#Written By Lyv

[scotianostra]

John Barbour, the early Scottish poet, died on March 13th 1395.

Barbour was born, perhaps in Aberdeenshire, early in the 14th century, approximately 1316. In a letter of safe-conduct dated 1357, allowing him to go to Oxford for study, he is described as archdeacon of Aberdeen. He is named in a similar letter in 1364 and in another in 1368 granting him permission to pass to France, probably for further study, at the university of Paris.

In 1372 he was one of the auditors of exchequer, and in 1373 a clerk of audit in the king's household. In 1375 (he gives the date, and his age as 60) he composed his best known poem The Brus, for which he received, in 1377, the payment of ten pounds, and, in 1378, a life-pension of twenty shillings.

The only biographical evidence of his closing years is his signature as a witness to sundry deeds in the "Register of Aberdeen" as late as 1392. According to the obit-book of the cathedral of Aberdeen, he died on the 13th of March 1395. The state records show that his life-pension was not paid after that date.

Because much of his other work has been lost there is considerable controversy has arisen regarding Barbour's literary work. If he be the author of the five or six long poems which have been ascribed to him by different writers, he adds to his importance as the father of Scots poetry the reputation of being one of the most voluminous writers in Middle English, certainly the most voluminous of all Scots poets.

The Brus, in twenty books, and running to over 13,500 four-accent lines, in couplets, is a narrative poem with a purpose partly historical, partly patriotic. It opens with a description of the state of Scotland at the death of Alexander III, and concludes with the death of Douglas and the burial of the Bruce's heart, a period from the years 1286, unit 1332.

While the poem covers many thing, as in any good story there is a main topic, of course in The Brus it is The Battle of Bannockburn, and as you would expect, the King is the hero of the chivalric type common in contemporary romance., in this case fighting for the freedom of his country. While very few of us have read the poem, I guarantee that the majority can quote at least one line from it “ fredome is a noble thing “ or to quote this section of the verse;

A! fredome is a noble thing!

Fredome mayss man to haiff liking;

Fredome all solace to man giffis:

He lyves at ess that frele lyvs!

Translating to;

Ah, freedeom is a noble thing!

Freedom makes man to have liking!

Freedom all solace to man gives:

He lives at ease that freely lives!

As I said earlier, much of Barbour's other work is lost, one such piece is Stewartis Oryginale, a history of the lineage of the Stewarts. The Stewart name replaced that of Bruce in the Scottish royal line when Robert II acceded to the throne after the death of David II, his uncle. Robert II was Barbour’s royal patron. It is not known how the work came to be lost.

Much of the history of Robert the Bruce is taken from the poem The Brus, I do think a lot of it was exaggerated and written to please Robert II, who must have been proud to bare his Grandfather’s name, Barbour would have written the poem to please the King.

One of the most dramatic and lines in the poem refer to the first day of The Battle of Bannockburn when the young English Knight Henry de Bohun sees The Bruce and makes a foolish, but brave attempt to kill our Scottish hero.

The hevy dusche that he him gave

That ner the heid till the harnys clave.

The hand-ax schaft fruschit in twa,

And he doune to the erd gan ga

All flatlynys for him faillyt mycht.

That wes perfornyst douchtely,

Translated roughly to;

The heavy clout he gave

So he cleaved the head to the brains

The hand-axe shaft broke in two

And he ell to the ground

Dead and devoid of all strength now

This was the first blow of the battle.

No edition of the poem written in Barbour’s own hand survives, but two early versions, transcribed in the 15th century, still exist. These are kept at the Library of St John’s College, in Cambridge, and at the National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh.

Pics are a Memorial to John Barbour, St Machar's Cathedral, one of the 15th century translations, an 18th century translation at The National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh, and the sentiment underlying the poem, which many of you may have seen sitting at the top of the Mound, as you take the steps up to Makar’s Court.

For a translation of the greater part of The Brus check the link here https://archive.org/.../bruceofbannockbu.../page/36/mode/2up

If you’re just after snippets, like I provide, the Scots Language Centre does a grand job.

[bimbinis]

just read the trans guy dating advice article out loud to lyv and the more i think about it the more obsessed i get with it. that shit hits like performance art. the pervasive characterization of the author as the most bougie ass mf you've ever seen, so overwhelming as to border on satirical. the dissonance between the aggressively self congratulatory tone of a person who clearly thinks they've discovered something mindblowing, used to describe the most bog standard dating advice for men you can imagine. the compounding meta-narrative built off the progressing realization that none of his advice ever seems to be accompanied by any kind of real life experiences of dating trans women culminating in the conclusion that this man might very well have just written an article telling other people how to do something that he himself has never actually done. what an incredible case study in narrative design. it's so compelling i might actually start convincing myself it's a secret work of genius

[samueldays]

Eighth commandment? Which denomination are you?

The short answer is that I attend a Lutheran church.

The slightly longer answer is that saying "Eighth" in that post was mostly out of habit. There's a Norwegian mnemonic: fem slem, seks sex, syv tyv, åtte lyv (roughly: "five aggressive, six sex, seven thief, eight lie") for the commandments forbidding murder, adultery, stealing and false witness.

That mnemonic is probably also from Lutherans, Norway has been Lutheran for centuries. I am open to being convinced otherwise, this is not an opinion I'm strongly invested in.

(A further digression: slem is a Norwegian word that doesn't have a precise translation to a single English word. I give its meaning thus: if you see two children, one of them crying and the other not, you might ask the crying one: "Has he/she been slem to you?" Aggressive, bullying, violent, injurious.)

---

The really long discourse for people who might be wondering what's going on with counting/numbering of the Ten Commandments: disagreement on how to number them and how to group the statements is a very old argument about very petty labeling. The Ten Commandments as given in Exodus 20 end with these two verses:

16 “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 17 “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor his male servant, nor his female servant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, nor anything that is your neighbor’s.”

Which number to put on the commandment in 20:16 depends partly on how many commandments you think there are in verse 17, which was originally written before punctuation got invented so it's a little hard to tell. The various opinions are something like this:

Reformed Christians: This is one verse. That makes it one commandment. Simple as.

Catholic Christians: This is two commandments. One against greed for other people's houses and livestock, and one against lust for other people's wife and concubines.

Lutheran Christians: This is two commandments. One against force or fraud as in taking someone's house, and one against seduction or alienation as in taking someone's family or pets.

Denomination I Just Imagined But It Probably Exists Somewhere In America, Land of the Free: This is three commandments. One about the house, one about the people, one about the animals.

Jews: Verses are fake but it's one commandment.

Ancient Textual Evidence: it was written with a linebreak after 'wife', which might be a separation of two commandments?? but it's not clear what the groups are?? or it might just be scribal convenience??

---

Hypothetical interlocutor: Wait, "alienation"?

It's not so long ago that there used to be a bunch of legally recognized crimes such as alienation of affection. In non-legal terms you might call it "driving people to break up". Seduction, whisper campaigns, gaslighting, the urban legend of the FREE CANDY van luring away people's kids, more realistically luring away other people's dogs with treats and sometimes exploiting 'it followed me home' laws to claim ownership of the dog until the legislature fixed that.

The point being that this was considered a way of stealing people's stuff, and meaningfully distinct from the normal kind of "grab at gunpoint" or "sneak in and grab at night" forms of stealing which are ineffective at e.g. stealing someone's dog because the dog will fuck off the moment it has a chance.

Very messy subject, long story for another day.

[fa7hum]

Reunion of Requited

For the past year and a half living in complete love with someone who has passed away. I now understand why nanny would say the things she did about being alone after losing pawpaw. I wondered for the better part of my life why she would'nt move on because this world is such a dismal place without love. Now, having lost my girlfriend Alyvia, who was and is still my muse of an absolutely beautiful true bestfriend from the moment we met till probably forever. Nomatter where how or when I wake up everyday longing for her, (if i can even manage to sleep) | now understand why nanny had bad sleep for such an old person, lol. After hearing this news, Im grateful i know my grandmas heart very well, after countless sleepovers falling asleep to fresh prince on the airmatresses and waking up to CMT music videos every morning to get me pumped up for a great day at school! I fell in love with music because of Nanny as well as love haha which i can say proudly she created the most hopeless romantic the world has seen. Im so grateful for the countless drives we all had together mostly maymay kayla cody and I really haha. Im so glad i got to cry to her last summer after Allyvia died. I sold my car to just fly in without notice and all I could do was cry no matter what state or city I found myself lost in looking for home because the only place i felt truly ever home was with Lyv. Nothing was helping heal this pain drowning me and in all honesty i came to Florida to tell everyone i loved them and give one last goodbye because this heartbreak is literally killing me. I remember when i was much younger nanny would go out on the porch at night and look at the stars and show me which one was pawpaw, because he was always the first star to come out at night and ever since then i always see pawpaw when i look at the stars. And shed always just say i just miss pawpaw here and there and i didnt get it then but wow. I can barely get a sentence out without it having something to do with Alyvia.

If i know my grandma like i think i do, the day her spirit left the body we know she'd been waiting for that moment in awe since the day pawpaw passed away. Love has now been refurbished and thats such a very beautful thing.

I think i kissed nannys forehead before i ran off that porch last time haha and im so happy i did.

