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ravenromanova · 8 months

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Under the stars

Pairings: Tfws Bucky x Female reader (reader is steve’s sister)

Warnings: Mentions of death, Minor violence, Smut 18+!!!!, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, Dom Bucky, Sub reader, Spanking. Angst, Fluff

Summary: It’s been 3 years since you and Bucky broke up and now you’re attending a party for Sam aka The man taking up your brothers mantle. Bucky attends the same party since he’s his partner and when he sees you he decides to say something. What happens when you see and talk to the man who broke your heart again.

Word count: 3.4k

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You step out of the black S.U.V with the help of your driver and bodyguard Mason. He takes your hand as you step out in your black stilettos and strapless red dress. You look over at him as he shuts the door and he gives you a reassuring nod. Sucking in a deep breath and swallowing your nerves you take his hand and walk into the party.

The bright lights and loud crowd are enough to make you wanna throw up. In all reality the only reason you’re here is because Sam begged you to come. And you also felt obligated to come since he is taking up your late brothers mantle as Captain America. You look around the room in attempt to either find Sam or the bar. Luckily for you, you saw the bar first.

“I’m gonna head to the bar you stay here and I’ll find you if i need you okay?” You told Mason and let go of his hand ans he gives you a soft smile and nod.

You saunter over to the bar and as the very handsome bartender for a vodka cranberry. Only a few seconds later he’s handing it to you. Thanking the man and handing him $10 you take your drink and so stand at a high top table. You look around the room and take in the memorabilia of your brother.

You sigh as you see pictures of him and you in the war, smile at the pictures of him and the other avengers. Deciding that you wanna go look around you walk over to what looks like another exhibit. There’s pictures of Steve and you as children, There’s a statue of him that makes you tear up a little. About fifteen minutes go by and you see a collage of him and Bucky. The breath hitches in your throat you you decided that you needed some air.

You push past the sea of people before you finally get to the balcony. You go and hide in a corner where you know no one can see you. All the feelings you’ve pushed down for three years are starting to come up. Losing Your brother, Nat and Tony, You’re breakup with Bucky, Your trauma you’ve left untreated. It’s all too much for you and you sit against the wall.

Time feels like it goes by extremely slow as you look up at the stars. You mutter an ‘i miss you guys’ to the stars before standing up and making your way back inside.

~Inside from Buckys perspective~

Bucky sees you the moment you walk inside the party. Sam had told him that he had invited you tonight in the midst of conversation. Bucky had tried to not give away the face that he was excited to see you again. It had been a little over three years since he told you he needed a break and then left without another word.

He didn’t mean for it to happen like it did but the pain of losing three of his friends mixed with him still dealing with his demons from HYDRA, he no longer thought he was good enough for you. So he did what he does best and ran. Bucky quickly regretted that and was soon the most miserable man on the planet.

Him and Sam were fighting more since Bucky was being careless on mission and being a dick more too. He also developed a drinking habit even though he couldn’t get drunk. Sam had told him after a talk you two had that you didn’t wanna hear about or talk to Bucky. So he told Bucky not to contact you anymore after he had called you like ten times, his heart broke but he agreed.

He missed you like crazy and when Sam had told him you were coming he knew this was fate giving him one more chance. And he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it just slip by. So naturally when he saw you walk in with the red dress he loved so much he knew the stars her aligned for the night.

He watched as you walked in with some man and he immediately tensed up. When he saw you leave the man and go to the bar he was gonna make his move til he saw you walk over to the exhibit, He knew you should be alone so he waited. Bucky didn’t want to upset you further when he saw you walk out. He waited til you came back inside.

~Back inside your perspective~

You walked back inside and got another drink before trying to find either Sam or Mason. Unfortunately for you they were nowhere to be found. You huffed and tried to text Mason but got no response. You just decided to stand at a table and just people watch. Everyone around you was dressed to the nines and you felt a little out of place but you reminded yourself of why you were there.

The thoughts that plagued your mind were soon cut off when you smelt a very familiar cologne followed by an even more familiar voice. ”Hello Doll” He says from behind you. “It’s been a while” You hear as you turn to face him and your breath hitches.

It makes you a few moments to take him in before speaking. He’s wearing all all black suit, with his hair tied off into a low bun at the base of his neck. He has his metal hand out and showing it proudly and not covered with a glove and he looks damn good.

“Hi James” You finally say after an ungodly amount of time. He smiles and walks to the other side of the table across from you.

“You look good”He smiles softly “I didn’t expect to see you here” He lies as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Well i could say the same” Your reply is a little shorter sounding than you’d like but you cant help but feel a plethora of emotions as he’s in front of you.

“Well Sam and i are partners so i came to show my support as his partner and friend along with Steves old partner” Bucky replies and you wince at the mention of your brother but are happy that Bucky and Sam are getting along.

“Well im glad you’re doing something good for yourself and other people. I’m proud of you” Your response catches the both of you off guard and you try to play it off. “I came because Sam begged and i figured i should be here to honor steve a little” Out of instinct Bucky grabs your hand and rubs this thumb over your knuckles. You take comfort in the moment before your heart breaks all over again remembering your last conversation.

Bucky had just gotten home from a week long mission and he did not look okay. You tried to talk t him when he walked into your shared apartment but he ignored you. You huffed and followed him into your bedroom and sawn him packing.

“You have another mission so soon?” You asked as you titled your head and saw he was packing more than just stuff for a mission. Bucky ignored your question and continued packing.

“Bucky? i asked you a question” Concern was dripping off of your words as you reach for his arm. He rips his arm away from you and faces you.

“I need a break” Is all Bucky says before he takes the two duffel bags, Leaves his keys on the bed and walks out without another word. That night you waited for him to come home but he never did. Then a week later Sam tells you that Bucky is at his house.

And that was the last time either of you spoke to each other until now. You snap out of your thoughts and pull your hand away from his and go to walk away not being able to handle this.

Bucky follows you out when you walk to the balcony again. You press your back against a wall and run a hand through your hair as you try to holdback tears. He comes up to and places his left hand on your shoulder and you jump from the touch of the cool metal. You back away from him as tears start to fall.

“Go away James- i cant do this” The words come out softer than you expected.

He sighs and his heads hangs low. “i-im sorry y/n when i saw you walk in tonight and i just had to talk to you and tell you how sorry i am for how i left” Bucky doesn’t meet your gaze and just stares at his feet as he talks.

“Just don’t okay? because if you were actually sorry you would’ve have left me James” You say as you scoff in disbelief at him and just look up at the stars instead of at him. He comes closer to you and puts his hand on your back for comfort.

“I’m sorry y/n i fucked up big time. And i didn’t realize it til it was too late. But i wanna fix this. us” He point to the each of you with a pleading look in his eyes.

You sigh and grip the railing before looking at him. As you face him he lifts his head and meets your gaze. His eyes are filled with pain and regret and you can see that very clearly.

“James i- i dont know” Your voice faltered as you spoke. “You broke me. It took me months to be able to talk to anyone or just be a person again. Don’t get me wrong yes i miss you. But i cant trust you” Bucky just looks at you and takes your hand in his without saying anything.

“Please dol- y/n please let me make it up to you. Let me love you properly this time. I know i fucked up i was a coward, i convinced myself i wasnt good enough for you so i did what i thought was best and left- im so fucking sorry y/n please” Bucky pleads as he puts hi metal hand against your cheek. Almost immediately you lean into his cool touch and sigh.

“That wasnt your choice to make, If i didn’t think you were good enough or whatever i wouldn’t have been in love with you since the fucking 30’s i know you think that your past is to fucked up to deserve love, but what about mine? What about what the red room made me? You aren’t the only one who lost parts of yourself but when Steve went back you were the only thing i had left… and then you well left.” You lock eyes with him as you voice shakes when you speak.

He sighs and decides to take a leap of faith. Bucky walks closer to you and wraps his flesh hand around your waist and pull you close. You can feel his breath on your lips as you look at him. He doesn’t say anything as his metal hand moves to the back of your head, Bucky leaned down and connects your lips. And even though a part of you wants to you don’t pull away.

In fact you relish in the kiss and try to fight him for dominance but end letting him win. It’s a combination of teeth and tongues but neither of you care. You both has missed each other a lot more than anticipated. You don’t even know how much time has past when you two break the kiss and finally get some air.

“Take me home” Is all you whisper after a few seconds of looking at each other. Bucky wastes no time in grabbing your hand and leading you out the building. You shoot Mason a message telling you are going home with someone and you’ll see him tomorrow. Once you and Bucky get outside he throws you over his shoulder and walks over to his car.

“I can walk you know” You giggle as he smacks your ass and tells you to hush. He gets to the car and open the passenger door and puts you in along with buckling you in before getting in on his side.

Bucky starts the car and speeds off to his apartment which is luckily only a ten minute drive, but with how desperate he is to touch you he’s gonna cut it in half. You place your hand on his thigh and lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. Slowly you move your hand over his clothed cock and he groans.

“Behave” He turns and looks at you and you stick out your bottom lip and pout.

“But daddy i’ve missed you” Your hand moved up higher and gently palmed his cock through his pants. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t get very far in your teasing as he pulled in to the driveway.

“You’re fucked now Malyshka” His voice was rough and deep as he parked the car. And before you could even register what was happening your door was open. He threw you over his shoulder yet again. You squeal at him and playfully smack his back. He pays you no mind as he unlocks the front door and carries you up the stairs.

He opens his bedroom door and throws you on his king size bed. ‘strip’ He commands and you are quick to rid yourself of your heels first, Then you make a show of taking off the dress that clings to your body. Slowly and ever so painfully you unzip the dress and let it slowly fall down to your breasts.

“Oh fuck Kotenok” He groans as you are finally left in your dark red lingerie set that he actually bought for you years ago. “Come here” Before you know he’s at the end of the bed and your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam your soft skin and you moan as he teases your clit a little.

“Please daddy no teasing tonight been too long.” The desperation evident in your voice. Bucky was quick to turn you around and toss you on your back.

“Fuck i’ve missed you” He admits as he crawls up to you and hovers his body over yours. His lips are quick to connect to the sweet spot on your neck and his hands find your breasts. Quicker than you can fathom he’s removing your bra and takes a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck daddy” The words come out broken as you moan at the contact. He takes your nipple and brings it between his teeth and nips it slightly and your back arches.

“Please fuck me” He quickly obliged and removed your panties but not without kissing all over your plush thighs. He’s quick to open up your wet folds with his metal fingers. Bucky moans at the sight of your wet pussy in the moonlight that had shone through the window.

“So pretty Malysh” You dont have a chance to respond as he takes no time in devouring your pussy like he’s starved. Taking the sensitive bundle of nerves in between his lips he sucks until he pulls out a moan from you.

“S-So good” You incoherently mutter and he takes that has his sign to stick two of his metal fingers in you. Involuntarily you grind yourself onto his hand and his flesh hand holds your hips down and he speeds up.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight. Did you not let anyone touch this pretty pussy the whole time we were broken up? Did you save this pussy for daddy?” Not trusting your voice you just nod your head and he mutters a ‘good girl’ as he fucks you harder. He adds a third finger while sucking on your clit and in no time your hands are tangled in his hair and your cumming on his tongue.

“Ive missed how sweet you taste malysh. Now get on all fours and put that pretty ass in the air for me.” Bucky commands and you do what you’re told. You stick your ass in the air with a little wiggle and soon get a firm smack to the ass and you moan at the contact.

He comes up behind you and runs his hard cock over your pussy to collect your slick on it. You back your ass up on him as a sign for him to fuck you already. With a chuckle he takes the hint and one of his hands grasps your hips while the other lines his cock up with your hole. Both of you let out a pornographic moan when he bottoms out.

“Oh fuck daddy i’ve missed you so fucking much” You scream as he starts up a slow pace since he doesn’t wanna hurt you… yet. His pace stays slow for a few more minutes before he decides to ruin you. He grips your hips and pulls you back on his cock as he fucks you. You lose all upper body strength and fall face first into the pillows with a loud moan.

“You feel so fucking good malysh fuck im gonna fill you up so good and maybe even put a baby in you” He says and the idea of you having his kids drives you insane.

“Please please put a baby in me daddy. I want you to breed me” You plead with soft cry. His eyes blow out with lust as you speak and he thrusts into you harder and faster than you’ve ever had. You can feel the coil in your stomach about to snap again as he snaps his hips into yours.

“Yea? you’d like that wouldn’t you? being my little fucking breeding slut. Use you like the fucking slut you are” He asks but he already knows the answer. And honestly the idea of getting you pregnant makes him even hornier.

“FUCK DADDY PLEASE” You scream as you cum all over Buckys cock which in turn leads him to cum as well as he feels your walls clench down on him.

“Oh fuck” Bucky moans as his head falls back and he fucks his cum into you before slowly pulling out. When he pulls out you roll over to on your back panting. You move the hair that’s suck to your forehead in attempt to collect yourself. Bucky gets off the bed to go grab a towel from the bathroom so he can clean you. He makes his way over to your fucked out body and smiles softly at the sight of you back in his bed.

“Come here Malyshka let me clean you” You nod your head and open your legs. Wincing at the cold cloth you try to move away from it but he doesn’t let you. “its okay once i clean you we can go to sleep” He says quietly as he finishes and throws the towel on the floor.

Bucky lays next to you and lays you on his chest along with covering you both with the comforter. Neither of you say anything as you just revel in being with each other again. Even though a little part of you is still unsure about this, being with him again you decide your gonna give it a try anyway.

“I want to try again” You’re the first one to speak and break the silence. You can physically feel the deep breath Bucky let down and you look up to see him with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you Malysh. I promise i wont hurt you again.” As he speaks you can tell he means what he says and you send him a soft smile at his words.

“I love you Bucky” You say finally using his nickname again. He can’t help but smile like a fool and kiss you passionately.

“I love you too doll, Now get some sleep its been a day” You nod your head and cuddle into his chest before falling into a deep sleep.

Bucky smiles as he looks down at you asleep. He finally got his girl back. He turns his head and looks out the window at the stars and smiles.

“Thank you guys” He mutters before closing his eyes drifting off with you in his arms and a smile on his face.

~The end

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or posted on other sites

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky fluff #bucky smut

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mountymase · 1 year

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invisible string - part three

and i never think of him, except on midnights like this

pairing: reader x mason mount summary: It’s been you and your daughter until life decides to prank you by putting her dad back into your life. The only problem is that he doesn’t know he’s her dad. warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, mentions of childbirth author: not much to say other than a massive THANK YOU for the support and for reading my fic. shoutout to my besties, you know who you are! i'm not tagging anyone this time, the tag list got way too big and i don't think it's fair! word count: 3.666k

PART TWO

Lily wanted to storm inside and hug Summer when Sam opened the door of the car for her, but she kept thinking what her mummy said: ‘don’t forget your manners!’, so as the good girl she wanted to be, she behaved and held the man’s hand as they walked through the front yard. Her mouth was formed in an ‘O’ shape, brown hazel eyes widened when she noticed how big that house was. Not even her grandpapa’s house was this big. She wondered how big Summer’s playroom could be, with all the dolls and teddy bears to play. She also wondered if Summer’s grandmama baked delicious biscuits like hers did, so just in case, she brought some to her bestie — even if they were the last ones because she had eaten almost all of them with her mummy the night before, watching Dumbo.

“Lily!!!” The way Summer hugged her made Lily happy. She had lots of friends from school, but that was her best friend and she was happy they could finally have the day together to play and dance.

Lily stopped on her tracks before Summer could drag her to the play room, and shyly, thinking of her mummy’s words, asked her friend where auntie Jaz and Debbie were. Summer frowned, as if it was obvious that both women were waiting for them there. Lily wasn’t really a shy kid, her mummy always told people she was like a golden retriever puppy and she thought that was a good thing because golden retriever puppies were the best — Lily often wished she could have one for Christmas, but she got Moana instead, the fish. Which was also great because she loved her fish.

The little one shook her head, in a way to push her random thoughts away, and followed Summer into the playroom where Jaz and Debbie were indeed there, waiting for them.

“Hello, Lils.” Jaz cooed, arms open ready to embrace the four year old. “Can I get a hug?”

Lily nodded and, not letting Summer’s hand go, she went for the tightest hug her tiny arms could give Jasmine and Summer, at the same time. For some odd reason, Debbie’s heart melted seeing that. “What about me? Do I get a double hug too?” The little girls giggled together and hugged Debbie when Jaz let them go.

“You’re warm just like my grandmama.” Lily stated, letting a long sigh out of her lungs. Sighing while hugging people was how she’d tell them she felt comfortable.

“It’s a grandmama thing, sweetheart. Just don’t tell anyone or they’ll all want our hugs.” Debbie winked, making Lily giggle.

They had lunch together, ate the biscuits Lily had carefully packed on a paper bag and Summer convinced her mum to give them chocolate chip ice cream. Coincidentally, that was Lily’s favourite too, and she had a special way of eating it.

“I like it a bit melted.” She explained, making Debbie raise an eyebrow at her but there was a soft smile curling the sides of her lips.

“Do you remember Mason did the exact same thing, Jaz?”

Lily heard that name multiple times throughout the day, and found out that it was Summer’s uncle. Her favourite, but her other uncle Lewis couldn’t know or he’d get sad. She didn’t care much, though, focusing her energy a lot more on enjoying the great time she was having with her best friend and how nice her family was. She met Summer’s grandpapa, her other uncle Lewis - who squeezed her chubby cheeks when she called him ‘uncle’ - but the best part of the afternoon, besides Debbie’s perfect biscuits and sandwiches, was feeling the baby inside Jaz’s tummy kicking. Mummy Y/n had briefly explained about how a baby stayed inside a mummy’s tummy, eating and sleeping until it was time for them to meet the family, but that was the first time Lily felt a baby kick. She asked Jaz if it hurt, and the woman explained that it did sometimes, but the baby didn’t mean it.

There was a permanent frown on Lily’s face as her brain was almost on fire at the thought of that baby kicking, but she also thought it was marvelous, so her tiny chubby hand just rested there, on Jaz’s bump, waiting for it to kick again. It suddenly felt way more interesting than playing with dolls.

“Lily, come see my uncle Masey!” Not leaving Jazmine’s side, she shook her head, but still looked at her friend as Summer pointed at Debbie’s phone and the stranger had a wide smile on his lips. Summer, giving up with a defeated sigh, walked towards her friend so she could properly ‘meet’ her favourite uncle.

