#hopes that she would take pity on me but that wasn’t a given because my grandma died earlier that same semester on the same day I had a test

[shewrites444]

rule bender [thomas shelby x reader smut]

word count - 3.9k

[ summary - following the events of season 2, the reader, major campbell’s abandoned daughter, meets with the peaky blinders to plot against her father’s downfall, but takes an unexpected interest in far more than what she came for. ]

[ warnings - implied age gap, virgin reader, dirty talk, oral sex (f), unprotected and slightly aggressive sex ]

-

there wasn’t much that needed to be said about my father other than he was a selfish, greedy, and obsessive man towards anything he wanted to manipulate into his life. i lived with him for only ten or so years before he took on his position as chief inspector, and ten years later, became major, assigned to the king and carrying out an extremely dangerous, highly destructive plan to not only use thomas shelby and the peaky blinders, but also get rid of them when done with.

i knew all this information through word of mouth and rumor, and frankly, didn’t mind using it to my own advantage. he was unaware of my presence in birmingham, and hadn’t heard from me in years since i moved to america, so i knew this type of threat would be the last thing on his mind.

when i wrote to the peaky blinders about my ideas, they expressed great interest in me, and intended to pay well for my travels and work ethic, allow me to stay with them or get me an apartment for some time, so much more than what my father would’ve done for me to carry out a mission for him.

when i sailed over, i spent the days wondering how much being back in birmingham would affect my well being, given the extreme amount of emotional turmoil i was put through in my childhood, but with the distance i had for so many years, i hoped that i’d be alright, and if i was being paid well, this would all be worth it in the end.

my father hasn’t seen me since my childhood, but i knew if we were to reconnect, he’d seem to pity me, and potentially present a soft spot to me, one i could easily manipulate for the shelby’s.

this didn’t even feel wrong, conspiring against him, given i felt no emotional connection. it was sad in a way, but i was struggling in america, given i was working as a secretary at a small bank and still remained unwedded. there were things i had to do to get by, and helping carry out an assassination of my father wasn’t plan a, but it paid almost as much as a year’s salary for me, so it must’ve been in the cards.

upon my arrival in birmingham, an assistant of the shelby’s had already been waiting for me, and drove me to their residence, where i was guided into a meeting room that also seemed to be a kitchen, so i already knew i was in the family residence. this could mean one of two things - i was highly trusted, or such a high risk they’d have to kill me where no one would find me. maybe both.

i sat down, the man asking me if i wanted something to drink, which i kindly declined. he told me the shelby family would be with me soon, and to remain patient.

i kept that request to heart, but also couldn’t help but feel anxious. of course, that was reasonable, but with such a high ranked family, i had to keep my composure, and talk business like my life depended on this meeting, because it did.

an older woman opened the slide in door, looking to me with a flat expression as she pulled out the chair next to me, sitting down and taking out a pack of cigarettes, offering me one, which i also kindly declined by shaking my head softly.

she chuckled, lighting it with a small match. “it seems america can change a woman. you can smoke here, dear.”

i smile softly, brushing my hair behind my ear and cross my arms, straightening myself out in the wooden chair. “i moved there when i was a teenager, i never smoked much anyway, so i’m used to living differently, i suppose.”

“well, if all is well and you house with us, get used to the smoke.” she said, putting the cigar into her mouth.

our attention was averted to three men that stepped through the doors, all of different ages and looks, but clearly related. the oldest, or at least who i assumed to be, sat aside the woman, and the other brother sat beside me, and the final, who seemed to have the most intimating look of them all, sat facing me, across the table.

he cleared his throat, looking at me and holding our eye contact, blinking once or twice before he leaned his elbows onto the table, holding his hands together as he collected his words.

“you must be [y/n] campbell. did you travel well?”

i nod, uncrossing my arms and resting my hands against my legs, glancing down at the table. “yes, i am, and yes, i did. it was fine.”

“good.” he says, leaning back and reaching into his pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes. the woman was right about their tendency to smoke.

he lights one before he begins to smoke and his brothers do the same.

“your father has been causing me and my family quite the trouble for some time.” he begins, shaking his head. “i’d never ask you to commit such a crime, but you are obviously well aware you have to assist through the process. if you don’t have what it takes to do so, we can sail you back home, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“i wouldn’t travel this far if i didn’t.”

the oldest brother smirks, reaching to the middle of the table to grab the bottle of whisky, opening it and pouring himself a glass. “it seems she means business, tommy. don’t meet many women these days who plan on killing their father.” he laughs, gesturing his glass towards me. “shoot him yourself and we’ll throw in-”

“arthur, enough.” the woman interrupts, shaking her head with annoyance. she looks back to me, putting out her cigarette.

“continuing what thomas was saying, if you are completely prepared for this, we will allow you to stay with us, completely secure, as long as you follow what we ask you to do. we can’t let you leave the residence without our permission, given your identity. if your father finds out you’re here, you are a threat to not only us, but your own well being. we ask you only leave to visit him, when we thoroughly plan out that conversation, and other then that, remain here. you are free to eat what i cook and what we have here, spend time in the library, do whatever you please, in these walls. you are welcome to stay in the guest room, which has a bathroom as well, and i don’t mind getting you some clothes this week since you’ll be here for some time.” she stands up, nodding to me and pushing her chair in. “it’s getting late and we have business to do tomorrow morning, so if this is alright with you, we’ll discuss details tomorrow, and you can get settled in tonight. agreed?”

“yes, ma’am.” i nod, looking around the table as everyone stares at me. “that sounds fine to me.”

thomas, who i now realized was the man sitting across from me, stands up as well, and gestures his hand towards me. “i’ll show you where you’ll be staying. everyone else, finish your business for the night and we’ll discuss this topic once again tomorrow afternoon.”

the room was cleared of the group within a matter of seconds, his authority made clear, as the door was shut by the woman. thomas walks towards me and gestures me to stand up. we walk towards a hallway left of the kitchen, a few doors down until we reached the guest bedroom, which was decorated plainly but well enough for someone to reside in for some time.

he lit the two candles on the dresser with a match from his pocket, setting it on the surface before he turned to me, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“i was the one who read your letter and wrote you back. it really shocked me, eh. i know you’re angry, and i understand that feeling, believe me, but don’t let it get in the way of what you, what we, are trying to accomplish. this may be revenge to you, but it’s business to me, and my family. try to make it seem like that to you as well.”

i sit down on the bed, my eyes averting from his hidden hands and up to his eyes. i sigh, crossing my arms. “i think i’ll be okay, thank you.”

he nods, holding eye contact for a short moment before turning around, walking towards the door and grabbing the knob.

“goodnight, miss [y/n].”

“goodnight.”

i watch him shut the door and sigh, shaking my head to almost physically get him, and that conversation, out of my head. i’m here for business, and yes, a bit of vengeance, but not for some sort of fatal attraction that just showed up when speaking to him alone. fuck. that’s the last thing i’m here for.

with that off-putting thought, i knew i needed to sleep soon. i changed into a nightgown that was in the top drawer, pulling my hair into a loose bun and washing my face from the long day of travel and conversation that i had, before i sunk into the soft mattress and bundled myself into the covers.

i closed my eyes, thoughts of not only my current situation, but thomas running through my tired mind. he was attractive, but clearly uninterested given his dry, blunt tone, but he was so powerful, god, it made me think. it made me think far too much.

although, even if he wanted me, i didn’t have much experience, so i’d make a complete fool of myself, and the mission i came here to perform, which had nothing to do with sleeping with thomas shelby.

this pointless overthinking wasn’t helping me sleep.

i slid out of the bedsheets, rubbing my forehead in annoyance and cursing under my breath as i walked towards the door, opening it quietly and heading back to the kitchen, one of the few places i knew in the shelby house, to grab a glass of water.

to my surprise, what i was attempting to get away from was sitting at the dining room table, reading through a few papers with a glass of whiskey in hand. i blush, standing awkwardly as he looks up to me when the wooden board i was standing on creaked. he set his drink down, but kept one paper in his free hand.

“looking for something?”

“yes, uhm, water.” i say, crossing my arms as my nerves collected and also to block any showing of my breasts, which were pretty visible through the white fabric. “i just can’t sleep.”

he stood up, pouring me a glass and handing it to me, glancing down briefly to stare at my newly changed clothes. “then sit out here. surely these would put you to sleep.” he gestures towards the documents on the table, pulling out the chair next to me.

"it's alright." i awkwardly nod, gesturing the glass towards him. "thank you for the water. i should at least try to lay back down though."

"i don't think you want to." he says bluntly, licking his finger to flip to the next page of the newspaper. "come on, miss [y/n], have a seat."

i sigh, walking a few steps over to sit aside him in the wooden chair, setting the clear glass on the table. "to be frank, i am really not in a sufficient mood to discuss anything that involves my father, mr. shelby... i do want to go to bed."

he chuckles, setting the paper down and sitting back into his chair. "i know you don't want to discuss your father, and neither do i at this hour. i was simply suggesting the reason you aren't in your bedsheets touching yourself to me is because you wanted it first hand, is that right?"

my eyes widen a bit as i hear him speak. i stand up, despite the urge to discover this scenario more, and push my chair in. "have a good night, mr. shelby." i say rather quickly, turning back to the hallway that lead towards my bedroom, before i hear his chair push back, his footsteps following my path.

i feel him take my hand, turning me around and into a deep, lustful kiss, his hands immediately traveling down to my waist, guiding me down the hallway and into my room, where he sets me on the bed, shutting the door behind him. i sit there, my body frozen, and frankly, already burning my passion, but one i was unable to act on with another. everything i was overthinking just minutes before was unfolding before me.

thomas tiled his head, looking at me confused as he began to unbutton his white dress shirt. he stepped closer, stripping of his top and letting it fall to the floor behind him. he pursed his lips together with a plain expression, yet so much thought was read before his eyes.

"you're a virgin." he says blankly. "aren't you?"

my eyes widen and i really couldn't hide the truth, if he was already getting that conclusion so quickly. i nodded slowly. "uhm, yes.. i.. i am.."

he leans down, and eventually, sinks onto his knees, lightly pressing both of his hands to the opposite ends of my hips, sighing softly through his nostrils. “in.. everything?”

“mr. shelby, i’m no pru-”

he chuckled, rolling the nightgown up enough to pull down my white panties onto the floor, gesturing for me to lay back. “then i believe you, miss [y/n], just lay down.”

i gasp softly as his lips kiss my folds, the wetness of his saliva trailing up to my clit as his tongue digs inside of me, sucking on my sensitive skin while his arms wrap around my legs to bury himself between my thighs.

i reach down to lightly hold him by the hair, my other hand hiking my nightgown up more and more until i was able to see his head. i meet his eyes, and that only pushes him to go faster, his tongue dancing in circles and different rhythms on my clit, but breaks free soon after, to trail kisses down my thighs, up to my stomach, to my breasts, and to my lips. i taste myself through our kisses, his hot breath enveloping mine as his tongue slides into my mouth.

i moan into the kisses, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck, fingers lightly grazing his now exposed skin. he was warm, and he knew what he was doing, which frankly, made a bit nervous, but i wasn't opposed to letting him carry the weight of our situation.

he lightly pulled himself away before meeting my eyes as he hovered above me. he glanced down between our bodies before looking back to me. i could feel his erection through his pants as it grazed against my inner thigh, practically begging for its release towards my slit.

i felt his hand trail between us, gently rubbing my wet clit and watching for my reaction, as my mouth opens again and my cheeks grow redder at his touch. i close my eyes, my back arching lightly at the feeling, my legs spreading before him. he leans back down to trail kisses down my neck, before his teeth grab the top of my down near my right breast and pull it down, tucking it underneath the ball of flesh he wanted to see. he began to lick my nipple, sucking at an increasing speed, his tongue distracting me from his release from my clit.

i could hear his belt buckle, and his pants drop to the floor, his boxers following the clothes as he leaned up, leading me out of touch as he positioned himself between my inner thighs. he glanced down to me, his right hand lightly grazing his cock as he aligned it against my folds. he sighed through his nose, looking down at our bodies before lightly pushing his tip in, barely enough for me to feel.

"tell me if it hurts, [y/n]." he says my name alone with a husky tone, before gently sliding himself inside me, his thick cock stretching my tight, sensitive walls as he slowly worked his way inside.

i gasp, looking down between my legs watch his cock disappear into me, and his hand moving from his length to my thigh, lightly holding it up to push himself in further. when he finally got inside of me, so deep that i felt his balls lightly against my ass, he glanced down at me for the first time since he was inside.

"i-it feels good, mr. shelby." i say, knowing he wanted my word for it.

he clicks his tongue lightly, beginning to slowly pump himself in and out of me, the sound of my wet pussy enveloping the noise of the room. his cock twitched at the feeling, small breaths coming from his nostrils as he focused on the feeling of my body holding him close. he leans down, planting a kiss against my lips before pulling himself up, just enough that our noises were still touching as he breathed against my face.

"such a pretty woman you are, miss [y/n]. you take cock so well, you know that, hm? you feel so natural around me, love. like you were built for my cock."

i gulp at his words, feeling my face burn at the talk mr. shelby spoke above me, as his pace began to lightly increase with each smooth word. i nod, pursuing my lips together and feeling my core tighten as the sounds of our bodies against each other began to fill the room, much more than before.

he chuckles at my silent response, but i showed it through my body the more he fucked me. his strokes were gentle, but deep, his cock nearly leaving my pussy through each and every stroke, but pushing back inside through one thrust every time. i could hear him grunt at the sensation, and it was evident he needed more for release.

i lightly lean up, my arms shaking slightly while i adjusted myself, and he leaned up once more, still inside of me.

"d-do you.. do you think i could take your cock as well from behind me, mr. shelby?" i stammer, glancing up to him with a red face. "if.. if you think that would feel better for the both of us.."

a grin spread across his cheeks, and he lightly pulled out of me, gesturing for me to flip over and get onto my knees. he places his large hands on my lower hips, his thumbs resting on the top of my ass. i could feel his cold rings on my body as he leaned forward to push himself inside once more.

it felt much different this way, the way he was holding me, the way his cock was pushing through my tight walls at a quickly accustomed angle. god, it felt fucking good, but i knew he wouldn't be rougher, or more, with me, if i didn't say so. mr. shelby seemed to be a ruthless man, but he was taking it easy with me given the circumstances.

"harder." i mutter under my breath, but just enough that he could hear me from his position.

"are you sure, love?" he asked, his grip on my hips tightening and his cock begin to take up a new speed. "because i can fuck you like a whore, but i'm not too sure you'd like that during your first time."

"i-i am sure, mr. shelby. i need it."

with my permission, he pulled himself out of me, before nearly slamming himself back inside, his tip grazing close to what felt like my lower stomach as he began to pump himself further into my body, his cock making my body turn towards some sort of shock, as i felt a sharp feeling of pain yet pleasure escalate through my core, my legs, everywhere.

i gasp, leaning down to rest my head into the pillow, trying to muffle the loud moans and high pitched yelps as mr. shelby pounded his length into my pussy, every stroke earning a whine from my covered lips. he took one of his hands off of me to reach down and grab me by my tied up hair, lifting my head up to cause my body to arch in reaction, and my open mouth to gasp at his sudden movements.

"do you think whores stay quiet, miss [y/n]?" he tilts his head, looking down at my half-covered body as he talks, slightly taunting. it seemed a more demeaning attitude came with more of mr. shelby's dominance.

i shake my head, trying to catch my staggered breath as the question pent up my nerves. "n-no, mr. shelby.. they.. they don't.."

"exactly." he huffs, his hand moving from my hair to my neck, his fingers gripping my red, sweating skin. "so how should you behave when i fuck you?"

"but.. but it may be loud, mr. shelby.." i conteract, closing my eyes as his hard hits travel farther into my pussy, his balls slapping against my clit, which only increased my harsh stimulation. "i-i don't want to wake your family.."

thomas lifted his hand briefly to smack my ass, hard, earning a yelp from my lips. "does it look like i give a fuck what they think? i have the authority here, don't i? i can fuck you as i please, can't i?"

"y-yes.." i moan as his hand left my body stinging, nodding hastily. "you do, fuck, mr. shelby.."

he kept his motions at their highly aggressive rate, pounding my pussy and expecting the reactions i gave him, which were loud, visible moans and yells cued by his manipulation, as he fucked me so hard the room was full of our own created noise, and the sound of the bed frame creaking against the wooden wall, and the floorboards slightly screeching against the rapid movements.

i felt my own release building up, and with his thumb suddenly planting against my clit, i gasped, my climax releasing against his cock as he rode out his own high, filling my insides and thrusting momentarily before slowly pulling out.

he leaned forward to help flip me over, watching me catch my breath and straight my own out as he got himself dressed. he leaned down to grab my panties, then got on the floor to slide them up my legs, and adjust them against my hips before leaning forward, gently sticking his index finger past the cotton before slowly pushing it into my pussy, and sliding it out, licking it slowly before me as he stood up.