I've found almost everything ever written about love to be true. Shakespeare said "Journeys end in lovers meeting." What an extraordinary thought. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I am constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives. It was Shakespeare who also said

"love is blind. Now that is something I know to be true. For some quite inexplicably, love fades; for others love is simply lost. But then of course love can also be found, even if just for the night. And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded.

The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your friends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood.

And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were once that happy. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back.

, ,jtr

xoxo

[halfrican-heat]

Ain't Shit (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Ransom wants to be a big happy family and reunite with his girl. But as always, there is more to the story...

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, OOC!Ransom, Toxic relationship, Arguing, Single Mom!OC, Ransom cries lol, Heated discussions, Mentions of cheating (It's Ransom, I mean...), Mentions of character death (canon-compliant), Discussions of sex

A/N: I believe that is everything in the warnings, but please let me know if I missed something. As always, please enjoy. Beta'd by @serpentico and my bf :) -Lyv <3

Song Inspo: Ain't Shit - Doja Cat

Masterlist

“No, Steph, I just don’t see the point of having a rich baby daddy if he’s still gonna behave like a fucking deadbeat,” I complain to my sister, rifling through my purse for my keys. “Like he don’t do shit for his damn son or me.”

I sigh, all I wanted was to get into the house. Not be stuck on the damn porch. A cool breeze flutters around me as I shift the phone to my other ear. I shiver a little, digging through my purse a little faster. I know I had them when I got out the car!

“We tried to warn you, sis. That boy ain’t shit and them Thrombey motherfuckers ain’t nothing to mess with. Marta told me they thought she was fucking the grandaddy, girl.”

“Who, Harlan?” I pause. “Marta’s into that geriatric shit?”

“Bitch, for the right amount of money--”

“Stephania,” I warn teasingly, but she continues.

“--I would be, too! They couldn’t prove it. But if she was fucking that old man, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“But ain’t she just his day nurse?” I ask, cradling the phone on my shoulder.  

I rifle more rigorously through my purse. Where the hell are my keys? 

“Yeah, girl! But they asses can’t imagine someone actually being a decent person ‘cause they’re all crooked as hell. They just assume everyone else is, too.”

I suck my teeth, growing irritated because my keys are still missing. “Fuck, Steph, let me call you back. I can’t find my--”

“Keys?”

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I suck in a short breath, exhaling as I address my sister again. 

“Steph, let me call you back.”

“Wait! Wa--”

I hang up the phone and drop it in my purse. I turn to face Ransom Drysdale who leans casually against my stair railing, dangling my keys from his finger. A lazy smirk graces his features as he shakes my keys at me tauntingly. 

“You dropped ‘em on your way out of the car. You should really pay attention to your surroundings, kitten.”

His grin is cocky as he tosses my keys in the air and catches them. I keep my gaze impassive, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Ransom, how the hell did you get here?” I ask.

“I drove,” He replies, shrugging. 

“Nig-- Ransom, no. How the hell did you find my house? We don’t exactly share the same area code anymore.”

“Oh,” he replies easily. “Darling, I’m rich. You don’t think I have ways of keeping tabs on my son?”

“Well, you’ve never shown much of an interest in him until now, so…”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I feel guilty for a moment. His tone becomes serious as he speaks again. 

“That’s not true, Amalia. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Well, Facetime calls aren’t enough, Ransom.”

I snatch my keys from him, quickly opening the door. I intend to slam it behind me, but Ransom shoves his heavy-ass boot in the door. I groan in exasperation, as he follows me inside. I drop my purse on the chair by the door and slip off my shoes. The door shuts quietly behind me. I look back to see Ransom hovering by the door, surveying the space. For a moment, I feel insecure.

My little duplex isn’t much. The living room is modest with nice but inexpensive furniture decorating it. Baby toys are scattered all over the place along with paperwork from my job. A doorway leads directly to the kitchen with a pass-through and barstools. There’s also a little hallway off to the side that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I know it’s not as lavish as Ransom is accustomed to, so I immediately feel defensive over my little home.

But as soon as the insecurity rises, I stomp it down. I did this on my own. Without him. So who gives a fuck what he thinks. After a while, Ransom still has yet to speak.

I sigh, turning my back to him. 

“Take your shoes off if you’re planning on staying.”

I leave Ransom behind, wandering into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, I find some leftovers from the night before and pop them into the microwave. Ransom takes a seat at one of the barstools as I go back to the fridge, pulling out a jar of Arizona tea. I fill a glass and slide it to him wordlessly. I fill up a glass for myself and lean against the counter furthest from him. The low hum of the microwave fills our otherwise silent environment. 

I size Ransom up, taking in the noticeable changes I see in him. He’s not clean-shaven like he was the last time I saw him. Instead, he has a short, well-maintained beard. His hair is parted to the left and gelled precisely enough to give him a “lightly tousled” look. Very corporate. Very…not Ransom. 

His greenish-blue eyes look dull. I would write it off as the lights not doing his eyes justice if not for the reflective glare he’s leveled his cup with. His eyes have lost that vitality and fire I always admired. Instead, there’s something vulnerable about him right now.

Despite this, his physique has not changed one bit. If anything, he’s been working out more. His shoulders fill out his off-white cable knit sweater, a soft look that contrasts his otherwise muscular frame. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I force myself to take a sip of tea instead of reaching to rest my hand on his face. 

The shrill beep of the microwave startles both of us. I whirl around, spilling a bit of my drink on the floor. 

“Fuck,” I curse, pulling my food from the microwave. 

I set the steaming container and my cup on the counter near Ransom and grab some paper towels. 

“Still clumsy as ever, huh, kitten?”

I scoff, wiping at the small puddle on the floor. Standing up, I trash the damp towel and turn to him with my hand on my hip.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what, kitten?” He shoots back, not missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. Just like that, the pensive, tired man from moments ago has disappeared. In his place is the insufferable man-child I fucked around and had a baby with. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, fishing through my drawer for a fork.

“I can’t see the mother of my son?” He teases. “After all, I never do anything for you or my son, right?”

Though I know he means it to come across lightheartedly, I can hear the edge in his voice. For the second time today, I feel guilty. I didn’t know he heard that. Still, I’m not going back on a damn thing I said. It’s not like I lied.

“It’s the fucking truth, Ransom. If you want me to take it back then you’re shit out of luck.” 

 He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. I toss the lid from the container aside and shove a bite of pasta into my mouth. Ransom continues with the dramatics, of course. 

“How could you possibly say such a thing to the father of your child?”

He continues to “clutch his pearls”, his mouth agape. I chew slowly, arching my eyebrow at him. 

“Are you done?” 

Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“You act like I had a choice in the matter. Besides, I didn’t make you leave,” He retorts. “You did that on your own.”

I squint at him, swallowing. 

“You wanna go there, Ransom? You wanna do this right now?”

He twists his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. Ransom slides from the barstool and strolls around the living room, shoving his hands in his jeans. 

“Where’s my son?”

“That’s not your business,” I say, taking another bite.

He scoffs, flopping himself on the chair by the door. He fidgets in the seat, shifting to remove a stuffed bear from underneath him. He holds the well-loved toy between his fingers, grimacing before tossing it away.

“My son’s whereabouts are my business, kitten. I’m not asking the world of you to tell me where he is.”

“You’re right, you’re not asking the world of me,” I shrug, pushing my food around the bowl. 

Ransom relaxes in the recliner, a smile stretching across his face. He starts to speak.

“Exactly, I’m glad--”

“But I’m not obligated to answer any of your damn questions. So either tell me what you brought your sorry ass here for or leave.”

Ransom’s blue eyes blaze, anger crossing his features.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?” He bites back, leaning forward. “Get off your high horse, Amalia. You’re the one that fucked off to Albany without a word.”

“Oh, so you do wanna go there!” I exclaim, rounding the pass-through. “Then let’s fucking do it, Drysdale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

He stands to his full height as I confront him. Ransom is heads above me with his six-foot frame, but that doesn’t intimate me in the slightest. I stand chest to chest with him-- well, chest to midsection-- and talk my shit.

“You were the one that couldn’t keep your dick in your pants to save your life! Two hours before our son was born, where were you?”

Ransom grits his teeth, looking to the side. His stance falters a bit. 

“Yeah, you didn’t think I knew that, did you? Tanya can’t keep her mouth closed for shit. If you gonna sleep around, at least find a bitch that doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Ransom at least has the sense to look guilty for one moment before he schools his features into an impassive glare. He crosses his arms, sneering down at me. 

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type, Amalia. Mad ‘cause that pregnancy pussy wasn’t hitting like you thought it was?” He mocks.

I laugh incredulously. “You wanna make this about my body while I was carrying your child? You wanna act like you didn’t damn near bust a nut every time you looked at me let alone fucked me? Fine, then let’s talk about where you were one week after your son was born.”

“What the hell are you on about? I was in Boston that entire time.”

I scoff. “Ok. Bet.”

I walk away from him, swiftly moving to snatch my phone from my purse. I tap around for a few minutes before shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s not your ass on a beach in Florida then?”

The picture shows Ransom, clear as day, cuddled up with an overly tanned blonde in Tampa, Florida.

Caught, Ransom pushes the phone out of his face. He drags his hand over his mouth, pacing away from me. He crosses back toward the kitchen as I place my phone in my pocket, turning to him with crossed arms. 