“Hello. Can I call you uncle too?” Lily asked, watching him nod. That smile never leaves his lips.

“Are you the friend that Summer can’t stop talking about?” He asked, making her blush a little.

“Mhmm, I’m Lilian Maisie.”

“Maisie? Are you telling me, little lady, that Summer’s besties are Masey and Maisie?”

Lily let out a cheerful laugh at his reaction to her name when she noticed how fun the coincidence was. Another thing added to the list of things that made her absolutely love being Summer’s friend and how much she wished the girl would stay around forever. Lily would never let her go.

For the next few minutes, Mason made a whole bunch of comments on how cool it was that they shared names, with Summer singing ‘Masey and Maisieee’ in the background while she danced, twirling around her best friend with the phone on her hands until Jasmine told her to stop so she wouldn’t get hurt.

They talked for a few more minutes before Mason said his goodbyes, said he’d be back home soon from wherever he was, Lily didn’t pay much attention to it because the baby kicked again, making an almost inaudible giggle part her lips as she covered her mouth with her hand.

When it was dinner time, the girls went out with Debbie and Tony for pizza, with Y/n’s blessing even if her daughter already had way too much junk food for a weekend. They had fun, took pictures and shared a supermarket trolley when Debbie made a quick stop to buy some essentials Jaz needed.

Lily didn’t know the hard word for it, to explain what she felt, but it made her little heart pound so hard against her chest she could almost hear it. That Saturday had been the best she ever had, and holding Summer’s hand under the duvet as they prepared to sleep, she rolled on her side to find a sleepy bestie next to her.

“Summer,” With much effort, Summer opened her eyes, squeezing her friend’s hand so she’d continue. “I love you. Promise you’ll always be my bestie?”

“I love you too, Maisie. I promise.” Summer mumbled, eyes finally closing as she moved closer to put a chubby arm over her best friend’s body.

Jasmine felt oddly happy when she overheard the confessions and promises of two girls who knew nothing about life, but sounded so wise knowing what love and true friendship was. Perhaps, they were wiser than her. Still, she had never seen such a strong bond before but was more than happy that her daughter had someone she could count on at a young age. Jaz hoped it’d last forever and that the bond could be extended to the rest of both families because Y/n seemed like a fantastic young woman, a fantastic mum too, raising that beautiful and loving little girl on her own, despite having support.

“She’s so full of energy, isn’t she? I mean,” Jaz started as Sam, her husband, turned his attention from a book he’d been trying to finish to her. “Summer is just the same, they’re two little hurricanes but it’s not chaotic at all when they’re together.”

“And I was expecting some chaos.” Sam added, getting a chuckle and a nod from his wife.

“Mase was like them when he was a kid, and he was also the most loving little boy, so thoughtful. Like Lily.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what Summer needed while he’s away. A friend just like him.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

PRESENT DAY

“Mummy,” With tiny hands resting on her waist, Lily rolled her eyes, impatience making chubby cheeks flush pink as a sigh parted her lips. You watched your daughter close her eyes as if she was mentally counting to ten, which he most likely was. Lily, always the mini adult. “Take me now!”

If Lily had any idea what reason was behind you trying to convince her to miss ballet class on that typically rainy Thursday, she’d make you feel embarrassed with yourself. She was like your personal little voice of reason, always so patient despite having so much energy all the time, always trying to make you see things the way she did. Lilian was smarter than the kids her age, and it wasn’t hard for her to notice how weird her mummy had been acting lately, although she couldn’t figure out why.

You had been able to escape Jasmine for almost two weeks since Lily spent the weekend at her place, at least in person, because you texted all the time. It was easier to lie this way, not seeing in her person, because that woman was too kind for you to simply hide from her the fact that your daughter was her niece. Without even noticing, you and Jaz were slowly becoming very good friends, the only problem was how much she insisted on seeing you for whatever it was — shopping, dinner, taking the girls out… you always had to come up with an excuse. It was nearly suffocating. Not because you didn’t like her, but because you had no idea for how long you’d be able to keep things from her.

With a defeated look on your face and a victorious smile on Lily’s, you two were welcomed by the typical warmth from the ballet studio, and the smell of orange blossom mixed with wood. It was comforting, happy — it fit the place. The teacher always welcomed you with a quick hug, and then her attention was all Lily’s as both left holding hands to meet the girls who had already arrived for class.

When Jasmine waved cheerful but discreetly, you wished you had changed into full mum instead of mummy mode and insisted on the ‘no’ you so wanted to give Lily about ballet today. But it really was about not punishing her, about not taking away the things she liked the most only because her mummy was such a coward.

Jaz had both hands around her bump, which made you instantly miss being pregnant although the first 6 weeks were the hardest, with you being diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum and your life turning into severe nausea and vomiting, dehydration, fatigue, among other symptoms.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” You blushed, wishing you could run away and hide somewhere until class was over and she wouldn’t see you.

“Been busy.” You replied, making Jaz narrow her eyes at you. She shook her head, clearly not buying your excuses all this time. Still, she linked her arm on yours and carried you outside the studio. You frowned. “Do you mind sharing where we are going?”

“Coffee, or tea. Then you’re joining me on baby shopping.” Then she started rambling about how could you two be friends by only texting, and how could you make your daughters’ friendship stronger if you never met, how important it was for them that you’d have some sort of bond too. Jasmine had no idea that no matter how much you liked her, there was no need for a special bond between the two of you for Summer and Lily to love each other so much. It was natural for them because they were family.

All that rambling annoyed you, and you started to feel way too hot for someone exposed to the cold and rain, as if your blood was boiling as it ran through your veins. It’s not her fault, it’s not her fault - you kept thinking. And she was also a pregnant woman, heavily pregnant, so lashing out at her wasn’t an option, even if you wanted to tell Jaz to back off a bit and just let you breathe.

You both decided to go for hot tea. Jaz because she avoided coffee as much as she could and you, because you thought coffee would increase your anxiety. It really was hard being around her and hiding the truth as she praised your daughter.

Baby shopping soothed your nerves. All those tiny clothes, toys, the smell; it all took you to a place free of any kind of worries because they made your mind go back to the past and its happy memories of Lily as a baby. Her chubby and tiny hands, the look of love on her big brown eyes and the toothless smile always followed by a laugh that’d fill the room with joy.

Lilian was your everything, and there was no reason to keep forbidding her to live life to the fullest because as long as you kept hiding the truth, that also meant there’d be a missing piece in her life.

“The first 6 weeks of my pregnancy were the hardest, you know,” You started, not caring if you finally had interrupted Jaz on her endless chattering about how expensive those tiny things for babies could be. She gave you a sweet smile, nodding, knowing what you were talking about. “Besides the stress, HG kicked my arse, I was always in and out of the hospital. It was fucking hell.”

Reaching for your phone, you opened the album ‘Lilian Maisie’ in your gallery, showing photos of your bump, videos of your baby shower, as a wide smile spread across her lips. The next pictures were the ones of you and your family at the hospital, the night you gave birth.

“How was it for you?” Jaz asked, pointing at the birthing pool when you showed her a photo of you inside, peace sign on your fingers, messy bun and the most exhausted smile. She really didn’t mind you turning their baby shopping into you showing Lily’s life as you were both still at the store, standing between the onesies and the teddy bears aisle.

If you were going to do this, if you were going to tell her… it had to be where you felt comfortable. Oddly, it was there.

“The complete opposite of the entire pregnancy. Giving birth to Lily was calm and peaceful, despite all the pain, obviously.” You both shared a laugh, she knew exactly how it felt. The next photo was the first ever taken of you and Lily, while you were feeding her for the first time. “I never thought I could love that little girl so much until I started breastfeeding her, it was the most special thing of the whole ‘I’m a mummy now’ thing.”

“It’s how we bond with them.” You nodded, agreeing completely.

Next, you allowed Jaz to have a blast scrolling through photos of Lily growing up. The first fruit, first steps, first tooth and first birthday. She never stopped smiling, letting a few ‘awww’ as you told the story behind a few photos. A two year old Lily in a yellow bikini and her face all dirty after having her first mango on your first trip to Greece got Jaz giggling for a few minutes.

“He was never around, was he?” Jaz asked, you just sighed in return, knowing who she was talking about. “Her dad was never around.”

“I tried to tell him, but he just… Gosh, I went to his place and I was ready to tell him but he shoved me off. Politely, but he did. He never let me say whatever it was that I had to say, Jaz. He thought I went there for a whole different reason!” Finally, you took a long deep breath and all Jaz did was to hug you. Her hands rubbing your back, trying to calm you down. “I met part his family recently.”

Holding your arms, Jaz stepped back, her eyebrows raised at you. “You did? How was it?”

“They’re so lovely I feel guilty for hiding this from them.”

“Oh, Y/n… it’s not your fault!” She hugged you again, squeezing you so tight it only made you feel worse.

“No, Jaz. It kinda is, I should’ve insisted. If not for him, for Lily, so she’d have her fantastic auntie around, so she’d have her other grandparents. On top of that, I took from Lily 4 years of the most beautiful bond I’ve ever seen.” Taking a long, deep breath, you pushed Jasmine away and gave a soft squeeze on her arms. “With Summer.”

“W-what?” Her jaw dropped, her bag almost fell to the ground but you took it before and handed it back to her. “What do you mean, Y/n? What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I named her Lilian Maisie for a reason.” You lowered your head, not wanting her to see how your eyes now sparkled with hot tears that you wouldn’t allow to roll down your cheeks. “I wanted Lily to have something of him. Of Mason.”

A sniff coming from Jasmine and how she broke down the next second made you look up, she was so much better at not hiding her emotions. Tears fell freely down her flushed cheeks. She reached for your hand, linking your fingers on hers.

“We’ll, Y/n… that explains a lot. Let’s pick up our girls and we can go to yours, I want you to tell me the whole story.”

The walk back to the studio was quiet but, thankfully, not an awkward quiet. You shared glances and smiles, one comforting the other, knowing how shitty that situation was and how there was just one person who should be a priority: Lily. And when Jasmine saw her for the first time since you dropped the truth, you watched every already expected reaction, but as much as she was great at sharing her feelings, Jaz was also perfect at not letting the girls notice something was off. She hugged both when class was done, but the way she looked at your daughter was different. The look in her eyes was of pure love and joy.

When you walked into your apartment, apologising for the unusual mess, Jaz made herself comfortable on your large sofa as her hands rested on her bump. Still in silence, she watched you settle everything for a spag bol night until the doorbell rang and, for her surprise, Sam walked in.

“I don't want you carrying the weight of this alone, Jaz.” She squeezed your hand as a ‘thank you’, knowing that having someone to talk about the fact that her brother had a daughter he didn’t know would make it easier for her, it would make it easier to wait until he and the rest of the family knew. Until you felt ready to tell.

“I’m sorry for this.” You frowned at her words but was quick to reassure she had absolutely nothing to apologise for, Jasmine had offered you nothing but support and kindness, her reaction had been free of any kind of judgment and not once she questioned your actions, knowing that all this time your priority was doing what you thought that was better for Lily.

While the girls were in Lily’s bedroom, playing, you told Jaz and her husband the whole story. You watched her cringe a bit when you mentioned the condom getting stuck, Sam chuckled but was quick to apologise when he noticed you blushing and when Jaz slapped his thigh. “I know it’s awfully pathetic, and I hope I never have to tell my kid all these details.” You admitted, wanting to disappear between the cushions.

“I know you’re not asking for our opinion, but I think you should’ve insisted on telling him.” Sam added when you finished the story.

“I know.” You mumbled, your fingers now seemed more interesting than anything else as you played with them. “I didn’t know him. I mean, I still don’t. It felt like I wouldn’t get much support from him considering his behaviour. And I felt miserable all the time.”

“He would’ve supported you. He will.” Jasmine’s words made you feel safe. Not for you, but for Lily, as it was all about her. “We’ll think of a way to tell him and make it as smoothly as possible.”

When they decided to leave, Jaz asked Sam to take a sleepy Summer to the car while she said her goodbyes. You guessed she wanted a moment alone with you and Lily, and as you watched how loving she was with her niece, the way she hugged her and softly squeezed the tip of Lily’s nose, you couldn’t really find the right words to thank her. For everything, but mostly, for not judging and not questioning if Mason really was Lily’s father. Sharing that with her, when Lily left for her bedroom again, you first got a giggle as a reply.

“Y/n, she looks so much like him I could never question that. It’s not only her looks, but her entire personality, her laugh… it’s all Mase.”

With busy days, you rarely thought of him. But late at night, Mason would often show up to haunt you. Either in your dreams or keeping you wide awake, making you think how he’d be as a father, and how you’d be as family because once you’d finally tell him the truth, it’d make you a family. Mason would have to be there for her, to support Lily through it all, to be part of her education. He’d be there for special occasions, he’d be around…

Forever.

*******

BONUS: social media - lily maisie and summer // baby lilian maisie

jazbenham

Liked by yourusername, masonmount and others

jazbenham just two besties matching outfits on their first Saturday night out! Love these cuties!

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yourusername my heart 🥹

jazbenham I know!!!

masonmount 💙 cute

staceymount_muchmore omg who’s this??!! So adorable!!

jazbenham that’s Lily, she’s Summer’s bestie from ballet 🤍

BABY LILIAN MAISIE / your gallery

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount blurb

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girls-alias · 4 months

Text

Protection - Dean Winchester

Title: Protection - Dean Winchester Words: 1,134 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Violence, swearing.

Prompt:

Dean found out you have an abusive boyfriend and when he sees him he knocks him out.

"Y/n, come down here," Sam called as you entered the bunker, you slowly made your way down the stairs, dreading having to lie to them again.

"What happened to your face?!" Dean almost shouted once you made it to the bottom of the stairs. The boys were always a little protective, and always had your back but Dean always was a little more intense. The pit in your stomach grew as the lie seeped out of your lips.

"I slipped in the shower and smacked the side of my face on the tiling, Don't worry, the tiles don't look as good as I do," I chuckled. Sam and Dean seemed to exchange a look but I ignored it. The beats were getting more frequent and dangerous. I knew it wasn't my fault he beat me but there was nothing I could do about it. At this point, I didn't know who I was protecting, my boyfriend or Sam and Dean. I sighed as I took a seat beside Sam, I looked over his laptop at the information on the screen. Sam took the hint and started explaining the hunt he found. I felt Dean staring at me the entire time. An intense stare which made the cuts and bruises sting again.

"Your tiles have a mean left hook," He commented as Sam and I were talking I just swallowed my pride and carried on talking.

Once most of the day was gone on research we agreed to go on the hunt tomorrow since it was only half a day's drive. Throughout the day Dean had made comments about my busted lip and bruised cheek but I ignored them and eventually, he stopped. I knew he would bring it up again but as I walked out of the bunker I was thankful to be alone a little. I sat in my car for a few minutes crying with my hands on the steering wheel. I just hate this. I hate lying to them, I hate that the only person I ever asked to love me beats me and hates me. I just wish a lot of things were different in my life.

I drove off not listening to any music. That was the first sign of me losing the will to live and be happy, music was my happiness but now I prefer silence. I just hope Mason isn't in the beating mood today. I practically prayed that he would be asleep when I got home but as I pulled up I saw the lights on and instant dread filled me. A tear fell as I sighed and climbed out of the car. He must be eager because the front door opened and he watched me walk closer to him.

"Hey," Dean's voice called from behind me as I climbed the steps. My heart rate is too fast for humanly possible. My mouth instantly dries and my eyes widen as I turn to face him. Oh god! Why?!?! "Y/N, you forgot your hat," He added as he approached me. He held out his black hat smiling at me till I took it. My eyebrows twitched in confusion. I slowly took the hat and Dean turned to my boyfriend. "I'm Dean, Y/N's co-worker," He added holding his hand out.

"Mason," He replied shaking his hand, "You've been mentioned a lot, nice to finally meet you," He added and my eyes filled with tears. He's going to kill me for this.

"Well, have a good night, be safe kids," Dean joked making Mason laugh. Mason put his hand on my shoulder as he watched Dean walk back to his car. His grip got harder the further away Dean got. Once Dean was in the car, Mason waved with a smile, keeping a hand on me as Dean drove off. Once out of view Mason practically threw me into the house. He slammed the door behind us.

"What the fuck was that?!" He screamed.

"I'm sorry, I forgot my hat, I wasn't thinking," I stumbled trying to get some distance between us but he loomed over me.

"Obviously," He barked making me flinch. "Look at you, you're so pathetic. Stand up!" He added and I quickly obliged. "You're never going to make me look stupid like that again," He explained through gritted teeth.

Dean's POV:

I pulled up just given the house, looking through the window at Mason shouting at her. I instantly wanted to run in even for looking at her wrong but I had no proof and I wasn't sure she would admit it, I knew that every cut and bruise was from him. It had been happening for months and I couldn't do anything about it but now I will. I watched intensely until my phone rang. It was Sam so answered it with a sigh.

"Look, I know you're outside of Y/N's house..." Sam began but I interrupted.

"You can't talk me out of it," I nonchalantly remarked with a disgusted tone.

"Wouldn't dream of it, I just wanted you to kick him in the ribs from me," Sam shrugged. I was silent in confusion.

"Really?" I asked in disbelief. I figured Sam would want to do the right thing.

"Yeah, give him all the bruises he gave her," Sam added.

"Will do," I hung up as Mason grew angrier. As soon as he raised his fist I practically ran to the door. I kicked it in with ease as my anger was stronger than the door. Y/N was on the floor clutching her nose watching as Mason's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and I raised my fist. He was instantly on the floor beside her. "Y/N, pack your bag, we're leaving," I stated angrily. She scurried away up the stairs. Mason breathed his anger.

"Get back here!" He screamed getting up but I blocked his way.

"You touch her again and I'll-" I started to threaten.

"What you'll beat me up? I'm not scared of you," Mason interrupted but I smirked.

"No, I'm beating you up now but if you touch her again I'll kill you," I smirked before punching him again. I was in a raging state and only snapped out when Y/N was pulling him off. She wasn't strong enough but her screams caught me out of my trance.

"You'll kill him," She warned and I stopped with heavy breath. I stood up straight and kicked him in the ribs. I sighed before leading Y/N out. We said nothing the entire way back to the bunker.