"we'll discuss plans for your father tomorrow, hm?" he asked casually, adjusting his shirt into his pants. "perhaps i'll take you shopping for some new dresses as well outside of birmingham?"

i nod, slowly sitting up on the bed. "uhm, yes, i'd.. i'd like that, mr. shelby."

"thomas." he says, leaning down to peck my lips. "no mr. shelby. you're a bit different than a business partner now, eh? we've bent the rules a little here."

i chuckle lighting, shaking my head. "i.. uh, suppose so, yeah.."

he holds my cheek lightly before walking towards the door and holding his hand against the knob. "goodnight." he opens the doors then, glancing to me.

"goodnight, thomas."

[divaofmads]

Queen of Heart | Joel Miller

Inspired by a song ~

!!WARNING!!: Smut, +18 only, Fluff, Sex with a Strange Man, Bad Language, Slang using, Depressed, No Y/N (also used "she"), cigarette using, Age Gap ( you are in your early 20s and Joel is in his late 30s), Soft Joel, Before Apocalypse

Please leave comment

A/N: I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills.

It was a Thursday evening, heralding the arrival of winter. It was raining as if it enjoyed making people experience its cold and gloomy spirit. Puddles had turned into lakes, people had opened their umbrellas to avoid getting wet, and those who were unaware of the weather warnings had taken shelter in their coats and bags for protection. Everyone was in a rush. Their steps were fast, their movements were hurried. But fate had no mercy on their pitiful state. As if it enjoyed people's helplessness, it made everything worse. Traffic jams, accidents, people cursing because they couldn't get to where they needed to be... All of these were like a hag blocking the magnificence of the night.

Joel was the only one who submitted to fate that night. He had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat to protect himself from the biting cold, and had pulled the collar up and zipped it up to the tip of his nose so that the steam trapped behind the fabric could warm his lips and cheeks, which had become numb by the cold.

He had chosen another way to get home. Since his daughter Sarah was staying over at his uncle’s house, he could forget about responsibilities. He wanted to walk for a long time, all by himself. When he entered a street with broken lights, instead of the angry sounds of the city, the sound of rain hitting the concrete echoed in his ears. He was walking between apartment walls which plaster was cracked and bricks were visible. Dogs and rats hid in spray-painted garbage containers or in cardboard boxes thrown next to the containers. As the wind blew hard, the expired concert posters hanging on the wall could no longer hold on and were flying in the air. Joel’s boots were completely soaked. If he walked any further down the alley, his shoes would slowly start to absorb water.

But Joel’s past kept coming back to him. Every memory was harassing him, coming back to him and making him feel hopeless. The best thing that had ever happened to him in his life was his daughter. She was his luck. When the woman he loved left them, he hoped for a connection with his daughter. But now the feelings he had escaped from years ago were grabbing Joel’s arm and dragging him into the darkness. Still, the city sounds he had complained about a moment ago had given him a chance to distract himself. He had finally left the street and was walking along the sidewalk. Thinking it was time to go home, he looked at his wristwatch, but it wasn’t working. He waited for the green light at the corner of the sidewalk to cross the street. At that moment, he felt movement next to him. Taking advantage of the rain stopping, the old man was smoking a cigarette. He lifted his head slightly, freed his mouth from his coat, and called out to the man.

"Excuse me."

The man looked at him smugly.

"Can you tell me the time? Mine isn't working."

Without taking his eyes off Joel, the man took draws at cigarette , then tugged at the cuff of his jacket and glanced at the clock.

"11.00"

Joel thanked the sullen oldster anyway and wished him good night as he crossed the street after the light turned green.

He was walking on the bridge. Now there was no sound of an engine or a horn coming from a single place. Suddenly he felt like the city was going to swallow him and lifted his bowed head up, taking a deep breath. He saw a woman standing behind the banisters, watching the city view. His slow steps slowed down even more after seeing the woman and finally stopped. Unlike people, she had not escaped from the rain. Her hair that reached down to her shoulders was soaked, the strands of his hair stuck together. She had obviously experienced bigger things that was afraid of neither getting cold nor getting wet. She was wearing a denim jacket that would wear on a spring day, a pair of thin cotton sweatpants underneath, and a scarf wrapped awkwardly around his neck. The girl's body was shaking from the cold, but she didn't seem to feel it. As Joel moved closer to her, he realized she was crying. He wondered what she was thinking as he held on to the banister. Whatever her problem was, Joel wasn't going to leave her there alone. When he gently grabbed the woman's shoulder, she flinched in fear and looked at Joel.

"Madam, you shouldn't be here at this time of day in this weather. You'll catch a cold."

When the woman looked at him, he realized that she was tired of crying for a long time who stared at him blankly, not seeming to be afraid of the large man who had approached her.

"I'm sure, not where I'm supposed to be." she said and continued to look at the view. The girl's mysterious answer caught Joel's attention. Her hysterical look stood out to him. He felt that if they could combine these two unlucky worlds and be happy, they would understand each other.

He subconsciously wanted to show the girl that they were made for each other and imitated her and started looking at the view.

"You know, you're not the only one crushed under the chaotic progress of the city tonight." He said as she continued to look at the view, as if she didn't care what he said. "The only reason I live in this life is my daughter."

But she was not what she seemed, replied in a tone so weak that it was almost inaudible.

"Look, you see? One of us is much luckier." said her voice ready to cry.

Joel felt the girl's answer deep in his heart.

He turned her face and looked at her carefully. "Do you think you don't have this chance?" he thought as asked the question, that such a pure beauty shouldn't be this upset. This was unfair. Her cheeks shouldn't be stained with mascara that flowed with tears, her lips that were chapped from the tension of crying should be kissed by a man who loved her and made her smile.

As soon as the girl heard Joel's question, she turned towards him with her body. Although she pressed her lips together to keep from crying, her trembling chin gave herself away. She looked into Joel's eyes with pain until she swallowed her sobs. Even a little afraid. Her fear was trapped in the cruel arms of loneliness.

"What do you know about me that you can say such a thing?"

Joel nodded and replied, "You're right. I don't know you. But I'm looking into the eyes of a little girl who is tired of embracing her loneliness."

The girl let out a deep breath as she smiled faintly, as if relieved, and turned her head back to the view, breaking eye contact.

Joel patted the girl’s arm through the wet denim jacket. “It’s no coincidence that we met here tonight. Don't you really realize this?”

She frowned, her face contorted as if she were in pain, and she began to cry with all her might. Her sobs made it difficult for her to breathe and to utter the words she was trying to say.

"I'm so tired. There's no hope for me anymore."

If they had met at another time and under different circumstances, Joel was sure that he would have done everything in his power to prevent the young woman from becoming like this. The woman who had a beauty that would have been mentioned among the goddesses in ancient times was now nothing more than a slave trying to please despair and sadness. Only Joel's love could raise the girl's soul to enlightenment. He approached her softly and wrapped his arms around her body, holding her between his own.

"Shhh... I promise you," he said, his fingers caressing her hair tenderly. He pressed her head to his left breast. "Everything you've been through will be left behind."

The girl had lost so much faith that her long loneliness would ever end that when Joel embraced her with fatherly affection, her hysterical weeping flared up and she clung to him as sacredly as a little girl clings to her father. They stayed like that for a while, but she was shivering under his arms from the cold. Joel gently grabbed her arms around her waist and pulled them away from him.

Without thinking, Joel unzipped his coat, took it off, and draped it over the shoulders of the woman whose lips were purple from the cold. Her skinny body was lost in his coat. Joel stood next to her and lifted one arm up and wrapped it around her shoulder so that her body was now warmly pressed between his arm and chest and they started walking.

"Is your house near here?" he asked at first, but there was no answer from her. "I can't leave you alone in the middle of the night. If you tell me where you live, I'll take you there and you'll be safe."

She continued to cry. As they walked down the stairs, Joel tried to calm her down and told her not to cry, but she continued to cry as if she didn't hear him. As they walked down the steps, the girl sometimes talked to herself. Since Joel couldn't hear what she was saying, she couldn't get an answer when he asked what was wrong, but he didn't forget to hug her despite everything.

"You're not answering my questions. We can't stay out much longer, do you hear me? Or you'll get sick." Again there was no response from the girl. "Then I'll take you my home. At least you'll be warm and safe until morning."

"My God, what have you been through until get to this point?"

Joel's house was far away, and when they were halfway there, the woman's steps slowed down considerably. She had no strength left to walk, had already been tired both mentally and physically all day. She could not stand it any longer and told Joel in a pleading tone that she could not go any further. "Can't we stop for a while? Sit on a bench."

Joel looked around but saw that there were no benches. There was nowhere for them to sit and the girl was exhausted. He thought. It was late enough that taxis weren't going to pass very often on the road they were walking on. Joel looked for another solution. Maybe he could wait for the taxi to come, but he was suspicious of you.

"Hang on, honey. We've got ten minutes left," Joel said warmly. Then he placed one arm around her back and the other under legs, lifting her off the ground.

She put her hands around his neck. It was the closest them had been since they met. Their faces were inches apart, he could easily see your eyes, lips, nose, and eyebrows. He had never seen such beauty before. Neither sadness nor grief could hide the girl's beauty. He watched her face carefully to memorize every detail.

The girl's expression changed for a moment. She was crying silently. As if she was afraid he would notice. Joel wondered what was going on in her mind. She must have been in a lot of pain. He increased the strength in his arms and applied pressure to her back, then he brought her face closer to his and kissed her forehead in a sweet, innocent way.

"Okay, little lady, cry if it makes you feel better. I'm here for you, you're not alone, don't worry.

Joel felt tired after a few minutes. The night was cold, but his tiredness left him drenched in sweat. It became difficult to regulate his breathing rhythms. He thought he could have carried it more easily if it had been ten years ago, but he tried not to reflect his tiredness on the girl. He didn't want her to think she had left him in a difficult situation.

When they got home, Joel called out to her. "We're finally here. You can get off my lap." She nodded and got off his lap, looking around. It seemed like a quiet, friendly neighborhood. Considering the apartment building where she lived had a lot of drunken singing, prostitutes laughing, and a daily burglary, this was the kind of neighborhood she'd dreamed of. For the first time since they'd met, they started a topic of conversation. "It must be nice to live in a detached house."

Joel was also surprised, but his surprise turned to happiness. He smiled as he unlocked the door and looked at the young woman. "And we have friendly neighbors. I'm sure you'd love it here."

The young woman merely smiled mousy. As he returned his smile, Joel walked in, and so did the girl. But she was a little shy. Joel took her coat off of himself, hung it on the dresser, and turned to her as he walked inside.

"Hey, you can imagine this your home. Don't ask for permission for anything." The girl nodded and started following Joel. They were taking a little tour in the house. It was like she was going to live in this house now.

The man had already accepted her. He turned to the girl and put his hand on her waist and pulled her to his side so that she would not stand far away. "This is the living room, there is the kitchen over there. After you shower, your food will be ready, we will eat it here, you must be hungry." She could tell by her look how hungry she was.

He smiled and looked at her clothes with displeasure. "We can pick out some clothes that are too big for Sarah. Your clothes will be dry until morning."

The young woman watched the man as he climbed the stairs. He selected a new bathrobe and towel from the linen closet. She continued to watch him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. As he talked about what she was going to do, she realized that good men could exist beyond fairy tales, and she reveled in that.

"Why are you helping me, someone you don't even know?"

The question was one Joel hadn’t expected. His movements slowed thoughtfully as he dropped the towels onto the chair next to the tub. “I told you. Nothing that happened tonight was by chance.” He straightened up and moved closer to her. “This was meant to happen,” he paused, his eyes fixated on the wall. “Besides, I was serious about you not being alone tonight.”

She didn't know what else to say to him other than 'thank you' as he left her alone in the bathroom to shower.

Joel went down to the kitchen and got the ingredients out of the refrigerator to prepare food and then got to work. He laughed to himself as he remembered the memory that came to his mind while chopping tomatoes on the board. Tommy's girlfriend, whom he had broken up with a week ago, was a strange woman. She was very interested in fortune telling and everyone believed in these ridiculous, made-up prophecies. When Joel invited them to a barbecue party one night and Tommy said that he had definite ideas about fortune telling, the woman insisted on telling him fortune. No matter how angry Joel was, Sarah and he managed to convince him in the end.

Tommy's ex ran over and brought the cards who spread them out on the table. Thus began the cartomancy nonsense. Joel chose the queen of hearts. Warmth, compassion, healing, unconditional love. Sooner or later, her lover's brother would meet a woman with whom he would have a healthy and balanced relationship. They would find in each other everything they lacked, and they would love themselves more in this relationship. Was it really necessary to believe in cartomancy? Maybe that crazy woman was right. Come on!

The sandwiches were ready and took their places on the table. As he poured fresh orange juice into the glasses, he began to hum the lyrics of the Mr. Sandman song that came to mind as a memory.

"Please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream"

But as he was leaving the glasses on the table, his song was interrupted by the movement he felt in front of the kitchen door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it was her. She was wearing nothing but a towel covering her privates. Joel's lips were slightly parted, his face somewhere between shock and seriousness. The words were stuck in his throat. "You..." was all he could say.

The young woman put on a facial expression that showed how much she needed him and simply said, "Come, please." holding out her hand.

She released the towel that barely covered her and fell to the floor. Her smooth skin was now bright and shiny in the kitchen light. The perfect measure of her waist, her full breasts with nipples hardened by the cold, my God, she was a true goddess. Still, he thought to himself, to respond to her request would be to take advantage of her confusion and go against his moral sense.

Joel said with a sense of shame hidden behind his serious appearance, "I don't think that's right." He approached the young woman. He picked up the white towel that had fallen on the floor and held it over her to take it. But the girl touched Joel's cheek with an attitude that knew what she wanted and looked him in the eyes with certainty. "I thought about what you said and I realized that we would be good for each other. I need to sleep in the arms of a man like you tonight, if you want it too."

Joel swallowed. He was excited like a boy who was a novice. This was different, very different. He stood there, not knowing what to do, when the young woman suddenly pressed herself to his lips. With one hand, she squeezed his cheeks, causing his lips to part, so she slid her tongue under his tongue. Warm and moist. Rubbing it under and over his tongue, she created a slight tickling sensation.

Shee bit his lower lip, ran her tongue and teeth along his jawbone, and then she started biting his neck. This had felt wrong and foreign to him at first, but he had adapted very quickly. He wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and with one hand he motioned for her to wrap her leg around his waist. Her feet had left the ground, and they continued to kiss wildly as Joel led her into the living room. Her hair was wet, and water droplets were following a path from her forehead to the corners of her eyes and then to her lips. The wet kiss made them even more passionate. Joel gently laid the young girl on the couch, and with quick movements, without taking his eyes off the girl, he began to take off his clothes. His dark green shirt and the black T-shirt he wore underneath. His bronze skin highlighted his masculine body lines, allowing the light to shine like gold on his muscles in the dim environment. Joel saw the admiration in the girl's eyes and leaned towards her smiling lips with much more enthusiasm. The man's skin was warm, as the woman's cold fingers touched his skin, he felt the lust in their touch deeply, he felt his cells coming back to life. His hands explored the young woman's flexible body lines. He caressed her breasts, squeezed them, and sucked her hardening nipples, leaving bites. When his lips found her neck again, his fingers moved down from her breasts to her belly, leaving tickling touches, and reached her hips and began to caress her legs. The drops of water flowing from her damp hair were wetting the girl's skin, its brightness creating an erotic appearance. As they looked into eyes, they were both out of breath and knew that they had committed the most sacred sin ever. According to Joel, this sin was love, and it was worth burning in hell for it. "Oh my god, you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen in my life," he said as he unbuckled his belt. The sound of his metal belt buckle was hitting the living room walls. The sound of his leather sliding against the denim fabric was quite inviting when he pulled the belt quickly. When he took off his pants, the strain visible in his boxers almost ripped the fabric. After peeling off the black fabric and getting rid of that, he held her ankles and spread her legs apart and entered between them, his rock-hard dick hitting her upper thighs and rubbing against her groin, finding her vulva. He was now applying pressure to her swollen outer lips. The love they felt for each other had spread from their souls to their bodies, causing spasms in their groins. The cold feeling left by the water combined with Joel’s warm tongue strokes created an indescribable sensitivity in her neck, breasts, and belly. You were touching each other in places no one had ever touched before. Now they had to go much further than making love. When her hand reached out and grasped Joel’s erect penis, they smiled at each other’s lips.

"You are so eager, lady, so ready to touch me." Biting her lower lip,

"So aren't you?" the girl asked.

"I'm always ready for you," he said, pressing the girl's flexible body even more onto the cushion and they continued kissing while the girl rubbed his dick.

