it's treated like a dirty secret that'll cause a scandal in some circles, but it's not illegal to be gay in the WW.

#that being said in fics i usually gloss over it #unless the scandal drama is something I feel like reading/writing at the moment #Sometimes it feels like not enough fics treat romances in the WW like period dramas #harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hollowedheadcanon #wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding world #wizarding society #asks #anon asks #anonymous

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tornrose24 · 5 months

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After finishing rewatching all of The Ghost and Molly Mcgee, these are my thoughts.

I think this is the one time in who knows how many years I’ve been invested in something that came from Disney. I haven’t seen this kind of passion project in a long time and sadly I don’t know if I’ll ever see that magic again for awhile, considering how Disney itself has suffered with many poor choices.

As for the show, a lot hits different when you know how it ends. Certain moments become a lot more meaningful with that knowledge.

I’d say first season was the better of the two. There was far more at stake and the story was building up to its climax in numerous ways compared to season two. The threat of The Chairman and the discovering of the duo’s friendship is very much felt in more episodes compared to Jinx.

Scratch’s character development is really noticeable in season 1, but in a way Molly’s is as well, given how one learns to open up and learn kindness and optimism while the other also needs to learn to open up in other ways, as well as grow into the wise, yet still optimistic teenager she becomes at the end of the show.

Season two… the stakes aren’t as great here. As stated by others, the Chens are overall not given much as a threat for season 2, and Jinx is used too sparingly so the penultimate season does feel a bit rushed. I honestly would have taken out some episodes from this season and replaced them with ones that could have addressed this, especially had the creators known they’d only get two seasons. Though of course they did not when starting out and it’s surreal to think that–had things gone right–we’d be waiting for season 3 right now.

However, I’m still sticking to my initial thoughts regarding ‘The End.’ I still don’t think it was necessary for Scratch to forget Molly.

The first problem is that this plot point is already one a lot of us are familiar with (I’ve seen it quite a lot in my case). Doctor Who used it (before it got changed), Spiderman No Way Home used it to a painful extreme, and Gravity Falls temporarily used it in its own finale. There’s a novel called ‘Just like Heaven’ that is a more romantic version of TGAMM, and it ended with memory loss as well (though the movie has a happier ending). I feel sad, but I also feel angry, which leads to my second problem.

Molly and Scratch’s friendship is the heart of this show. We were entertained and moved by it, as well as how far they would go for each other. So when Scratch forgets, we feel Molly’s pain as observers to her and Scratch’s story. We want Scratch to live his life as a human, and we wanted him to go out and see the world, but he should NOT have had to forget Molly in exchange. I know we always have to say goodbye and that there are some people who were special to us that we might/will never see again, but dear lord, being forgotten is a certain type of pain that hurts even worse.

Rewatching/remembering certain scenes is now more painful, knowing now that Scratch will forget them. Him saying that he’d hate to forget Molly was too cruel. When I was getting cloer to revisiting ‘The End’ I was feeling reluctance to continue on, and not just because I was almost done with the re-watching. When Scratch merged back with his body and the screen turned to white, I had to fight the urge to shut the episode down and pretend things went differently. That’s how much it hurts when it’s not just a casual viewing. I know these characters ultimately belong to someone else, but I wouldn’t want to put them through that kind of suffering.

Had I been in charge of the show, but kept the idea of ‘taking risks is what makes if worth living,’ I would have used one of two different endings. One where its the same, but Scratch remembers Molly. The other would have been a time skip, when Scratch returned to Brighton with Adia and he reunited with Molly who is a little older but is still the girl he knew.

But… I do appreciate the small ray of hope that was given. That Scratch’s behavior as a human and certain use of words–as well as calling Molly by name despite supposedly never hearing it before-fuels a lot of hope that one day Scratch will remember and he will reunite with Molly one day. That even a few writers proposed a reunion story where Molly hugging Scratch would trigger his memories to come back gives me hope that there's still a possibility in that story. (If anyone tells me I'm stupid to be thinking those things, please don't because I care about those characters THAT much.)

Until then, we have aus, what ifs, and fan fics to fix that.