As soon as the car doors were slammed shut we stood there looking at each other over the car.

"Thank you," Was all she needed to say with the relieved smile on her face I knew I did the right thing.

Masterlist

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader

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marisferasiop · 7 months

Text

Transplant: Part 2/3

MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT! clicking readmore implies your consent!

Summary: You and Ezra get closer; Joel pines; Tommy interferes.

Part One: ao3 / Tumblr

The weeks tick by and you’re not as busy- once the snow melts, the standard visit predictably turns from common colds and finding hypothermic people in the snow and dealing with ice- related slips and falls to finding errant infected outside the walls and a few burgeoning pregnancies inside them.

You’re talking to such a patient in an exam room on Saturday when you hear the door in the front jingle. You poke your head out and call that you’ll be right there. You finish explaining the process of a termination to the terrified young woman on the chair in front of you and leave her to her decision. “I’ll be back in a few minutes hon. Let me know. You can take some time, but it’ll be harder to bounce back the longer you wait. It’s really early now.”

You come out to the waiting area to see Tommy, Cee, and Ezra in a row of seats, looking expectant. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Tommy stands and waves a hand at the newcomers. “We’re trying to find jobs for these two. Cee has some trauma care experience, as it pans out, and before the slavers took their QZ and put him in the mines, Ezra says he was a- an herbalist?” He frowns and turns back.

“Forager, primarily smuggling in medicinal herbs and growin’ weed outside the QZ walls,” he chuckles with an easy grin. “But I have a keen knowledge of medicinal and ayurvedic foliage, as well as how to cure tinctures and blend salves and the like. I believe if I'm partnered with someone with a gun until I can train up my off hand with such a weapon, I can be useful foraging and working in that arena.”

“Right,” you glance back at Tommy, eyebrow cocked. “I mean, me and Sam can definitely use another for rotation. You want me to train Cee up in medicine?”

“I’m thinking you train Cee up, and take Ezra with you when you go on foraging rounds with the patrolmen, and he can make the salves and tinctures and whatever. And otherwise he can help in the community garden? Sort of part time in both til summer and fall when you will have more trips out, switch in the late summer and fall to more garden work?”

You nod, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking. You turn to Cee. “I know you're not too squeamish, which is good. You have an interest in medicine, though?”

“I've always wanted to write, honestly. Not much use for it, though. So yeah, I can do medicine. I don't not have an interest,” she shrugs.

“Fair enough. Although people like reading, still. People are still people, kid. Art is a necessity, even in an apocalypse. Write in your down time, maybe we’ll put your stuff on the library shelves,” you wink at her shy smile and turn to Ezra.

“Come on, pothead. I’ll show you the shed.”

Ezra laughs and levers himself up, still a little tilted at the hips. “I must riposte that moniker, soleil. I said I grew the weed, I never mentioned partaking.”

Tommy waves you both off and disappears back outside to attend to whatever chore he has today.

“Forgive my disbelief. You have always seemed like a man looking for any way to enjoy some creature comforts where you can find them.”

He makes a face you haven't seen yet- a slow, easy grin edging on a smirk denting his cheek into a dimple. You're helpless but to roll your eyes with a barely-there huff and turn away, beckoning them both to follow.

You lead Cee and Ezra back through the clinic to the back lot, wedged in a narrow alley between your strip and the one behind. There’s a long shed there, painted a flaking olive drab. You unlock it and throw both doors open, revealing a long workbench on one side under a window, covered in neatly organized stacks of mortar- and- pestles and rows of Mason jars filled with plain salve or clear carrier oils. Bundles of dried herbs hang from the entire ceiling and the other three walls. The shelves along the long wall are filled with jars of dried, sealed herbs and little pots of distillates, tinctures, and resins.

“This is quite the operation,” Ezra says appreciatively, eyeing the bundles and variation, the jars lining the walls and tables. He nods to himself and turns to you with a smirk. “I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“The old lady who used to run the clinic with me was a bit of a chemistry nut. I got the feeling she cooked meth Before, honestly.”

It surprises a laugh out of Ezra, his dark eyes sparking with it. It makes you smile, and you catch Cee looking every bit a teenager, like she's watching her parent be as embarrassing as possible and would love nothing more than to flee the scene.

“Well. I gotta get back to my patient, I've left her in the exam room long enough. Come back Monday after you drop Cee at school and we can talk shop. I’ll see you on Saturdays only ‘til you're done with school, kiddo. Pay attention in science and math.”

“Sure,” she smiles easily, and Ezra takes the bait. He saunters out of the shed and they wait for you to lock up before you go back in. They wave and amble off down the alley and you go back inside.

The girl has her abortion that day after Sam gets in to cover for your disappearance into the OR. You give her some solace in the decision. She's only sixteen. One of Ellie's classmates and friends.

And it is, after all, the apocalypse.

_______________

Yarrow. Dead nettle. Clover. Stinging nettle. Fiddlehead ferns. Wild asparagus! Mushrooms galore (though you test them very, very thoroughly). Dandelion out the ass.

Ezra is certainly skilled at foraging. Skilled isn't strong enough a word for how he uncovers troves. Gifted, perhaps. Every time he comes back to you and the trio of horses, he’s got a newly- laden basket and a wide, smug grin.

You make sure to gift him back all the smiles and conversation he can stand, which is apparently an endless amount.

Every now and then you feel your escort Cam’s eyes on you from the edge of the lake some twenty yards away, fishing. Cam is Joel’s usual patrol partner because they're both brash, quiet assholes and no one else can stand being with them for a full shift. You're sure a running commentary will be belated on Joel’s next patrol rounds.

Joel as a whole subject nags at the back of your mind as you carefully saw off a veritable wall of oyster mushrooms on a fallen log. He had gotten spooked again, either by someone in town or his own built up walls, and you've been relegated back to stiff nods and barely- there glances, the shadow of him hiding behind his windows instead of escorting you through town when your shifts line up.

It chafes against all the easy smiles and conversation and escorting back and forth from your mutual street and the clinic that Ezra gives you these days. All the attention and kinship.

Part of you thinks that the most-recent wedge Joel drove between you and him is because of Ezra. Because of whatever that patrolman said that got under Joel’s skin. You know he harbors doubts about being enough, a lot of the time. Enough for Ellie, for his brother. Not being enough for his daughter Sarah, who he lost on outbreak day. Because after he declined to share your bed the day you escorted Ezra home was one of the last times you’ve seen him in the flesh, let alone held a full conversation with him.

Ellie still walks home with you plenty, but like any kid she’s absorbed in her own world. Which is good, you don't need or want to drag her into yours. You talk to Ezra and she talks to Cee, and you split at the road between your houses, and you divide again at the fence line. Sometimes he’s a shadow in the window, and sometimes she pauses to use her key to get inside.

The next day is the same; meet Ezra on the road and walk to the clinic, sometimes he leaves you there with a wink and heads for the nursery and sometimes he goes through the clinic with you and exits out to the shed and meets you back in the hallway for meals. You both walk home with the girls and split at the road. Day in, day out.

One day he asked you to come over for dinner.

“Anytime, not- not now, if it’s not convenient. You know best where to find us,” he smiles, and ducks his head and meanders off.

You blink down at the bed of dandelion you’re uprooting and suddenly he’s back in front of you with a fresh basket dangling from the loose curl of his fingers down by his thigh, watching you curiously. “Where did you fly off to, sol- chérie?” his curls float softly on the wind, that white tuft flashing, softly framing his deep, round eyes.

You huff a laugh at yourself and shake your head. He’s managed to find a few fat morels and another bundle of purplish- tipped asparagus.

“Dinner,” you say, and smile up at him, The sun frames a halo round his head and he grins, the brightness of his simple anticipation overtaking the sun itself.

“Were you, now?”

“I was,” you reply. He sets down his basket and offers you a hand up. You take it, and stand.

“I would like that.”

In lieu of answering, you dump your basket of dandelion flowers and greens into a satchel and stand. “I’ll see if Cam hasn’t caught a fish or two, since he's over here being a useless guard,” you tease loudly, earning the lazy ire of your gunman and escort. “Keep foraging?”

Ezra nods, squinting at you in the bright spring sun, and flashes that dimple.

Hours later, when the sun is setting and you’re riding the Whiskey and Rye back, closely followed by your gunman on his mount, Snickers, their saddlebags laden with tightly-bound bunches of herbs and a satchel of fish, Ezra pipes up.

“You can tell me it's none of my business, soleil. But what is the deal with you and your neighbor? I don't want to go crossing any boundaries,” he clarifies at your frown. You scowl at the back of Cam’s head and clear your throat.

“Nothing. Used to be, I guess. If you could call it that. ‘f you could call it anything. But he’s riddled with trauma, like most of us. And he stepped back. So, nothing,” you shrug. “No boundaries to cross, far as I'm concerned.”

Ezra is quiet for a stretch, pondering. You squint back at him, swaying along with Whiskey’s steps, and smirk. “I’m not hurt by it. He’s never been easy, and we had an understanding. An arrangement, more than anything. And he’s drawn back. It's not like we divorced and he kept the kid,” you snort. “I promise. I don't even owe alimony or anything.”

That finally draws a chuckle from Ezra, and you grin back at him, feeling like you won something. “Don't get a complex about it. And don't be afraid of him. He just looks tough. Big old baby, if you ask me.” You smirk when you see Cam’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

Ezra shakes his head and cocks a brow in your direction. “I am sure he is to you, soleil. Many men are prone to mirroring such domestic softness when presented with it. I have no doubt you were a gentle landing, while it lasted. From what I've heard from the women at the nursery and the men at the mess hall, he cuts quite the ah- intimidating figure across town. But alright. I won’t ask again, unless it seems relevant.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m probably the only person here aside from Tommy who’s never actually been afraid of him.”

“Had him made from the start, did you?” Ezra chuckles. “I would not be surprised.”

“Hard not to when he and Ellie showed back up the second time half dead and barely speaking to one another. I had them both on IVs for days, regular checkups, like I did with you. One thing led to another, et cetera.”

Ezra hums and is quiet for a stretch. “His girl and Cee are getting on like a house fire.”

“Ellie. She’s a good kid. She’s gay as the trees and smart as anything. What about Cee?” You cut him a gimlet eye and Ezra throws his head back with a laugh.

“Heaven above, soleil, I have wondered, a-haha! Maybe.” He shrugs. “She hasn’t said, but I do hope she knows I wouldn't care for her any less either way. I have long been somewhat ambivalent regarding the gender of my own partners, when I have such pleasures in this life, so I can’t see why she would hide anything from me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, whether she sneaks off with Ellie or starts bringing a boy ‘round.”

“I imagine, based on getting to know her– in captivity of course, and then now outside of it– that Cee will do no such thing. I believe when she finds a partner, she’ll be all about sneaking off with them, not luring them home. Either way, as long as she is safe, I can’t say much.”

He grips the reins in his fist and shifts his weight to glance back at you just a foot or two behind. Not having much to say to that, you offer a friendly smile, which he returns.

“So what shall I prep for dinner, soleil? We’ve got a good handful of trout in our friend’s bag, and greens for days. The grocer should have potatoes from the nursery by now? I dug some up two days ago.”

“Definitely the asparagus. That’s the highlight of the day’s finds for me.”

Ezra hums and agrees. “I do have to admit, the buggers are hard enough to find that it feels like a veritable goldmine when you find a patch.”

The gate crew let you in and you ride the horses to the stable, making sure they got a treat each for their trouble. Cam makes himself scarce with the wall crew, and you squash the immediate feeling that the gossip has already begun. After offloading the herbs into the shack for the next week’s work, you and Ezra deposited most of the edible forage and fish at the mess hall and started the trek to Rancher Street.

You split at your front gate, accepting Ezra’s offer to come over after cleaning up.

“Gimme an hour,” you say with a smile, and he nods with one of his own, dropping a kiss on your knuckles. You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and watch him go across to his own house, swinging the basket with what’s left of your finds.

When you turn to go up your own steps, you miss the stir of the curtain in Joel’s front window.

_______________

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, thunking down a condensating glass with two fingers of whiskey rimming the bottom. Joel scowls at him and takes up the glass, swirling it instead of drinking.

“Don't know what–”

“You damn well do. You were doin’ real good here for a long time, ‘n now you're back to being a cranky old asshole constantly, snapping at the patrolmen and eating barely anything and bein’ a fucking hermit. What happened?” Tommy drops onto a stool across the table at the Tipsy Bison and props his elbows on it.

“Is it Ellie?”

Joel rolls his eyes in lieu of answering. Tommy just frowns.

“Is it Sunny?”

“Why in the fuck would it be her?”

Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. “Brother, you’d have to be blind or dumb to not see that you two had been fucking for a while. You break up with her?”

A muscle rolls along Joel’s jaw as he presses his molars together. He takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “There was nothing to break up.”

In answer, Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. “So let me lay this out. You and your curmudgeonly old ass managed to get genuinely the nicest person in town into a friends- with- benefits situation, then dumped her, and still have the audacity to be an ass about it? While she’s out here keeping the town afloat and healthy every day like it’s all fine?”

“Tommy–”

“Did she dump you?”

“Tommy! I–”

“You know big brother. Sometimes I have to wonder how you turned out quite this damned mean. If anyone deserves the ass- end of your temper, it sure as shit ain't your kid or Sunny, of all people.” He dumps the rest of his drink into Joel’s glass and moves like he’s going to get up. “How long ‘til you’re begging for her back?”

Joel stares at him for a long moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Probably not long.”

Tommy nods, snorting a noiseless, mirthless laugh. They're quiet for a long minute, and then: “She’s with the new guy now. I think. Went to his after they were outside the walls all day.”

Tommy arches a brow and hums. “Ezra’s nice. Don’t know much about him other than he’s sweet on her and good to his kid, works hard at the nursery and the herb shed. Maybe she’ll give it a go, decide that being a side piece for some old man dick isn’t her style after all.”

He laughs at the flat, dark look Joel gives him.

“If he's better for her, and she wants him, she should stay with him. I dont- I don't know if I could let another one in, Tommy.”

Tommy nods, finding the conversation unfortunately familiar. He heard something similar the first time Joel showed up in Jackson. It was just as heartbreaking then. “I think you should have learned by now to stop making your girls’ decisions for them, first of all. Secondly, what if she wants you both?”

Joel frowns like it's the wildest thing he's ever heard.

“I mean it. It suits your need to have that stupid- ass self-serving boundary up around your heart. And she gets the domesticity and affection she probably wants from him. Everyone gets laid and gets what they need. Might not be the worst idea.”

In answer, Joel just scoffs and downs his drink. “Maybe.”

“You best get to crawlin’ then, brother.”

_______________

Dinner was delicious.

Despite losing a hand and spending years as a grunt on rations, Ezra's bred-in southern skills in the kitchen had not waned a bit. He had Cee help him clean and filet the fish, which he pan-fried in a bit of oil and herb. (She had rolled her eyes and, after asking if he needed any more help for his date, made herself scarce. If he noticed the door across the street slam and a little brown head bobbing along by her golden one, he didn't mention it to anyone, after).

He roasted a handful of small potatoes and carefully blanched and roasted the asparagus. By the time he saw you walking across the road in a clean outfit, your hair coiffed and face fresh, he was turning off the elements and washing up.

You ate, and talked. Mostly about Before, but some about after. Friends you’d each made and lost, family that hadn't made it, or if they had, were still far off.

Ezra was from honest- to- goodness Cajun country. He had grown up trilingual in Acadia, Louisiana with a rooted Cajun father and Chilean immigrant mother. He was well- read and had been a freshly-graduated geologist working his first job with the national parks service in Yellowstone before the outbreak.

With no way to reach his family clear across the country, he’d stayed on in Wyoming. He eventually went with his ever-shrinking work group across to Bozeman’s QZ with the intent of continuing southeast on one of the work transfer convoys between QZs. A few had died from infection or raider attacks on the way to Bozeman, and the rest is history.

“A geologist. I bet they liked you in the mines in Bozeman, then, eh?” You asked, and his answering smile was only a little brittle at the edges.

“They did, which was not to my benefit, mind you. Even though my education and training was primarily regarding the dating of prehistoric stratum and lava flows, I was good at finding the ore the slavers wanted, even the little threads. They never would have let me go, you see? So I had to find a way out– for her. Even if it was the last thing I did. She had no one left to help her.”

“Awfully loyal of you,” you comment, resettling your weight in your seat beside him on the sofa. Ezra hums.

“Maybe. But when one has naught left to live for, what's a spare bit of loyalty for a friend. Especially to save them?” he basks in your soft, slow smile.

“Besides, she saved me, too. I forfeited myself to those smugglers, knowing full well I'd die, slowly and terribly, only hoping she’d run. She didn't, tough little thing. She just hid and shot ‘em when they were focused on trying to hold me down and hack my damned arm off. And then dragged my unconscious person for days to find help. What little I did to get us outside those walls wasn’t all that effort, really.”

“Ezra. It’s okay to be grateful to a child. You saved one another from a truly terrible ordeal, and now you’re safe.”

He hums and swirls the now-cool herbal tea he has cupped against his chest. You’re both at odd ends of his couch, knees up on the seat and facing one another. The sun is finally going down outside, nearing full spring now, with longer, hotter days looming.

“Soleil,” he says, and sets his mug on the upturned crate in front of the sofa, acting as a coffee table. “Allow me to press my luck a bit. If you are free to do so, and interested, I would very much like to kiss you. Or- or simply hold you, if that is not too impertinent a request.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches your cheeks to almost hurting as you copy him and set your own mug on the table. “Just one?” You tease, sliding forward on your knees until you’re on your right hip, knees against the back of the couch, your whole front leaning into his. It opens his left side up to hook his arm around you, his armless right side against the couch backing.

You’d give anything to get a picture of his face right this second, as you lean in, to keep forever. His dark eyes drop wide, soaking you in, and he leans down to carefully put his face in your path, still asking. In answer, you tip your chin up and let your lips meet in a chaste press, only the tiniest bit wet in the center.

“I may– need more than one, soleil,” he admits, and you huff a laugh. “Will you– mmff,” you cut him off by pulling his chin back toward you, opening up and letting him finally lick inside.

You both taste like tea and it’s warm and wet, something terribly soft and domestic that you haven't had in years. That you hadn't even remembered wanting in years.