He was moaning so seductively that as his hot breath touched her ear and the back of it, a shiver ran down her spine and covered her body, accompanying her moans as she closed her eyes and felt his voice more. She didn't even need to touch him now, for her to squirt.

Joel placed his calloused fingers on the woman's tiny waist and, with a force so hard that it hurt slightly, forced the girl to lie face down. She could feel the slight sting of thorns on her skin as her breasts were pressed against the furry fabric. She must have been allergic.

He pulled her wet hair from her back and found its place on the left side of her neck, biting her bare side and started rubbing his penis hard in her vagina. In this way, the extreme pleasure and pain she felt would balance each other.

Joel growled. "Oh, it feels so warm and wet!"

When his cock, which was getting harder as it rubbed against her vulva, restricted her movements, the young woman lifted her hips up with the help of her arms and, standing in doggy position, started to caress his cock and balls between the parts of her hips. Joel was shaking on his knees, leg muscles clenched, breathing shallow.

He didn't want to end things like this. He wanted to feel the girl from the inside. He held her ass tightly and stopped her. He took his veiny cock in his hand and placed it at the entrance to her vagina.

Before he entered her, Joel asked passionately, "You wanted my cock so bad, uh, honey?"

As soon as she answered, "Yes," Joel reached for her hair and grabbed her roughly, pulling her back. "No short answers! Tell me what you want me to do!"

"I want your thick cock , please!" she breathed.

"Atta girl!" He whispered with warm breath on her ears.

He pushed the head of his penis into her vagina and inserted it. Her vagina slowly expanded and her walls wrapped around his cock that was too thick for. She moaned in slight pain, but it was also very pleasurable. Joel finally pushed it all inside. Her vagina was stretched wider than ever. He started pumping with long, slow strokes. She hadn't had much experience with sex before, but it was obvious that he was the best.

"You tell me when to speed up, honey." He whispered. She began to respond to his movements in a synchronized manner.

His hands gripped her elbows tightly, pulling her body a little closer.

She moaned, "Now, fuck me faster now!"

He moved faster, thrusting his at least seven inch cock in and out rapidly. Wet sounds were made as her vagina met his cock. Joel bend over and pulled her closer, his hands still gripping her elbows. He placed his hand under her chin, forcing her eyes to look up at the ceiling, so that he could place her head in the crook of his neck. His thumb was gently caressing her cheek. He placed his lips somewhere between her jawbone and ear. A shiver ran down spine and into her groin.

Deep and guttural moans released from his mouth, "Why does your pussy feel so good!"

The girl used her vagina to squeeze Joel, driving him crazy. They were shaking every time that big hard tool entered her.

He growled with powerful deep thrusts "Do you like the feeling of a man's penis that you don't know, uh?"

The girl's voice sounded like she couldn't stand the pleasure any longer. "Yeah, I love the way you fuck me!"

While he was pumping his penis inside her over and over again, with the last pump he would take the young woman to the edge. She would reach the peak of pleasure. He could feel her pulse on the surface of his finger as he squeezed her neck under his hand while he was cumming inside her. As his seeds washed her cunt, the girl also had an orgasm and both of their pleasure juices flowed out of her vagina at the same time. The space between her legs was sticky and shiny. Drops of water were running down the insides of her upper thighs. As their breaths mingled, the young woman freed herself from Joel's grasp and threw herself onto the couch, lying on her back. Her chest was rising and falling. There was still an inviting look in the girl's eyes. Joel took advantage of this and collapsed on top of her, started to kiss her lips. His tongue was kissing her as if he was fucking her mouth now. As their passionate kiss slowly heated up, Joel's hands couldn't stop themselves from caressing her legs. But he didn't want to tire her out any further. They still hadn't eaten. He didn't want to drain her of all her energy, so he pulled his lips away from hers and leaned his face against her chest.The young woman put her fingers into his grey hair strands and started to mix it up slowly.

After they had rested, the girl asked, "Are you sure your daughter won't suddenly appear and catch us?"

Joel lifted himself up on his arms and looked down at the young woman. "She's staying with her uncle tonight. It's not possible. Are you hungry?"

She nodded, "I'm starving."

Joel stood up, picked up her , put her arms around him, looked at him with happy eyes, and he walked out of the living room and up the stairs. He took her to the bedroom. After cleaning the sperm and pre-cum leaking from her vagina, he left her alone in the room. He brought clothes from the bathroom and handed them to the girl. "After you get dressed, you can go down to the kitchen."

They were both silent as they ate. If she asked him a question about his life, she had to tell him either, and the same was true for Joel.

However, it was Joel who broke the silence."Why were you on the bridge? It didn't look like you were trying to commit suicide."

The girl was chewing the bite from the sandwich. That's why she couldn't pronounce the words properly. But Joel could see the sadness returning to her face.

""I just wanted to forget myself in the chaos of the city." Then she grinned insincerely, as if she had to smile. "Otherwise I'm too cowardly to commit suicide." Her voice trembled as she emphasized the last words, and averted her eyes.

Joel stroked her hair. "Shh... I'm with you now. I won't give you any reason to cry."

He put his arms on the table and leaned towards her slightly. "Really, we haven't officially met yet. I asked you your name when we were walking on the street, but you brushed it off."

The woman couldn't make an excuse, but she was nervous as she answered Joel's question, unlike him. He repeated her name over and over as they spoke. As if each time he said her name was a great reward. Joel liked the woman. The way she was young and beautiful, the way they had met, the way she enjoyed his conversation except when he was sad.

Joel called out to her, trying to start a new topic of conversation, but she was the first to respond. “Joel, I actually want to go to sleep. We���ve been through enough.”

Joel nodded in displeasure. But he was also trying to understand the girl's situation. He was being understanding. "Okay, you can go sleep wherever you want."

As she stood up, she patted Joel's arm and gave him a rather long kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for everything, Joel. I'll always remember that kindness."

After the girl left, Joel sat in the kitchen chair for a while longer, wondering if Sarah would like the young lady. Would their relationship crown itself with love, as the crazy Ex said?

Joel chuckled to himself. He was being ridiculous, really. A forgotten emotion had awakened and blossomed in his heart, exciting him and making him feel like a high school teenager. He put his teenage thoughts out of his mind and collected the dishes from the table and put them in the dishwasher. He still had a goofy smile on his face. It was a very difficult day for him too. All the negativity had piled up and he felt like life was suffocating him. However, this beautiful girl had entered his life like an angel and brought the light of heaven to his soul.

When Joel climbed the stairs and entered his room, he saw that the girl was already asleep in her bed. He lay down next to her without letting her wake up. When the girl mumbled something in her sleep, Joel thought she was talking, so he answered. But she was just mumbling. Names of people he didn't know, names he'd never heard in their conversations. His dream was to watch her until the morning, but the tiredness of the day took him captive too.

He was dreaming. It was the most peaceful dream he had had in a while. He felt proud, and he claimed to know. The Queen of Hearts had not failed him. She was right there beside him, bringing light into his life. What else could rich bourgeois girl mean? He was lucky now.

But this dream was cut short by the morning sun. The sky had just brightened. The biting cold of winter was chilling. That's why when he woke up, he had his arms clasped together. He had rubbed his eyes and looked to his left to realize his dream of wishing good morning to the woman he loved, whom he had missed for a long time. But she was not there. His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. The side where the girl had slept last night was the window side and he saw something on the window pane that had been fogged up from the cold. He stood up, approached the window with heavy steps and stared at the writing written in the fog there.

"Goodbye."

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time. 

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk. 

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered. 

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian. 

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him. 

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt. 

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier. 

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling. 

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now.  The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved? 

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering. 

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?” 

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book… 

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet. 

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body. 

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch. 

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?” 

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever. 

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned. 

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Stood Up. Picked Up.

Requested: Thank you anon for this sweet request!! Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild swearing, some fluff

Summary: When you get stood up on your date, a certain pilot is there to pick you up.

It wasn’t often you had the free time for a date, let alone a guy who would give you the time of day. Being a Top Gun pilot had most guys turning their heads at a girl who could hang with the best. Which made for a very dry love life.

Phoenix had the same problem and joked if things kept going the way they were, the two of you would date. Something you had given some thought to once or twice. At least she would treat you right. But you knew her, and Rooster were dancing around each other these days. It was only a matter of time before one of them grew a pair and made the first move.

The excitement had slowly started to die down when the time kept ticking and you were alone at the restaurant your date previously agreed on. You tried to blame the military for making you not only on time, but fifteen minutes early. These past years in the Navy had taught you to never be late or you will be running until you puke.

Which then carried over into your personal life, thus making you wait for other people. But five minutes late quickly turned into thirty and soon enough you were grabbing your purse heading out the door.

It almost felt like a walk of shame with the people around you throwing pity stares your way. The hostess gave you a sympathetic smile on the way out, but you didn’t have it in you to be friendly back. The embarrassment of the situation swiftly transformed into anger and the only thing on your mind was having one too many drinks at the Hard Deck.

The place was crowded as usual, but it wasn’t hard to find a seat at the bar. Most of the patrons were playing pool, darts, or attempting to dance to whatever was playing on the juke box. You heard a few voices from the Top Gun pilots that were stationed here with you, but you hoped and prayed they stayed on the other side of the bar.

Penny did a double take when she saw you. The pilot she had come to love was not in her uniform but a simple red sundress. A sight she knew she wouldn’t get to see much of. The smile she wore quickly vanished when she realized how upset you looked.

A glass of whiskey was set out in front of you, and you mumbled a quick “thank you” to the ever so lovely bar owner. You didn’t waste time and threw the glass back with one gulp and placed the empty glass back down.

“Want to tell me about it?” Penny was just trying to help which is why you gave her a very short run down.

“Had a date that didn’t show up. Now I’m here trying to forget about it.” You glanced up at her and saw a look of understanding.

“I’ll keep them coming. Just make sure you find a ride home.” You nodded your head because it was all you could do. If worse comes to worse, you’ll call a cab and have Phoenix drive you back in the morning.

A few more drinks in and you could finally start to feel the anger fade away. That along with any other feelings at the moment. You felt someone sit at the bar next to you, but you were too focused on the half drank drink in front of you.

“Never in my life would I have expected to see you dressed like that.” The southern drawl told you exactly who it was before giving them a glance.

“Yeah, well soak it all in now. Because it for sure isn’t happening again.” You didn’t see the concern Hangman had over that statement. Instead, you finished off your drink and grabbed some money out of your purse to pay for the drinks.

“Don’t go leaving on my account.” You lazily turned your head towards him, “Don’t feel like getting into it with you tonight. I’ve had enough irritation in the last few hours to last a lifetime.”

Everyone knew the two of you didn’t exactly get along. He was always doing whatever he could to be the best while you solely believed in teamwork. The two of you just didn’t mesh well and it was no one’s fault. Well, maybe his.

You hopped of the stool and nearly fell over if it wasn’t for him catching you. “I’m fine.” He chuckled and shook his head, “Clearly. How are you getting home?”

You fished out your phone from your purse and held it up to him. “Calling a cab.” You squinted at the screen, trying to make the numbers in front of you stop moving.

“I can give you a ride. Just wait right here.” He didn’t give you time to protest as he walked off, leaving you to grip the bar for support. While having a few too many drinks worked wonders for clearing your mind, your body was hating you for it.

A hand was placed around your waist, making you jump at the sudden contact.

“Calm down, Darlin. Just me.” On any other day you would’ve slapped him for not only putting his hand on your waist but using the pet name he called all the girls he took home with him. But because of your now questionable decision to get drunk, he was now leading you out to his truck.

You only hoped no one from the team was witnessing this. You would never hear the end of it.

Once situated, he started the truck and pulled out of the bar in the direction of your apartment. It was quiet except for the soft sounds of country music playing on the radio. You were nearly asleep sitting up when he asked, “Who hurt you tonight?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t a simple “what happened” or “why are you drinking on a Wednesday”. He knew something happened and you didn’t expect him to care enough to notice.

“Got stood up tonight. Felt like drinking was my best option.” Being stood up was one thing but having to tell others hurt in a whole different way. It was like admitting out loud that someone didn’t think you were good enough for their time.

While you were stuck in your own pity party, you missed the way his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. Or the way his face hardened at the carefree way you explained what happened. He knew you were hurting but were too stubborn to admit it.

“Why do you even care?” He winced at your question, hoping you were too drunk to notice. The explanation was simple really. He had fallen for you the first day you met. He admired the way you held yourself, confident and sure of ever decision. You included everyone during a conversation. He swears it was the most he heard Bob talk at one time. And while you were quick to call him out on his bull shit, you never once talked down to him.

“Ever think I’m just a nice guy?” The snort that came after his question had him smiling.

“I think you are a guy who doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Which brings me back to my question. Why do you care enough to drive me home? You could’ve easily called a cab instead.” You had been trying to run all the possibilities in your head, but nothing made sense. The two of you avoided each other most of the time and the few interactions you had aren’t exactly pleasant.

But you also couldn’t help that this man could make you weak at the knees with a simple smile. There was something about the cockiness that drew you to him and you wanted to hate yourself for it. This was the guy who left his teammates hanging for his own gain. The one who would never admit to a mistake. But that still didn’t stop you from wondering if there was maybe more to him.

And his answer proved just that.

“That man today was stupid for ever letting you go. But I can’t help but thank God for giving me a chance to step in. Let me show you how a real man is supposed to treat a girl. Because you, Darlin, deserve the world.”

You were stunned into silence. Words like that weren’t supposed to come from him. He was supposed to be the villain in everyone’s story, but here he was shutting down all doubts you had about yourself tonight.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” His voice brought you out of your head, but you still didn’t know how to answer him. So, you blurted out, “Good lord I didn’t think I was that drunk.”

His laugh had you smiling along with him, and you were hoping that this wasn’t some messed up dream you were going to wake up from in the morning. “I’m not like all the other girls you take home.”

You heard him sigh and looked over to see him running a hand through his hair. It was weird to see him act nervous. The ever so cocky pilot had never shown an emotion he didn’t want to. Which made you wonder how much of an act he really put on around you all.

“I know that. I also know how different you are than most people in general. You make everyone around you a better person. The happiness and joy you bring with you pulls people in and I can’t get enough of it. I’ve tried all different ways to get your attention from day one, but you see right through it. I thought I would never get the chance at a moment like this, but seeing you alone at the bar damn near killed me.”

You thought over his words and asked, “Why not be real with me? That would’ve grabbed my attention. It did tonight.”

He pulled into my apartment complex and parked the truck, turning towards you in the process. “Because I didn’t think the real me would be good enough for you.”

It was in that moment you realized how wrong you were about this man. The insecurities he seemed to have about himself was mind blowing to you. From the outside looking in, he seemed like the perfect man who had it all together. But really, he only put on an act like he did.

“Thank you for getting me home safe.” You gave him a warm smile as you got out of the truck. Before you shut the door, you leaned your head in and said, “I’m free after training tomorrow.”

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Thank you so much for reading! My inbox is always open to you all!

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing V

Master list here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

Warnings: referenced explosion, injury, wounds, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Something had changed about Halle. Dylan wasn’t sure what had changed, just that something had. He had, very surprisingly, woken the next day—he could only assume because of the change in light—to Halle sitting next to him. He lay on his stomach and everything hurt.

“There you are,” Halle said gently. “How are you feeling?”

Like I had been at the epicenter of a bomb going off and had thrown myself on top of Thomas to prevent him from dying instantly. “I’ve….been better.”

Halle smirked. “I’m sure you have. But seriously, how’s the pain level?”

Dylan considered a moment. The pain is manageable, only about a six out of ten, so likely a fifty out of ten for a normal human. “Not bad. Thanks for patching me up,” Dylan said as he braced to roll off the table. He wanted to go to bed and sleep for a week. He doubted the Authority would give them a night.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going? You need to stay put, Dylan.”

What’s the point of staying put? Everything hurts. You don’t care. No one cares. The Authority certainly doesn’t care. “I’ll be ok. I just want to go to bed.”

Halle surged forward. “Let me help you, please.”

Dylan stared at Halle. Halle watched him with her green-grey eyes, and Dylan saw something that he hated worse than anything else: pity. Halle pitied him. I am a piteous thing, aren’t I? “Why? Why help me? Why be kind to me?” What does she want? People are only ever kind when they want something from me. And I just have nothing left to give at this point.

The pity faded from Halle’s gaze, replaced by uncertainty. “I just think you need to rest, Dylan. Let me help you.”

Dylan sighed. Why? Why bother? They’re just going to send me out there again to get hurt. To hurt others. And then you can just patch me up again. “Thank you, Halle.”

“What?” “Thank you. I’m not being very gracious. You’re….you’re being very kind to me.” Dylan allowed Halle to help him off the table. The truth was he really did hurt. Maybe Halle was right. I really am hurt. I do need rest.