“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Ain’t shit to say now, right?”

“Watch it, Amalia.” He snaps. “Who the hell sent you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah, okay I’m a liar. And you’re a fucking runner. What a pair we make,” He says dryly. “But none of this will hold up in court. Especially not against the best lawyers money can buy.”

The implications of his words hang in the air. His words are like a cold bucket of water suddenly being dropped on my head. For a moment, my world freezes. Questions swirl around my brain, bouncing against every nook and cranny. 

Court? He wants to take this to court? Ransom wants to…what? Petition the courts for custody? Why now? Why is he doing this? What does he want with Shiloh?

 I feel my body go cold as numbness seeps into my bones. The air feels static, almost sharp. Like breathing in tiny bits of glass. Then all at once, everything inside of me becomes deathly calm. My eyes meet his, brown and blue clashing as I step toward him. 

“No, but you know what will hold up? Every sleepless fucking night I’ve had taking care of Shiloh. Every bill, every piece of clothing, and every bit of food I buy for that boy. Every moment I’ve spent with that baby since the second he was born will hold up in court.” I say, moving toward him. 

“And if you think I don’t got the receipts to prove it then you got another motherfucking thing coming.”

I stand directly in front of him, my voice lowering as I look up at him. 

“You wanna take this to court? Let’s. Fucking. Do it.”

Ransom stares down at me, his glare impassive. I steel my resolve, refusing to back down. His eyes search mine. I know he wants to call my bluff, but he can’t. Tucking his lips, Ransom finally looks away and sighs. He runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before pacing around the living room again. I wrap my arms around myself.

The coldness in my bones has settled, leaving me rattled and frozen in place. I stare at Ransom’s discarded glass on the counter. 

Half-empty. 

He paces silently. I stand there, continuing to stare into space. A heaviness settles around us as tension strangles the room. Then, Ransom sighs. A deep, heavy sigh laden with fatigue. He drops onto the recliner as if all the fight in him has vanished. He holds his head in his hands, breathing in deeply. 

He exhales and lifts his head to look at me. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The man from earlier returns. The pensive, tired man with creased eyebrows and the entire world on his shoulders. 

I swallow the pity I feel and give him a heated glare, daring him to break the silence. To piss me off further. 

Instead, his eyes swarm with tears. I watch as his face contorts, a broken sob escaping him. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing silently. 

I stand there watching him, frozen. Unsure of how to proceed. Ransom was never very forthcoming with his emotions. For once, I feel out of my depth with him. Do I comfort him? Or do I leave him alone to deal with his feelings? 

The bitch in me wants to tell him to clean himself up and get the fuck out. 

So, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I go back and forth for what seems like forever as he sits in front of me crying. I avoid looking at him, but the sound of his sobs isn’t exactly something I can ignore. I screw up when I take a glance at him, feeling immediately drawn in by the unabashed emotion on display. I feel myself giving in and wanting to succumb to the desire to console him. My resolve starts to crack and then…

Then, he looks up at me with pained, heavy eyes. My heart wrenches in my chest as he mumbles a garbled apology. I cross to him, sliding to the floor just as he crashes into my arms. The weight of his hug nearly knocks me over but I keep myself upright, holding him close to me. Ransom grips me tightly as I stroke his hair, whispering soft reassurances. He buries his face in my neck as apology after apology tumbles from his lips. 

“I’m sorry, Amalia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Were he not sobbing his face off, I might feel vindicated. I deserve this apology after all, right? 

I gently shift his face from my neck, encouraging him to sit up on his own. I smile softly at him as he sniffs, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I brush away a stray tear, stroking his face. He leans into my touch, giving me an all too familiar look. 

I clear my throat and pull my hand away, wiping it on my pant leg. 

“Ransom, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Why are you here?”

I steal a glance at him. He stares intently at me as if weighing his options. He licks his lips before releasing a heavy sigh. 

“Harlan is dead.”

The words come out quietly and quickly. They roll off his tongue as easily as a “hello” or “goodbye”. But these words cause my heart to drop and lead fills my chest. My vision blurs and suddenly I can’t see. I blink the tears away and shake my head, searching his face for a lie. He stares back solemnly, tears leaking from his eyes.

“He…no, that’s not possible! He was just…” I trail off. “No…”

He props his arm up on one knee, dragging his other hand over his face. His head lolls back, resting on the recliner. He sniffs, wiping at his nose. 

“He’s dead, Amalia. Died three days ago.”

My lungs feel as though they’re about to give out. 

“How?” I push out, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “How did he--”

I cut myself off, pressing a hand to my mouth. Ransom’s mouth presses into a thin line. He hesitates before speaking again. 

“Heart complications.”

I release a heavy breath, my chest caving. My hand presses into my chest, trying o relieve the tightness that has accumulated. His words swirl in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Pressure rises in my head, and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t tell. My body feels foreign-- like it’s no longer mine. Like I’m floating above it. 

He was just here, my brain screams. He was fine. He told me he was fine!

I talked to Harlan all the time. After Shiloh was born, Harlan Thrombey was the only person from that damn family to reach out to me at all. He offered money and moral support. I told him I didn’t want a dime. After all, it was Ransom’s responsibility. Not his.

“I guess I have a habit of cleaning up that boy’s messes,” He had said to me. 

Still, the old man reached out weekly to update me on his health and to facetime with Shiloh. Now and then he still tried to send me cash, but I wouldn’t have it. His constant support meant more to me than his money. He stepped in when I felt like I had no one else in the world and, for that, I am eternally grateful. I had plans to surprise him with a visit next month so he could meet Shiloh in person.

But it’s too late now.

Suddenly, I slam back into my body and find myself wracked with sobs that echo off the walls. The tears tumble from my eyes of their own accord as I shrink into myself, curling into a fetal position. Ransom reaches for me, trying to comfort me. I thrash in his arms and push away from him. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t need it. 

But he won’t give up. Instead, he pulls me closer and cages me between his legs, one propped up with the other stretched out. I scream and I cry and I struggle in his arms. Still, he holds me tighter. Eventually, I tire myself out and slump against his chest. I listen to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat and, against my better judgment, start to relax. One of his hands rests gently but solidly on the back of my head while the other rubs my back. I grip his sweater, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. My sniffles fill the otherwise quiet space as everything suddenly comes to a standstill. 

The subtle rise and fall of his chest reminds me of a time before this. Before Shiloh. Before the arguments and the cheating. Before I ever knew who he truly was. My eyes burn again as a new wave of sadness rushes over me. But I stop myself short, refusing to give in to that pain. I buried it, and I can’t go back. 

There are more important things to deal with now. 

I sit up, untangling myself from Ransom. I feel his stare on me as I wipe my face and tuck my hair behind my ear. I cringe inwardly at how much of a mess I’ve probably made of myself. Self-consciously, I run my fingers through my hair and detangle some of the kinks. If this wig wasn’t laid as fuck, I’m sure it would be crooked and matted by now. I drop my hand to my lap with a sigh and bite my lip, searching for something to say. But for once, my words fail me. So, I settle for silence instead. 

But Ransom has other plans it seems. 

He reaches for the hand resting on my lap and holds it in his. He squeezes lightly and I look at him hesitantly. He smiles softly and releases a quiet breath. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he looks away from me. He faces the direction of the large window behind the chair. The setting sun shines on his face, giving him a warm glow that highlights the green undertones in his eyes. 

He draws his bottom lip in, running his teeth over it before releasing it. He lets out a short breath and nods to himself slightly. His gaze returns to mine, determined. I frown, uncertain of him. I move to withdraw my hand but he rests his other hand on top of mine. He gazes at me imploringly and this sudden change unnerves me further.

“Ransom, what is it?”

“Kitten, I need you to listen carefully to me,” He starts, his voice low. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”

I remove my hand, choosing to stand. Ransom sighs and stands as well. I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow. 

“What is it,” I repeat. 

He rests his hands on his hips. His head tilts towards me a little as he frowns, his forehead creasing. Then, he crosses his arms and turns away from me for a moment. He faces the window, placing one hand over his mouth. I grow impatient and huff. 

“What the hell is it? What are you not saying!”

Ransom sighs and looks at me over his shoulder. He looks back out of the window before finally turning back to me. He lifts his hands, his palms out toward me. 

“Okay, okay. There’s…Harlan left a will,” He says.

I shake my head, shrugging. 

“Okay, and?”

A hand drops to his hip as he drags the other through his hair. 

“Look, my granddad was incredibly fond of you. He loved Shiloh,” Ransom rambles. “And…and so he wanted to take care of the two of you.”

“Yeah, and I told him that I never wanted his money. That Shiloh was your son and that I would be fine. Y’all know that. He knew that.”

Ransom laughs shortly, shrugging. “He was a stubborn bastard. We all knew that.”

I rub at my temples as the beginnings of a headache rise. 

“Get to the fucking point, please.”

“Fuck, okay. Listen,” He says, exasperated. 

He places his hands on my shoulders and levels me with a deep stare. 

“Amalia. Harlan…he left-- fuck.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “He left half of his estate to you.”