The angle is awkward and both too far away and yet a link is developing in your neck from curving it. Ezra’s arm clutches you to him, his hand tight on your side and other shoulder moving, wanting desperately to pull you even closer, it seems. In response, you get onto your knees above him and pull away.

“Can I?” You ask, indicating a straddle, and his eyes blow wide, a pink tongue appearing to wet his lips.

“Christ, yes,” he pants, and you can't help another pleased smile as you throw your leg over his lap and settle down on his thighs. “You’ll tell me, soleil, chérie, if I get too ah– handsy. It has been. Years, actually, since I've been on the receiving end of such compassion.”

“Ezra,” you say firmly, tipping his face up to yours with a hand in his hair. Your other hand cups his chin, ticks a thumb over the silver half moon scar under his eye. “I will. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Ouais, soleil,” he mutters against your tongue, laving his own against it before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth to scrape it.

Long minutes pass, your hands in his curls, steering him and pulling back to tease with little sips against his panting mouth. His hand grips your ass a scant second before he hauls you closer, grinding you properly against his hardness.

“You are teasing me, radieux. Tell me if–”

“I said I would. Same goes. Where’s Cee, since we’re on the damn couch, like a couple of teenagers?” You ask, licking your own puffy, tender lips as you reach between you, deftly sliding your fingers behind the button of his jeans. You feel his belly hitch, as if ticklish, and snap your gaze back up to his.

“I’m not exactly sure. She went out with Ellie. But she’s usually back by dark.”

You both glance out the window to see it’s getting dim, the skuly going grey and orange and pink. “I have to stay at my house,” you say, accepting another kiss as Ezra sways back into you. He frowns, his brow furrowing against your lips, but lets you go easy as anything. You snort a laugh and push back, taking your fingers out of his jeans.

He frowns harder, pouting up at you.

“I’m the only doctor, sweet boy. And we don't have phones. They gotta know where to find me, if I'm needed overnight.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” he says, and manages to look only a little put out.

It makes you giggle again, a breathy thing that doesn't dampen your smile at all. You curl your fingers in the scruff under his chin and tip his face up again, against the backing of the sofa, and lean your chest against his. Ezra licks his lips furtively and swallows against your knuckles, relaxing back into the sofa as you press all up against him. His hand latches around your hip, holding you close.

“No one said you couldn't come to mine, though. Leave a note for Cee? Will she be okay?”

“Ah– I'd hate to spring it on her the first time, her just come back to an empty house and a note. She’s still a little jumpy. She’ll be here soon though, and I'll ask how she feels. If you want,” he adds, unsure if the moment has passed. He’s hard as a rock under you but you’re still in your jeans; he can’t tell if you're slick already or not.

He wants to think so.

You slide off his lap but stay close, allowing him to keep one leg stretched across his knees while you trade more questions and stories.

Ezra is spinning a tale about his cousin’s shrimping boat and a massive boil his whole family had done after. The phrase shrimps as big as a baby’s arm is bandied about, and then there is a clatter of boots on the porch.

Cee flings open the door, with Ellie on her heels. They're both grinning ear to ear and giggling but freeze when they spot you both on the sofa.

“Oh, hey.”

Ezra raises a brow and smirks. “Hey yourself.” He hangs his head to the side to peek around her. “Hello, Ellie.”

She waves. Cee frowns at you and Ezra. “We figured you’d be uh. Upstairs. Or out.”

Ezra and you both snort at her awkward hint. “As a matter of fact I was waiting on you. Didn't want to hike off and leave you alone, overnight, without warning. I assume that's not an imposition, then?” He leans his head to the side and peers at Ellie. “Your dad say you could stay?”

“He’s not–” she gets cut off by both your sharp frown and Cee’s excited interruption.

“Joel said I could stay there, actually. I was coming to get some sleep clothes.”

“Ah.” Ezra turns and glances at you, and you shrug.

“Alright. Well I'll be across the road if you need me. At Sunny’s,” he clarifies. “So I guess next door to you.”

Ellie isn't fazed but Cee makes a face and makes for the stairs to go up to her room. “Gross. See you tomorrow, then?”

Ezra chuckles. “You better get to school on time tomorrow. Other than that, you two have fun,” he smiles at her exaggerated eyeroll and winks at Ellie when the girls clop noisily up the stairs.

By the time they clatter back down with a stuffed backpack and matching grins and giggles, you're waiting by the door while Ezra waters his sprouting seeds on the patio out back.

“Be safe,” Ellie teases, ducking your harmless swipe.

“Same goes,” you tease, making a two-finger V in front of your mouth and giving her a salacious wink. Predictably, she turns beet red and scowls at you. Cee is busy tying her boots, thankfully oblivious to your gesture. By the time she's upright, Ellie has schooled her face and painted on her usual careless smirk, despite the pink dusting her cheeks.

“Have a good night, girls. See you tomorrow after school, Cee,” you wave them off. They hop off the last step of the porch just as Ezra comes back inside. He washes his hand and dries it, shoves his feet into his boots, tucks his keys into the pocket of his backpack, and lofts an eyebrow at you.

“Ready, soleil?” he slings his bag over his empty shoulder and laces his arm through the other strap.

It’s hard not to think of Joel while you're escorting another man to your house with every intention of sleeping with him. The fact that Joel is next door playing parent with the girls, including the ward of the man you're taking home to fuck, quite possibly peeking out of the curtains watching them (or you) walk across... You have to wonder if he's letting Cee stay because of Ellie, or because it gives him an easy excuse to keep hiding from you.

What if he sees you letting Ezra in? Or catches you both leaving for the clinic in the morning?

Does it fucking matter? When he's the one who stepped back, and left you hanging?

Should it?

Ezra interrupts your thoughts by catching your hand and holding it gently, tucking your fingers between his in a light squeeze with an easy smile.

Your heart thuds, delighted, and you squeeze back.

_______________

The second you close and lock your front door, Ezra's mouth is on you. He drops his bag and kicks his boots into the tray beside yours, pressing you slow and easy into the wall by the coat hooks, his hand curled protectively behind your head. You laugh into the kiss, feeling ridiculous and joyful.

He isn't pushy, or demanding. Not that you mind those things at all, with the right person delivering them to you.

Instead, Ezra tucks his fingers under your chin and tips you up, and sups a sweet, lingering kiss from your mouth. With his chest and belly keeping you upright between his long, lean weight and the wall, your knees soften and he is there, holding onto you with a low chuckle.

“How about you show me the way to your room, soleil, and I'll keep makin’ those knees weak. Once you don't need ‘em, of course.”

You snort and finish taking off your outerwear, leaving your keys hanging on the designated hook. You check the back door and leave a low light on in the kitchen, leading him up to your room.

Your house is the strange little cottage on your road, one of the oldest in town and obvious for that fact. It's an old A-frame with an abutment built at the edge of what would have been a forest before the land was cleared and developed decades past. The bottom level is a large open den and kitchen with a full bath tucked under the stairs and a small spare room to the other side. Up a narrow set of stairs, the loft is an open bedroom, where you prefer to sleep so you can hear everything in the house. If someone comes banging, asking for your care, you’ll hear it.

You lead Ezra to the stairs and push him up ahead of you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, one sec. Go get comfy,” you say, and dash under the stairs to the doorway. You scrub your teeth and hands and run a wet rag over your bits and pits, hoping for the best.

If he didn't care about your breath or scent an hour ago, he won't now, you reason, and go back out to climb the stairs.

Upstairs is a large flat space, taking up half the room below it. There’s a toilet in a closet up here but no bath. Your bed and a dresser is up here, along with an old mirror and your chest of spare blankets. Your bed is soft and big enough for two. Ezra is stretched across it, above the blankets and still dressed.

“I wasn't entirely sure of your intentions, soleil. I want you to be explicit in your demands, and also to be aware that I do intend to court you beyond anything that happens tonight. If you don't want that, you best tell me now before I find myself acting the fool.”

“Ezra, shut up,” you giggle, pulling off your socks and undoing your jeans, leaving them open on your hips. “You are free to court me, you old rake.” He grins at your playful insult. “I don't mind casual. But I like you. And I think I'd like more, if you do, too. Sounds like it,” you shrug, and he nods fervently.

“I do, chérie. Any night I can sleep by you, hold you, would be a night well spent. And any day workin’ alongside you, or catching lunch at the mess hall. Or being out foraging,” he smiles wide and soft, his dark eyes fathomless pools. “Come here, please. Let me love you.”

You shuck your clothes and crawl onto him, letting Ezra claim your mouth while you work on his jeans and push them down his hips. He lifts them obligingly, kicking out of the garment once you get it to his knees. He tips upward and lets you pull his shirt up and off, leaving you both blessedly naked.

“Anything you don't want?” You ask against his mouth, already panting. Your slick has to be soaking his thigh by now from rutting, from how wet you've been since he’d asked to kiss you so sweetly.

“I’ll take anything you want to give,” he sighs, his hand ghosting up the curve of your ribs, marveling at your soft skin. He thumbs an errant scar here and there, evidence of life outside these walls, and kisses you again. “I want to taste you,” he says, pulling on your hip. You start to roll off so he can spread you on your back, but he tightens his grip.

“Sit on my face, soleil. I want to use my hand, and I won't be able to if I have to use it for balance.”

“Ezra,” you chastise, thinking of your weight and the mangled state of his face the day you met him, months ago now. His nose should be healed, you think fleetingly. He chases the thought away with another wicked kiss and tugs on you again.

“Come on, I would like nothing more than to be smothered in you, soleil.” He nips playfully at the inside of your knee as you give in and crawl upward with the urging of his hand on your hip.

With your knees bracketing his head and your feet tucked around his shoulders, Ezra urges your weight down. You had done this before, but it had been a long time. Joel preferred to have you against a wall, your legs over his shoulders, or under him, spread out and boneless.

Ezra wants to make it clear that he’s there to service you, in the most efficient way possible for him to do so while missing a major limb. You on top, controlling the pace and hopefully still going boneless enough to properly sit on him (if he can weaken your knees enough) that's what he wants. Suffocate him, he won't complain with a single syllable.

Ezra nuzzles into you, spreading your lips with his sharp nose gliding smoothly through your slick folds, his flattened tongue following to lap your honey up. He laves against your clit and sucks on it firmly before moving back down. You gaps, rocking your hips for more, giving in to his demanding hand on your hip. He pulls you down further so he doesn't have to reach.

He spears his tongue up into you, drawing more slick out to spread it around, encouraging you to thrust against his nose and chin. The scruff of his cheeks tickles your thighs, his mustache zinging little bursts of pleasure when you rub your clit over his open mouth.

“Oh, fuck– Ezra, I want you in me. Too empty,” you whine, clenching around nothing. He obliges with a groan, sliding his tongue back into you and bringing his hand up.

“Come back a bit, soleil. Let me suck you while you ride my hand,” he grits, impaling you with his two middle fingers, curling them with devastating agility against that spongy spot inside. In the next breath he sucks your clit between his lips, kneading it and then rubbing his tongue along the tender pearl inside until you're throbbing. You’ve got a hand fisted in his hair before you know it, your panting sounding far too loud in the loft.

Slick paints his cheeks and chin, threatening to drip down the curve of his neck as he works you. Ezra’s own stiff arousal is neglected, bobbing in the cool air as his hips stutter helplessly upward. He notices you turning to wrap a hand around him and makes a loud slurp as he detaches from your mound.

“Leave it, chérie. I want you to focus on feeling this right now, I want you to come, then you can do whatever you like. Come, now,” he demands, pulling you back to him. You curl your nails back in his fringe and buck on his fingers as he slides them back into you, three this time– pressing deeper and curling more firmly. He laps at your clit with the flat of his tongue, worrying it like a lolly.

Abruptly, with a strangled cry, you shatter around his digits.

“So good, chérie, give me all that cream. Squeezing me so tight, oh–” Ezra gives you a final lick, murmuring praise against your mound until you sit back and crawl down between his knees.

“Gonna suck you,” you gasp, still shivering back into your skin.

There’s nothing for it- Ezra’s got a stupidly beautiful package. It matches the stupidly cute look of shock and adoration on his face.

His cock is the perfect weight on your tongue, a nice handful, girthy and perhaps seven or eight inches. The ruddy, pinkish brown foreskin cups his ccokhead tightly, offering a smooth glide as you tug on his length a few times and press a kiss to his weeping tip.

“Oh shit. Oh, please soleil. I won't last a minute. I’m far too- worked up!” He chokes, hips stuttering when you lick up the rib on the underside.

“How long has it been, Ezra?” You ask, your voice like smoke. He blinks at the skylight above your bed, trying to think.

“I– years? Probably– oh shit. Probably two years?”

Instead of responding, you suck him down expertly and squeeze your tonsils around his tip. A desperate groan presses up out of his chest, his hand scrabbling in the sheets. You catch his wrist and bring it to your head, letting him hold on.

A little clumsily, he twines his fingers in your hair, not pulling intentionally but keeping you close. You bury your nose in the base of him, swallowing, and he groans, thighs flexing as he fights not to buck up and choke you.

“Oh, christ– soleil you– you’re so good. Oh, fuck!”

You pull off him and stroke a few times, teasing the weeping tip with your tongue and lips while he writhes, panting praise and gasping. It makes you feel surprisingly powerful, reducing a man to this, and you relish in it. A few more strokes of your tongue, a bit more suction and he's begging, asking you to pull off if you don't want it in your mouth. In answer, you press your nose into his pubic hair and swallow, taking him whole as he pulses on your tongue.

After, when he’s boneless and well- sated on your bed, you lay on his shoulder and twirl your fingertips through his sparse chest hair. You finally ask:

“Two years since you had a blowjob?”

Ezra chuckles sleepily, scrubbing his hand down his face and dropping it back to drape over your side. “I don’t think you understand exactly what kind of mess I'm coming from, chérie. The fact my dick is still even attached is a miracle after what those smugglers did to me. Wasn't much chance for using it in the mines, either. They worked us twelve or eighteen hours most days, and I slept in the shafts half the time. There was an inherent lack of desire, to be honest. That level of terror and anxiety, day in and day out, it takes its toll. All that aside from the fact that the girls in the brothel were practically children, and often far from willing. I had a - friend, I suppose, and we found some mutual stress relief in one another. When they died in a shaft collapse, I didn't expend the effort to replace them.”

You're quiet for a long moment, petting and relaxing. It doesn't feel right to apologize; he’ll just brush it off as pity, which doesn't fit right. You roll away a bit, urging him to face you so you can trace his eyebrows, stroke down the hook of his nose and the pillow of his bottom lip. He’s practically in a trance by the time you speak up,pulled by your softness. “I’m glad you got out, and are here, Ezra,” you decide on.

It appears to be the right thing to say. He rolls onto you and smothers you with kisses until you have to break away for air. “I am overjoyed, soleil. Sometimes– most of the time, it doesn't seem real. Like I must have died, and this is some sort of shockingly- pleasant afterlife. Or that I finally submitted to the psychosis of my prior imprisonment.” He buries his face in between your breasts and lays on you, listening to your heartbeat under his ear as it slowly calms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting gently until he’s snoring. It only takes a few minutes, which makes you huff a laugh, trying not to wake him.

You too doze off under his comfortable weight, waking in the night to pee and crawling back under the coverlet against him. He stirs a few times, curling against you and dragging you close.

When you wake, it’s fully bright out, late morning, and pleasantly cool in the house. Ezra is spooned up behind you, his arm curled under your neck and wrapped around your front, your hips nested and legs entwined.

It's almost unbearably comfortable, and you want to stay here all day instead of getting up and preparing for a day at the clinic. You lay silently for several minutes, basking in the warmth of the body pressed up behind you, the press of his lean belly, soft with sleep, against your lower back and the thighs nested under your rump.

Too soon, your bladder makes you aware of the need to get up. You groan under your breath, unwilling to move at all but already loosening Ezra’s arm from your ribs. He inhales sharply, half sitting in a daze and blinking around the room.

“Hey, you’re okay. I have to pee and get ready,” you say quietly, petting the white tuft at his temple. He nuzzles into your hand and then exhales heavily, flopping back to the bed.

Ezra yawns hugely, stretching his whole long body out and then sprawling in a lazy spool of limbs, shamelessly nude and adorably mussed. “Want company?” He husks, voice still claggy with sleep.

You snort, dropping a kiss on his scruffy chin. “If you want.”

You pad downstairs to the bathroom and start the water, letting it warm while you pee. When you step into the tub, you hear the stairs above you creak, indicating that Ezra is following. A moment later, you hear him going through his own ablutions before a tickly kiss is dropped onto your shoulder.

After doing your own, you reach up and behind your own head to scrub lather into his short curls, scritching over his scalp, and soak up all the skin pressed against yours under the warm spray.

In less than an hour, it's back to reality. But for now, it's wonderful.

_______________

A week later, after a few more nights of similar exploration and pleasant sleep, there is a knock on your door just as you're finishing cooking dinner. Ezra is sat at your island, laughing through a retelling of Cee’s school drama this week (the laughter is in empathy - she had been asked out by a notoriously misogynistic boy in the class above hers and had been appalled). He jumps up to get the door while you plate, hoping it's not the clinic but getting it is.

“Yeah I'll grab her. Come in? Soleil!” Ezra calls, coming back past the narrow half- wall separating the den and kitchen. “It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you say, frowning. “Okay. Go ahead and eat,” you push a plate of seared cabbage and beans drizzled in sauce at him and drop a kiss on his cheekbone. He wraps his fingers around your wrist in thanks, soft as a breeze, and smiles at you.

As you turn to go meet Joel, Ezra's thumb strokes the back of your hand before he lets it drop, letting you go to create some privacy for what is likely about to be a tense conversation.

Joel is leaning by your mantle, cross-armed and looking utterly exhausted when you come into your den.

“Hey,” you say, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” he parrots, frowning harder, like he’s ready to turn tail at the slightest hint you want him gone.

“Do you need something?” You ask. It's like pulling teeth getting the man to talk sometimes.

“I need to talk to you. Do you wanna go to the porch, or do you want me to come by, ‘nother time?” you don't miss his furtive glance toward the kitchen, mostly hidden by a blink.

You swallow, looking up at him. “I’ll overthink it if we don’t do it now.”