“You weren’t exactly the best patient last time. This is the only way I think I’m going to be able to be sure you actually take the time to recuperate.” Halle repositioned the pillows on the bed so Dylan could lay on his stomach. “Hang tight,” Halle said quickly and she hurried from the room.

So much for helping me. Dylan closed his eyes as he lay his head down on his folded arms. He was so tired. Everything hurt. But what hurt the most was that he had deluded himself into believing saving Thomas would change things. I did this to myself. I created this cage. I know things won’t change. I should just take solace in my time alone. That’s all I have. Is my time alone. It’s dark here. Dark and quiet. So terribly quiet. Am I even alive? I’m barely human. Less than human. Pain is what I have. That’s all I’m good for. Pain and darkness.

Halle bounded back into the room. “I wanted to talk to you about this book! We can finally have a book club meeting since you’ve given me so much to read. You have all the time in the world to explain yourself to me.”

Dylan couldn’t help but smile. “Did you like it?”

Halle pulled up a chair next to Dylan’s bedside. “Of course I did! But why did it have to end that way?”

“What way?”

“It was so sad. Everything was going great. Until it wasn’t. And then it ended. Where’s the happy ending you promised me?” Halle shook the book for emphasis.

“Happy endings are never promised, Halle. Surely you know that.” God you are innocent. I should hope you quit soon. This place will turn your soul black and rotten.

“But this is a book! A book! I can have a happy ending in that!” Halle put the book down.

Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but Halle interrupted him. “All of these books,” Halle pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, “have terrible endings! Things don’t get better in this one. Everything the character worked for is destroyed in this one. And this one,” Halle pointed to the last book on the list before the one Halle had just finished reading, “this one has the happy ending I was promised. Only for it to be ripped away in the last sentence! It’s awful!”

“Hey,” Dylan said with mock indignation, “that one was one of my favorites.”

“Dylan you need better books. Better yet you need to watch some…” Halle stopped speaking, her cheeks reddening.

“I know what movies are Halle. I used to watch them once upon a time.” I’ve been here more years that I haven’t. But I was human. Once. I had human desires, hopes, and dreams. Once. Now….well, I don’t get to have any of those things.

“Why don’t you have a TV now? I would have figured you would have quite the film collection since you are so pretentious about books.”

Dylan looked away, not wanting to see the horror in Halle eyes when he spoke. “I’m….weapons aren’t allowed anything with an information network. I….I read what they allow me to read. And sometimes I can’t even do that.” I am a monster that is too dangerous to be trusted with knowledge. Even though I have never done anything to hurt anyone the Authority hasn’t willed to be hurt. I save our people. I am a monster of their creation. Their greatest shame. Their greatest weapon.

“Oh.” Halle’s watch buzzed. “I have to go.”

Before Dylan could reply, Halle left. I would leave, too. Why stay around someone who isn’t allowed to watch TV? Who isn’t allowed out. Who has to wear these damned cuffs twenty-four seven. Dylan sighed. It was all too much, this life.

The next time Dylan woke, the sun had retreated behind the clouds and Halle sat in the chair by his bedside. “You’re back,” Dylan observed.

“You talk in your sleep, did you know that?” Halle’s face was guarded, her voice flat.

Dylan felt his cheeks heat. “Do I talk about anything interesting?”

“Who’s Owen?”

No one you will ever get to meet if I have anything to do with it. “No one of consequence.”

Halle arched a dark brow. “You are a terrible liar, Dylan.”

Dylan didn’t reply. I don’t need to be good at lying. No one believes me when I speak the truth anyway.

“No matter, you don’t have to tell me.” Halle’s eyes flicked to the door. “I may have smuggled something in here for you.” Halle pulled a laptop out. “It doesn’t have any internet access. Or ability to do that. But it does have the top films of the last two years on here. I…I didn’t know how long it had been since you had seen a movie, so two years is what you get. For now.”

No one has done anything like this for me. Ever. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Halle’s eyes filled with pity once more. “Everyone deserves kindness, Dylan. Every human has inherent dignity and worth and deserves to be treated with kindness.”

Ah, but I’m not even human, Halle. “I don’t think I qualify as human, Halle.” “You were once. You’re just as human as me. Maybe you just have some extra skills imbued into you.”

Imbued. That’s a good word for it. Tortured and experimented on is more like. “Thank you. I’m…I’m not used to people treating me kindly, Halle. Thank you very much.”

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

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[starkeysprincess]

ok i’m back again this time with some angst (it’s a longer one). i’d like to explore reader’s backstory a little more so what if rafe notices she still hasn’t touched the money on the card he’d given her (for “emergencies” he’d said) and never lets him buy any clothes or things that catch her eye when they’re out shopping. he’ll still send her things anyways when he can tell she’s really trying to downplay how much she wants it but her heart still drops when she finds the package outside her apartment door. soon it turns into being too “busy” to go shopping with him until eventually she’s coming over for their sessions less and less often. the thing is, she is actually busy. with the second job she had to get since her job at the upscale bar wasn’t enough to pay rent anymore. she couldn’t bring herself to sell the gifts he’d gotten her (one purse alone would cover several months rent) but she didn’t dare use his money for that either.

i think she’s ashamed she isn’t doing as well as she wanted him to believe and doesn’t want him to think she was only ever seeing him for his money. she’s so preoccupied with keeping the facade up and keeping her second job away from him though she doesn’t realize how little time she spends him now until he starts thinking she just doesn’t want to see him anymore (and maybe all the times she was “busy” was being spent with someone else, because i can see his own past issues making him get more and more worked up about it) - ❤️‍🩹

sorry that this took me so long to answer bae! i've either been exhausted or not feeling well so this is probs not the best but it's just what i think 😭

She's the type to not take anything from anyone, even if they offer it to her. Clearly, she's a hard worker and believes that if she wants something, she has to earn it herself. She thinks that when Rafe offers to buy her something that she likes, it's a pity gift when in reality, it's not.

She's been getting fewer hours at the upscale bar where she works at due to an increase in new hires, this of course, stresses her out because she was making a decent amount of money but now, she has to find a second job to help keep her afloat. Rafe noticed she started to come over less often and he was already assuming the worst, which would be that she was with another man. At this point, it's been weeks now since he last saw her so he decides to text her, asking her to come over, only to get a reply from her that read "I'm sorry, I'm busy, I can't tonight".

This triggers his past issues, which unfortunately start to make him get more and more worked up about why she hasn't been around. The entire time he's thinking she's in bed with another man but in reality, she's working her second job. She's been working non-stop and when she gets home, she is immediately knocked out, completely exhausted, and overworked.

i also like to think that if she was any other woman, he'd let it go and delete her number but when it comes to her, he can't. It's clear that she never leaves his head, I mean, this man is literally head over heels in love with her but he won't fully admit it.

in my opinion, rafe would show up at her apartment, standing outside the door, waiting and hoping she'd answer. Coincidentally, it would be her only day off when he does show up and when she opens the door, she's taken aback at his appearance. She could tell that he hadn't been getting any sleep from the last time she saw him.

She's in shock when he immediately asks her if she doesn't want to see him anymore and she can see the hurt in his eyes because she didn't realize that she's been brushing him off but to be fair, she's been working too much that she doesn't notice how much time has passed.

(Because i'm a sucker for this type of shit) When she doesn't answer him, he thinks he got his answer and starts to walk away but she chases after him, blurting out that she wasn't doing well financially and started working a second job. He freezes, turning around to look at her, and she's avoiding eye contact with him, too embarrassed. She even admits to him that she was too ashamed to tell him and that's the only reason why she's been brushing him off because she truly has been busy.

He wasn't sure whether or not to believe her until she made eye contact with him, she's on the verge of tears. Within the past few months of knowing her, he's gotten good at reading her and he knows she's telling the truth. She thinks this is it, this is where it ends between the two of them until he's pulling her into him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, his large hand soothingly rubbing her back.

I think once she's calmed down, Rafe wouldn't even hesitate for a second before telling her to quit both jobs. Before she can argue, he tells her to come work for him as his personal assistant, telling her not only will the pay be more than what she makes at both jobs combined but it's another way they can spend time with each other.

[sapphicwriterao3]

🕊️ here to explain punishments that mommy has given me before. not quite sure why i’m being made to humiliate myself since i’ve been a very good girl recently, but here we are 🙄

like mommy said in her reply to my first ask, 200 spankings was one of them. although that was only on my ass and i’m pretty sure it was more than that. unfortunately for mommy i love spankings so that on its own wasn’t enough. i also had to spank my clit with a wooden spoon, and i’m 99% sure i spanked my tits a few times too?

which brings us to the next point, nipple clamps the entire time. i think i had them on for about 45 minutes? it was going to be longer, but i begged and begged and begged for them to come off, and she finally took pity on me. but not before she had me flick them for her, and also she had made me lie face down on the bed for a bit, pushing against them to make sure I really felt it.

mommy also makes me cockwarm a lot. she made me cockwarm my fingers, and when i was face down against the bed, i couldn’t help but grind onto my hand a bit, it was RIGHT THERE!! but mommy had to punish me more, because i was not allowed to touch my clit yet. she said she was going to teach me self control, and made me place a finger on my clit, but i was NOT allowed to move it at all. i didn’t want to know what would happen if i disobeyed so i kept it there, it was torturous. i could feel it throbbing against my finger, my pussy was dripping and i was whining so much.

i think that’s was around when i got to take the clothespins off. but they went straight back on, this time one on each of my pussy lips and one on my clit. it hurt. a lot. i asked mommy if i could use something other than the clothespins, and so she let me take them off. and then i had to hold an ice cube on my clit until it melted, while my pussy was stuffed with ice too. (if anyone else is going to use ice, please be very careful. it needs to be melted a little bit before you start to avoid burns, and also you should check each piece to make sure there’s no sharp edges. pain is nice but you do not want lasting injuries!!! also don’t use it inside too often, having water up there frequently can disturb your ph. stay safe!!)

anyways, i’m sure there’s details i have accidentally missed. from other sessions, mommy has been known to make me keep my panties in my mouth (and sometimes put them back on after), or to scroll through her likes and spank my clit every time i see something i like. we’ve also played with my ass a bit, but i’m pretty new to that, so it’s never really been as punishment.

oh, we also used mommy’s wheel a bit at the start. but i was having some.. issues with it so we moved in from that pretty quickly.

i hope this was enough detail mommy

-🕊️

thank you, princess.

for the record, you and I both know I'm making you do this because you love the humiliation.

does that answer your question, @catgirlinheatsquared?

[talesoftheesun]

Oof I just saw your post so HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY 🥳

If you're still accepting requests, I'd like one with "I'm really sorry" + Jude litg x fem reader

I know we'll have like few more days but I need to see him begging for forgiveness asap 🧍🏻‍♀️

thank u sm! 🥹 sorry this is a bit late and if the pacing seems off, the heat has been beating my ass

I wrote this as a main villa li x mc, as opposed to specifically jude x mc, since fusebox writes like that themselves lol. but it's also so that everyone can read this while imagining it's their li I guess?? I hope you don't mind and that you enjoy it!

all stars main li (chen/henri/jude/lyle) x female!reader

You’re nervous. You’re about to enter the main villa again after being in casa amor for a few days. Realistically you know you have nothing to worry about. The two of you were the strongest couple before casa. Not that that’s a great accomplishment given the state of the other couples, but the strongest couple nonetheless. Aside from the pool mishap, which you explained in the letter you wrote him before you were whisked away to casa amor. So why are you so nervous?

You’re the last girl to walk out. You’d asked the others to wish you luck, to which they all said you wouldn’t need it. But as you're walking down the steps towards the firepit, you don’t miss the looks of pity in their eyes as you join them. You can feel your stomach starting to churn, everything in you is telling you to turn around and just walk away, save yourself the heartache of what you’re about to witness. 

But you don’t. You force yourself to keep your head up high and your back straight. You look him right in the eye. 

And that’s when you see it. 

“No. Fucking. Way.” Your eyes are locked in on his hand clasped in hers. 

Her. 

Uma.

Somehow, he seems just as surprised as you. He starts making his way over to you but he doesn’t get very far with her deathgrip pulling him back, “Babe, I’m—”

“Don’t.” You start walking away, “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Wait!” He wrenches his hand from hers, “Please let me explain!”

You stop so abruptly he bumps into you. “I actually can’t believe you,” Taking a step back, you cross your arms. “When I was accused of cracking on behind your back you believed them, even though I have only had eyes for you from the moment we met. When the PDA awards happened you wouldn’t even let me explain. I wrote you a letter to tell you what really happened, I told you I’d stay loyal to you and I did, I slept on the fucking daybeds for you. I refused to participate in kissing challenges and lost raunchy races because of it, for you! I refused to rekindle things with Stefan even though we have unfinished business, because I wanted to be with you!”

“I—” 

You hold up your hand and scoff, “You just couldn’t wait to get rid of me huh? I wasn’t even gone for 24 hours and you’d already jumped into bed with the next pretty face.”

“What? No!” If you weren’t so angry right now you’d laugh at how his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Please, just let me explain. Please.” 

His begging tone makes your anger falter. You nod wordlessly and allow him to pull you towards the swing seat. The two of you sit in awkward silence for a while. You can’t take it anymore, “Well go on then, you were so keen to explain.”

“Right,” He clears his throat, “I guess that did make me sound kinda guilty, didn’t it? Well… I only twisted because Uma told me you told her you were twisting, with Stefan. But as soon as I saw him walk out with Nat I knew she’d lied.”

“So… Once again, you believed what other people said about me, over me. Did I get that right?” 

“No! That’s not wha—god I’ve really been putting my feet in it, haven’t I?” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration and takes a deep breath. “When Uma came back from your date she pulled me aside. She said she had important information that would make me think twice about my decision. She already knew I was gonna stick with you. Looking back now I realise she obviously played me.” 

He looks at you, looking for sympathy maybe. You can’t find it in you to give him any right now. 

He takes another deep breath and continues, “She told me she could barely get a word in during the date, that the moment you two sat down you started gushing about the fact that Stefan, your ex Stefan, was in casa with you. That you hadn’t realised how much you missed him until you saw him again after all those years. That you and Stefan decided to rekindle your relationship again. That—” His voice breaks, “That you told her to tell me to move on.”

“I should’ve known she’d lie. I remember her first season. Logically I knew it too, I read your letter every morning right after I woke up and every night before I’d fall asleep.  Even though I knew you’d stay loyal to me, hearing her say what you’d supposedly told her just shook me up so bad. Because I knew you and Stefan didn’t end on bad terms. I knew people constantly bringing him up must’ve messed with your head. And then he actually showed up in casa amor… Honestly I would’ve understood if you had twisted with him. And that’s why I twisted with Uma. That way we’d at least still both be in the villa, ya know, we could’ve worked through our issues and found our way back to each other. But that’s obviously not what happened…”

With your arms crossed you softly mumble, “Obviously…” You sigh before going on, “Uma told me the casa girls were interested in you, and that you seemed to enjoy the attention. But ultimately stayed loyal. In fact, I never told her any of what she told you. The only thing I told her was that Stefan was one of the casa boys, I couldn’t even get a word in because she was talking the whole time.” You scoff, “Seems like this was her plan along huh, get me to stick while making you twist so I’d get eliminated.”

He looks even more ashamed now that he knows the whole truth. “I know I’ve been a shit partner to you lately. I did believe you when you said you hadn’t done anything with Finn, I swear. I was just hurt because you missed my surprise while he was hogging your attention. And then seeing it on the big screen with that cliffhanger… I didn’t know what to think. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you, so I should’ve trusted you. I really don’t have an excuse for it. All I can do is promise to be better moving forward, if you’ll still have me.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Well,” You start, “Since Uma played us both, and you twisted and left me single, we both know what’s about to happen. If you care about me as much as you claim you do and you’re actually sorry, you know what to do.” You leave to pack your suitcase, leaving him with his thoughts. 

‘Should I stay or should I leave with her?’

[lillyfics]

Soaring through the Skies || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations in the journey of your love with Aemond.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! College's kicking my ass

TW: swearing, sexual violence, angst, heartbreak, violence, child death, infidelity, death, references to smut

Chapter 4 (WC: 3,199)

You wake up, thinking you must have fallen asleep under your dragon because you don’t think you are physically capable of moving. Staring at the canopy hung over your bed, you wonder what went wrong. Was any of it even your fault? If not, why do you have to endure any of this? If yes, where did you go wrong, and can you even fix it? During your dwelling, you catch movement in the corner of your eyes. It’s not just you it seems, even your good mother seems like she is faring at her worst. Even though it seems impossible, you gain enough strength to evade her touch when she tries to pet your cheeks. She flinches, but you can also see the understanding in her eyes. You readjust your head and continue staring at the canopy. Tears (of sadness? Or dryness?) leak through the corner, sliding across your face and into your hair.