Next Chapter: Bad Reputation

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Title card by Me :)

Backup Blog: @thegirlonhamilton

Masterlist

[joelredden]

For the past year and a half living in complete love with someone who has passed away. I now understand why nanny would say the things she did about being alone after losing pawpaw. I wondered for the better part of my life why she would'nt move on because this world is such a dismal place without love. Now, having lost my girlfriend Alyvia, who was and is still my muse of an absolutely beautiful true bestfriend from the moment we met till probably forever. Nomatter where how or when I wake up everyday longing for her, (if i can even manage to sleep) I now understand why nanny had bad sleep for such an old person, lol. After hearing this news, Im grateful i know my grandmas heart very well, after countless sleepovers falling asleep to fresh prince on the airmatresses and waking up to CMT music videos every morning to get me pumped up for a great day at school! I fell in love with music because of Nanny as well as love haha which i can say proudly she created the most hopeless romantic the world has seen. Im so grateful for the countless drives we all had together mostly maymay kayla cody and I really haha. Im so glad i got to cry to her last summer after Alyvia died. I sold my car to just fly in without notice and all I could do was cry no matter what state or city I found myself lost in looking for home because the only place i felt truly ever home was with Lyv. Nothing was helping heal this pain drowning me and in all honesty i came to Florida to tell everyone i loved them and give one last goodbye because this heartbreak is literally killing me. I remember when i was much younger nanny would go out on the porch at night and look at the stars and show me which one was pawpaw, because he was always the first star to come out at night and ever since then i always see pawpaw when i look at the stars. And shed always just say i just miss pawpaw here and there and i didnt get it then but wow. I can barely get a sentence out without it having something to do with Alyvia.

If i know my grandma like i think i do, the day her spirit left the body we know she'd been waiting for that moment in awe since the day pawpaw passed away. Love has now been refurbished and thats such a very beautful thing.

I think i kissed nannys forehead before i ran off that porch last time haha and im so happy i did.

I've found almost everything ever written about love to be true. Shakespeare said "Journeys end in lovers meeting." What an extraordinary thought. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I am constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives. It was Shakespeare who also said "love is blind". Now that is something I know to be true. For some quite inexplicably, love fades; for others love is simply lost. But then of course love can also be found, even if just for the night. And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your friends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were once that happy. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back.

[lyv-writes]

every time i get a notif that someone liked the warren smut i posted when i first started this blog....my soul dies a lil bit

[theboyjtr]

For the past year and a half living in complete love with someone who has passed away. I now understand why nanny would say the things she did about being alone after losing pawpaw. I wondered for the better part of my life why she would'nt move on because this world is such a dismal place without love. Now, having lost my girlfriend Alyvia, who was and is still my muse of an absolutely beautiful true bestfriend from the moment we met till probably forever. Nomatter where how or when I wake up everyday longing for her, (if i can even manage to sleep) I now understand why nanny had bad sleep for such an old person, lol. After hearing this news, Im grateful i know my grandmas heart very well, after countless sleepovers falling asleep to fresh prince on the airmatresses and waking up to CMT music videos every morning to get me pumped up for a great day at school! I fell in love with music because of Nanny as well as love haha which i can say proudly she created the most hopeless romantic the world has seen. Im so grateful for the countless drives we all had together mostly maymay kayla cody and I really haha. Im so glad i got to cry to her last summer after Alyvia died. I sold my car to just fly in without notice and all I could do was cry no matter what state or city I found myself lost in looking for home because the only place i felt truly ever home was with Lyv. Nothing was helping heal this pain drowning me and in all honesty i came to Florida to tell everyone i loved them and give one last goodbye because this heartbreak is literally killing me. I remember when i was much younger nanny would go out on the porch at night and look at the stars and show me which one was pawpaw, because he was always the first star to come out at night and ever since then i always see pawpaw when i look at the stars. And shed always just say i just miss pawpaw here and there and i didnt get it then but wow. I can barely get a sentence out without it having something to do with Alyvia.

If i know my grandma like i think i do, the day her spirit left the body we know she'd been waiting for that moment in awe since the day pawpaw passed away. Love has now been refurbished and thats such a very beautful thing.

I think i kissed nannys forehead before i ran off that porch last time haha and im so happy i did.

I've found almost everything ever written about love to be true. Shakespeare said "Journeys end in lovers meeting." What an extraordinary thought. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I am constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives. It was Shakespeare who also said "love is blind". Now that is something I know to be true. For some quite inexplicably, love fades; for others love is simply lost. But then of course love can also be found, even if just for the night. And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your friends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were once that happy. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back.

[1001films1001days]

964. The Lord of the Rings (2001, 2002 & 2003)

When I was 11 years old, I discovered the world of J. R. R. Tolkien. Until that moment, all my fantasy books had been childish - although I had read some Greek mythology, too. As I began to read The Lord of the Rings, I immediately realized how rich and adult the universe created by the English author was. There were thousands of characters among dwarves, humans, elves, and others, each with their own personality and story. Some of these stories were exposed in the book but most of them were only vaguely implied. This produces a universe so complex and vast that it seemed inconceivable that just a single person imagined it. Tolkien's universe seemed to have a life of its own, moving according to its own rules without the need for a human hand to wind it up. I read everything, the Hobbit, the Silmarillion, and it didn't seem enough. The most interesting stories always seemed to be those that were not told.

The first time I heard about a film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, I had my doubts. Like all fantastic literature's fans, I already had in mind my own vision of the physical appearance of the characters and the image of the landscapes depicted by Tolkien. But above all, I wondered how could a film (or three) embrace Tolkien's infinite world? How could they speak to the viewer about Gondor, Rivendell or The Third Age without losing him/her in an ocean of data? It's not the same to read some information in a book where you can reread the passage whenever you want than hearing it in a short period of time during a casual conversation. So I went to see The Fellowship of the Ring with the conviction that it would be a great disappointment... but I was completely wrong.

All the landscapes and characters fitted perfectly to what I had in mind. Thanks to Tolkien's detailed descriptions and Peter Jackson's and his production team's skill, the Middle Earth never looked more real. But above all, Jackson understood the medium in which he was telling the story. He knew there were things he couldn't transfer to the movies in the same way as they are written in the books. This is especially noticeable in The Two Towers whose plot structure is completely changes - causing the anger of the most staunch fans.

The result is a spectacular 12-hour join-film full of action, drama, and suspense. The plot lines overlap one another without becoming messy and each character is treated with special care. They all have their space, their history and their role in the big picture. Some are exceptional like the Viggo Mortensen's Aragorn or the chemistry between Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin), others could be improved as Gimli (turned into the franchise's comic relief) but they are all interesting and fulfill their role. Also, Jackson's effort to give a little more relevance to the female characters - who are practically anecdotal in novels - deserves special mention. It is true that they are still supportive characters but at least, Éowyn (Miranda Otto) and Arwen (Lyv Tyler) have an interesting development. But without a doubt, the breakout character of the saga was Gollum. Andy Serkis did a huge (and little appreciated) job to bring to life the schizophrenic and tormented creature. His hissing voice is now part of the popular culture of the 21st century.

On the other hand, the film saga covers the same transcendental themes of ambition, power, fear, and friendship as the literary one. Many of the English author's brilliant phrases were preserved in the films, such as the quotes referring to the death penalty or " the time that is given to us". There is no doubt that there are many life lessons to be learned from this great foundational work of modern fantasy.

But what speaks volumes of this adaptation of The Lord Of The Rings is that - in the same way as the novels of J. R. R. Tolkien opened the door to a new literary genre - Jackson's films were the starting point for a series of fantastic super productions with huge budgets and enormous popularity. Harry Potter, Game of Thrones,... all of them owe a lot to entry number 964 on the List. A must-see.

19th October 2017

[dianlanwangtao]

Dos Equis® And Live Nation Unite For Naming Rights To Popular Dallas Music Venue – Albany Business Review

WHITE PLAINS, N.Y., April 20, 2018 /PRNewswire/ — HEINEKEN USA has announced the signing of a marketing alliance with Live Nation giving their key Mexican import Dos Equis® exclusive naming rights to the Starplex Pavilion, a 20,000- seat venue located in historic Fair Park in Dallas, TX. The largest amphitheater in the Dallas/Fort Worth area will be renamed Dos Equis Pavilion in this multi-year agreement.

Under the terms of the deal Dos Equis® will be the exclusive naming rights partner of the facility and be integrated into the official logo of the Pavilion. Prominent signage throughout the venue, including façade, box office and LED displays will drive brand awareness among the hundreds of thousands of legal drinking age concertgoers and enhance the music experience. Acts signed to date span a range of music genres and include Foo Fighters, Luke Bryan, Kendrick Lamar, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Dave Matthews Band.

Opened in 1886, Fair Park covers 277 acres just east of downtown Dallas. Its cultural, educational, sports and music facilities play host to more than seven million visitors each year. Dos Equis Pavilion will play host to top music talent throughout 2018, keeping the popular Mexican imported beer top of mind among music lovers and beer drinkers in the beer brand’s top market.

"We are honored to be aligning with such a respected partner as Live Nation. And the fact that the newly named Dos Equis Pavilion is located in the heart of a key Dos Equis market makes this partnership uniquely relevant to our core consumers," said Elizabeth Cannon, Regional Marketing Manager at HEINEKEN USA.