So… I don’t know when I’ll rewatch the whole show again, given the emotional toll. I’ll still revisit some episodes and scenes. But I’m grateful that Disney allowed this show to exist–it deserved more love and attention. If this had to be the very last good thing to ever come out of Disney, I’ll take it.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost

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newtonsheffield · 1 year

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Oh Molly me again with the Bruises Spicy Sunday request.. either that or My Hand.. Bruises Anthony is my favorite but My Hand was really, REALLY close. I love that story. You are a mensch girl and your training for a marathon is so inspiring, I have been working on my health this past year and I feel so much better, happier, saner.. Not marathon territory but maybe one day. Its has been the best thing I have ever done for myself, 100% worth it. I am far away but I am cheering for you from here

Ohhh that’s a good idea. Let’s revisit my hand Kate and Anthony. I’ll admit I loved how these two were intimate with each other. They were so good at reading each other’s body language and I think it made the way they connected very special honestly.

(Also thank you for your kind comments about my journey. This year has been really tough for me and I guess I’m trying to use this as a way to take time and connect with myself again in a way that I haven’t for a while. Already over the last month I feel better, I feel more motivated, I’m being more productive, and ah yeah… I’m not advocating that this needs to be everyone’s journey before I get comments about that. If you’re happy with how you are then that’s great but this so far is a great way for me personally to check in with myself. Get to know myself and my body better and even with just walking through August my general health is improving so I’m excited for the journey ahead)

Kate could feel his eyes on her as she worked in the corner of the living room and she ignored him. Very pointedly, she ignored her boyfriend. Anthony’s eyes had been soft when she’d woken this morning, and the soft noise he’d made as he nestled closer had still sounded so beautiful.

“You’re so pretty.”

She’d laughed, kissing his palm as his fingers swept over her cheek, “I’m not staying in bed with you today.”

Anthony drew back indignantly, “I wasn’t asking for you to!”

“Oh yes you were.” She kissed the edge of his nose, “You were trying your old Oh Kate, you’re so pretty. Oh my god, how did my hand get up there? What a wild coincidence, well I’d hate to not take advantage of an opportunity now that it’s presented itself routine and I don’t have time for that today.” She patted his cheek, scooting away from him. “I have work to do. Books need to be illustrated Anthony, and I’m sure you have little cakes to make.”

Anthony pouted, ruffling his hair adorable, “I don’t like that you know me so well.” He huffed, settling back against the pillows as she stood, “I have time for a little romp.”

“A romp?” Kate chuckled, pulling on one of his T-shirts. “Oh that’s so romantic, Anthony. Is it any wonder I’ve been in love with you all these years?”

He grinned, bouncing the muscles in his chest, “It’s not a surprise to me, no.”

She sent him a rude hand gesture, “I’m having breakfast, and then I’m starting work. Go to work.”

He flopped down against the pillows, “What if I just gave you head?”

Kate sighed as she stepped forward, running her fingers quickly through his hair before she spoke and her lips moved in time with her words, “It’s never just head with you, Babe. You’ll get excited and I’ll get carried away and then before I know it, I’ve spent all day in bed and I’ve still not illustrated this fucking book.”

Anthony pouted again, “So I’m being blamed for your lack of self control?”

“Yes,” She sighed, leaning down to kiss him. She let herself linger against his lips, let herself lean over him on the bed and tangle her tongue with his. “Be a good boy and go to work.”

He’d stomped out the door, slamming it loudly behind him just the way he always did minutes later while she sat at the breakfast bar, eating her cereal.

“Daddy’s silly, Newtie boy.” Kate had chuckled to herself, hearing his heavy footfalls the entire way down the corridor. “It’s a good thing he’s very cute.”

She settled at her desk in the corner of the living room where the light filtered in through the windows, not bothering to change out of the shirt she’d thrown on for breakfast and before long she heard the same footsteps again. Thundering down the hallway. She’d teased him gently about it once, how his footsteps echoed through the room and he’d blinked at her,

“I’m as quiet as a mouse, Kate. I can’t hear any difference between yours and mine.”

“Dickhead.” She’d chuckled, leaning in to kiss him, but she loved the sound of Anthony moving about. It was comforting, the noise of him clattering in the living room and slamming drawers in the bathroom.

Kate paused her hand, moving over the paper, letting her eyes flick to the clock on the wall. Her eyes narrowed. It was barely passed one. He was early, and that made her suspicious.

The door slammed closed and Kate turned towards him, her eyebrow raised. He was looking at something on his phone, completely engrossed in whatever he was reading. Kate flicked her eraser at him and it bounced off his shoulder. He looked up at her indignantly, dropping his phone.

“What was that for?”

“What are you doing home?”

His expression was innocent, far too innocent, and that as well had made her suspicious. “We were quiet. Jack’s just closing up.”

“Right.” Kate hummed suspiciously, “I don’t trust you, Bridgerton.”