 As much as you want to, you know you can’t avoid this any longer, you need to know what’s happening, nothing but the whole truth, and Alicent Hightower is your best bet. You choose to sit up and lean against the headboard, again refusing her help and reach for the water pitcher yourself to quench your parched throat. You know drinking water straight from the pitcher is unlady like but you don’t have an ounce of care anymore. Seems like your good mother doesn’t care either, as she doesn’t reprimand you. She looks at you with pity and sadness, and you look back at her eyes with despair and anger. Knowing that she can’t avoid you anymore, she talks.

“I didn’t agree to it you know, my father’s ideas. I have accepted you as my good daughter at the sept, and it was a vow that I wasn’t willing to break.”

“Oh, so you are only willing to break the oaths made to the king then?” you scoffed. Even in your delicate condition, your impatience had to take the reins. She chooses to not respond to your attitude, and instead just continued. “Aemond didn’t want to either, he loves you, every lie out of his mouth was to protect you.” You can’t help but be impressed by the audacity of this woman.

“How can I even trust any of you after this?” you questioned. It is the truth. You have given them all your trust and they have done nothing but misuse it. “Even if everything else was a lie to protect me, what about the bastard at Harrenhal?” You know that you hit the mark, as she plainly refuses to meet your gaze now, confirming your suspicions.

You could feel your heartbreak. You didn’t think you could lose anymore hope, but you just did. Even if Aemond had lied to you about the other things, you think you could have recovered. Sure, it would take a lot of effort and it might not go back to what it was but now, the life you thought you had just ended.

Alicent Hightower knows that she comes off as an awful person, but in this moment she knows she will always be on your side, even though she knows she can never make you believe it. After all, just like you, she was once a young girl who dreamt of a hopeful future only for it be crushed like a flower in the hands of a toddler who doesn’t understand its beauty yet. She reaches forward and clasps your hand tightly not letting it go despite your struggle to do so.

“Look, I am not asking you for your trust or support, knowing that I have lost the rights to it a far long time ago. All you need to know is that I won’t let anything happen to you, I only have three grandchildren now when I should have four instead, Jaehaera, Maelor, and the babe in your belly. You might not trust me, you might think I am doing this just for your babe but that is not it. Even after the babe is born, you will have my protection to my utmost capability. I will find a way. I will.”

Her eyes shone with sincerity. You want to believe her and gods what would you do to have at least one person on your side you could be true with, but you restrain yourself. You trusted one person and look what happened.

Titles are long gone. You don’t see her as the dowager queen anymore. She is just Alicent Hightower, a flower who withered. You on the other hand, are a flower who is steadily withering.

In that moment, something shifts between the relationship between you and Alicent. She starts spending time with you every day, whether it be alone or sometimes with the children she bring along. It soothes a little bit of the pain, but you know it can’t completely be cured. Your babe grows, and that is all what you have been focusing on lately. One evening, you sit by the fireplace, doing some light reading while munching on some apple pies, something of which you have been craving lately. However, your moment of peace was interrupted when Alicent marched into your chambers, with a worried look in her eyes. Taking a seat next to you, she tries to gage your feelings so that she can cautiously deliver some terrible news it seems. While you are worried about harming the babe, you don’t think any news she brings could cause you more distress than the previous news you have received. She moves to hold your arm, and you let her. “I know you were close with Jace…” she hesitates when she sees your eyes widen. You think you know what follows, but still you don’t want to believe it. “Just tell”, you stammer. “Jacaerys Velaryon was killed by the triarchy. His dragon was shot down.” You are in agony, but you still see that she has more news to tell, and you nod for her to continue as tears drip from your eyes. “The triarchy attacked when Rhaenyra was trying to send her youngest two sons away to safety on a ship-“ You don’t let her finish, immediately enquiring her about your younger brothers. Her eyes drop even more, and along with it your stomach does too.

“From our sources, Aegon was able to escape on his dragon, but…but…”

“But what?” you raise your voice. “Nothing is known of Viserys.”

 Small, but noticeable sobs escape your lips. Alicent, in her motherly tone, tries to console you. “Nothing is set in stone about Viserys yet, he could still be alive, try to keep some hope up for your baby brother”, she says softly. How could you? How could you still hope for better things. Just when you try to accept that things can’t get more worse than this, it does. Viserys, oh Viserys, he was like you first child. You remember his small giggles. You try to remember how he tried to learn to walk for the first time. You try to remember how much he loved you, and how much you love him. And you can’t even grieve him properly now, could you? Some part of his grief is stolen by Jacaerys. Jacaerys, a sweet, honorable, noble, prince. Though he was young, he was one of the greatest people you have ever known, and the honor of being loved by him is something you will hold close to your heart forever. You can’t help but wonder if he hated you before he died. He gave you something dear to him, only for you not to accept it. Maybe that’s why you are suffering now, atoning for your sins.  

Days now are a blend of repetition. Nothing unique. You sob. You grieve. You suffer. You are painfully aware that you are in no position to make any moves. Just a pawn. Bent to everyone else’s wills. The only thing that is able to bring you out of your pit of despair is your growing babe, and its movements within. Gods, your babe is so active. Is it because he is excited, or is it because he is struggling to get out of this cage of misery? You could never know, yet you still try your best to protect him. Him? Your mind wants you to believe it will be a little boy, however you still aren’t sure. In the beginning, you wanted a little boy like Aemond. Intelligent, honorable, and so much more, your Aemond was. Now, you aren’t even sure if he is your Aemond anymore.

Slowly pacing across the chambers, the only company being your good mother and your niece and nephew, you try to calm yourself from the discomfort you are facing, but from the look on Alicent’s face it is obvious you are failing to do so. “What are you feeling? And do you need anything? Some cakes perhaps? Maybe pies? Something to drink mayhaps-“ You stop her rambling, noticing that it has increased in the past few months- only to clutch your belly as a sharp pain spreads throughout your core. Wetness slithers down your legs. NO, NO, no-your mind is racing, knowing it is not time yet, how could it be? Your belly might look big, but it is only a few months along right? Alicent rushes to your side, helping you to rest nearby while the maids come in to rush the children out. She tries to get help, but she is unable to so as you don’t leave your iron grip on her. You need her to be by your side. Please, please. She is the only one to have shown kindness to you, even though it might not entirely be truthful. You don’t have your father by your side, you don’t have your sister by your side either. Neither are your brothers. Most importantly your husband, which breaks your heart. So, of course, you need Alicent by your side. And she does. As the midwives fill the chambers, Alicent helps you out of your dress along with a few maids, with nothing but tenderness etched across her face. She also undoes your elaborate braiding, only to replace it with a simple braid that keeps hair out of your face and causes no trouble laying your head back if the need arises to.

And it begins, the labour. Your lower body convulses with pain. You feel nothing besides it. Blood, sweat, and water coat you. You only realize now much time has passed, as the chambers have started to darken as the maids began lighting candles around. Nonetheless, you are still pushing. You are crying, screaming, howling out of your chest, hoping that any of it could possibly stop the pain. You just want it to be over and done with it. In the delirium, you didn’t notice someone arriving your birthing chambers. “Aegon, this is no appropriate place for you”, Alicent reprimands. He still doesn’t leave, instead choosing to sit on the other side and hold your other hand that is not held by Alicent. He hasn’t uttered a single word, just taking a cloth nearby and wiping your sweaty forehead. More time passes by, and both Alicent and Aegon has yet to make a move to leave your side. You take notice of the maester talking to both of them, but you don’t have enough energy to acknowledge what he is actually saying. You only know that whatever he said must have offended Aegon as he sent the maester out of your chambers in disgrace. Aegon moves closer, helping you sit up, and then takes his place his behind you so you could lean against his back. And he helps you push. His hands are on your stomach, pushing it forward as you are slouched down and screaming. Few more pushes and then, your screams were interrupted by new cries filling the crowded chambers. You blink your tears away in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of your babe. “A girl! Princess, you have a baby girl!” exclaimed one handmaiden, whose name you can’t be bothered to remember. A baby girl. You have a baby girl. You reach your arms forward, trying to touch your child, afraid that she would disappear if you don’t. Understanding your emotions, Clara roughly wipes her and hands you her over to you. Placed upon your arms, she ceases crying, opting to stare at you instead. Her eyes, one purple, one brown, both so dark they are almost indistinguishable, glimmer with wonder. Her fat cheeks tinted red, thick silver strands curling upon her head. “She’s beautiful,” Aegon says behind you, reminding you of his presence. While a small part of you intrigued that he is here, taking part in a very intimate moment with you, you push it away as only the thoughts of your baby occupy your head now. Alicent, also next to you, asks what you want to name her.  Aelora. An old valyrian name meaning “unexpected.” While it may not mean something grand, you think it fits her, as she is an unexpected boon to you in these troubling times.

“Aelora”

“Guess I will make the official announcement then,” Aegon exclaims before leaving, finally not being able to stand Alicent’s judgmental looks. Not just Alicent’s looks, but the maesters and the maids you notice. It was when he moves to leave you become aware that you were laying on his chest, and become aware of what it implies. You don’t know what to make of this new found predicament, but as you meet his eyes when he stands by the bed, you notice something familiar. A something familiar that you look at in the mirror every day these past several months. A feeling of loneliness. Guess he was trapped here too, and wanted to feel something. Anything. Even if it is a gruesome birth he had no purpose participating in. He nods at you, a flicker of understanding between the both of you.

You hold Aelora as she feeds from your breast. Even though she was scarcely a week at this point, she feeds from you like it her last meal. You could think that it was just yesterday Aemond held your hand and told you about how he killed Luke. Now, you are holding your babe in your arms. It has been nearly eight moons, not perfect but a near time for a babe to be born. Has it really been that long? You made a babe and the babe has taken its first breathe, yet still the war is going on, a war that was started on the night he she was made.

The birth of your babe has been a nice change, kept you lighter on your feet, and you took advantage of that. You stroll through the corridors, the courtyard, and the gardens more frequently now. Being trapped in your chambers with your babe is no good for either of you. The movement keeps you alive, and your babe is also looking at the world for the first time, with you to introduce it to her. One night, you were perched upon a balcony, showing the moon to Aelora. No, you were showing your Aelora to the moon. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” you hear yourself saying. You cherished these solitary moments spent with your daughter. You are alone no more, as you have your Aelora with you. While everyone else who loved you had their conditions, you knew Aelora held none. You knew it from the toothless grins she gave you. And you do the same. You love her unconditionally too. But you are not alone all the time now, as everyone seems to be excited about the new babe. Jaehaera and Maelor join you frequently, along with their grandmother sometimes. Alicent looks a juxtaposition of youthful, maternal, and exhausted these days. The war is keeping her occupied, you guess.  But you don’t mind the solitude. You bravely march upon the court, with your concerns only existing regarding your daughter. Their looks and stares don’t bother you no more. It’s you and your Aelora against the world, not that any harm would befall you in court.  At first you were convinced that it was Aemond’s love that was protecting you from any harm. Instead, it was Otto Hightower, wanting you as his pretty little bird in a cage so that Runestone wouldn’t go against the greens’ factions. Before, you would have been devastated that your safety wasn’t out of Aemond’s love but now, it doesn’t bother you much. Sure, it still stings, but he is no longer the most important person in your life. You do feel guilty of how easily you were able to discard him, but he was the one to do to you first, even more insulting is that it is with a bastard witch. While these thoughts drowned your mind before, now they don’t. Aelora is there to keep you afloat now.

The stars glitter across the sky, and Aelora can’t fall asleep, hence, you are wide awake too. She necessarily isn’t fussy, just content to be in your arms, with reasons of her own. Nights like these are when you think of your escapes. Would anyone even notice you making your escape. You can easily tie Aelora to your chest, make way through the secret passages and onto your dragon. No, it is too much of a risk, not just to you, but to Aelora too. Surely, they might have gotten more aware of the passageways since your father’s stint. Thinking of your father, you aren’t even sure how welcomed you would be from the other side. Surely your father wouldn’t have sent those assassins if he had at least a slight regard for your position, neither do you want to be part of a side that would kill children. What do you even do now? All you could do is be still for now. However, just because you are sitting still doesn't mean you are idle. You are always thinking. Plotting. You might be a glorified prisoner, but you are still the Lady of Runestone and that means a lot, doesn’t it? You just have to be patient.

The night gets colder, and right when you think Aelora is about to rest her eyes, you hear muttering outside the doors. “Is it a good time…maybe tomorrow…might be asleep…” Tomorrow what? You can never sleep now can you? Not without know what they are talking about. “What?” you commanded sternly as you open the doors. Even while just dressed in robes, the domineering tone of your voice and the sharp gaze of your eyes made them cower. It’s Clara, one of your maids and Ser Luther, one of your knights. It seems that they are both ashamed to be discovered, but you need to know. “JUST TELL ME!” you scream-whispered, taking note to not disturb your Aelora. Unable to meet your eyes, Clara has her head down while the good Ser gives you the news. “There are rumors your highness, rumors that your husband killed you father on top of God’s Eye.”

[nikethestatue]

The Agreement

Chapter 5

Elain Archeron

Elain was carried over the threshold, bridal style.

Azriel insisted on it.

He swung her in his arms once they were on the porch and then shouldered the door, as he carried her in his arms. She didn’t know why he wanted to do it like that, but he insisted upon it. Or rather, didn't give her the chance to argue with him.

She clung to him, feeling overwhelmed. Her hair had dislodged from her bun and from under her hat and tugged on his black jacket, the golden threads in such contrast to his formal coat.

The house staff was small indeed. That was the first thing that Elain observed. Considering Lord Night’s title and wealth, she expected a double row of servants greeting him, but there were only four people. Two males, and two females.

Azriel clasped his hands behind his back and introduced them,

“Mr. Devlon–the house butler. Mr. Balthazar–my valet. Miss Nuala–house maid. Miss Cerridwen–house cook.”

The two women were young, in their 20s, and identical twins. Additionally, they looked…exotic. Something about them immediately reminded Elain of Azriel. They possessed the same sharp, beautiful features, dark soulful eyes, black hair, and tall graceful figures. 

Mr. Balthazar seemed to be of similar stock: he was young, brawny, muscular, and dark–just like Azriel. Lastly, Mr. Devlon was the same, only older. Wherever they all came from, the fact that they all emerged from the same location was obvious. 

It wasn’t the first time that Elain wondered about Azriel’s origins and how he came about to receive this hereditary title, while not being entirely British. But it didn’t matter. What mattered were his next words:

“Please meet Miss Elain Archeron. She is my confidant and companion for the foreseeable future. Miss Archeron has full access to the house. Mr. Devlon, please inform Branson that if Miss Archeron wishes to take the automobile, he is to drive her.”

“Of course, my lord,” the butler nodded. 

Azriel continued,

“Miss Archeron is to dine with me at dinner, unless I state otherwise. I would prefer to take breakfast together as well.”

Elain didn’t know what the proper way of responding was, because she wasn’t the help and he seemed to be talking to everyone at once, so she just nodded. 

“Miss Archeron’s rooms will be in my wing of the house,” Azriel announced blandly, while Elain blushed violently. None of the servants seemed to react at all. Everyone acted like this was perfectly normal.

“Nuala, please take Miss Archeron upstairs. Elain, settle in, and then we’ll eat lunch.”

That was all the introduction that was given.

Elain felt strange–like she was having some kind of out of body experience, as she walked behind Nuala. It was going to be a challenge to tell the twins apart–they looked exactly alike. Even though they were servants, both moved with unhurried grace, and seemed very elegant, and compared to them, Elain felt frumpy, and…common. She was common. Gone were the days when she enjoyed picnics and races, when she attended celebrations, receptions and balls. When she and her sisters were the talk of the town and whatever they wore was discussed at length. When suitors inquired about their availability and their father needed to select the most appropriate ones. It’s been a long time since she felt pretty, or since someone desired her. She was surprised by Lord Night–he seemed genuine. For some reason, he was taken with her. Perhaps she was some kind of a charity case for him and he pitied her, which wouldn’t be surprising, but she hoped that it was more than that. She hoped that he was in fact attracted to her, despite her thinness and her awful dress. Because she knew that her dresses were ugly and there was nothing fashionable or stylish about how she dressed. She was a charity case. No matter how she looked at it, she was a whore and a charity case–she needed to whore herself out to a wealthy man, so he could take pity on her, fornicate with her and pay her for it. 

The thought made her depressed, and melancholy washed over her so potently that she felt like she was about to cry. Thank god Lord Night stayed behind, because right now, she was on the verge of tears, her lip wobbling, and she kept biting on it, to keep herself from sniffling. She felt dirty and cheap, and embarrassed. At least these twins, these Nuala and Cerridwen earned honest wages. They worked and they were paid, and they didn’t need to spread their legs to make a shilling. 