"We are thrilled to partner with Dos Equis and look forward to delivering in experiences that build brands," said Andy Peikon, Senior Vice President, Live Nation. "We strongly believe this experiential marketing platform will drive consumer trial and loyalty through top-of-mind awareness, good times and memorable occasions."

Regarded as the most coveted venue, the newly renamed Dos Equis Pavilion in the Dallas/Fort Worth area underwent over $8MM in upgrades in 2017.

About HEINEKEN USA

HEINEKEN USA Inc., the nation’s leading high end beer importer, is a subsidiary of HEINEKEN International NV, the world’s most international brewer. Key brands imported into the U.S. are Heineken®, the world’s most international beer brand, the Dos Equis Franchise, the Tecate Franchise and Strongbow Hard Apple Ciders. HEINEKEN USA also imports Amstel Light, Amstel Xlight, Indio, Carta Blanca and Bohemia brands. For the latest information on our company and brands, follow us on Twitter @HeinekenUSACorp, or visit HEINEKENUSA.com.

About Live Nation Entertainment Live Nation Entertainment (NYSE: LYV) is the world’s leading live entertainment company comprised of global market leaders: Ticketmaster, Live Nation Concerts, and Live Nation Sponsorship. For additional information, visit www.livenationentertainment.com

For additional information, visit www.livenation.com.

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[scotianostra]

John Barbour, the early Scottish poet, died on March 13th 1395.

Barbour was born, perhaps in Aberdeenshire, early in the 14th century, approximately 1316. In a letter of safe-conduct dated 1357, allowing him to go to Oxford for study, he is described as archdeacon of Aberdeen. He is named in a similar letter in 1364 and in another in 1368 granting him permission to pass to France, probably for further study, at the university of Paris.

 In 1372 he was one of the auditors of exchequer, and in 1373 a clerk of audit in the king's household. In 1375 (he gives the date, and his age as 60) he composed his best known poem The Brus, for which he received, in 1377, the payment of ten pounds, and, in 1378, a life-pension of twenty shillings.

The only biographical evidence of his closing years is his signature as a witness to sundry deeds in the "Register of Aberdeen" as late as 1392. According to the obit-book of the cathedral of Aberdeen, he died on the 13th of March 1395. The state records show that his life-pension was not paid after that date.

Because much of his other work has been lost there  is considerable controversy has arisen regarding Barbour's literary work. If he be the author of the five or six long poems which have been ascribed to him by different writers, he adds to his importance as the father of Scots poetry the reputation of being one of the most voluminous writers in Middle English, certainly the most voluminous of all Scots poets.

The Brus, in twenty books, and running to over 13,500 four-accent lines, in couplets, is a narrative poem with a purpose partly historical, partly patriotic. It opens with a description of the state of Scotland at the death of Alexander III,  and concludes with the death of Douglas and the burial of the Bruce's heart, a period from the years 1286, unit 1332.

While the poem covers many thing, as in any good story there is a main topic, of course in The Brus it is The Battle of Bannockburn, and as you would expect, the King is  the hero of the chivalric type common in contemporary romance., in this case fighting for the freedom of his country. While very few of us have read the poem, I guarantee  that the majority can quote at least one line from it “ fredome is a noble thing “ or to quote this section of the verse;

A! fredome is a noble thing!

Fredome mayss man to haiff liking;

Fredome all solace to man giffis:

He lyves at ess that frele lyvs!

Translating to;

Ah, freedeom is a noble thing!

Freedom makes man to have liking!

Freedom all solace to man gives:

He lives at ease that freely lives!

As I said earlier, much of Barbour's other work is lost, one such piece is  Stewartis Oryginale, a history of the lineage of the Stewarts. The Stewart name replaced that of Bruce in the Scottish royal line when Robert II acceded to the throne after the death of David II, his uncle. Robert II was Barbour’s royal patron. It is not known how the work came to be lost.

Much of the history of Robert the Bruce is taken from the poem The Brus, I do think a lot of it was exaggerated and written to please Robert II, who must have been proud to bare his Grandfather’s name, Barbour would have written the poem to please the King.

One of the most dramatic and lines in the poem refer to the first day of The Battle of Bannockburn when the young English Knight Henry de Bohun sees The Bruce and makes a foolish, but brave attempt to kill our Scottish hero.

The hevy dusche that he him gave

That ner the heid till the harnys clave.

The hand-ax schaft fruschit in twa,

And he doune to the erd gan ga

All flatlynys for him faillyt mycht.

That wes perfornyst douchtely,

Translated roughly to;

The heavy clout he gave 

So he cleaved the head to the brains 

The hand-axe shaft broke in two 

And he ell to the ground

Dead and devoid of all strength now 

This was the first blow of the battle.

No edition of the poem written in Barbour’s own hand survives, but two early versions, transcribed in the 15th century, still exist. These are kept at the Library of St John’s College, in Cambridge, and at the National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh.

Pics are a  Memorial to John Barbour, St Machar's Cathedral, one of the 15th century translations, an 18th century translation at The National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh, and the sentiment underlying the poem, which many of you may have seen sitting at the top of the Mound, as you take the steps up to Makar’s Court. 

For a translation of the greater part of The Brus check the link here https://archive.org/details/bruceofbannockbu00barbrich/page/36/mode/2up

If you’re just after snippets, like I provide, the  Scots Language Centre does a grand job.

 https://www.scotslanguage.com/Bannockburn_1314/Barbour_and_Freedom

[halfrican-heat]

Slow&Steady (S. Rogers)

Summary: AU. Steve has an obsession with the hot owner of his favorite coffee shop. What does Steve have to do to get her to understand that they belong together? (Word Count: 5622)

Pairing: Black!OC x (Soft)Dark!Steve Rogers

Warnings: Cursing, Slow-ish Burn, SMUT, Degradation kink, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), Breeding kink (slight), Female Identifying Reader, Violence, Abusive Situation, Discussions of Abuse, Fighting, Near Death Experience (minor character), Stalking, D/S Elements, (very) Mild Dubious Consent, Body Image Issues

A/N: Hi. I have not posted a story in years, but I didn’t make my masterlist pretty for nothing! So here’s to my first post! Hurray!! I tried to be as detailed as possible with the warnings, so please let me know what I have missed or how I can improve those, please! Also, works part-time at a Starbucks in this universe because I said so lol. It worked well for the banter. Please be patient with me as I get acclimated to writing fandom things again :) It has been a long time. But this felt good to share. Beta’d by me, so I’m sure there may still be some errors. I’ll update those as I see them. Enjoy! -Lyv <3

Masterlist

The bell chimed quietly as he entered. Steve had been coming to see her for weeks now. He was in a rush to get home after work one night but really wanted a good cup of coffee. He was tired of that bland shit his job served, so he stopped by a little hole in the wall. It looked empty save for two or three people lingering, but what caught his eye was the woman behind the counter. 

She was breathtaking. The way her hips swayed as she walked, her smirk whenever she found something amusing. She was like a drug to him. He especially loved the way she would snort when something was extremely funny but then cover her mouth, looking around to see if anyone heard. They usually hadn’t. But Steve did. He noticed everything about her. He couldn’t get enough of her. 

Her name was Selene. She had deep brown skin that looked kissed by the sun and full lips that curved into that delicious, sexy smirk he loved to see. Her hairstyle varied. Some days it was black with full waves or reddish-brown with loose curls. Other days, her hair was in a coily updo that showcased her thick, gorgeous afro. 

A “pineapple” she called it. 

It was this hairstyle that greeted Steve as he walked in. Her coils were extra-defined, and she chose to braid her hair up into the puff Steve loved so much. She accented the look with gold beads and stray curls framing her face. 

Selene didn’t notice him at first, humming contentedly as she wiped down the counter. Her back was to him, and Steve couldn’t help but admire her full, round ass shift from side to side. She leaned over to scrub a spot across the table, giving him an even better view as she moved forward. Steve licked his lips slowly, clenching his jaw to keep from making a move on her. 

Slow and Steady. 

That’s what he told himself. So instead, he cleared his throat to catch her attention. She jumped slightly, whipping around. Her face relaxed when she saw it was him. She rolled her eyes playfully, sauntering behind the counter. 

“You know it’s near closing, Steve.”

Her voice was like music to his ears and fuel for the ever-growing bulge in his pants. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, giving her an easy grin. 

“No one else is here. Besides, you’ve got the best coffee around.”

She started the machine up, not bothering to ask for his order. She already knew. Her hands moved expertly as she made his drink, never once stumbling or faltering. For a moment, Steve imagined what those hands might feel like on him. 

Nails raking down his chest, pulling him closer as he buries his–

“You work at Starbucks, dude.”

Her words pulled him from his thoughts. His cheeks flushed red as he cleared his throat. 

“Like I said,” He began, walking to the counter. “You do it better.” 

In every single fucking way, he thought. 

“Ya damn right we do. I don’t mind taking money from a competitor,” She said, finishing up his drink and sliding it over with a wink. 

“There you go. Just how you like it.”

Black and sweet.

“Thanks, Sel. How much?”

“On the house. From one barista to another.”

As Steve reached for the cup their hands grazed. Selene looked up at him, her soft brown eyes swirling with something unreadable. Steve was almost certain it was desire. 

She gently bit her lip as they held eye contact, but before Steve could think of something to say she blinked and pulled away.

“Alright, now. Get out. I gotta close up. My baby and I have plans.”