Joel nods in understanding. “Lead on, hon.”

You usher him into your spare room, which is sparsely set basically the way Tommy and Maria had left it some years ago when you’d arrived. He stands in the middle of it, glaring at the four walls and the unmade single bed and empty, open chest, while you shut the door and turn to face him. You hope furiously that you're not blushing too hard.

God, how in the fuck did you forget how hot he is? How much space he takes up; the presence?

“What did you want to–”

“I miss you,” Joel interrupts, barely saying the words in a low, quiet, but firm tone. You blink at him, trying to digest it.

“I’m–”

“I know you’re— look, let me say what I gotta say, or it ain’t gonna come out. I know you're with the new guy. Ezra. He’s probably more… More what you're lookin’ for in a lot of ways. But darlin’, I. I know I’ve not done a lot of good in the last twenty years. But you make me feel like I could. Like I want to. And I haven't had that, except for you and Ellie, not since Outbreak Day. And she’s moving on. I’m losing her. I’m going to. And I pushed you away because I don't want to lose you, too. And I bet you saw that comin’ a mile away- you always do. Because you're so damned smart, and good. I know you're with him. But I wanted to know if– if you wanted to try bein’ with us both?”

You stay quiet, knowing he's not done, but you can't help your eyebrows hitting the ceiling on that one. Possessive, protective Joel Miller…. open to sharing?

“I know how it sounds. But I know you love me. I know it. And I hate breakin’ your heart when I hole up into myself. But I can't help it sometimes. I’m tryin’, though. You an’ Ellie are making me try. If you had us both, you could have the softness he gives, the- the home life that I can’t - can’t handle, even if I want to, for you. And with me, you get– whatever it is you see in me.”

He nods at you, seemingly done and looking for all the world like he’s waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall swiftly.

“What about Ezra?” You ask, deciding to see how much Joel has even thought about this harebrained scheme.

“We’d… Ellie called it a poly-cule? Sometimes you're with me, sometimes you're with him, or alone. We just– share, but have our own spaces? And I'll work on my problems. I will.” He insists at your arched brow.

“But I think being with you steady and having a settled deal so I won't- can’t back out without a fight is going to help. Because sweetheart, you been too good to me. You let me go, every time. And I'm grateful for that, because I think I would’a been real mean if you hadn’t, and you don't deserve that, but it hurts. And I know it hurts you, which makes it worse.”

“And what if I wanted to have a threesome? Or if he wanted to kiss you?” You keep your face carefully devoid of emotion while you feel for the cracks in those infamous emotional walls.

“I don’t. Uh. My gut immediately said no, but truthfully, hon. I might. but– only if you're there. I don’t – don't have any interest, there, not like that.”

You're quiet for a minute and nod, chewing your lip. “Is it my turn to go?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“I do miss you. A lot. I think about you all the time. And I'm sure Cam has been filling your ears with all kinds of nonsense about our foraging trips. But I like Ezra. A lot. He's sweet, and goofy, and easy. I’ll talk to him. He may be more interested than you’re giving him credit for.”

Joel nods, his jaw working, staring somewhere around your knees. “Alright.”

“But,” you start, stepping closer, and then again when he straightens and blinks up at your face. “What this isn't going to be is an excuse to run off with your tail between your legs every time someone notes that we’re together. It's not an excuse to fuck me behind his back or cut him out when it's convenient for you. We talk, we negotiate and we’re open, or we don't even try it. Can you do that?”

Looking surprisingly chastened, Joel nods.

“Alright. Go eat and get some sleep, you look half dead. Want some of what we have? I can make up a container.”

“Nah, Ellie’s note on the door said she cooked an’ left me some. Thanks,” he adds, feeling abruptly very awkward. He’d like to go pretend this conversation never happened for a day or two, but that's exactly what you’re getting at.

“Alright. Come on,” you open the door and lead him back to the front, only a little surprised to not see Ezra lurking about, trying to overhear. You hear him clinking about in the kitchen.

Joel stops on the porch, looking back at you. His fingertips rub against the pad of his thumb, an anxious tell. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. “Can I– uh.”

“I'm not gonna kiss you ‘til I talk to him, Miller,” you tease, giving him a smile. He huffs and shuffles his feet.

“No, I was going to ask for a hug. You always. You give good hugs,” he mutters, seeming annoyed with the fact. You snort at him and step out onto the porch, letting him fold you into a hug that arches you backwards with the weight of it.

“Oof,” you exhale into his flannel, and wrap your arms around his ribs. He squeezes you to him firmly, once, and lets go.

“Thanks, uhm. Go talk to him. You know where to find me.”

“Alright,” you say, and watch him clop down the stairs and around the fence into his own yard.

You go back inside to find Ezra still sitting at the island, pushing his food around with a fork. He straightens when he sees you, trying to appear poker- faced and failing miserably. He’s anxious as fuck.

“Anything to report, soleil?” He asks quietly. You smile at him and huff a disparaging laugh.

“Yeah, actually.” You scarf down the last few bites of your food and take up the plates, putting them in the sink. When you turn around and lean on the counter, his eyes are dark, watching you carefully.

“Come on, chérie. It’s time to gut the fencer. Lay it on me.”

“He, uhm. He wants to know if we are interested in an open relationship. Like a poly situation.”

Ezra sits straight and blinks at you, baffled. “The man purported around town to be so possessive of you that he broke a man’s nose for flirting with you at the bar…. Wants to have a sharing arrangement?”

You can't help but chuckle. He's not wrong. “I’m just as shocked as you are. He said it was Tommy’s idea. Maybe I should go ask him what on earth he said to convince Joel it was a decent idea.”

“How do you feel about it?” Ezra asks, his furrowed brow smoothing out.

You shrug and shake your head. “I don't know. I don't want either of you to get upset enough to leave for good. I like you, baby. A lot. And yeah, I miss him, but being with you has helped, made it go away for the most part. But when he is around it's like salt in a wound. Maybe this would help, but I'm not willing to lose you over it. How do you feel about it?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit covetous of you. But I have been in such relationships before, chérie. Communication is key. And from what I understand, your old man isn’t the best at that. But I am happy to properly meet him and discuss this if you wish.”

And he does, quicker than you expected. You wake up alone and walk to the clinic alone the next day, your brow furrowed in confusion until you round the corner onto the main street and see Ezra leaning against the porch of the clinic, talking to Joel. You assume that Ezra had simply woken and waited for the girls to come out of Joel’s house, and then struck up a conversation and followed Joel as he escorted the girls to school. With no teens to be seen and a massive rifle hanging off Joel’s shoulder for rounds, that is the most likely story. Your sweet- talking, loquacious partner is certainly bending Joel’s ear, by the look of it.

“Hey,” you say, stopping a few feet away. Ezra squints at you in the bright morning sun and grins.

“Good morning, soleil. Apologies for leavin’ you to wake up cold; I saw my opportunity and struck after it.”

Their conversation must have been decent. Joel barely even rolls his eyes at Ezra’s explanation. You can't help the amused huff that escapes you. “Mornin’ to you too, grump.” You wink at Joel and he harrumphs at you.

“G’mornin’ hon.”

“You got patrol today?”

“Mmm,” he nods, adjusting the hang of the gun on his shoulder. “Goin’ to check that resort about three miles up into the mountains, now the snow’s melted.”

“Yikes. Keep awares. You’ll be back by dark?”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawls. Ezra is watching you back and forth, like someone sat on the net of a tennis match. Joel shifts his weight and holds up a hand like he’s asking for yours.

When you step forward and drop your hand in his, he drops a kiss on your knuckles, leaving you a little stunned, and turns away.

“Y’all have a good day. See you tonight,” he calls over his shoulder, already stalking off with his shoulders up around his ears. You snort and flex your hand, looking back at Ezra. He looks bemused.

“What?” you ask, giggling at his look.

“Oh nothin’. The old man just asked what I did to win you over, and I said lots of little touches and even more kisses. And that you like bein’ around your people, and not by yourself.”

You nod, scuffing your boots in the grass. “That's a fair synopsis.”

Ezra watches you another moment and stands, stepping closer. He hooks his hand around your backpack strap and reels you in, grinning. “I gotta go to the nursery today, soleil. But I will be here with bells on at lunchtime.”

“Alright. Have a good day, baby.” You give him a kiss with your hand cupped around his jaw, and he squeezes you close round the ribs for a beat before letting you go unlock the clinic. When you're inside, he waves and ambles off in the direction of the nursery.

_______________

Joel is annoyed.

His trailmates today consist of Tommy, two young trigger-happy idiots he calls the Dukes of Hazzard, a grizzled masc woman named Peg, and Cam.

Tommy started the trail out by pairing the young ones off at the tail, he and Joel in the center, and Peg and Cam on the scout front. Joel’s good ear is on the outside of the group, his flank covered by effective if jumpy kids, and he’s on his preferred mount, a roan horse called Strawberry.

That ain't what he’s annoyed by.

He’s annoyed that Tommy keeps loudly asking him about you.

“Saw you talkin’ to her man this mornin’ while I was getting trail rations at the grocer. What's that about?”

Joel just harrumphs at him and tightens the reins in his fist.

“Aw come on, brother. Did you talk to them?”

He is met with more silence. Tommy lets it be for maybe half a mile.

“Y’know. I’ll switch you and Cam out on their supply runs if you want. They’re due to go out again next week.” Tommy hides his smirk when Joel finally glances his way, curiosity heavy on his brow.

“Yeah?”

Tommy can't help but snort a laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure he’s tired of them anyhow. Might as well be three lovebirds ‘stead of two and an awkward watchman.”

Joel scowls at him, and Tommy just grins.

“Don't call me that,” Joel grumbles, driving his heels into Strawberry’s sides to get her to push forward a few yards, gain some distance.

“I won’t if you start actin’ like it, and give me some details! Or I can keep ribbing you!”

Joel just huffs and takes the verbal beating. He can't give details he doesn't have, and he doesn't think he’d share them anyway.

They get to the resort and find a huge stash of salt for the pools and roads, medicine in a meebay wing, and some tinned food. They haul everything they can carry back to Jackson and, barring a sprained ankle on Peg (exacerbating a prior injury; she walks it off) there were no injuries to report.

By the time Joel is walking to the end of Rancher Street, it’s dark. Your lights are on, and Ezra’s are dark. Joel peeks around the side of his house and sees the garage light on. Ellie’s in there, probably working away on her little hideaway. He stands there in the driveway for a long moment, wanting to see her and wanting to see you.

In the end, Ellie makes the choice for him.

“JOEL!” she shouts, throwing the door to the garage open and cupping both hands around her mouth. He winces and moves, letting her eyes catch on him in the drive.

“Stop yellin’,” he grouses, walking to her. She’s ushering him into her little house, talking a mile a minute. Cee is there, on a sofa, reading a graphic novel. She glances up at him when he walks in and waves. He nods back.

“What’d you need?”

“Can you help me build a shelf, for right here?” She points to a rectangle of space on one wall and moves her hands up and down like she’s miming the shape of a bookshelf.

“Like on the wall or like a bookshelf?” He asks, eyeing the space.

“A bookshelf!”

Joel lets a smile tick up one side of his face. “Alright. I’ll see what wood I can rustle up. You girls ate yet?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” the both chime in. “Left you some on the stove,” Ellie adds, going back to sit on the loveseat by Cee.

Feeling dismissed, Joel nods. “Okay. Thanks, kiddo. G’night. Night, Cee,” he says to their twinned waves, and sees himself out.

When he’s on the last step of his back porch, you open your back door and lean in the doorframe. “Hey stranger,” you say, and he pauses. He can hear the faint clink behind you in the kitchen, implying that Ezra is over.

“Hey yourself,” he replies, leaning on the porch railing.

“Good run today?”

Joel shrugs, “No injuries, got some goodies. Got harassed by my damn brother.”

You laugh, and he can’t help but smile. He’s missed the sound of your laugh. “About me?”

“‘bout both’a you,” he says, pointing at the door behind you with his chin. Mirth twinkles in your eyes and he heaves a weary sigh. “I’m off rounds tomorrow, if you wanna talk. But I'm beat tonight, hon. Not sure I can take much conversation.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over, sleep it off, actually.”

Joel freezes, watching you carefully. You recognize the look; he gives it to other people often enough. Trying to figure out their angle, why they’re goading him, and whether it's worth it.

“He’s not stayin’?”

You shrug. “He doesn't have to. He’s the one that offered, actually. Come on,” you say, winking, and disappear back inside.

Joel stays there another second, deciding, before coming to the conclusion that there is no decision. He wants to sleep next to you, even if Ezra is on your other side. He goes into his own house and snags a change of clothes and his toothbrush and goes back out the back door, locking it and calling out for Ellie.

“Going next door for the night!” He waits for her Okay to carry back across the driveway and hops the low fence over to your side, clambering up your narrow back steps to your door.

Joel enters your house and hears you talking from the living room. He follows through the kitchen to the half wall and into the larger room, spotting you and Ezra sitting on the sofa, chatting.

“Uh. Hey,” he says, pausing in the doorway.

“Hey yourself,” You give him a beaming smile and scoot over, patting the far end of the couch for him to join you. Ezra is on one end, you in the middle. “Come here if you want. Or, you can abuse my shower if you prefer.”

Joel presses his molars together and sits. He glances at Ezra, who is watching you and Joel both with a faint smile ticking up his mouth. Joel nods at him and waits for you to initiate conversation. It’s quiet for a long moment.

“I was just going,” Ezra says, just as Joel gives in and breaks his silence.

“I don't care if you stay.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, glancing at you.

“My bed is big enough. I’ll gladly be the center of attention,” you chuckle.

And so, fifteen minutes later, you’re stretched out in bed facing Ezra, nearly asleep in the face of his soft snores. The man can fall asleep on a fence line now that he’s safe. Your face is tucked into his chest, his arm limp on the bed between your bodies.

Joel pads quietly up to the loft and comes around to the open space behind you, kneeling on the mattress and stretching out with an old man groan. You exhale sharply in a silent laugh, reaching back for his hand. Joel rolls to spoon up behind you, settling your bum on his thighs and his belly in the arch of your lower back, just the way you like. He hums against your hairline, wrapping his arm around your waist. His skin is just slightly damp from the shower, smelling like the town’s green soap, your favorite, hoarded in chips and fragments of bars in your linen cabinet to preserve it.

“Missed you,” Joel whispers against your nape, and you turn your face up to the ceiling, glancing back at him. Your arm lifts and bends back, fingers curling in his damp hair.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back. He kisses your cheekbone and squeezes you round the ribs once before resettling. You feel him slowly loosen against you until his snores softly mingle with Ezra’s, pulling you to sleep.

In the dim morning, the backs of Ezra’s knuckles are resting against Joel’s belly, his arm loose over the dip of your waist, sandwiched between your back and Joel’s softness. Joel is in much the same position, his arm spooled out over your hip, unmoved since he woke up when the sunlight brightened above your bed. He can feel each of Ezra's even breaths against his knuckles, the tickle of his sparse chest hair since he’d gone to bed in just shorts.

He thinks vaguely that he should be offended, repelled. He should flinch back and move his arm, pull away from such a casual, careless touch. He’s meant to be cuddling you, not sharing a cuddle with him. His next thought is that moving away will surely wake you, and he doesn't want that, at all. He wants to lay here. He wants to be still and soft and comfortable, even touching Ezra.

He stays.

AN: if you finished or came back from part 1 for more, that means you liked it! please like and reblog! this is not an archive, views depend on your sharing! (so does my continued writing!)

Part 3 should go up on ao3 this weekend! bookmark and sub there for the quickest updates!

Edit: link to part 3: link

#ezra (prospect)#prospect (2018)#joel the last of us #joel miller #joel x reader #ezra x reader #joel x reader x ezra #poly dynamics #the last of us

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rhapsodynew · 7 days

Text

Syd Barrett with a hand-painted painting, 1964

"THE BEE KING" AND SID'S LETTER

In December 1964, 18-year-old Barrett wrote an illustrated letter to his girlfriend Jenny Spires, telling about the first sound session of the future Floyd's. The demo recordings were made in a small London studio with an eye to signing a contract with a major record label. At that moment, the band was influenced by the "rolling stones" and Bo Diddley, this can be heard both in their own stuff and in the cover version of I'm a King Bee, which Sid mentions in the letter.

Six tracks recorded between December 1964 and January 1965 were included in the mini-album 1965: Their First Recordings, officially released in 2015. And later they were included in the box set The Early Years 1965-1972. Floydomans are well aware of this. Since that time (especially in connection with the release of the mini-album), there have been a lot of posts with playlists on social networks.

Offers a translation of the letter, which is published in Barrett's book. The definitive visual companion to the life of Syd Barrett (2011), which also includes Barrett's artwork, photographs, and other letters. It was first unveiled at the Cambridge Gallery in an exhibition dedicated to it in 2008.

Perhaps Sid is naive in this letter, and there is nothing of the great poet's rhetoric in the text, as, indeed, in his other epistolary archives. But in such modest sketches there is a breath of time and the magic of the authentic background of a single human everyday life, unadorned by historians and biographers. In addition, the epistolary syllable of Sid retains a share of stylistic melodiousness, and this also makes the written sample interesting. After all, Barrett's characteristic feature as a composer is that he "paints" a song with intonation, sounds, and syllables, as already mentioned in posts dedicated to Lucifer Sam and Arnold Layne.

It can also be mentioned that Sid illustrated himself, Mason, Waters and Bob Close, who was the lead guitarist of the band at that time. Sid signed his letters and paintings with his real name "Roger".

"Dear Jen, you are just lovely.

I'll tell you what happened during the recording. We dragged all the equipment into the studio, which was illuminated by a terrible white light and entangled with wires and microphones. Roger's amplifier was positioned behind a sound-absorbing screen, and Nicky was also "shielded". After a short conversation, we checked everything on the balance and wrote down five numbers more or less at once. However, only guitars and drums. We're going to add vocals, piano, etc. next Wednesday. The tracks sound awesome so far, especially King Bee.

When I sing, I have to stand in the middle of the studio with headphones on, and everyone else is watching from another room. I can't see them at all, but they can all see me. Also, I can only hear what I sing myself.

I hope you got home well, Jen, and had a good time. You couldn't have come to the recording. And anyway, it all lasted until midnight and it would have been a terrible burden for you.