Maybe, it would’ve been better if Lord Night was Jack the Ripper. He could’ve just murdered her and she wouldn’t have to go through with any of it.

“Oh, cheer up, Miss Archeron. It can’t be all bad!”

Nuala’s soft, cheerful voice jolted Elain out of her mental stupor. “Lord Night is a good and kind lord. Strict and a bit aloof, but he is fair and generally considerate. Whatever your business is with him, he’ll treat you well.”

If only Nuala knew that business Elain had signed up for!

“This is your bedroom,” they stopped in a hallway and Nuala opened the door. “His lordship requested that I take you to the shops tomorrow,” she prattled on, while Elain surveyed the wonderful bedroom. It was finely appointed, with a large bed, and beautiful Oriental themed wallpaper, which depicted delicate paintings of cherry blossoms. There was a console, a wardrobe, a full length mirror too. Not a doily in sight. The room was pretty and feminine, but there was nothing unnecessary in it. Even the mantle of the white marble fireplace only had a small vase with jasmine flowers and a small clock on it.

“I would not want to inconvenience Lord Night,” Elain said quietly, while Nuala opened the pathetic satchel that Elain brought with her and began to bustle around the room, sorting through the meagre possessions.

“You won’t be inconveniencing him. But if he gives an order, we follow,” he offered Elain a meaningful glance, the expression on her lovely face warm, but cautionary. Elain took it as whatever Lord Night tells you to do, do it. No arguments.

“The shops are faster, though if you prefer a seamstress, we can get you one tomorrow. But the lord would like for you to have dresses and other items as soon as possible.”

What Elain didn’t know was that last night, Azriel told Nuala ‘take the girl shopping at once. She looks homeless.’

Now, Nuala flitted about the room, showing Elain all sorts of things that weren’t expected–

“We have electricity in the house,” she announced. “If you wish to use kerosine lamps, let me know, but this switch turns on the lights, and the switch on your bed lamp is right here,” and she pointed to it. 

Electricity was rare and expensive. Not that Elain was exactly surprised that Lord Night would have his house outfitted with electricity, but still, such extravagance was mind boggling.

Before she could inquire further, Nuala told her ‘we have a generator’, as if Elain was expected to know that that was. All of Nuala's movements were easy and fluid, and while opening another door she said, “this is your bathing room and the loo.”

Elain peeked into the large bathing chamber, which was clad in marble and tile and had a great tub, as well as another enclosure. Nuala again preemptively explained, “this is a shower. His lordship prefers a shower, because he is not one to linger in a bath for long. I would imagine he wouldn’t care about your preferences, but he had installed showers in all the bathing rooms and even we have them in the servants’ quarters.”

“I’ve never been in a shower,” Elain admitted, amazed by all these fascinating contraptions.

Nuala wasn’t done–”the toilet flushes,” she told her and pointed to the long string attached to the water tank. “Pull on that and…done!”

“How’s this even possible?” Elain marvelled, overwhelmed by all the luxuries and these amazingly convenient devices.

“His lordship has great interest in scientific innovations. After he returned from the World Fair last year, he set about updating all the residences with the newest fixtures. There are things in the kitchen that you wouldn’t believe!”

“Oh, there are many interesting items at the World Fair that I saw and was intrigued by,” Azriel’s deep, low voice startled both of them. He was standing in the doorway, watching the two of them with a pleased expression. It was probably odd to have two women oohing and ahhing about toilets and kitchen equipment, but he seemed amused, but also satisfied. 

“Miss Archeron,” he looked at Elain, “when you are settled, come to my office. Nuala will show you where.

“Otherwise, is everything to your liking?”

Though alarmed by his order to see him in his office, Elain nodded and said, “everything is lovely, my lord. The room is perfect.”

“I am glad.”

He left and Nuala opened the wardrobe, where there hung a smattering of clothes.

“If you wish to change for lunch, there are some items to choose from. His lordship would like for you to have a proper wardrobe–luncheon attire is more relaxed–this blouse,” and she withdrew a hanger with a chiffon blouse hanging off it, “and perhaps this skirt?”

All Elain heard from this was ‘luncheon attire’. Back in her childhood days, they changed for every meal–at least her parents did, as well as Nesta–but it’s been a long time since she needed to think about changing outfits throughout the day.

“Since his lordship wants you to breakfast with him,” Nuala continued, “you do not need to dress. You may attend in your house dress. However, for lunch and for dinner, you would be expected to dress accordingly.”

She helped with the buttons on Elain’s dress and once it was off, her nose scrunched and she popped her lips.

“What is the matter?” Elain gasped, seeing Nuala’s disapproving look.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Nuala took the dress and folded it. Elain made an involuntary lurch towards it, seeing that it was only one of her two dresses, and someone taking it away seemed…final. 

“Oh, I will just take it to the laundry,” Nuala assured her softly. 

“But I can have it back?” Elain asked nervously, still eyeing the dress. 

“Of course.” Nuala smiled at her, her face gentle and friendly. “Don’t worry, Miss Archeron, we’ll take good care of you. What’s yours is yours.”

“You may call me Elain.”

“Alright, Elain. But, his lordship wouldn’t like the corset,” Nuala said bluntly, looking over Elain’s basic corset.

Blushing, Elain ran her hands over her body and looked down at her beat up boots and thick stockings.

“He told me that much,” she murmured.

Nuala smiled softly and then went rummaging in the dresser. 

Swallowing hard, Elain asked, her voice barely audible, “Are you,” 

Nuala looked over her shoulder, and looked at Elain with kindness in her eyes.

“Aware of why you are here?” she offered simply. 

Elain only nodded once.

“I know enough…His lordship takes us in his confidence. He told us about his plans.”

“He is demanding,” Elain pouted and Nuala chuckled.

“Not really, but he certainly knows what he wants.”

Nuala laid out a pair of…something on the bed. Silk and lace underwear Elain could at least recognise–though it was so beautifully made, it was almost unbelievable. 

“What is this?” Elain asked, inspecting the other item. It was made of the same gorgeous delicate materials, but she was unfamiliar with the contraption.

“It’s a brassiere,” Nuala explained. “His lordship saw it presented at the World Fair and he took interest in it,”

Muttering under her breath, Elain pondered, “what hasn’t been presented at that Fair?”

“It supports your bust. It’s quite comfortable, and if I may say so myself, it is superior to a corset. You don’t need to wear this right now, but this is what his lordship would want you to wear…I believe he’s ordered a number of sets…”

“Oh my…he’s ordered undergarments for me?!” Elain gasped.

“Oh, believe me, Lord Azriel does not care at all about such trivial things. It’s difficult to embarrass the man. If he wants you in lingerie, then that’s what he will have.”

-

Ten minutes later, Elain walked down the wide, airy hallway in her new clothes–the blouse was beautiful, chiffon and silk, with sleeves that fluttered around her arms. It was more revealing than what she was used to, but she didn't mind it. The skirt was also silk, comfortable and not constricting. Whoever ordered the clothes definitely had good taste.

Nuala told Elain where Azriel’s office was located and she knocked on the door.

“Come in, Elain,” he called out, somehow knowing that it was she who stood on the other side.

Azriel was standing by the window, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, showing off muscular forearms.

It seemed so…domestic.

He turned around and brazenly looked her over, before saying, “you look nice, Elain”.

“Thank you, my lord. The clothes are beautiful,” she said softly.

Azriel’s office was big, with warm walnut furniture and light upholstery. True to form, not many unnecessary things on any of the surfaces. 

“Sit, and don’t be so nervous,” he told her and pointed to an armchair. Elain did as she was told and he reminded her, “you know, this is your house now. No need to be bashful, or uncomfortable.”

She nodded and sighed, and then told him, with unflinching honesty,

“It’s just happening so quickly, my lord. I am coming to terms with all of this…”

He moved away from the window and walked to his desk, as he began shuffling through some papers.

“I understand, Elain. It’s moving quite quickly for me as well. So…let’s slow it down, yeah?”

She glanced at him hopefully and asked, “How?”

“A bit of business first.”

He handed her a folder and said, “your copy of the contract.”

Elain grabbed it and pressed it to her chest, as if he would’ve taken it away from her. Azriel didn’t comment, but propped himself against the desk, and crossed his legs at the ankles. 

“I’ve added your points,” he told her calmly. “The kissing, the pastries and the flowers.”

She looked up at him in awe and murmured, “truly?”

“Of course. We agreed to it. It’s all there.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Elain. It’s my pleasure.”

“I took the liberty of opening up two bank accounts for you, in your name.”

“Oh?”

“One is your own personal account, for the moneys that you’ll be receiving from our agreement. The other account is the one you can share with your family. I assumed that you wouldn’t want them to see everything that you would be receiving, and therefore, thought that this is an optimal solution.”

“I…thank you,” Elain gasped, “I haven’t even thought of all of this.”

It didn’t seem to surprise him, so he smiled and then drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, thinking about something. Without his jacket, and with the sleeves rolled up, the scarring on his arms and hands was even more obvious and Elain wondered if it hurt him to this day? The scarring on his left hand and arm was brutal and extensive. And yet, she secretly wanted to touch him. Instead of being repulsed by it, she was attracted to the marred skin, and wished to run her fingers over it, feel its texture, press her lips to it. These were inappropriate, lascivious thoughts which confounded her and made her feel confused, and caused her great, but desirable discomfort. Perhaps it was the silky blouse too, with its immodest neckline and its sensual material. But she definitely was feeling an unfamiliar fluttering in her lower belly, which was both very pleasant, but also disturbing. 

Azriel folded those thick, muscular arms on his wide chest and Elain recalled how she bumped into it earlier this morning. How it felt to be next to him, next to his great, masculine body. How he smelled. He smelled delicious and she could scent him right now as well.

“Miss Archeron?” he called out, raising his brow at her in inquiry.

She felt her skin heat and a wave of flush rolled over her body.

“I am sorry, sir. I was daydreaming…”

“Is that so?” he smirked his naughty smirk and her blush only intensified. “May I inquire about what?”

She glared at him and then snapped rudely ‘no!’

“No?” he chuckled. “What is so secret about your daydreams?”

“Nothing my lord,” she insisted. “May I go?”

“No.”

She glared at him, and those damned arms of his, and that face, and the strong neck, and the shoulders that could batter through a door and…

“Why?”

“We aren’t done talking,” he shrugged.

There was a long pause, where he just observed her, and she was trying not to squirm under his heavy gaze, until he scrubbed his chin and sighed.

“I’ve decided against having a physician examine you.”

“Examine me?” she gulped. “What for? I am healthy.”

He tapped those long fingers on the desk again and said, ‘to confirm your virginity, for example’.

Elain almost fainted right then and there.

“My lord…sir…” she huffed and babbled in horror, “I can assure you, I absolutely,”

“Simmer down, Elain,” he waved his hand at her, “as I said–I've decided against it. I trust you, but I also don’t want to embarrass you.”

“I appreciate it, my lord,” she exhaled loudly. “I…I would not want to go through that.”

“I can imagine,” he agreed. “But, I would like a doctor to see you, and make sure that you are healthy. Without any intimate examinations,” he added quickly, when he noticed her paling face. “Just your vitals and such. I imagine that you haven’t been getting all your nutrients, and therefore, I'd like to know what I can do to make sure that you are eating healthy.”

“My lord, you are doing so much already…” Elain protested weakly, shocked by his continuous generosity. 

Azriel took a silver cigarette holder out of his pocket and lit up a cigarette.

He pulled a long drag into his lungs and then said, “Elain, you’ll soon learn that when I commit, I commit fully.

“I will commit to you. Not only can you count on my exclusivity, but I will devote much of my time to you. Your health. Your happiness. Your satisfaction.”

He smoked slowly, while watching her. Elain was getting used to his intense stares, which seemed so…hungry. Like he desired her. He watched her so closely, it seemed as if he was keeping himself in place, and his gaze devoured her where his hands wanted to follow. For the first time in her life, Elain felt wanted. Azriel, Lord Night needed her. Wanted her, for whatever reason. 

“My lord,” Elain whispered softly, looking at him from under her lashes, “will we…engage in,”

He grinned and teased, “carnal fornication?”

“Tonight?” she gasped.

He pulled another drag of his cigarette and asked, “is that what you’d like, Miss Archeron? To be mine tonight? For me to take your precious maidenhead? For your first erotic experience to finally take place?”

Before she could even answer, he continued,

“Truth be told, we don’t have to wait until tonight. My bedroom is just two doors down the hall. Yours–two doors away from there. We can head on there right now,”

“My lord!” she even stomped her foot in outrage, making him laugh, “you are being scandalous! I shall not fornicate in the daylight,”

Shaking his head, he tsked at her, 

“Ahhh, but Elain, perhaps you should re-read the agreement. Any time I desire is one of the non-negotiable points.”

“Still!”

Stubbing his cigarette out in a crystal ashtray, he popped his lips, “Worry not, lovely Elain. I am not taking your virginity just yet. You don’t need to disrobe in front of me, at night or in the daytime.”

“You aren’t?” she sounded both relieved and perplexed.

Absently, he promised, “we’ll have time. I don’t need to hurry this up.” He took a sip of whiskey which was left on his desk, and whispered, “But…” he stepped closer to the chair where she was sitting, and then carefully, but firmly lifted her up from the chair, until she stood before him. He looked down at her, and she now realised that despite her average height, she only reached his shoulder. He dwarfed her with his massive presence, his beautiful amber eyes watching and looking intently. But what Elain had learned in the past day was that unlike everyone else, Azriel Night didn't just look. He was the only one who saw. He saw all the sad and broken parts of her, he saw her pathetic poverty, her pride, her desperation, her hope. There was no hiding from him. He saw and he did not judge and he did not question and he did not diminish.

At that moment, Elain was overcome by another insane urge–to wrap her arms around his neck and climb him like a tree. To have his thick, strong arms close around her, and hold her. Hold her and hold her and never let go. She wanted to bury her face in his neck, and simply release…everything. She wanted to unburden herself of her worries, her complexes, her concerns, her fears. He seemed like a man who could just ease all of them off her back and make her light and happy. Maybe she was just starved for affection. Or attention. Or anything. Any human kindness.

So she clasped two of his fingers together in her fist and held onto his hand. He didn’t move for a moment, or longer, but let her hold his fingers in her hand, but then he asked, his voice gravelly, but tender, “do you remember what I told you before?”

“You told me many things,” she breathed, trying to commit his spectacular face to memory. That gorgeous face dipped lower until it was in line with her own, and suddenly, the tip of his nose brushed against her cheekbone. He nuzzled on her face with his nose, his lips dangerously close to hers, and Elain briefly wondered if she was having a heart attack, considering the intense palpitations that she was experiencing. Everything in her turned hot and strangely needy and her breasts felt thick and heavy, which startled her. Somewhere inside, in her most secret place, a painful, hungry twinge made itself known. She gasped loudly, not knowing what was happening to her, and yet, on some primitive, primal level, understanding that what she was experiencing was in fact desire. Arousal. Elain wanted him. Wanted Azriel’s scent of tobacco and cedar to waft over her, and the warmth of his body to envelop her, though his arms remained at his side, and she was just clutching his fingers in desperation. But she wanted his breath, his nose to make gentle circles around her face, wanted the scrape of his cheek on hers. He inhaled her deeply into his lungs, savouring her scent, and her eyes closed of their own volition, her aching breasts needing the closeness of his chest. 

“I told you,” he murmured against her skin, his lips sliding softly against the apple of her cheek, “that I wanted to kiss you.”

“Yes,” she half-moaned, her hand clutching his forearm, her fingers dipping into the dents and grooves of his scarred skin. 

And then he bit her.

His teeth pressed and lightly clamped over her cheek, and a sob of enjoyment and need escaped her parted lips.

He bit her. 

His hand shot up and he gripped her jaw, his hold firm, but not abrasive. He turned her head to the side, positioning her the way he wanted to, and then tenderly, slowly he bit her again. He bit her in the hollow of her cheek, and then travelled lower, to her jaw, peppering it with tiny sharp nips. 

Elain was trembling violently against him, clutching at his forearm with both hands, her legs soft and useless beneath her. Thank god for the support of his other arm, when he wrapped it around her waist and held her to him, bearing her weight, lest she dropped on the floor like a platter of vanilla pudding.

She was panting like a mule, all thoughts of decorum and propriety having flown out the window, or at least out of her head, the moment his lips and his teeth began their torturously delicious journey over her face. She was breathing him in like she was drowning, the fine scent of his body making her feel drunk. And that was before he even touched her neck.