Steve’s hand tightened on his coffee.

“Yeah? What are y’all doing,” He asked, his voice tight. 

“Just a lil date night. But I would like to get out on time,” She said, pulling her apron off. “So…”

Steve had to repress a groan at the sight of her body. Soft, supple curves filled out the striking red sweater dress she wore. The subtle v-neck accentuated the swell of her breasts and drew attention to her cleavage. The jiggle of her tits and ass as she jumped a little to reach the hook had Steve thankful her back was turned to him. He was hard as a fuckin’ rock at the moment. 

Even still, a rage like white-hot fire burned in his veins. Her baby she had said. Yeah, Steve knew she had a man. But he didn’t give a fuck. That son of a bitch wasn’t shit compared to him. Selene deserved better and Steve knew he could be that for her. 

He had heard the way she spoke of her baby to the other baristas when he would stop by on his lunch breaks. How he always complained about her appearance and never wanted to spend time with her. Steve was more than confident this “date night” was her idea and her baby was just an unwilling participant. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. Steve would set things straight.

He just had to get her to see that her boyfriend wasn’t good enough for her. But right now, she was clueless.

So, Steve made up his mind. He was going to make her see. 

“Steve. Earth to Steve! I have to go,” She called out, pulling him from his thoughts. “You’re holding me up.”

He blinked, taking a sip from his coffee. Selene arched an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip, silently asking him why the fuck he hadn’t left yet. Steve just smirked and put $20 in the tip jar. Selene frowned, preparing to speak. But before she could, Steve turned and headed out the door. 

“I’ll see you around, Selene. Thanks for the coffee.”

Steve walked to his car and got in. But he didn’t pull off. Instead, he watched Selene finish closing up the cafe as he drank his coffee. She flipped the open sign to “closed” and locked the door behind her before hopping into her car. As soon as she pulled off, Steve started his car up and followed her, glancing at the time. It was 7:15. From previous conversations, Steve knew that Selene lived 15 minutes away so their date night was probably at 8:00. Thinking of the sexy red number she had on, Steve didn’t think she needed to get ready.

But he knew she would want to freshen up and change.

When she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, Steve intentionally drove past it before looping around and finding a spot down the road. From where he was parked, he could still see her car and had a good view of her apartment building. He watched as she got out of the car, taking another sip of his lukewarm coffee. He didn’t really like coffee once it got started to cool down. The burn of hot coffee on his tongue reminded him that he was alive. So no, Steve wasn’t a fan of cooled coffee.

 But Selene had made it, and Steve would be damned if he let a single drop go to waste. 

Once Selene was in her building, Steve got out of his car. He followed the path he watched her take, dumping his empty coffee cup on the way. Each apartment was two stories, so all he had to do was find the front door that looked like hers. And judging by the coffee-themed welcome mat in front of one of the doors, he was sure he had found it. 

Apartment D. Fitting, he thought. 

So, Steve stepped aside and found a shadowy spot between Apartment C and D. This spot kept him hidden but gave him a perfect view of parking space D– so he could see when Selene’s baby would arrive. Steve wasn’t sure what his plan would be when the guy did show up, but he decided that

he would have time to figure out the minor details while he waited. He checked his phone. 7:40. 

The fucker was due any minute. 

But as the minutes ticked by, he didn’t show. Steve leaned against the wall, checking his phone again. 8:05. By the time 8:20 rolled around, Steve had taken to scrolling through the few pictures of Selene he had on his phone. He had gotten so wrapped up admiring her that he didn’t notice the shabby-looking vehicle pull into the parking spot in front of Selene’s building. It wasn’t until he heard Selene’s voice that his head shot up. He checked the time. 

8:45

That son of a bitch was 45 minutes late to his date with Selene. Steve felt his rage returning full force, his jaw clenching. 

“Where have you been, Theo?”

Theo? What type of square ass name is that?

“Don’t worry about that. You tryna leave or not, Selena?”

Steve couldn’t see the couple, but he could imagine the way Selene was looking at him. Her brow was probably furrowed with one eyebrow arched and her hands on her hips. Her head would be tilted to the side as she kissed her teeth. He’d seen the look plenty of times when watching her deal with disrespectful (usually white) customers. He heard her scoff a little. 

“Selena? What bitch you know named Selena?”

Theo clicked his teeth. “Girl, don’t start with that shit. I ain’t mean it like that.”

Steve edged out of the shadows a little. He could see a little more clearly now. Theo’s back was to him but he wasn’t much taller than Steve. He was fair-skinned with a low-cut fade and some busted-up Jordans on his feet. He didn’t have much in the way of muscle, looking about as thin as a toothpick. 

But he could see Selene clearly, and he felt his breath falter for a  moment. She had changed out of the red sweater dress and into something more revealing. It was a black two-piece set. The top was single-shouldered and cropped, showing off Selene’s midriff while the skirt had two long slits running up the side, giving Steve an excellent view of her toned thighs. Steve licked his lips, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Her makeup was darker than before, making her eyes look sexy and mysterious. Selene’s plump, full lips were painted dark crimson with a light gloss on top. Her tits were sitting perfectly in her top and from the way her nipples hardened as a slight breeze blew, she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. Steve’s cock twitched in his pants. He adjusted himself, moving closer so he could hear better. 

“So you getting your ass in this car or no? Cause you wastin’ my time if not.”

Selene scoffed again and rolled her eyes. 

“The reservation was 45 minutes ago, so no. I’m not going nowhere with you, Theo,” Selene snapped, turning to head back into her house.

It was at that moment that Theo made his first fatal mistake. He snatched Selene by her upper arm, pulling the girl toward him forcefully. Steve restrained himself. 

Slow and steady.

“Nah, bitch. I ain’t come out here for nothing. Either we eating or we fuckin’. Your choice.”

“Let me go, Theo. I don’t owe you shit.”

Selene tried to pull away, but Theo pushed her against the brick wall of her apartment.

“You gone do what the fuck I tell you to do. You run that mouth so much, how about you show me what it do.”

Mistake two. Steve was seeing red and ready to jump from the shadows. He close his eyes to compose himself but could feel his rage steadily rising. But then he heard a groan and the sound of a fist connecting with a face. 

“Get your fucking hands off me, Theo. I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

Steve watched as Selene’s fist connected with Theo’s face again, causing the dude to fall into his rusted jalopy. Selene turned to leave, not noticing Theo preparing to lunge at her. Steve took his chance.

He leaped forward and pulled Theo backward, snatching him up by the collar. He could smell the cheap alcohol on Theo’s breath. Steve punched him in the face for a third time, causing the drunken man to fall on his ass. Theo stumbled to his feet, attempting to tackle him, but Steve maneuvered around the staggering man and pushed him to the ground. 

“The fuck are you doing, man? Get outta here,” Steve shouted, kicking Theo in his back. 

Steve turned to Selene, immediately checking her for injuries. She stepped back, looking at him confused. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing here? Wh–”

“Relax, relax,” He interrupted, trying to placate her. “I was leaving my cousin’s place and I heard him. I wanted to help.”

She relaxed for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself. She tucked a stray coil behind her ear.

“W-well thank you. I didn’t really need your help but I appreciate it.”

He cautiously placed his hands on Selene’s shoulders, relishing in the feeling of her silky smooth skin under his hands. 

“Selene, is he always like that?”

She shrugged. “When he drinks, yeah. But I can handle myself. Ain’t shit he gone do to me that I don’t want done.”

Pride rose in Steve’s chest. Most girls said things like that. Things that downplayed the abuse they faced, but Steve knew Selene meant it. Wasn’t shit gonna happen to his baby and definitely not while he was around. It was then that Steve knew he loved her. Fully and completely. 

She could take care of herself, yes, but she wouldn’t have to anymore. Steve loved fiercely and fully, willing to do whatever it took to protect his loved ones.  And Selene was obviously the love of his life. 

Steve started to speak, but the bastard on the ground clearly didn’t get enough of having his ass beat. 

“You need some white ass, Superman-looking nigga to save you? Bitch, I knew you wasn’t shit with yo’ fat ass.”

Theo laughed scathingly as Steve watched the look of pain flash across Selene’s face. She immediately schooled her features into an impassive mask, but Steve saw it. He saw how the words affected her. And it pissed him off. 

Strike three. 

He took a heavy breath before turning on Theo. It was as if he blacked out, his body moving before his mind could catch up. His fists moved of their own volition, slamming into Theo’s face. Theo’s hands flailed, smacking at Steve a few times but those weak slaps and scratches didn’t phase him. Steve was shouting but he had no idea what he was even saying. His rage blinded him as he put all his effort into destroying the man that hurt his girl. 

“Steve! Steve, stop! You’re gonna fucking kill him,” Selene screamed. “Please!”

“Let him die,” Steve growled in response. 

Theo was barely conscious by this point, probably near death, as Steve reared back to land one more fatal punch. Selene grabbed his arm mid-swing. 

“Steve,” She said slowly. “You gotta stop. This ain’t the hood. Someone is gonna call the fucking cops.”

Steve gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the calming effect her touch had on him. With a frustrated sigh, Steve got up. Theo’s head rolled to the side and for a chilling moment he went completely limp, but then he coughed and groaned in pain. Satisfied, he turned back to Selene with his eyes blazing. Danger radiated off him in waves.