How pleasant all these tra-la-la are (don't worry about distracting).

Do whatever you want, Jen. I love you very much and I want to hear from you, and you are very beautiful.

I'm a little tired of everything today, and I want to be in Cambridge or Greece, but not in London, where all I do is spend money and go back and forth. But the sun is still shining.

With love. Roger."

youtube

In case someone missed the Floyd's mini-album with those demo songs mentioned in the post, you can listen to it, for example (there is a song layout in the description, and to watch it, you need to go directly to the channel):

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autismtana · 5 months

Text

glee gender, sexuality and neurodiversity headcanons

[disclaimer: i am neurodivergent myself (audhd/ocd/anxiety/depression/trichotillomania) and i am also queer (nonbinary/ace/lesbian); these are my headcanons based on watching and rewatching glee many, many times]

*mentioned in canon (either explicit or implied)

finn (he/him), straight, adhd/dyspraxia

rachel (she/her), bi, autism/bpd

quinn (she/her), polyamorous/lesbian, bpd/ppd*

santana (she/her/ella), lesbian*/demisexual, adhd/autism/anxiety/cptsd/eating disorder*

brittany (she/they/it), bisexual*/genderqueer/genderflux, autism/adhd/depression*/eating disorder*/auditory processing disorder and/or receptive language disorder

sam (he/they), bisexual, adhd/dyslexia*/eating disorder*/body dysmorphic disorder*/bipolar

mercedes (she/her), pansexual, adhd

puck (he/him), polyamorous*/pansexual, cptsd

blaine (he/they), gay*, autism/bpd

kurt (he/him), gay*/demiromantic, ocd*

tina (they/she), bisexual/nonbinary, npd

mike (he/him), bisexual

artie (he/him), bisexual

becky (she/her), pansexual, down's syndrome*

marley (she/her), bi/asexual, autism/anxiety/eating disorder*

kitty (she/her), pansexual, bpd

jake (he/him), straight, bpd

ryder (he/him), straight, dyslexia*

unique (she/her), trans lesbian

sugar (she/they/he/it), pansexual/genderfluid, autism*/adhd

joe (they/he), pansexual/nonbinary

rory (he/him), gay

roderick (he/they), aroace, autism/social anxiety disorder

jane (she/her), pansexual

mason (he/they), bisexual/nonbinary transmasc, adhd

madison (she/her), bisexual

spencer (he/him), gay*

william shoestore (he/him) straight, avpd

sheldon bieste (he/him), trans*/gay*

emma (she/her), asexual, autism/ocd*

sue sylvester (she/her), suesexual, npd

#glee headcanons #glee #neurodiversity #neurodivergent representation #actually autistic #actually adhd #actually ocd #new directions #glee neurodivergent headcanons #neurodivergent headcanons

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peonierose · 5 months

Text

Once (5/5)

**This story takes place before it was revealed that Addison would come back/is alive **

Book: The Nanny Affair & Open Heart Crossover AU

Characters involved: Sam Dalton (M!MC), Ethan Ramsey (M!MC) and Vivian Dalton (F!MC)

Part V of V / Miniseries

Words: 1,900+

Rating: Mature

TW: Cancer, character death, mental illness

Summary: It’s weeks after Addis funeral. Sam and the boys settle in a bit, when Sam gets a surprise.

A/N: This is in honor of my friend Mira who died from ovarian cancer. May you rest in peace 💜

Sam

I was finished at work and got Carter to drive me home while reading through an email I got from Ethan.

I smile even though it’s been a month since Addie‘s funeral.

And it still feels so fresh in my mind.

Thankfully the boys don’t remember too much of that sad day, which turned into a less sad day with my new friend Ethan Ramsey and my brother Robin.

We got pretty drunk, but nobody bothered us. So we kept talking about everything and nothing.

I finished reading through the email that Ethan replied to and put my phone in my pocket to look outside the car window. Seeing all the streets and alleys pass me by while driving through New York.

I mentioned to Ethan, I’d love to go on a little family trip with the boys. Just to relax a bit. So it would be nice to spend some time in Boston. I even asked him if it would be right to visit him in Boston and bring along Mason and Mickey. He was excited and dare I say it a little smile played on his lips.

A contented smile tugs at my own lips.

We haven’t done any family trips in a long while. So this would be the perfect opportunity.

The car slows down and I realize we’ve arrived at the apartment complex.

Carter clears his throat as if nervous.

I smile softly at Carter. He’s a good man. I always respected him a lot.

”Thank you, Carter. Have a safe trip home.“

He turns around to look at me.

”You can take the day off if you’d like. I’ll drive home to my parent's place to pick up the boys.“

Carter smiles and nods.

”Very well Mr. Dalton. Have a safe trip.“

”Thank you, Carter.“

I get out of the car and walk towards the apartment. I pass the front desk. When Marvin‘s voice holds me back.

”Mr. Dalton!“

I stop and walk towards him.

He’s in his twenties and works here part-time to earn some money for his college tuition.

”Hello Marvin. How’s it going? How’s college?“

I ask as I shake his hand.

He grins and shoves his caramel-brown hair to the side. His green eyes lit up at my question.

”Oh thanks for asking Sir. It’s a lot. But I’ll have a study session with some friends later. Cramming for a test that’s coming up. I’d never thought college would be this difficult. But I like the challenge.“

I smile.

”That’s good to hear. Keep studying. And you’ll see it’ll pay up.“

I wink and he grins.

”Was there a package or something for me?“ I was thinking maybe it was something that Addie ordered.

I’ve had to unsubscribe from some of the magazines she subscribed to.

He scratches his head and then he seems to remember.

”Oh right. This was delivered for you this morning.“

He hands me a small mint-colored envelope.

With my name and home address written in beautiful calligraphy on it.

Curious who could be sending me a letter. Most people text or write an email these days.

I take the envelope and smile at Marvin.

”Thank you, Marvin. I’ll be heading upstairs and then I’ll be at my parent's to pick up the twins. So I won’t be at home later.“

Marvin grins at me.

”Sure thing Mr. Dalton. Have a safe trip. And send your love to your parents and your twins.“

I smile. A genuine one this time. One that wasn’t forced out of me because I was trying to bring joy to my face even though I didn’t feel too much of it in the last couple of weeks. The twins are keeping me sane and happy these days.

”I will. And good luck with your test. I know you’ll do just fine.“

He grins.

”Thanks, Mr. Dalton.“

I wave goodbye and Marvin takes a seat at the desk.

While I ride in the elevator I wonder who’s sent me a letter. I ponder over that question when I get into my apartment and get a change of clothes for something less office formal.

As I pick up my car keys I walk by the picture of Addison and hold up the picture frame.

We went skydiving that day.

That’s when the picture was taken. Her blonde hair is blowing into her face, but she‘s got the biggest smile on her face.

We had a lot of fun that day. Even though Addi was terrified at first, that fear settled pretty soon and then she screamed »I want to do this again.«

I grin at the memory all the while to my car and then on the drive over to my parent's house. I get there and my mom opens the wide doors.

”Sam. You made it.“

She hugs me and I lean down to hug her back.

She smiles and pats my cheek gently, making me feel as if I’m 12 again. Instead of 36. I smile at her and she gestures for me to come inside.

”Come on in. The twins just fell asleep after running around the garden all day. Playing action hero. Whatever that means.“ She grins and I chuckle.

”Sounds like Mason and Mickey.“

I walk in after my mom and she guides me to the garden where she set up a nice late lunch.

”Mom! You didn’t have to go to any trouble.“

She turns and grins, her steps not even faltering.

”I didn’t do this for you, Samuel. I was hungry too. So it was me being indulgent.“

I sit down in one of the comfy dark grey garden chairs. While I let the beautiful and warm sunshine caress my face.

Before my mom can sit down her phone rings and she sighs.

”Pray that this is your father. Who I hope has a good excuse for interrupting our lunch. Because I'm starving.“

I grin.

”Should I wait for you?“ I ask my mom who holds her phone to her ear.

She shakes her head. And walks away to take her call.

I dig in and remember how nostalgic this feels to have lunch at my parent's place.

Then something pokes me. That’s when I remembered I’d forgotten about the letter.

I put down my fork and took out the mint-colored envelope to open it and read what was inside.

When I open it I almost let it fall to the floor.

It’s a letter from Addi.

I lean back in my chair. Shivering despite the sunshine outside.

When I look at the letter again I start to read it.

Sam,

while I’m sitting here, letting the sunshine caress my face and just letting all thoughts drift away, enjoying the here and now, I wanted to tell you something.

No. I wanted to put it in writing. Because I feel that you need to read this for yourself.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I know I can be difficult sometimes.

You laughed at that I know you did, don’t deny it.

I interrupt reading the letter to let out a surprised laugh. Then I continue reading Addis' letter. Even now that she’s gone she still makes me laugh.

You never let me walk alone. Always being there for me. Especially in those last months. For that, I will always be grateful.

The time I spent with you, was the most beautiful time of my life. I will always keep those memories close to my heart. From the moment we met, I knew. You are the one for me (cheesy I know, but it’s true).

Never letting me forget I’m more than a spoiled rich girl, who had it easy. Even though that’s not true at all. People just never bothered to take a peek behind the curtains.

You though? You were different, Sam.

I thought to myself back then, who’s this hot guy asking me out? What is it he wants? To get laid? Or is it more than just some hot sex? Gosh, this sounds weird even in writing. Please ignore my embarrassing moment.

Back to what I was trying to say.

You were so nice and charming. Flirting with me all the time. (You thought you were so subtle with those little gifts and compliments here and there? I’ll let you in on something. You weren’t. But I think I loved you already.)

These past few months…were…difficult, painful, and overwhelming. When I got diagnosed I…just sat there… in that doctor’s office not knowing what to do. Should I cry? Or should I scream? But I know I wouldn’t have solved anything by that.

Sam, I know you were trying your best with me, with Mickey and Mason. Your work? Trying to juggle all of it?

Shouldering everything on your own, never asking for help. And I just made it worse by being stubborn and difficult.

Please know that I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you the way I most likely did. I hope that you can forgive me someday.

I’m not trying to guilt-trip you or wrestle out an apology.

I want you to forgive yourself. To stop being so hard on yourself.

You deserve everything good this world has to offer.

Don’t mourn me too long. (I was told widowers are hot) shake your head all you want, but you know it’s true.

I even went so far as to make you a little bucket list:

Live

Laugh

Kiss (and tell)

Be adventurous

Do things that are out of your comfort zone (and no I don’t mean just skydiving)

Hook up (even in weird places)

Get married (you always looked way too hot in a suit, though it looks better on the floor anyway)

Go to a strip club (Stop rolling your eyes at me)

Do crazy experiments with the boys :) (make a mess of the kitchen)

But most important of all don’t shut yourself off from love.

When it comes knocking, open the door. Let yourself be surprised. Don’t let me be the one to hold you back. You know I always wanted to see you happy.

I’ll be watching over my three favorite boys.

Always,

Addi

When I finished reading the letter I just sat there with tears in my eyes and held the letter close to my heart because I had the strange feeling I could conjure her into existence one more time by holding the letter as close to my heart as I could.

And just like that my pain and my sorrow were lifted a little.

It’s as if Addi knew all the right words to say to me. Knowing exactly what would help me move on a bit easier.

”Oh Addi. You surprise me as always. But there’s nothing to forgive. I promise I’ll take care of the boys and I might even find a nice woman who I can share my life and love with. Someday.“

I know that when the right person stumbles into my life I’ll know. And with Addis' blessing, I won’t feel like I’m cheating or disrespecting her memory.

I will always love and cherish what we had. But I know she’s in a better place. Free of any pain. Only filled with love and joy. Watching over us.

I get up from the table and look up at the sky, shielding my eyes from the glaring sun.

I know it sounds stupid, but it’s as if I can hear Addis's laughter and I smile. The pain in my heart lessened a bit.

And I know things will be okay. Mason, Mickey, and I will be alright.

#Once #Part V #The Nanny Affair #Open Heart #Crossover #AU #Sam Dalton #Addison Dalton #Ethan Ramsey

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juliluvhz · 4 months

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my requests || what I will and won’t write || who i mostly write for

doing this so people know what I’ll write, who i write for and what I refuse to write :3, i will do most requests sent if it isn’t these characters anyways, these are just characters i like to write for

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

harry potter

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Hermione Granger

Draco malfoy

marauders

Remus lupin

Regulus black

james potter

sirius black

Spider-Man

tasm!peter Parker

Tom Holland!peter Parker

miles morales

josh hutcherson

clapton davis

mike schmidt

sean anderson (movie 1&2)

jess aarons

josh as himself

josh when he was younger (13-18 basically)

peeta mellark

the black phone

finney Blake

mason Thames

robin Arellano

miguel mora

Vance hopper

Brady hepner

gwen blake

Madeleine mcgraw

Donna

rebecca clarke

victorious

beck Oliver

cat valentine

Jade west

andre harris

tori vega

trina vega

extras

eminem

avril lavigne

jaden walton

javon walton

tom kaulitz

bill kaulitz

dustin long

alex norman

fuckshit

ethan garcia

jude bellingham

jj maybanks

anthony larusso

max dennison

colby brock

sam golbach

jake webber

johnnie guilbert

tom Holland

andrew garfeild

emma stone

gwen stacy

what I’ll write

fluff

smut

angst

small age gaps (1-3 years)

grumpy x sunshine

enemies to lovers

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

love triangles

small mentions of blood

yandere

tsundere

what I wont write

rape

age gap bigger than 3

pedophelia

abuse

kidnapping

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

that’s pretty much it! if you do request something that I don’t write I simply will ignore it so there is no point requesting it, thank yaouuu ! ♥️

24 notes · View notes

lollystocks · 7 months

Text

To Blossom

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 2: Botanomancy (and a lil dash o technomancy)

Sam tends to her houseplants, her mother tries to connect, and Amity feels the effects of its rip in space-time. Words: 5,087 CW: minor injury, blood, self-injury, possession (mentioned), dissociation, mentions of a firearm

---

Her plants were getting grumpy. Again.

Not that Sam held it against them. As much as she had tried to make her dark, brood-perfect bedroom a comfortable home for the waifs and strays she had picked up from Amity Park’s nurseries and garden centers, (and perhaps a private garden or two), she only had so many hours in the day. The best temperature and humidity control money could buy helped of course, but between school, ghost fights, activism, and deliberately spending as little time as possible in her parents’ house…

Well. The grumpiness was understandable.

But Sam had found a rare, spare, afternoon with no obligations. Her homework was mostly up-to-date (she was refusing to do any of Lancer’s reading until the English department unbanned The Bluest Eye); the protest at Axiom was on pause until Tucker had okay’d her security plans; it was a Sunday so there were no new updates for The Grand Speadsheet; and she had already published two blog updates this week with the next one fully drafted. (“The True Amity Park Horror: A Miniature Surveillance State; or, The Bitches in Cheap Bleach Could Do With Being More Subtle When Spying On The Entire Town, part v”)

The irony of calling out the GIW’s spying operation was not lost on her.

And seeing as ghost attacks didn’t stick to a pre-circulated schedule, there was nothing to do on that front except keep the pager on loud, and get on with one’s day.

So, following an oh-so-wonderful lie-in, Sam was playing her favorite kind of politics: horticulture.

Following certain complaints, Sam had abandoned the concept of a general fertilizer and had bought a whole series - one each for tropicals, leafy, flowering, fruit, and cacti. The succulents would have to just put up with the latter. Windows thrown open, a torn up magazine protecting her dark hardwood flooring, a series of expensive and totally unused mason jars usurped from her mother’s kitchen, and a large jerry can of water sat at the ready, she set to work mixing up some please-just-fucking-grow juice for her many, many children.

Or she would have, had her pager not chosen that moment to scream at her from her window sill. A grating, 8-bit version of Ghostbusters (“the most frighteningly accurate depiction of ghosts in any move ever Sam, it’s iconic.”) that served as their “Fentonworks scanners have picked up a big ol’ signal somewhere, perhaps check it out gang” signal. Louder than the beeping was the profound sense of alarm from her plants. Or so she imagined.

Sam leaped up to silence it before it reminded her parents of her existence, knocking the jerry can over as she went. She ignored the chugging spill, slamming the “dismiss” button on the pager and then scrambling to find her phone among her copious bedsheets. By the time she extracted it, there was already a message:

Fanny Dampton: already on it, boxy’s throwing a tantrum at walmart

That would at least save them some time. Accessing the Fentonworks scan system to pinpoint a location always lost them a few minutes.

Sam typed with one hand, and started donning her boots with the other.

Man Sampson: Woodsborough Park or Elm Rd?

Fanny Dampton: elm

Fucker Toe-ly: moms got the car gonna take me a while to get there on dads bike

Man Sampson: I can swing round to get you, meet me at the end of your road, do NOT forget the extra thermos this time.

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys!

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie how are you typing and fighting

Fucker Toe-ly: i didnt forget it how dare

Fucker Toe-ly: i was giving it a premeditated and intentional vacation in my sock drawer

Fucker Toe-ly: she was tired

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys

Man Sampson: No that’s a good question, how are you typing and fighting?

Fanny Dampton: im not

Man Sampson: So when you say “you got it”??

Fanny Dampton: i ran off to GG and by the time i got back jazz had thermosed boxy. i ‘stole’ it from her so mom and dad couldn’t take boxy for testing. hid it in my leg, will get it out later.

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie im still not on bord with you using random body parts as storage it cant be good for a growing boy its also nasty as hell and also what about ectocontamination from the thermos

Man Sampson: I’m not sure Danny needs to worry about ectocontamination, Tuck.

Man Sampson: It’s also so on brand for you to be able to perfectly spell .“ectocontamination” but not “board”.

Fucker Toe-ly: what are we if not our brands? - francis bacon, probably

Fanny Dampton: look it’s all good guys, just need to focus on the hard part now - the family walmart shop

Fucker Toe-ly: god gives his hardest battles to his deadest soldiers

Fucker Toe-ly: what yall buying

Fanny Dampton: mom wants a gun

Man Sampson: Jesus Christ.

Fucker Toe-ly: aaaaaaaahahahahahahahah

Sam flopped back onto her bed, giving herself a minute - the come-down from “ghost attack mode” would take a sec, even though the problem had solved itself in rather nicely.