Anthony held his hands up in surrender as he dropped his bag, “I’m only going to be trying out some new recipes. I won’t bother you at all.”

He had moved to the kitchen and started pulling out bowl after bowl, and she’d settled back to work herself but his eyes had stayed on her still.

They were still there now.

Kate saw him move quickly from the corner of her eye and a flash of his skin appeared. She turned towards him and found she didn’t need to get his attention, because he was staring right at her, separating eggs with his shirt now abandoned.

“What are you doing?”

Anthony blinked at her far too innocently, “I told you, Babe. I’m trying a new donut recipe.”

He let to egg yolk slip through his hands and started measuring out flour in a separate bowl, Kate gasped as Anthony grunted, letting his hands mix the ingredients into a sticky dough. “No you aren’t! You’re trying to thirst trap me into having sex with you!”

“Why would I do that?” He slapped the couch onto the counter, his muscles flexing and his fingers squeezed it and Kate felt heat rise in her cheeks.

“Why would I do that?”

Anthony’s hips thrust forward against the countertop. “You don’t need to fuck the counter to mix dough!”

Anthony grinned at her and his hair fell in his eyes, a satisfied little noise in the back of his throat, “Well, I wouldn’t need to if you let me fuck you.”

Kate;s stomach dropped and her mouth felt dry and she let her pencil fall from her hand as she stood, making her way the short distance to the kitchen. “Oh, so you admit it! This was a honey pot scheme! I’m never getting any donuts, this was all the seduce me!”

Anthony blinked at her, cleaning off his hands, handprints of flour stark against his chest. “Well, did it work?”

He was leaning against the counter, the muscles in his arms tight and she could almost feel the heat of him. She could almost feel those hands ghosting over her and his lips against hers. She could feel him kneading her flesh the same way his hands had moved through that dough seconds ago.

She sighed, “Obviously, take off your pants.”

Anthony grinned, reaching out to wrap around her waist. Tugging her firmly against his bare chest. He lifted her with one arm, as though she wasn’t made of anything and her legs wrapped around him seconds before their lips crashed together. Their teeth clashed and their tongues swept over one another and she felt his moan ripple through her chest as well.

The marble countertop was cold on the backs of her bare legs and the fabric of his jeans was rough against the inside of her thighs and Anthony’s deft hand slid up her shirt tickling the skin of her stomach. Kate let her lips fall to his neck, right to the spot that her made his spine shiver when they’d been eighteen years old and fumbling together in her bedroom for the first time. They were so much surer of themselves now, of the way they were together as well but it still felt just the same. Just as thrilling and heady, the tension simmering between them.

She left her hands drift down his chest, delighting in the way he shivered against her. Kate tugged roughly that the button, pushing them down his thighs with his underwear. His eyes caught hers and he pressed his forehead against hers, his breath shuddering in his chest as his hips bucked softly against the inside of her thigh. His hands tilted her hips just so, just enough for her to feel him, to feel how desperate he was for her.

“Kate!” His voice was a strangled sound, echoing through the kitchen as she rolled her hips and he slid inside and all Kate could do was nod helplessly her own moan pressed against his chest.

She loved his voice, she’d told him so many times not to be self conscious of it, and he wasn’t here, when they were like this. He let his gasps and moans echo off the walls and the way her name sounded on his lips branded itself against her skin. His hips snapped forward, and one hand kept her hips firmly in place while the other kneaded her breasts softly. His lips tasted like sugar, and something that might have been lemon, and Kate could feel the tension in her stomach coiling tighter already.

Anthony’s hair was falling in his eyes over the bandana that he wore to work most days and his cheeks were flushed and his eyes fluttered closed as though he couldn’t imagine anything better than the feeling of them together. Their hips were moving together faster and faster and Kate’s lungs were burning as her legs started to shake, squeezing around his waist, every second pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck! Anthony!”

“Kate!

They fell over the edge together as quickly as this had started, and Anthonys legs seemed to give way as he shuddered, falling forwards to press her back against the marble of the counter.

Kate let her fingernail trace his spine as their breathing evened out and finally Anthony lifted his head to look at her, a smug smile on his shiny cheeks. “I knew you’d give in.”

Kate rolled her eyes, pushing him off her. “Shut up and make my donuts.” She slapped his arse, “Are they lemon?”

“Lemon meringue, yeah.”

“Lovely,” She hummed, “Get to work.”

#my hand was the one you reached for #spicy sunday🌶️#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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