“You better have a good fucking reason for stopping me.”

Selene swallowed slowly, gently grabbing his arm. 

“Let’s go inside. Let’s get you cleaned up before the police come.”

Steve allowed her to tug his arm forward, letting her guide him into the apartment. He hesitated at the threshold, looking over his shoulder at Theo. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, bitch,” He spit at the barely conscious man on the ground. 

Then, he allowed Selene to pull him into the apartment. 

Steve sat in silence for a while as Selene moved through different rooms in her apartment. While he waited, Steve looked around.

It was almost how he had imagined. Decorated minimally but with tons of personality. The color scheme was shades of orange and yellow with white accents. The pictures on her wall were afro-centric with a few plants spread around the space. It looked so much like her. Simple but vibrant and enticing. 

The plush yellow sofa he sat on was adjacent to the door, facing a nicely sized television with a small glass coffee table between the two. Steve felt like he could make himself at home there. 

There was a kitchen area separated by a pass-through with little bar stools in front of it.

Selene rounded the corner, with a first aid kit and a bowl of water. 

She sat gingerly on the glass table in front of him, avoiding eye contact. Steve stared at her unabashedly, waiting for her to speak. She didn’t. 

Instead, she took his hands in hers and started to clean them, dipping a rag from the kit in the bowl occasionally. When she felt his hands were cleaned well enough, she put ointment on them and wrapped them in gauze. 

Then, she moved on to the scratches on his face. For the first time since they came into the apartment, she met his eyes. Steve could see the conflict in them and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her until she was breathless. 

She looked away, focusing on his wounds instead. He hissed a little as the antiseptic touched his skin and she giggled lightly. A large grin broke out on Steve’s face at the sound. 

“Something funny?”

She met his eyes again, her hand resting on his cheek. Her eyes were light for the first time since Steve arrived at her apartment. His smile softened and he rested his hand on top of hers. She swallowed thickly, biting her lip. 

“Well?” Steve whispered. 

They leaned in slowly, hesitantly. But at the last second, Selene looked away and separated herself from Steve. 

“Uh, you’ll need to put some ointment on your scratches. A-And you’ll have to take off your shirt. You can’t have all that blood on your shirt when you leave.”

“I don’t think it really matters with the comatose guy lying on the ground outside your apartment. You called the cops, right?”

Selene nodded, pacing away from him. Her hands covered her midsection as she fiddled with her fingers. 

“Yeah, the ambulance. But…this wouldn’t be the first time the cops got a call about Theo. He’s a bit of a nuisance if you couldn’t tell.”

Understatement of the fucking year.

Still, Steve pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion. He heard her breath hitch and smirked a little.

“Yeah, well what are you gonna tell them about his…condition?” Steve asked. 

“He got into a drunken fight with another drunk who ran off when I threatened to call the cops.”

Steve nodded, considering her words. 

“Cool. Okay, then.”

Selene nodded, pursing her lips. She wrapped her arms around herself and seemed to be considering her words before she spoke again. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

“I got a cousin in the area, two doors down actually. I was walking to my car,” He lied easily. 

“Oh for real? He lives in 2B?”

“Yeah, something like that. He needed help with his TV.”

“Oh. Well, that’s funny ‘cause I don’t recall any men staying with Ms. Carter. She’s a widow.”

He blinked. Maybe she wasn’t as clueless as he’d thought. 

“W-well, I can explain–”

“Save it, Steve. I’m not fucking stupid. What are you doing here?”

Maybe it was the way she had spoken to him or the distrust in her eyes, but something inside of Steve cracked. Something dark and possessive, twisting and curving like black ink, coursed through his veins. It consumed him in a way that could only be satiated by devouring her entirely. 

“No, you are.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

Steve stood and crossed to her, his full height dwarfing hers as he backed her against the wall of her island counters. Both hands caged her head between him and the wall. Selene took a heavy breath, trying her best to look unbothered. 

But Steve knew he was affecting her. He could almost see the lustful spark in her eyes.

“You are fucking stupid because you wasted your time on that fucking waste of space —

He moved his mouth to her ear, his voice lowering. 

—when I have been right here.”

He pushed off the wall, putting some space between him and Selene. 

Slow and steady, he reminds himself. So, he takes a calming breath. 

“You’ve been giving yourself to a man who isn’t worth more than the dirt under your fucking boot,” Steve all but growls. “So, I got fucking tired of it.”

“That’s not your place, Steve! I’m a grown woman. I can handle myself!” Selene shouted, moving toward him.

“Does it look like I give a fuck? Cause I don’t,” He shot back, inching forward as well. “You’re mine. And it’s time you act like it.”

“Excuse me? Who the fuck are you talking to!”

Selene closed the space between them, attempting to shove him backward but he grabbed her hands the moment they touched his firm chest. 

“Stop it,” He said. “I won’t tell you again.”

That dangerous edge rolled off him again, swirling around Selene like an intoxicating scent. She took a shallow breath, finding herself lost in his intense glare. They were a soft blue that darkened as he cupped her face gently. The heat of his gaze brought out the green tone of his eyes, causing a riot to break loose inside Selene. The danger in his eyes spread through her like a thick black haze, infecting her insides and muddling her brain. Her eyes flickered down to his lips as she bit hers again.

Selene leaned in closer, “Steve…” She whispered. “I— I don’t even know you.”

Their lips were only a breath apart. “You will,” He whispered. 

Then, their lips crashed together. He dominated her easily with his mouth as her hands found his hips, stroking his v-lines and the outline of his abs. Her hands felt like heaven on his skin as he held the back of her head, deepening the kiss. 

She moaned into his mouth, fiddling with the button on his jeans. He pushed her hands away, grinning as they parted. 

“Eager? Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get what you want. But there is something I want first.”

He took her hand, leading her over to the couch. He sat, looking up at her expectantly. 

“I think you should thank me. Don’t you?” 

Selene smiled coyly, kneeling in front of him slowly. 

“Yeah..I should.”

She undid his jeans, helping him maneuver his pants and boxers down. Steve’s dick sprung free, full and erect. He released a sigh of relief that turned into a groan as she gently took him in her hands.

She could barely hide the surprise on her face as her hand could barely wrap around his cock. Steve wasn’t too long, but definitely longer than average and he was thick as hell. 

The thought of him stretching her open had Selene’s pussy clenching as a new wave of lust crashed over her. Slick, wet arousal filled her panties as she licked her lips, leaning forward to take him in her mouth. 

She started slowly, using her tongue to tease up his shaft. She then licked from the base to the tip, flattening her tongue and making sure to flick the base of his tip. She relished in the moans coming from him and took that as a cue to go further. She sucked his tip in her mouth, humming happily as he bucked his hips. 

Meanwhile, Steve was in heaven. He could barely think as she swirled around the tip, teasing it with little flicks of her tongue. With one hand resting on his thigh, she brought the other up to massage his balls as she took more of him in her mouth. 

As the sensation of her sucking him off and massaging his balls ran through him, Steve had to restrain himself from saying those three little words. Instead, he said them on repeat in his head like a mantra. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Steve’s hands flew to Selene’s head, trying to be mindful of her carefully done hair. She started to move her mouth rapidly up and down his shaft, gagging as she tried to take all of him. Steve’s breath hitched as he hit the back of her throat each time she took him deeper. 

Unable to control himself, he started thrusting into her mouth. His actions drew loud whimpers and moans from her as she relaxed her jaw and allowed him to fuck her face. 

Feeling himself coming close, he pulled her off him with a satisfying pop. 

Removing his clothes all the way, he stroked himself as he watched her stand and strip out of her clothes. She hesitated at her skirt but turned her back to him, pulling it down. Steve frowned.

He would kill every son of a bitch that ever made this woman feel bad about her body. 

Selene was toned, sure, but being a thicker girl meant having more to love in certain areas. Specifically the stomach area. But Steve felt it added to her sex appeal and for her to hide was offensive to him. 

“Princess, don’t do that. Don’t hide from me. Get over here.”

Selene turned around, her arms wrapped around her midsection. She stepped over to him, her eyes downcast. Steve reached for her and positioned her over his hard cock. She shifted, desperate to sink down onto his waiting erection. But Steve held her hips firmly, waiting for her to make eye contact. 

When she did, he finally spoke.

“You don’t hide from me, you got that? You’re mine. You’re beautiful.”

Selene averted her eyes again.

“Look at me, Selene.”

Selene hesitated. She wasn’t used to taking orders, but something in her wanted to please him. It went against everything she believed in. Submitting to a white man? Hell no. But still, Selene found herself nodding slowly, meeting his eyes. 

“I hear you. Now, are you gonna fuck me or what?”

At her words, Steve grinned and bucked his hips upward. He slid his cock against her wet folds, the sound of her wetness filling the room. Her tight grip on his shoulders, the burn of her nails digging into his flesh, anchored him as his head rolled back on the couch. Feeling her wetness drove him absolutely wild but he worked hard to savor the moment– to let her feel exactly what she did to him. 

Steve wanted to take his time with her but his restraint slowly fell apart the more needy her moans grew. 

Slow and steady, slow and steady, slow and—

“Steve, please. I need it,” She whined. 

And just like that. His resolve snapped. 

“Fuck it,” Steve growled, flipping them over. 