Sam nearly cried out when the handle of her bedroom door rattled.

A muffled voice forced its way through. “Sweetie? What have we said about locking your door?”

Sam sat up, slowly. Took a breath, and made her way over. “I said I’d stop re-installing the lock when you learn how knocking works.”

“Samantha Manson you wi-”

Her mother’s impending monologue on respect, rules and roofs was interrupted with a wide open door and a dead expression. “Yes, Mrs Manson?”

Her mom blinked, swallowing her previous tirade. It looked like it tasted sour. “Sweetie, I know it’s a joke, but your dad and I have asked you multiple times to drop the “Mrs and Mr Manson” thing. It’s-”

“A pointed nod to the irony of your formal standards of familial respect, yeah.”

“Samantha, can we please not do this?”

How rich. “Mom, it might help if you tried to actually-”

“-’understand why you do this rather than seek to use the blunt instrument of parental authority to control you’, or something, right?”

Sam blinked. Her mom could barely hide her smirk.

“We do listen.”

Sam kept her face blank and said nothing. Pointing out the obvious would do nothing but lead to yet another argument in a doorway, ripe for door-slamming and possibly injured fingers. These things always happened in doorways.

Breathe, Sam. Your silence will say enough.

Her mom broke eye contact first, glancing into the room, eyes widening the slightest bit at the soaked magazine pages on the floor.

“Oh Samantha, you really need to take more care in here. The floorboards…”

“It’s just water, Mom, and the paper got most of it.” Her heart rate was ramping up again. Her hands were flailing. “It’s fine, and you know what, why would you assume I wasn’t being careful? Like why is carelessness and thoughtlessness your first thought? I’ve clearly set up precautions against filtered water you can literally see that, but you couldn’t consider that maybe it was you trying to barge in here that could have startled-”

“-I assume a lack of care because I know you Sam, I’m your mother, and as much as I love you even you must admit you’re prone to impulse, undue planning, you take your possessions for granted as you know your dad and I will simply replace them for you at the dro-”

“-What did you want, Mom?”

This time it was her mother who prolonged the silence, maintaining eye contact, breath firmly controlled. Sam made a note of it, but would sooner die than admit who she had learnt her most effective habits from.

“What I wanted, Samantha, was to invite you down to the garden to do some gardening. Together.”

Sam rolled her eyes.

“Why is that such a shock to you, Sam? I’m elated you’ve taken to botany so well. God knows I tried to get you into it as a girl, not that flowers or weeding held any sway over you. But now you’re entering a new phase of your womanhood, you’re developing a sense of aesthetic taste, domestic pride, a new sense of responsibility, shedding your teenage fascination with the gloomy and macabre-”

“Literally what gives you that impression? I’ve got 3 animal skulls right there on my shelf Mom-”

“-Well you’re not wearing that awful makeup-”

“-Because it’s a Sunday and I only woke up an hour ago! Don’t tell me we’re two minutes into our first interpersonal interaction of the weekend and ‘cause I’ve not put my eyeliner on yet you think I’m, what, I’m ‘shedding the goth’-”

“-You are developing more refined tastes Samantha and I don’t see why you would deny that!”

It was taking all her willpower not to scream. She felt that if she turned around now, every plant in the jungle of her room would be giving her a menacing thumbs up. Tear her a new one!

“Oh my god Mom it’s just a bit witchier! Subcultures have fashion cycles too! Like yeah I’ve put my old band posters into storage and bought an oil painting at that auction we-”

Sam stopped. Breathed. Why did every conversion with her mom get so derailed?

Well because her mom found ways to sneak insults into every conversation, that’s why. Because she could do that. When Sam tried, it got her grounded.

It also tended to derail their conversations even further.

There were two ways to deal with Mom when she was like this. Way one, give her what she wants - a fight. Rise to the bait, throw some back, speak her truth, let the conversation switch between radically different topics at a whim.

Way two was de-escalation, and was far harder. It required a metric fucktonne of self-control, but mostly, just three ingredients.

Ingredient one: Stay On Track.

“Thanks for the offer Mom, but I’ll stick to my bedroom plants, thanks.”

“And while they’re looking lovely - besides that weeping fig of course - we are fortunate enough to have plenty of garden space, where plants can actually thrive. Are you unappreciative of that privilege?”

Ingredient Two: Don’t acknowledge insults that have nothing to do with the topic.

“I just want to focus on my bedroom, Mom. I don’t like the garden that much, you know that.” Not totally the truth - the greenhouse was pretty great. Mostly because it was firmly her territory. The perfect lawn and perfect flower beds were her mother’s.

Mom sighed, and set her shoulders. She was gearing up to say something. Something hurtful, no doubt. Sam braced, and prepared for Ingredient Three - when it gets really bad, disengage entirely. Shut the door. It wasn’t running.

Her mom said, “Well, we can do something about that. What would you change about the garden?”

Sam blinked.

And stalled.

“Samantha?” A nervous laugh. “Anyone in there?”

Sam frowned. “Um. Sorry?”

“You don’t like the garden. That’s a little hurtful as I put so much effort into it, and I think it’s rather beautiful, but I want you to like it too. So. What should we change?”

This was entirely new. Sam had no plan for this, whatever it was.

“Is it that it’s too “neat”? You’re “rewilding” attempts in the greenhouse are far from what I can deal with in the garden, and your father only convinced me to allow it was the greenhouse is mostly out of sight, but perhaps we-”

“Are you being serious?”, asked Sam. It wasn’t said with spite, or even incredulity. Just suspicion. Maybe even hope.

Her mom carefully folded her hands in front of her. She’d understood perfectly. “Dead serious, Sam. I- I want us to share something. We’ve never had something we could do together, except maybe swimming when you were little (but then you wanted to stop), and now that you have this wonderful new hobby, and it’s something I like too! So even if it means ceding some ground, if it means being able to spend some time with you that we both enjoy, even if it’s not really my company your enjoying but I get to see you enjoying yourself with me, then that woul-”

“It’s too much of a monoculture.” interrupted Sam, who had taken a small, defensive step back into her room.

“I’m sorry?”

“The lawn. It’s not just “too neat”, or “too perfect.” Like yeah I think it looks ugl- no, actually, it’s not that, it’s like it genuinely makes me uncomfortable. Those perfect lawn stripes are, they’re like this symbol of America but only in this really gross, plastic-and-fructose-syrup way, you know?”

Her Mom hesitated. She began to speak, but Sam barrelled onwards.

“And it’s not just how it looks, ‘cause like, turfgrass lawns are just such an issue. Like you have to put so much effort into keeping it up because it’s an invasive species and not meant to grow in the US so you have to keep it going with just so much fertilizer and even paint which runs off into rivers and causes eutrophication but then you also have to douse it in pesticide which kills of pollinators and you have to aggressively mow it with that massive fuel-guzzler-”

“Okay you hate my lawn, but you can’t ask me to lose the whole lawn!”

“Why not? We don’t use it for anything - you entertain on the patio, we don’t use it for games or even walking, it’s just there!”

“I won’t have our beautiful land just be mud-”

“Mom you asked for my opinion!”

Her mom blinked, and, for some reason, shut up.

“You can’t do that you can’t come to me with a sob story about bonding and ask me something point blank and get angry at my response without letting me finish the goddamn thought.”

Her mom opened her mouth, closed it, and gestured with her hand. Please, finish the goddamn thought. She folded her hands in front of her again.

Sam nodded. “Thank you. Look I can send you articles, there are alternatives, if you want to do that and if you want to take my mere suggestion seriously. Like, moss, or clover, or wildflowers. Or maybe even do something with all the space? You’ve got the planters crammed up against the patio. You could fill the space with more planters and have paths fill that space if you wanted to do something really cool. And make habitats for the pollinators. Like the botanical gardens.”

Her mother’s eyes registered that. Their trip together for her thirteenth birthday had been her mom’s suggestion and she hadn’t given Sam much of a choice. Sam had reluctantly adored it all the same.

The small succulent from that trip had stayed on her desk ever since. Alone, until earlier that year. When it suddenly gained a whole host of siblings.

Time to disengage.

“Look Mom, I’ve got to finish this. Mopping up the water. I’ll send you those articles if you’d like, though.’

Her mom straightened, smiled with lots of teeth. “Of course, Samantha. I’ll read them.”

Sam nodded, and went to close her bedroom door. Her mom gently stopped her. “I’ll be in the garden, if you need me.”

A thin smile. “Sure thing, Mom.” She closed the door with a soft click.

Sam liked to imagine the plants were angry on her behalf. They’d seen the whole thing, and obviously they’d be on her side.

Sam grabbed a dirty t-shirt from her laundry basket and set to mopping up the remaining water. As she worked, she counted all 38 plants her in room and noted their locations, light levels, water levels, obsessively-

God, she just couldn’t make her mom understand. That it wasn’t about looks and aesthetics and beauty, it was about the- the- the inherent sanctity of plant life, the codependent relationship between flora and fauna, the exchange of air and breath, the nutrient cycles, that her own

daughter you are mine the daughter of green the daughter of ultraviolet the queen of roots uncountable through the ground the city the planet

you are ruler you are monarch the flowers the leaves the vines these are your children these are your subjects these are your responsibility

you understand child you understand my daughter that humanity is infection is gnats is too-much-water is invasive grass it must be purged this pest

is yours to feed on to take their nutrients they are flies in the trap you will do my bidding my sweet greendaughter they will do yours you are chlorophyll you are ectoplasm shed your meat dissolve the juices of your flesh you-

…

Sam gasped and clutched her hand. She had somehow managed to find a sharp-enough pencil with which to stab her palm. She looked up, brain catching up to the fact that she had managed to drag herself to her desk, even amid the episode.

That was good. New, but good. Her body was able to act to pull her out, now. Even if she didn’t remember it.

Just another example of feeling eerily disconnected from her flesh body.

She fell into her office chair, and her head fell into her hands. She breathed. Always fucking breathing, like it’s a chore. Fucking oxygen. It never felt quite right, these days.

She needed to center herself. She knew the steps. Couldn’t remember the fucking steps. They were in the notes app on her phone. Where was her phone?

On the ground, by the jerry can and the mason jars and the magazine pages. Okay. Easy.

She sat up, walked, then half crawled to the same spot on the floor. Crossed her legs, sat upright, faced the desk, keeping the pencil in sight. Flexed her injured hand, and reached out for her phone.

She found the list quickly enough - she’d put the shortcut on her homepage.

5 See

Sam spoke aloud to the room. “I can see my phone; my desk; the window with the tree in full bloom. The raccoon skull on the windowsill. And the jerry can, it’s still got a bit of water in it.”

She shuddered a breath out. Unlocked her phone again and read the next line.

4 Touch

Sam closed her eyes and concentrated. “I feel the small stab wound from the pencil in my left hand. It fucking hurts. I feel that my right leg is a bit damp from sitting on the floor. It’s cold. I feel my boots on my feet, because I never took them off. I feel my pajamas on my skin.”

A longer breath in, and one out. She carried on, no longer needing the list.

“I hear the air conditioning, even though it’s not very hot. I hear the odd car on the road. I-”. Sam hesitated. How honest are you meant to be during these things? “I still hear the echoes of the voice. I hear words like ‘daughter’ and ‘queen’ and ‘flesh’ and ‘green’. But not with my actual ears. It’s a metaphor, kinda.”

“I can smell the lemongrass candle I’m burning. I can’t think of a second smell. Maybe my own body odor? I haven’t showered yet.”

“And I can taste my own ass-mouth, as I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Sam sighed, and opened her eyes. A bird chirped from the tree. She furrowed her brows and stared.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier buddy? I had to admit I heard his voice instead, you tardy bastard.”

The bird probably didn’t laugh. But it sure sounded like it.

Before she could forget, she opened the Grand Spreadsheet on her phone, and went to the “SAM” tab. She logged the time, with the note “short episode. Mild self injury broke it, no memory of that bit.” and hit ENTER.

Five seconds later, her phone rang - the screen flashed the caller ID “circuits mcgee 🌱 🤓✌🏾🧑🏾‍💻🍑”

He started talking the moment she accepted. “Ohmygod Sam are you okay??”

“I’m calm enough to have filled in the spreadsheet so let’s say yeah.”

“FUCK. You were doing so well, it’s been weeks, thought we’d left ‘em behind for good. What’s the injury?”

“Stabbed my palm with a pencil. Not very hard, I don’t think? There’s a bit of blood but it stopped already.” Sam opened her hand to inspect the little puncture. A small spec of gray left by the pencil and some dried blood, and it stung to hell, but she had had far worse.

“Yeah but Sam, you know as well as I do that around here, an injury healing fast doesn’t necessarily mean ‘all is well’.”

He had a point, there. “You’re right, but I’m being honest actually, it really is tiny. I can send a pic if you want confirmation I’m not just bei-”

“Don’t you fucking dare send me a picture of your wound Samantha Manson.”

Sam let out an honest-to-god giggle.

The line beeped.

“That’s Danny, wanna-?”

“Yeah add him in.” said Sam, as the texture of the background noise changed with the opening of a new line.

“Oh my god, Sam are you okay?”

“She’s good man, sounds like a small one.”

“They’ve gone down in severity and frequency, I honestly think we’re coming to a close on that.”

Danny’s voice again. “I know you don’t like talking about it over the phone, want us to swing by for a debrief?”

“Honestly there isn’t much to it that isn’t what I’ve covered before. I’m his daughter-queen again, we love plants, we’re eco-fascists, yada yada.”

“It’s not the info that’s important Sam, it’s you saying it.”

Sam nodded, before remembering they couldn’t see her. “Good point. Even so, a full debrief feels unimportant. I can just…” Sam hesitated, then completed the thought. “I can just tell my plants.”

A short, but uncomfortable silence over the phone. She had hoped that comment would land better.

Tucker spoke first. “So no change on that front?”

Sam reached out a hand above the pothos hanging near her desk, and with a slender finger, beckoned it upwards. It rolled, like it was stretching itself awake, and a leafy vine reached up to her fingers. Curling around it, not dissimilar to a cat.

mother, she imagined it crooning.

Her thumb gently stroked a leaf. “No change on that front. If anything…”

“It’s getting stronger, isn't it.” asked Tucker.

Sam didn’t want to answer that. But Tucker’s correct conclusion was unnerving. “Was that a lucky guess, or…”

“...It might be the same for me.” He said, in a small voice.

“For fuck’s sake guys, there’s a tab on The Spreadsheet for this! Why is this the first I’m hearing that you’re both getting… more?”

“Well sorry Dr Fenton-”

“Don’t call me that-”

“-but what with updating it with all the spying I’ve been doing on half of fucking Caspar High-”

“Tucker tracking your symptoms is more important than tracking Dash’s-”

“Guysguysguys, let’s all pipe down, kay?”

The conversation went quiet, again. They all took a moment, planning their words.

Sam broke the silence. “I’ll go first, if that’s okay?”

Their noises of assent came through simultaneously.

“Okay so point one: Danny, you’re probably right about Tucker and I not being totally on it with documenting our developments.” Sam twirled around in her office chair, eyes darting about her room. “I can only speak for myself, but it’s mostly just that not much has changed? Or more that it’s changing gradually? Like I have an episode, I can log that. But ‘I think I’ve got a bit more control over my houseplants this week than last week, and a tree might have tried to talk to me yesterday’ feels like an unimportant update. I dunno. What about you, Tuck?”

There was an awkward silence. Some shuffling. Neither Sam nor Danny stepped in.

It was something of a habit amongst them. Thinking space didn’t always need to be filled with noise, especially when it was obviously someone’s turn to talk.

Eventually, “Ah man. It’s less that, more like, I guess you’d call it denial? Like… okay, skipping a bunch of keystrokes when hacking the GIW and using your brain instead is something I can probably brush under the carpet until I put it into words in The Spreadsheet which is either ironic or fitting I guess.”

That was new. Tucker had been developing… some sort of connection to his networks and cybernetics. At least enough to have rare insight into how those systems functioned, and sometimes being able to intuit novel solutions, or just know when something would bug. And one time, he may have granted his phone partial sentience. But a direct input into his code? New.

“Well that, and, agh. Right okay, full cards on the table. Sometimes, I go to put something about myself in The Spreadsheet, and I get this itching feeling. One high up in my chest that’s too deep to scratch. Not sure what to make of it, but I don’t like it. So I avoid triggering it, okay. Probably just anxiety.”

Another silence. Sam froze.

Danny asked, “A kinda itch that’s like, ‘stop that right there’?”

“Well yeah.”

Sam’s heart rate spiked, all the plants on her desk standing to attention. “Wait, you get that too?”

“Not you too, Sam.” came Danny’s voice. He sounded small, defeated.

“Okay this wasn’t me covering anything up, I’d just never like, consciously thought of it like that before?”

“Okay, you both get an itch that makes you not want to do something - in your case Tucker, it’s when you’re like, compromising your own security?”

“Yeah. Or like, my privacy, or data.”

“Sam?”

“Well it doesn’t come up very often? Can’t even think of a time, just that what Tucker said rings a bell?”

The sound from Danny’s line had changed. He must have found somewhere away from the shopping crowds.

“Okay. Tuck, what kind of feeling do you get when you, I dunno, patch in a new security protocol to The Spreadsheet?”

“Well I feel satisfied, obviously.”

“Yeah but is it a different kind of satisfaction to like, doing well on a test? Is it specific to when you’re hacking something?”

Sam could hear Tucker processing that. She had to process it too.

Tucker eventually managed an eloquent “Fuck.”

“Is it like, like a slight vibration? Feels like a warm cat purring on your chest?”

“Yes, Sam, that is exactly what Obsession feels like.”

“Shit.”

“Well I guess we can stop speculating that the denizens of Amity Park are slowly developing ghostly traits, if Sam and I are developing Obsessions.”

Because that was the crux of the whole matter.

For the last year, the three of them had been doggedly tracking the changes in the population of their little town. People acting just a bit stranger, a bit more compulsive. Heart rates and breath rates decreasing. No obvious reactions to blatant ectocontamination in the cafeteria food.

Voices just a bit more distorted over the radio, or tv. Heaters turned down, AC turned up. Tucker had even set up a bot to analyze the blinking rate at Caspar High and some local offices to compare with similar places elsewhere in the state. Unsurprisingly, the citizens of Amity Park didn’t feel the need to blink as much.