A needy masculine growl reverberated from deep within his chest, and it made Elain whimper pathetically because she understood, at once, and without doubt, that this was her doing–he wanted her and she made him just as ravenous as he was making her. Meanwhile, he tucked her head to the side and dragged his teeth over the delicate skin of her throat, pressing just enough to make her feel it. He didn’t leave any marks, but skated along the pulsating vein on her neck, popping it between his lips, while his thumb caressed the back of her neck slowly and indolently. He bit a little harder, and Elain buckled against him, while he hushed ‘shhh’ into her neck, his tongue darting out and licking over the bite, soothing the bit of pain that he delivered. 

However, the bites didn’t stop. 

He grazed her collarbones with his teeth, and then lightly lifted the pretty flowy sleeves of her blouse, baring her upper arms, which he stroked lightly with the backs of his fingers. Easily, he threw Elain’s arms around his neck, and her body stretched against his firm body, while she clung to him like her life depended on it, pressing her breasts into his chest. 

Oh god…he felt good. He felt incredible, and mindlessly, she dug her nails into his neck, wanting to feel his skin, his soft hair, the breadth of his shoulders beneath her hands. When he lightly bit her earlobe, her eyes rolled back in her head, and then, he did something…oh god…she didn’t know what he was doing, but it was indecent. Utterly, deliciously forbidden. The tip of his tongue flicked her lobe back and forth and then he sucked it into his mouth. It was obscene. If someone had told Elain 2 days ago that she would be panting and writhing against a man she barely knew, while he was licking and sucking on her earlobe, she’d recommend in no uncertain terms that they’d be admitted straight to Bedlam. But here she was, needing more. It felt amazing. His breath was warm and his tongue and his teeth and the things that he did with his mouth…

“Oh my god…” she cried out, her toes barely touching the floor, as she hung onto him, and Azriel held her up effortlessly with one arm. Suddenly, his large, strong, warm palm landed on her throat and clasped it, making her groan loudly. He was not squeezing, or restricting her air, but held her neck in his hand, as if listening to something, his face buried in the crook of her neck. 

“Easy there, lassie,” he murmured and before she could respond, his lips descended upon her skin. He held her neck in his grip and nuzzled on her throat, kissing her delicate skin, laving on it with his hungry tongue, the strokes lavish and forceful. 

Elain’s head was swimming with lustful, confusing thoughts. She chose to simply let go for now. She wanted to feel all of his possessive urgency, experience the touch of his lips, savour the ownership of his hands on her. She wasn’t going to have this first ever again, and she knew that there was no way out. Not that she wanted out. She already adored her lovely bedroom, and she already wanted to try and shower in that marble bathing room of hers, she already enjoyed the new wardrobe and the clothes that she was wearing now, but most of all, she wanted to bask in the closeness of this intensely masculine, aggressively dominating man, whose eyes were filled with such tender longing, but whose touch made her whole body ache and succumb to him. Maybe she should’ve tried to hold her own for a little longer, but he was not someone that she wished to reject, even a little bit. The moment she saw him yesterday, dark and mysterious, oddly honest, but demanding, uncompromising and unflinching, but fair and generous, she knew that she’d have to say ‘yes’. To him. To everything. 

God. The man could kiss. His lips were remarkable–soft, but urgent and firm on her neck, taking and taking, and giving her such pleasure, she wanted to shout. He promised that he’d give, and that she’d take and here they were, wrapped in each other, starved for closeness, each one being what the other one wanted. 

Azriel kissed her neck, nosing into the little spot behind her ear, the touch making her shiver with pleasure. She thrust her fingers in his thick, black hair, keeping his head near her neck, wanting him to continue the sweet torment of his lips. Without warning, he sunk his teeth into her flesh, no longer toying and teasing her, but overtaking her with more urgency, his hands hot on her body, one squeezing her waist, the other still firmly controlling her neck, as he lavished it with his kisses and bites. When he bit harder and then sucked her skin into his mouth, mauling it between his teeth, Elain hissed and moaned from the pleasurable pain that he was marking her with.

He bit her.

Long and hard, he bit and licked on that special, sensitive spot on her neck, showing her no mercy. She was buckling against him, trying to escape the pain, the branding, but he wouldn’t let go. Pulling back at last, but not releasing her, Azriel looked at her flushed face. His eyes were dark and hungry, his high cheekbones reddened, and she’d mussed his hair with enough enthusiasm that for once, he didn’t look impeccable. His thumb rubbed the spot on her neck when he just bit her, and he kissed the tip of her nose, before whispering, “would you like me to show you the garden?”

Dazed, Elain stared back at him, the point on her neck aching pleasantly, and she touched it, tangling her fingers with his. He kissed her nose again, his lips so close to hers, she almost lunged upward to have him put his mouth on her own.

“No!” she just about shrieked, feeling wild and unsatisfied. If he was going to release her from his arms, surely she’d just drop dead at his feet. She wanted more. 

Azriel chuckled smugly and brushed her cheek with his own, the subtle stubble grazing over her skin in a most decadent way. She hummed softly to herself from sheer enjoyment.

Whispering into her ear, his wicked tongue playing with the lobe again, indecent and unabashed, he asked, “I thought you like to garden, Miss Archeron?”

She much preferred when he called her ‘lass’ than ‘Miss Archeron’ but she wasn’t in the right presence of mind to argue about that.

“No.”

“No what?” he prodded.

“I don’t want garden,” she panted. “I don’t want…anything…”

“Anything?” he repeated, and when he bit her earlobe again and tugged on it with his teeth she made a sound that was borderline animalistic. 

“I don’t want garden!” she insisted. “I want this,”

“This?”

“Stop it,” she stomped her foot. “I want more kissing! Give me more kissing!”

Grinning like a cat that got the cream, he murmured into her neck,

“As my lady commands…”

Just to make sure that he didn’t get any stupid ideas about going somewhere, she wrapped her arms tighter around him and then heard him say, “you may kiss me back, you know.”

“I don’t know how to kiss you, so you kiss me,” she demanded. “Also, more biting.”

“Kissing and biting?” he was laughing openly now, and the glorious smile on his face was something sublime. Elain stared at him in awe, while sensing that it was likely he wasn’t this jovial and open with anyone. Maybe, somehow, for some strange reason, she was the rare recipient of his mirth, or his happiness, and the realisation made her feel excited. It was a privilege that was granted exclusively to her. 

“Let’s go,” he wrapped his arms tightly around her body, while he took a step forward, lifting her off the floor entirely, “I want to show you the garden.”

She frowned, but he nuzzled on her jaw, nipping on it lightly and said, “You know, I can kiss you in the garden too!”

“Oh,”

“The whole house, the garden, the park–all made for kissing and biting you.”

“But others will see,” she said, still worried.

“Doubt it. And if they do, what are they going to do? Will Mr. Devlon turn me in to the authorities for kissing you?”

She smirked. 

“Then I’d like to see the garden.”

The mansion was immense and Elain knew that it would take her some time to learn its layout and all the rooms. There seemed to be multiple parlours, drawing rooms, sitting rooms, smoking rooms…The style was reserved. Miles of white marble, it seemed, and clean, unfussy lines everywhere. His words rang in her head: I am a man, Miss Archeron. No doilies. 

There were definitely no doilies anywhere. 

He probably ransacked a marble quarry somewhere, but at least the elegant coldness was broken up by the presence of slate, which frankly, was also a stone, and thankfully some wood, glass, leather. It wasn’t exactly cosy, but it was elegant and beautiful nonetheless.

They didn’t encounter any of the help on their way through the house, and Elain felt encouraged and when Azriel picked her up properly, and carried her in the cradle of his arms, instead of dangling her like a baby, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and leaned her head against his chest. He certainly didn’t protest, but caught her finger in his teeth and bit it playfully. She laughed. 

“I told you I’d bite you, lass,” he reminded her, his face buried in her hair. “And here you are, liking it.”

“I do like it,” she nodded. “But you don’t need to carry me,”

“I don’t have to,” he agreed, “but carrying you is a personal pleasure that I think I will indulge in a little while longer.”

Azriel walked through a back veranda, and then stepped outside. 

It wasn’t a huge garden, and it was a little wild from what Elain could see, but there was an untamed sort of beauty to it, which she admired. It felt like everything was let go a bit too long, and needed a steady, loving hand to care for it.

There was a weeping willow next to a small fountain, and that’s where Azriel brough them. A wrought iron table and chairs stood beneath the swaying branches of the tree, and he sat Elain down. A tea service was left on the table for the two of them–somehow, the servants knew where their lord was going to go and they saw to it that he was taken care of. 

Once she was settled, he slumped into the chair across from her. There were also two leather binders on the table, and he opened them up, skimming whatever was inside. 

Elain was still feeling flushed and completely disarrayed, especially when he unbuttoned a couple of buttons of his shirt and lounged back in his seat. God he was big. He took up a tremendous amount of space, with his long limbs and his big, powerful body, and Elain…loved it. She stared at his relaxed form from under her lashes, mesmerised by the muscular forearms and the strong chest that was peeking from beneath his shirt. She could’ve sworn that she saw ink on his chest, but that couldn’t be right?

“Come on, lass,” he encouraged her, “get us some food.”

Elain snapped out of it, and began bustling around with the tea and the luncheon which was left out for them. There was bread, and cold sliced beef, a vegetable pie, fresh butter, and young vegetables sauteed with herbs. 

“My goodness, that’s more food than we had for Christmas,” she muttered. 

He glanced at her from his papers, and then said evenly, but gently,

“Elain. I am very wealthy. I am not saying this to boast, but as a statement of fact. You have to accept that. But I am also a military man, and my tastes are simple, so while this may look unusually lavish to you, bread and boiled beef is hardly elegant fare. Cerridwen knows what I like and it’s usually dishes without too much pomp. I am rich, but I am reasonable in my demands.”

“I understand, my lord,” she nodded. “May I serve you?”

“You don’t have to,” he told her, though his gaze wouldn’t leave her or her hands, as they moved about and sorted out the dishes, “but if you’d like to, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Then I would like to,” she decided and placed a slice of pie on his plate, along with beef and bread. “Is that work?” she inquired, once she piled food on her plate as well, and then nodded towards his binders.

“It is,” he sighed. “There is no escaping work,”

“You hold a job, my lord?” she looked baffled.

“I do, and sometimes it takes me away from here. I would expect you to travel with me,” he added instantly, and offered her a meaningful look.

She blushed and nodded.

“Don’t worry. We will be discreet.”

He lounged in his chair, his booted feet crossed and resting on the edge of the fountain, and Elain couldn’t help but notice how big they were. Big feet. Big hands. Everything just so…large. Not to mention all his apparent musculature. And the size of his shoulders. Which he rolled, as he read through his reports. Somehow, he made the simple roll seem very sensual…or maybe it was just her and her inappropriate thoughts. She still felt his lips, his teeth and his fingers all over her. The bite that he has sucked into her neck ached. His body flexed with every movement, and she wasn’t sure if he was moving for her benefit, or because he needed to stretch his neck and spread his arms and shoulders, but by golly, she was almost drooling. 

“Would you like me to go?” she murmured, flustered, almost wishing that he’d say ‘yes’. And she could just leave and not be subjected to this torment. 

He glanced at her and raised his brow.

“Not at all. I rather enjoy being in your company, Elain. Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

“No, of course not. I just thought that maybe you were busy and preferred to be alone,”

“I’ve been alone too long,” he interrupted her. “Now, I want to be with you, lass. In fact,” he scratched his chin thoughtful, “now that I think about it, and now that you are here, I think I shall require that of you,”

“What exactly?”

“For you to be in my vicinity when I am around. You can do whatever you want, but I want you to be by my side,” he decided firmly.

“You’ll get tired of me soon enough,” she chuckled a self-deprecating laugh.

“I doubt it,” he contradicted her flatly. Then, his eyes grew darker and heavier, the look on his face changing and the lilt of his voice becoming even deeper and huskier. “In fact,” he added, “watching you is becoming my favourite thing.”

He closed his binder decisively and then said,

“Come here, lass,”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, since she was already here. 

“I want to feed you.”

“Feed me?” she mumbled.

He extended his hand and clasped her wrist, urging her up. She stumbled and the next thing she knew, his arm was wrapping tightly around her waist and he was pulling her into his lap.

“My lor-,” she began exclaiming, but he pressed his finger to her lips and shook his head.

“Az, lassie. Azriel. No ‘my lords’, as I ordered before. Save it for when we are in public.”

He sat her across his lap, balancing her on his firm thighs until she was somewhat comfortable, though her thoughts were in complete disarray. She was sitting in his lap! The idea seemed preposterous, but here they were, in a sensual embrace, his large, warm body surrounding hers intimately. He was a duke. He knew the Queen! And she was sitting in his lap and he wanted her to. It was mind-bendingly bizarre.

Azriel gently lifted her sleeve and pressed his lips to her upper arm. 

“Oh,” she mewled with delight. She didn’t even care if she was being vocal about the pleasures of the flesh–it seemed to her that Azriel was enjoying all the sounds that he tore out of her chest with his sinful ministrations. 

“I cannot wait to see you in a dinner dress,” he admitted, his breath warm and still scented with whiskey and tobacco, his knuckles running lightly over her forearm, and then up to her shoulder, which he kissed softly. “I know you will look marvellous. And I can’t wait to see more of these gorgeous arms,”

Elain laughed and waved him off, “They are just arms. They aren’t gorgeous!”

“I beg to differ,” he kissed her neck, burying his face in it and kissing her all over the back of her neck, and then he hooked his finger into the collar of her blouse and pulled it down a bit, so he could kiss the top knob of her spine.

He speared some roast beef on his fork and then brought it to her lips, whispering, “open up”. She did, feeling ridiculous, but at the same time incredibly cared for. Who would ever do something like this for her? Feed her, while kissing her hands and her arms.

He fed her vegetables, more beef, as he waited patiently for her to chew, and the look on his face was that of pure contentment. As if this was his most favourite thing to do in the world. It was strange but in those moments, Elain felt like he was offering her sustenance as well as shelter, as if they were performing a long-forgotten mating ritual of eating food together in privacy as a couple. 

But they weren’t a couple. This was a business arrangement and she needed to remember that.

They were not lovers, and although she enjoyed his tenderness and his affections, and his kisses were wonderful, she needed to keep her head clear. It was paramount for her own well-being that she did not get too attached to him.

“My lor-,”

Azriel shot her a glance of rebuke, and she quickly corrected herself.

“Sir. May I ask a question?”

“You don't need to announce every time you wish to ask a question, Elain. Ask away!” he chuckled, and then reached for her hair, trying to pull the pin that held it up. But Elain’s hand shot up and stopped him mid-motion. He paused and looked at her, a somewhat bewildered expression on his face.

“May I see your hair?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Sir, when,” she swallowed, “will our arrangement begin?”

“Hmm, do you wish for it to begin promptly? As I told you before, I want to make you comfortable in your new environment, Elain,”

She raised her chin and said dryly,

“Maybe I don't wish to be comfortable.”

“Maybe I decide that,” he cut her off just as dryly.

“No, my lord, perhaps I don’t want you to court me…or do nice things for me,”

“You don’t?” the look on his face morphed into something cold and detached.

“Why should I? This is all quite temporary,” she reminded him, stoic, though he still saw through her bravado. “So I don’t see the need to pretend,”

“You think I am pretending?”

“I am not sure if this is the correct word, but,”

Callously, he said, shrugging, “If you prefer to forgo all intimacy and kindness, Miss Archeron,”

Oh, they were back to Miss Archeron now.

“Then I will have no qualms about bending you over this garden table and riding you to my heart’s delight.”

“I…” she blanched, frightened by his cold tone and the threat that fell off his lips so easily, “I didn’t mean it like that, my lord. Sir. I only meant,”

He interrupted her and warned,

“Take what I give, woman, and don't fuss. I am not always feeling this charitable. If you want to see the other side of my personality, I will show it to you. Doubt you’ll like it though.”

Her hand shaking, she reached out and then drew her fingers over his cheek, noticing the rigid movement of his jowl,

“I am sorry…I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve been nothing but kind,”

“Don’t force me to treat you like a whore, Elain,” he ordered firmly, glaring at her. “It’s not my wish and I don’t want pay to be the basis for our relationship. 

“If I want to court you, I will court you. Believe me, you will appreciate it down the road.”

His hands clasped her waist and he removed her from his lap.

“I will see you at dinner,” he said flatly, as he got up from the chair.

“Are you angry?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “I don’t like confrontation,”

“Oh, neither do I!”

He ignored her and continued, “and I don’t want to quarrel in my home. Understood?”

“Yes,” she nodded and sighed.

He looked at her for a long while, at her bowed head and the slope of her curving shoulders.

Then, she felt his big rough palm slide under her jaw and he lifted her head, so she could look at him.

“I am not upset with you,” he said softly, his tone mellower, especially when he noticed her eyes wet with tears. 