He threw her leg over his shoulder, the other resting on the back of the couch, and finally slid home. Steve’s eyes rolled to the back of his head at how tight Selene was. 

“Fuck,” He hissed. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.”

Selene cried out at the drag of his cock as he pulled out, biting back a scream as he slammed back in. He held her leg tightly on his shoulder as he pumped in and out of her at a rapid pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Her tits bounced in tandem with his movements as he fucked her deeper. 

Passion ignited the air as Steve finally laid claim to the beautiful woman beneath him. He leaned down, pressing their lips together, swallowing her moans. She pulled him closer, her nails raking down his back. 

“You like that? You like the way I fuck you?” Steve teased, his voice breathy and deep.

“Yes, yes,” She sobbed, feeling dizzy with pleasure. Tears leaked from her eyes at the pleasurable burn Steve’s dick provided. She had never felt so full before.

“Who do you belong to, Selene? Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours! I’m yours!” She screamed. “Steve, I’m so close. I feel like—“ 

A sharp cry escaped her lips as she clenched tightly around his shaft. Steve’s head fell back. 

“Fuck yes, baby. Good girl.”

He fucked her through her orgasm, feeling himself reaching his peak. Closer, closer—

Then sirens sounded outside.

Steve stilled, panting quietly. Selene’s eyes widened as she peeked over his shoulder, watching the blue lights flash. And seeing those lights sent a thrill through Steve. 

Then, he had a devious idea. 

“It’s the fucking cops,” She whispers. “Steve—“

He shushed her, pulling out. She winced at the loss but became confused as Steve pulled her from the couch and over by the door. 

He pushed her against the wall, hiking her leg up around his waist. He slid back into her, covering her mouth with his hand when she let out a loud gasp. 

Steve started to move inside her, angling himself just right so he could pull those beautiful cries from her throat. 

“You better be quiet, princess,” He taunted. “Unless you want them to hear you fucking the man who beat the shit out of your ex-boyfriend.”

Selene whined, her eyes rolling back as he hit that spot deep inside her. Her pussy clenched around him, drawing a low groan from Steve. He grinned. 

“You would love that, wouldn’t you? You would love to have them walk in and find me shooting my load into this tight cunt, wouldn’t you?”

Selene pulled him closer, feeling herself rise to a higher peak. 

“Oh my god,” She whispered, her voice tight. “Steve, I’m so close.”

“Again?” 

She nods into his shoulder, pulling him as close as she possibly can. Steve lifts Selene up, both legs around his waist now, fucking into her harder. Selene’s head rolls back onto the wall, her face entirely blissed out.

Anchoring her between his pelvis and the wall, Steve eased a finger between the two of them and rubbed her clit in tight circles. 

“Come on,” He urged. “Do it, princess.”

Selene came with a scream, her hands tangled in Steve’s hair. Her body seized up, trapping his dick inside of her as he continued to give her slow, deep pumps. The look of pure ecstasy on her face, and the rough tug she gave his roots as he continued to fuck her, sent him reeling. He pulled out quickly, spinning her around. She braced against the wall and poked her ass out, desperate for more of him. 

Instead, Steve jerked himself off spilling his seed on her back and ass. Selene moaned at the sensation, resting her head against the wall. 

They stayed there in silence, cum and sweat rolling down Selene’s back. Their heavy breaths filled the space between them. Steve held himself up on the wall, on hand still gripping her waist. Selene’s legs shook from the effort it took to remain standing. With a breathless laugh, Steve started to speak but–

“Uh. The young man outside has been taken to the hospital. Would you like to make a statement?”

The voice came from the other side of the door. He sounded young, new to the job, and unsure how to proceed. 

Steve and Selene both stifled laughs as he moved away to grab his discarded shirt. He wiped down Selene’s back and she turned to him, pressing a heated kiss to his lips. Steve immediately deepened the kiss, gripping her ass as he pulled her closer.

The officer on the other side of the door cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke again—

“I’ll just leave my card.”

With that, the screen door closed and the sound of sirens pierced through the air. 

But the couple didn’t hear them, too drunk on one another to care about anything else. 

Steve was the first to pull away for a breath, grinning widely at her. 

“How about we get cleaned up, princess? I think I have some scratches on my back you should look at.”

Selene laughed, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathroom. 

Steve knew they would need to talk soon, but for now, he was content to fuck her like she deserved and worship her body. Because now that he had gotten a taste, he wasn’t going to let her go. She was his and he was going to make sure she knew that. Besides, she didn’t seem bothered by who Steve really was. 

She seemed content with the dark thing that lurked inside of him. She had seen it. Felt it move inside of her as she writhed underneath him and came with bated breath. Selene seemed comfortable with him. Perhaps it was wishful thinking but…maybe she loved him, too.

Slow and steady, He reminded himself. 

He had time to make her love him. And he would do whatever he needed to, and get rid of whoever, in order for that to happen. Though he didn’t think it would take much time at all for her to see they were meant to be. 

Because maybe there was something dark inside her, too.

Slow and Steady, He thought as he hoisted her up in the shower and slid into her with ease. 

Slow and Steady.

Backup blog: @thegirlonhamilton

Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Consent/18+ Banner by @maysdigitalarts

Title Banner by Me :)

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Ain't Shit Masterlist (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Amalia Wright was completely fine with raising her son alone. But when Ransom shows up with life-altering news, Amalia must decide if she can trust him. More than that, she must protect her son from the Thrombey family at all costs. As always, there is more to the story...Who can Amalia trust?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC, Ransom Drysdale x Amalia Wright

General Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Soft(ish)!Ransom, OOC! Ransom, Cheating, Lying, Explicit Sexual Content, Dysfunctional Family Dynamics, Theft, Character Death (canon-compliant), Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Depictions of Racism and Microaggressions, Other Original Characters, Depictions of Mental Health Struggles, Single Mom!OC, Depictions of Drug Use

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ READERS ONLY. THANK YOU.

Ain't Shit

Bad Reputation

This Way

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Take Care of U

Sam Wilson Thots Below…18+ ONLY!

Written on my phone, not beta’d. Just a smutty lil blurb inspired by the Sam fics I’ve been reading ;)

Clothes are scattered all over the floor. The tv plays quietly in the background. that’s not your concern. You’re not even hearing it because all you can hear is the squeak of the chair as you ride Sam into oblivion.

You swirl your hips, lifting up slightly to sink back down onto him. His head is thrown back in pleasure as your grip on his shoulders tightens.

“Fuck,” He curses. “Just like that, baby.”

You moan, throwing your head back. Your clit rubs against him as you ride, teasing the ever-tightening coil inside of you. Ecstasy rises in you, spurring you to move faster.

“Shit, daddy.” You whine. “I’m so close.”

Sam’s grip on your hips tightens as his hips buck up to meet you. You press your forehead against his, nails digging into his shoulders. You feel dizzy with pleasure as your orgasm builds, you move erratically as you search for that release.

Sam notices and immediately takes over, chasing his finish right along with yours. He slams you down on his length, bouncing you up and down. You whimper incoherently as he repeatedly hits that spot inside you. You grip him tighter and tighter, shattering on his cock. Still, Sam fucks into you hard and deep.

It’s time for daddy to get his. You’re a rag doll on his dick as he tucks your face into his neck, cradling your head. Shockwaves ride through you as pleasure mixes with pain, the stimulation overwhelming. But you’ll be damned if you ask him to stop. So, you let your daddy take what he needs without complaint.

“I got you, baby. Let daddy take care of you,” He pants. “You just be my good little fuckdoll, okay?”

A/N: I don’t know if I wanna take this anywhere 🤷🏾‍♀️ But these fics got me tweaking lmao. Inspired by @stargirlfics and @samwilsonsbabymama.

Backup blog: @thegirlonhamilton

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Masterlist

Hello! I'm Lyv, and I want to welcome you to my masterlist! Check out my Bio and be sure to read my Request Rules if you're interested in making a request :)

Updated: 9 September 2023

Requests are currently: OPEN Legend: SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF

C. Evans Gallery

A. Levinson

Freakum

S. Rogers

Slow&Steady

R. Drysdale

Ain't Shit (Series)

A. Mackie Museum

Take Care of You (Blurb)

Backup Blog: @thegirlonhamilton

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Get to Know Me!

Hello! My name is Lyv, I am 21 years old and I write fanfics! I thought I would share a little about myself to allow y'all to get to know the person behind the screen.

I've been involved in the fandom life since I was 12 years old, beginning with the Hunger Games fandom. I started out on Fanfiction.net and moved on to Wattpad, Quotev, etc. as my taste in fandoms changed. Some other fandoms I've been actively involved in include: 5SOS, Black Panther and, of course, Hamilton.

Writing has been my passion since I was child, so I find this outlet to be great for expressing myself and then things I am interested in. I started writing for black readers and "black coding" my writing when I was in the Hamilton fandom, but I wasn't very clear about it until I got into the Black Panther fandom. I think it's safe to say that my favorite fandom experience was with the Black Panther fandom.

I came back to writing recently, so I am navigating my new style and finding the things I like. One thing for certain, however, is that I am black woman who loves writing for other black women. That will forever be a guarantee. I hope you enjoy my stories and feel free to drop an ask to chat with me any time :)

Best,

Lyv <3