Shrugging off the voices in the cornfields, the apparitions in the woods, the shivers down your back when you look at a cemetery sideways. These adjustments had come quickly to the population due to their sheer frequency - The Horrors only hold sway when they surprise you. But the blatant unease the town residents gave to outsiders wasn’t just shrugged off amongst themselves - it was firmly, blatantly, ignored.

“No but you guys are special cases, you both had prolonged, individual overshadowings by powerful ghosts and your obsessions are related to them. Most of the town have either been mass-influenced, or just had quick stints as meatsuits. Like we’ve known for a while something’s happening but it feels like it’s speeding up for some people - Paulina’s never been this concerned with being pretty, or Wes with being up in everyone’s business. Then there’s the school building itself which is a whole ‘nother-”

Sam cut in. “Okay okay, we definitely need a big meeting to talk this through. Today?”

“Probably not, I’ve got mom’s actual normal gun to deal with…”

“I found a weakness in our backdoor to the Mayor’s Office’s security and it’s got me paranoid, I gotta patch it before something happens…”

“Okay, tomorrow after school? Yours, Tuck?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got the car tomorrow too. I’ll pick you up on the way in, Sam.”

Sam scribbled the reminder on a note. “It’s a date, gang. I’ll try and put together like, a report, I guess.”

Danny said, “I’ll catch up with you guys on the school steps tomorrow. Stay sa- Mom Jesus Christ that’s not how you- guys seeyousoon.” and his line went dead.

“Talk soon, Sam!”

“Talk soon, Tucker.” She hit the red phone icon.

The pothos, without encouragement, had continued to climb into and around Sam’s hand, gently holding a leaf against the pencil wound. The rest was clamped tightly around her wrist and forearm. Too tightly.

With the feeling of being watched, Sam turned her head, glancing around the rest of her bedroom. Every plant had shifted slightly, reaching for her, leaves and stalks fighting gravity to be closer to her.

mother, she imagined, again.

She extracted her hand, and walked briskly to the door. She strode quickly down the bright hallway, and down the grand staircase, grabbing her father’s set of keys from the hallway bowl. Reaching the front door with the full intention to shut herself in the plantless, steel, diesel and chrome deathtrap that was her father’s car and just drive, she stopped with the door handle in her hand.

A slight tickle filled her chest. An itch.

She turned to look through to the kitchen, and could see her mother in the garden beyond. Her usual hairspray-hard hair had rare flyaways, and a streak of mud marred her perfect neutral makeup. She knelt by a flowerbed, a tray of poppy seedlings on a paving stone beside her. Babies that Sam didn’t know yet. Her mother gently teased aside the soil with her trowel, placing each seedling bundle with care.

Sam’s chest warmed as she watched her mother. It hummed. She let go of the door handle, set her shoulders, and went to join her mother in the garden.

31 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Burn Notice (5) - Back or gone

Title: Burn Notice (5) - Back or gone

Summary: You finally settled for a life without the man you once loved. You made the plan without a certain man.

Pairing: Nick Fowler x fem!Reader (former CIA!Agent)

Characters: Sam Axe, Jesse Porter, Fiona Glenanne, Michael Westen, Mason Brown, unnamed agents

Warnings: angst, language, toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, angry reader, betrayal, violence, characters death (multiple)

A/N: Inspired by the TV series “Burn Notice” with Jeffrey Donovan as Michael Westen.

A/N2: For everyone not knowing the show burn notice, Chuck Finley is one of Sam Axe’s aliases. Fiona, Jesse and Michael Westen are characters from the show too.

Burn Notice masterlist

<< Part 4

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“I want it all back. My job. My money. My life. If you give me that, I’ll give you something better than a scapegoat. We can keep Y/N out of this. I got what you always wanted,” you flatten against a tree to listen to Nick talk to someone over the phone. “The plan went well, Mace.”

Your stomach tightens and you clutch one hand over your mouth to not choke out a sob. Here you were, believing Nick is hiding something from you to protect you, not to rat you out.

When you first met Nick appeared to be one of the most caring men you ever met. He was a talented agent and a charming friend to you. Things turned from soft and innocent to hot and heated as you started a secret relationship.

However, he showed his true self when he fucked the recruit, Mason Brown. Or how she likes to call herself. Mace the ace.

“We don’t need to blame her for being the mole. We can use him now,” Nick continues. “I know she called someone for help. You can bet your life on it whom she called, Mace.”

You hold your breath and try to focus on the conversation, not your aching heart. Nick wanted to blame you. He destroyed your life and everything you built over the last years to get his fucking job back.

“Mace, this is not negotiable. I want my job back. No retiring for Nick Fowler. Tell them I had to go undercover to reveal the traitor. Just make it happen,” he gives Mace your coordinates and yells into the phone as you silently listen. “I got to go back. I don’t want Y/N to get suspicious. She’s out for a while but her mind and instinct are still sharp.”

It takes anything in you to not attack Nick right here and now. You can’t reveal yourself or get caught. He just ratted you, and your friends out.

If you want to save them and yourself, you need to outsmart your former lover.

While Nick barks into his phone, you sneak back toward the cabin, thinking of a plan to trick both, Nick, and Mace you must come up with a hell of a plan, or you are all done for…

“Odd,” Sam frowns as he reads your latest message. “We agreed on radio silence and now Y/N is sending me a message. FUCK!”

“What the fuck!” Jesse exclaims loudly as Sam hits the brakes with full force. They are not an hour away from your position and now, Sam kills the engine. “What is it, old man? Do you need to pee again?”

“We’ve got no time to waste Sam,” Michael turns his attention toward the phone in Sam’s hands. “Y/N needs our help. If we are right, Fowler is a dangerous man ready to sacrifice her to get his life back.”

“Sound familiar to me,” the only woman in the car smirks at Michael. “What?” She coos as Michael frowns at her words. “You would’ve burned the world to get rid of that burn notice in the beginning.”

“I wouldn’t have sacrificed my friends for it.”

“Can you all just shut up?” Sam grumbles. “Y/N just sent me a smoke signal. She wants us to abort the mission and hide. It’s a trap, Michael.”

“What did she write?” snatching the phone out of Sam’s hands Fiona furrows her brows. “Can you bring me a pizza with pineapple? Followed by an exclamation mark, an e, and an a? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Pineapple means to abort the mission,” Sam explains. “She hates pineapple on a pizza. The exclamation mark means drop everything and run. The dot at the end followed by an e looks like a typo, but it means whoever is with her, is a danger to us and her. And finally, the ‘a means it’s a trap.”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s a trap. We can’t leave Y/N on her own. If anyone wants out, this is your last chance,” Michael looks around the car, nodding as everyone stays in the car. “Well, then. We will attack according to plan.”

“Babe, the car is well-hidden. Y/N?” Nick calls for you. He panics as you are nowhere to be found in the cabin. “Fuck, did she run?” Walking back out of the cabin Nick looks around the area. “Babe?”

He follows your footsteps down a path leading away from the cabin and toward a small lake. “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you emerge from the water to wave at Nick. He doesn’t need to know that you jumped into the lake with your clothes on to hide that you were spying on him. “I wanted to cool off. Do you want to join me?”

Nick glances at the clothes you dropped on the ground. You grabbed pants and a shirt to pretend you stripped your clothes off before jumping into the lake.

“Nah, it’s a little cold, babe. How about you come out and we go back to the cabin?”

“Just a little longer, baby,” bile rises in your throat as you force a sweet smile on your lips. “How about you make us some tea and I swim a little longer? I’ll be right back, Nick.”

“Don’t take too long, babe,” he flashes you a smile before he turns around to make his way back toward the cabin. Nick releases a shuddery breath as you didn’t run. You only wanted to go for a swim.

“I won’t, you cold-hearted bastard,” your features harden, and you ball your hands into fists. “How can the man I fell in love with turn into a heartless monster.” You dive back down to wash away the tears running down your cheeks.

When you emerge from the water you are back to your new self. The one giving a shit on Nick Fowler and your past. You are the woman you became after he broke your heart.

Watching the path for a moment you take deep breaths before you slowly get out of the water to strip your wet clothes off and hide them behind a bush. You put the dry clothes you brought with you on and hide your knife in your boot and the gun in the waistband of your jeans.

“Let’s play a new game, Nick Fowler,” you grit your teeth. “It’s called Y/N gets her revenge and kicks your ass. Killing Mace will be a bonus…”

Whatever you felt for Nick is long gone when you step back inside the cabin. You are ready to kill your former lover and his partners in crime if you must. He won’t get away with ruining your life. Not again.

“I’m back,” you make Nick flinch. He hides something behind his back, and you know it must be the burner phone you placed on the coffee table for him to find. “Did you brew some tea?”

“Shit, I forgot about the tea, babe,” he flashes you another faked smile, hoping you didn’t realize he checked on your phone. “The friend you called, will he come here?”

“Chuck will be here in three days,” Nick frowns as you do not mention the name he wanted to hear. “He’s the only one I could call. Chuck is an old friend of mine. He doesn’t know anything about my time at the CIA, though. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Chuck?”

“Charles Finley,” you smirk as Nick combs through his brain to find out if he heard the name before. “He prefers Chuck.”

“Do you think it’s smart to involve a civilian?”

“Chuck is capable of handling a tough situation. Believe me,” watching Nick clench his jaw you hold back a chuckle. “Nick, we can’t risk involving anyone related to the CIA. It’s too dangerous. You just got a burn notice. Anyone working for our former employer could rat us out.”

“If you say so,” Nick huffs, frustration plastered all over his face. “I’ll make us some tea. We should sit and wait then…”

“One team,” Sam informs Michael, Jess, and Fiona. Fiona presses one hand to her earpiece, frowning as she can barely hear Sam. “Mason Brown is the leader. I see five more. Be careful. There could be more.”

“Acknowledged,” Michael replies. “Fie, Jesse, to the left. Sam, you will be our eyes. I’ll be the only one going down to the cabin. If this goes sideways, I want you to get Y/N out there.”

“Mike, that’s the worst plan we ever had,” Sam complains.

“Sam, can you repeat that? I didn’t get that,” huffing Fiona flattens behind a tree as Jesse points toward Michael who makes his way toward the cabin. “Michael, wait for us.”

“Fiona, can you shut up for a moment? Mike wants you to provide backup. Let me just keep an eye on the bad guys,” while Fiona gives Sam the finger, the man himself tries to keep track of the enemies. “Two to your left, Fiona. Jesse, three more to your right. We will keep it low for now.”

“I’m on it,” Jesse looks at Fiona. “Fiona, how about we prepare something nice for them? Any ideas?”

“I didn’t bring a bag full of goodies for no reason…”

“Tea?” Nick gives you a lopsided grin as you glance out of the window. “Or do you want a drink? Maybe some whiskey or vodka? I found the good stuff in the kitchen. Hidden behind the sink.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he steps closer to you to run his fingers over your neck up to your chin.

“Of course, babe,” you wonder how he can look at you the way he does and feel nothing. Nick is a damn good pretender, maybe the best you ever met. “Do you want to have a drink now?”

“Did you plan on sacrificing me from the beginning or after Mace burned my house down,” he swallows thickly as you press your gun to his crotch. He pales as you unlock the gun and do not even bat an eyelash. “Spill it, Nick.”

“In the beginning, I needed a place to hide,” Nick splutters as you press the gun harder into his crotch. “I got a call from Mace on your landline. She wanted to meet up with me. Mace said I can have my job and life back if I…”

“Give her someone better? Like me?”

“Yeah,” he licks his lips. “I would’ve never hurt you. You must believe me, Y/N.”

“You only wanted me to end up in a cell somewhere in the middle of nowhere,” you sarcastically say. “Tell me, how far would you go to get your job back.”

“I already went too far…”

“Did you burn my house down? Huh? Did you kill my fucking cat?” he drops his gaze and nods. “Wow, you’re a heartless bastard who is willing to betray anyone in order to serve your own self-interest. I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

“Just give me him, Y/N. Mace only wants to bring your friend down,” Nick tries to convince you to save your life and sacrifice your friend.

“Chuck doesn’t have anything to do with the CIA,” you keep a straight face, not giving away that you know exactly what Nick wants from you.

“You know I’m not talking about Chuck Finley,” he tries to cup your face but the gun pressed to his cock changes his mind. Nick drops his hands to his sides, sighing as you get handcuffs out of your pocket with your free hand.

“Put the handcuffs around your right hand and restrain yourself to the bedpost.”

“You can’t be serious, Y/N.”

“Your choice. Handcuffs or a bullet to your brain right now,” you coldly reply. “Chose wisely, Nick. I’m not going to shelter your life. Not after what you did to me this time.”

“Fine, the handcuffs then,” he takes the handcuffs out of your hands and walks toward the bed. “I would’ve never let her hurt you.”

“Sure.”

“It’s the truth, baby,” Nick restraints his right wrist to the bedpost, keeping an eye on you as you walk toward the bed. “Please let’s just get out of here. We can still…”

He doesn’t expect you to backhand him with the gun. “That’s all you will get from me, Nick,” he huffs while blood runs down his cheek. “One more word and I’ll cut your tongue out. Move on the bed, left hand where I can see it.”

“What’s your plan,” he asks as you get another pair of handcuffs out of your bag. “Uh-did you plan on doing naughty things with me?” He smirks as you restrain his left hand to the bedpost. “We still can go for a ride.”

“In your dreams…”

“I can see one of our targets,” Mace informs her team. “Y/N Y/L/N is outside of the cabin. Be careful. We need Nick Fowler alive. He’s our undercover agent. Keep an eye out for our main target.”

You feel Mace’s presence behind you before you hear her unlock her gun. “I thought it would be harder to get you,” she huffs as you don’t even turn around. “The infamous Y/N, star of Nick’s wet dreams and the name he screamed when he came inside of me.”

“Hello Mace,” you look into the distance, smiling to yourself as she tells her team to fall behind. She underestimates you, just like most of the people you worked with. “What took you so long? Did Nick take his sweet time to tell you where to find me?”

“Is he still alive?” she asks, voice laced with concern. You almost believe Mace likes your former lover as she steps closer to you. “Or did you kill him?”

“Not yet,” you ignore Mace presses her gun into your back. “What now? Do you want to kill me or hand me over to your bosses?”

“I can’t let you live,” she replies, without any emotion. “We will tell a nice story about you going rampart with your friend. I had to put you down while Nick took care of our main target.”

“So, this is it? You will shoot me in the back? What a brave woman you became Mason Brown. How will you explain that you shot me in the back? This is not what I call self-defense.”

“Turn around,” Mace pokes your back with her gun. “One false step and you will suffer more than needed. I’ll make it quick if you tell me where he is.”

You slowly turn around and take three steps to the left. “Ready if you are,” you look her straight in the eyes as she aims her gun toward your forehead. “I would rethink your plan. You can still drop the gun, Mace. Nick dragged you into his shit, just like me.”

“I tricked him to get him to go to you. You’re just collateral damage,” smirking darkly Mace looks you up and down. “I never understood what Nick saw in you. But you are useful after all. Now, tell me where Michael Westen is, and we can make this quick.”

“Right behind you, sweet cheeks,” you smirk.

“Fine. I’ll find him without your help.”

“Oh, you want to kill me?” you chuckle darkly. “Did you ever hear of the spot where the brain stem meets the spine.” You point at your forehead. “I don’t think you will be able to pull the trigger.”

“Do you think I’m stupid or weak? Well, you are terribly wrong,” Mace wants to pull the trigger; wants to end your life but just like you said, she’s not able to do so. She drops dead to the ground, blood seeping out of the bullet hole in her forehead.

“Good job, Sam. Thank you for having my back.”

“Good thing I hid that nice earpiece for you, darling,” Sam chuckles. “Let’s take care of the rest now…”

“Y/N,” Michael hurriedly makes his way toward you to drag you behind the cabin. All hell breaks lose after the team heard the gunshot. “Sam, can you see them?”

“I’m on it,” Fiona coos. “Just a min-“ an explosion makes you shriek as your ears ring and Michael presses you into the wall to shield you with his body. “Three down, two left.”

“Gotcha,” you can hear Jesse and Sam yell orders at each other while Michael refuses to let go of you. “Another one down.”

“One left,” panting heavily Fiona calls for backup. “He’s running toward your position Sam. Watch out.”

“Not on my watch,” Sam fires his last bullet, hitting the last man standing right in the chest. “Shit, I only slowed him down.”

“I got him,” Jesse runs toward Sam’s position, gun aim to bring the last enemy down. “End of story for you.”

“I told you to stay away,” you take deep breaths as Michael walks next to you into the cabin. “Why did you come?”

“You saved me more than once,” he casually says, not wanting to admit he was worried about you. “I owe you more than my life.”

“What will we do with him now?” you look at Nick restrained to your bedpost, one of your panties stuffed into his mouth. “He knows you are back. We can’t let him go.”

“He still got this burn notice, doesn’t he?” Michael cocks his head to look Nick up and down. “How about we make a call?”

“I don’t know,” you look at the gun in your hand. “What if he…”

“Y/N,” Michael takes you to the side. “I know you hate that man, and that he ruined your life for a second time. But believe me, you don’t want to kill him.”

You look Michael straight in the eyes and search his face as he tries to convince you to come with him and leave Nick behind. “Let’s make that call then…”

Four hours later you are on your way toward an unknown future while Nick sits in the back of a car, handcuffed, and left behind by the only person who could’ve saved him.

He smirks darkly as the agents keep on asking questions he won’t answer. He squeezes the paperclip he’s hiding in the palm of his hand, waiting for his chance.

“You will tell us all, Fowler. Every single sin you committed,” one of the agents turns around to look at Nick in the back of the SUV. “And we start with the disappearance of former CIA agent Y/L/N and the death of Mason Brown and the tag team.”

“One way,” Nick starts to sing as the agent frowns deeply. “or another,” his features darken before he kicks the first agent in the face. The car starts to skid when Nick uses the momentum to open the handcuffs.

“What are you doing?” Nick is fast to get his hands on the last agent in the car. “Nooo!“

One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya

I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna win ya

I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya...

- The End? -

Tags in reblog.

#Burn Notice (5) - Back or gone #nick fowler #nick fowler x you #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x y/n #the 355 fanfiction #michael westen #michael westen x reader #nick fowler fanfiction

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