“You are,”

“I really am not. I understand, and I will be reminding myself of this all the time–I know this is new to you. I realise how discomforting this must feel. To some extent, it feels the same for me. That is why…” he paused, thinking it over, and then explained, “I want to make it less painful. I want to put you at ease with me, with your position. I promised to cherish you. You will be the mother of my child, and I want good-will and cohesion between the two of us.

“Let me court you.”

Gently drawing his thumb over her eye, he added, “please”.

The pleading ‘please’ did it for her. 

Elain sobbed softly and nodded. 

“Yes. Please.”

“Alright, lass. Don’t cry,” he urged her. “There is a silver lining to this!” he smiled at her.

“What is it?”

“We just had our first quarrel!”

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 27: Sound off the Sirens

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, angst, Malcolm Beck 🤢

* Word count: 2,743ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Author's note: Okay, one more before I actually follow my posting rule for a bit until I catch up some lol. From this chapter until like chapter 38, are my favorite bunch of chapters so far lol. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

Stella went about her morning routine, well late afternoon routine, since she let herself sleep most of the day away. She was taking it easy. John had given her the day off, and she gave herself off from caring today. The last few weeks, hell few months, had been wild. She needed to reset. The horses would be just fine without her for one day.

She idly walked around the house, cleaning as she went, heading toward the laundry room with towels from the upstairs bathroom. Her cheek smarted off and on. She was irritated at the feeling. There was a lot of wishing that she had taken a different route of distraction. ‘Shoulda busted out a window.’ She giggled at herself.

Then there was the problem with Kayce. Well, it was her problem really. She felt so stupid. Of course he missed Monica. She was the love of his life. They had worked hard to build the relationship they had. Stella was just the outsider. She couldn’t believe she had the gall to think that Kayce would choose her over Monica. Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t back before he met his wife, and he most definitely wouldn’t now.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears for herself. Clearing her throat she shook her head. Even though she clearly heard him admit they hadn’t reconciled anything, it still didn’t make her feel any better. She never thought she would be in the position of being the “other woman”. It was done and over with. Stella convinced herself that she had to push the feelings away and just go to work and do her thing and leave. She might even talk to John about moving to that new position sooner.

There was a knock on her front door that pulled her from her pity party. Her front door was out by the road, and in her kitchen. Anyone who would have come here knew she used the back door. Her eyebrows knitted together. It couldn’t be her brother considering they had crossed words the last time they spoke. It definitely wasn’t Kayce because Stella was absolutely convinced that Rip scared him off enough last night.

The only person, well maybe two people, from the ranch it could have been would be Lloyd coming to check on her, or Rip bringing her car to her. Anyone else would have just called. She dropped the arm load of towels unceremoniously in front of the washer with a huff.

Sweeping back the few locks of hair that had slipped from her hair bow, she traveled her way to the front door. A knock came again as she got closer. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” Stella repositioned her glasses and her face scrunched even further when she saw who was on her doorstep.

Both men were brought to attention when the doorknob turned and the door swung open. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?” Stella questioned. She leaned against the door frame and kept her foot against the back of the door. She left just enough space to talk to them without it being obvious she wanted to keep them out. There was something about them that Stella didn’t trust.

“Oh hi, sweetheart.” Stella cringed inward at the man with platinum blond hair that stood before her. He continued before she had a chance to respond. “We wanted to apologize for yesterday. Our man should have never put his hands on you.” He motioned to her bruised, angry cheek.

Stella shrugged. “Shit happens.” She felt like there was more to it.

“We also want to talk to you about this nice little plot of land you got here.”

Stella stood tall. Well, if her five foot seven could be considered tall. “The answer is no. I’m not selling, redeveloping, or any of that.” She adjusted her foothold on the door. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

The man scoffed at her gall. “Malcolm Beck. We met yesterday.” He inched a bit closer. “You’re just like that employer of yours. You know that?”

Her reply was flat. “I fail to see the similarity.” That was a lie. She saw it loud and clear in the immediate defense of her property. “I also fail to see the purpose a real estate developer and the head of the liquor license board has with a horse trainer. Let alone visiting said horse trainer at her personal property.”

“Well, you just so happen to work for a ranch that has become a thorn in many peoples’ sides.”

“Oh is that right?” Her question bordered on sarcastic.

Malcolm made a snarky face. “That would be correct, little lady. And it’s very apparent why you fit right in with your little friend’s father.”

Stella clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I don’t know where you got your information, Mr. Beck, but it’s incorrect.”

“Is it?” He scooted even closer. Stella noticed his foot at the bottom of her door. She braced herself against it. He carried on. “You mean to tell me that you’re not Stella Lee Daniels, born November 2, 1992? Just about two and a half years after your current, and only, best friend? Kayce John Dutton? Born April 24, 1990?” Stella swallowed thickly. “Sister to Ryan Stephen Daniels? Born October 11, 1988? Wrangler for the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch since he was 18 years old, and is now also lead livestock agent for one John Dutton?”

Stella pursed her lips at being read so clearly. “So what if I am? I have nothing to do with you. I’m just a glorified ranch hand, my guy.”

“You also followed in your brother’s footsteps, becoming employed by the ranch tycoon at age 18. You bought your 2018 Subaru Forester when you were 22, and this plot when you turned 24.”

“Okay and? I saved up a lot.”

“And you almost surely became a soft spot for everyone on that ranch after this many years.”

Stella shrugged. “Ehh, I would beg to differ on that.”

“You would be so wrong.” Malcolm stepped back and adjusted his hat. “I’ll be seeing you, real soon. Take care now.” He tipped the brim of his hat at her.

Stella remained tense as she watched them walk back to their car. She wanted to be completely sure they left her property. They hopped in and started to drive out to the road. Her eyes followed them for as far as she could see them and she continued looking in that direction for a few minutes after they were out of her sight.

She dropped back against the door frame and let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She whispered to herself. “Fuck.”

Stella took off in a sprint to find her cell phone. A call to Rip needed to be made. She needed to get back to the ranch.

Rip got out of the driver’s seat of Stella’s car when they got back to the ranch. He turned to look at her as she rounded the front of the car. “You get yourself home now. It’s your day off.”

“I will. I unfortunately gotta talk to my brother first.”

Rip sent a disciplinary look her way.

Stella’s hands flew up in submission. “No fighting. I promise. I don’t have the energy for that.”

“Okay.” Rip nodded. She blinked at his easy approval as he started to walk away. “But don’t let me hear about you being difficult. I gotta go help burn the field.” The threat from him was open ended.

She smirked. “Yeah yeah.” She wouldn’t have expected his response to be anything different. “Oh Rip?” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you.” She said softly. Stella could have sworn she saw a small smile on the gruff cowboy’s face before he nodded again and continued on his way.

Stella stared off into nothingness sitting at the picnic tables. The run in earlier with Malcolm Beck still fresh in her mind. The search for her brother had proved to be easier than she thought. She had found him with Kayce in the barn about 20 minutes prior. She needed to build up the courage to speak with both of them.

She could hear Kayce and Ryan coming out of the barn, talking amongst themselves about the dead cattle situation. She wasn’t thrilled having to talk to either of them, but it was now or never, and she wasn’t ready to hold her peace.

At first, everyone thought it was Dan Jenkins. He was the only person that was actively trying to get a piece of the Yellowstone’s acreage. It made sense that everyone immediately thought of him. Stella on the other hand was beginning to have second thoughts. She heard Ryan’s voice falter. He must have seen her zoned out. Or he was thinking of all the ways he was about to yell at her.

Ryan questioned gently. “Stellee? What’s wrong?” It normally wasn’t a good thing when Stella took to zoning out. With her being hit yesterday, he was worried something might have been off. She had her back to them and was straddling the picnic bench. He put aside his annoyance with her carelessness, and made his way over to face her as he sat down mirroring her position. He bent his head to try and catch her thousand yard stare. Stella raised her head and made eye contact with her brother. The look on her face had him nervous.

Kayce thought he would give the siblings a minute to themselves. He had heard about the argument they had yesterday after he left. They needed to hash things out. He also thought he should avoid Stella at all costs. He ducked his head and kept moving. Stella would find him later if she needed to. At least, that had been his plan.

She broke the nonverbal communication with her brother. Her head snapped in Kayce’s direction. “Kayce, I need you to be over here too.”

His boots slid on the gravel as he stopped short. He pivoted back to the sibling pair. “Oh? What for?”

“It has to do with those cattle and who we think did it.”

He sat on the opposite side of the table. “You have my attention.”

Stella turned to look at Kayce. “So the obvious answer at first was Jenkins. He wants Yellowstone land, and he’s greedy.”

“Yeah that’s a well known fact. Something tells me you don’t feel that way.” Ryan guessed.

She started to explain. “Other than the fact that he’s quite the city boy and he wouldn’t know a steer from a bull, even if we pointed it out to him, I just had the pleasure of Malcolm Beck —,” Kayce interrupted her when he sprung up from the table.

“What do you mean? Are they nosing around here again?”

Stella reached out to grab his hand to stop him. “No, no, no. They’re not here.” Instinctually, Kayce grabbed hers back. They made quick eye contact as they felt a buzz run through their arms. Stella swiftly released him. She ignored the feeling and looked back to her brother.

“I ran into Malcolm and his brother while I was out this morning.” She lied and pushed her glasses up and continued. “I asked what the head of the state liquor license board had to do with talking to a ranch worker, he said somethin’ about my property blah blah blah, but it’s what he said to me after that made me perk my ears up real quick.”

“Did he threaten you?” Ryan’s voice was dangerously grave. He and Kayce were ready to rock right then.

“Not exactly?” Stella didn’t want to have them go on a reckless warpath just because Malcolm had metaphorically whipped it out to compare size.

“What did he say, Stella?” Kayce questioned.

“He said, and I quote, “Well, you work for a farm that has begun to be a thorn in peoples’ sides.” So I asked him, “Is that right?” He confirmed and then he proceeded to tell me all about myself. My date of birth, the kind of car I drive, my brother’s full name, his profession, who my best friend is, every little detail. I was half surprised that he didn’t know the color of underwear I have on today.”

“Fuck that!” Ryan exclaimed while he jumped up from the table.

Stella wasn’t far behind him and Kayce was right behind her. “Ryan no!” She gripped his arm. He spun and looked at her. “I didn’t really react but I’m sure they could tell they had hit a nerve. I’m more than certain that they’re just trying to push buttons. Why did they choose me? I don’t know.”

“Well they made a stupid decision by doing so.” Kayce claimed.

She rolled her eyes as she faced both her best friend and brother. “Anyway… may I offer a suggestion?” The men nodded at her. “I would still go talk to Jenkins, but I’m starting to have a feeling it may have been someone else. I’ll talk to your dad and Rip about my run in if you guys promise to not go buck wild.” The doe eyes came out. “Please?”

Kayce pressed his lips together and observed Stella. She was nervous, but not scared. “Well we’ve already visited Jenkins. So we were one step ahead of you. I actually have to go talk to my dad.” He cast his gaze over top of her head and found that Ryan was already looking at him. His eyes almost pleaded with him to make sure she actually followed through. Ryan knew that if anyone could make her do it, it was Kayce.

Kayce decided. “We’ll take you up to the big house. We’ll tell Rip to meet us up there.”

“Deal.” Stella agreed.

Kayce pulled the truck up in front of his dad’s house. Stella was in the front seat, ready to hop out when he put the truck in park. Stella looked at the big house looming over their side. She chewed on her bottom lip thinking about all the possible ways this conversation could go.

Kayce watched as she contemplated the situation. “It’s just us and my dad, Stell. Everything’ll be fine.”

She sighed. “I know. I just…,” she left it open ended because she honestly didn’t know what to say. Let alone to Kayce at the moment.

Stella reached for the handle quickly and popped open the door. “Well, it’s now or never, right?” She stated with a long sigh. The sound of hooves gave the welcome distraction she was looking for. Rip and her brother made it to the house.

When she turned around, she gave a small smile to Ryan and Rip, and glanced at Kayce but averted her eyes quickly.

Ryan watched the interaction between them. Stella positioned herself toward the door to the house, almost like she wanted to be as far as physically possible away from Kayce. Ryan squinted his eyes in silent question, but thought it might be better to wait.

Stella looked at the house. “Shall we?”

The men fell into stride next to her as they made their way onto the steps.

“I thought I told you to get yourself home, Stella-belle.” Rip said to her.

“Well, the reason I had to talk to my brother should also be brought up to you and Mr. Dutton too. Then I’ll make my way home, since you want rid of me so bad.” She giggled.

“C’mon now. Don’t put words in my mouth.” They all climbed the last couple steps in silence.

Rip opened the front door for her and ushered her inside. The foursome walked through the living room to the back hallway that led to John’s office. He was catching himself up on some paperwork before he finished up for the day. John heard the boot steps coming in his direction and lifted his head. There was a look of confusion on his face at the sight of his head wrangler, foreman, lead livestock agent, and his horse trainer coming at him. John thought it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

“Why are all of you here?” He questioned.

Stella walked further into his office. She thought about how to tell him. It was a lot more intimidating than she thought it would be. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Malcolm Beck visited my house this afternoon.”

[sisterofficerlucychen]

“You kept it.”

“What?” It takes her a brief second to put two and two together. She’s still a little groggy, having barely gotten any sleep though she has absolutely no complaints. Her brows furrow as she lifts her head from his bare chest to look up at him and the realization hits her the moment their eyes lock.

His thumb brushes against her smooth skin as his hand is sprawled out over her side. He’s been mindlessly tracing around it since Lucy woke up but she hadn’t quite placed where his hand was until he mentioned it. Truthfully, she doesn’t think about it as much anymore. At first, she couldn’t wait to get it removed, counting down the literal seconds until she was able to get the reminder off of her body.

Then, at four weeks, one day, and seven hours, she was given a new perspective on it. Reminded that she wasn’t a victim but rather a survivor; that it wasn’t her day of death but rather the first day of the rest of her life.

Up until this moment, she was unsure of whether he knew or not. She assumed he did since she never mentioned that she got it removed but neither of them ever really brought it up again. Now, she realizes that he may have assumed otherwise and she shifts off of him, pressing her elbow onto the bed to get a better look at him.

“I did,” she answers with a soft smile, “You reminded me that I wasn’t a victim.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know, it was just so hard to get past that. Everyone was treating me like this fragile little thing that was going to shatter. The looks they gave me, some out of pity and others like they’d seen a ghost. I remember walking into the roll call room and everyone clapping and I just—I didn’t want that attention, it was too much. And it was itchy!” she chuckles lightly at this, “Not only did a sadist etch my day of death onto my skin but it was gnawing at me like a reminder and I was literally counting down until the day it’d stop boring into me. But then you came in and gave this speech about how you saw me as a survivor and I don’t know, something clicked? It suddenly didn’t bother me anymore.”

Tim’s eyes never break from her and he stares at her in a way that she’s never been looked at before. His lips are pressed into a fine line but she can see how he’s fighting the curve against the edge of them that threatens to break into a small smile. It sends shivers down her spine, how they’re currently existing in space and time. Her free hand reaches for his, intertwining their fingers together as he gently strokes the side of her thumb.

“You were talking about the scars you have, the ones you could see and the ones you couldn’t. Your dad, Isabel, the job. I mean I didn’t know as much as I do now but I know it was a lot. You told me that you saw it as the first day of the rest of my life and I couldn’t shake that, you were right. Caleb died and I lied. You know? I told him that too. He asked me if I had any last words as he put me in the barrel and I told him that he’d be dead before I was. I knew that you were coming, I knew you’d come and save me. I didn’t know how but I knew.”

There’s a silence that fills the air as she stares at Tim. There’s a shift in his expression, there’s a mix of anger and fear that she can see crackling behind blue eyes, how his jaw has hardened and he’s taking in everything she’s just said.

“You saved yourself,” he finally answers.

“I did,” she smiles softly thinking back to how she’s heard those words before and how much of a reminder it is of her strength, “But you definitely helped. How did you know I’d left the ring?”

It’d been a gamble, there was nothing more that she could do but make the split second decision to leave something behind. It was something she learned at the Academy, one of the many lessons that Lucy hoped she’d never need to use. She hoped and prayed those that were looking for her would spot it but even then, she didn’t know because despite the fact that the ring didn’t belong in the middle of the desert, she also knew that because she wore it only off duty, it wouldn’t be a given that it belonged to her.

Except, he did, and she’d never been able to form the words to ask him about it until now.

“It reflected back, the sun was hitting it at just the perfect angle that it stood out,” he explains.

“Right,” she gives him a small nod, “But that doesn’t explain how you knew the ring was mine.”

Tim’s free hand rises to her head as he runs his fingers through her messy waves in comfort. She’s always known that the entire ordeal was hard for him too. She was his rookie, there was the guilt he felt over her going out with Caleb to begin with, the fact that he’d been the one to pull her out and breath her back to life. She just never realized what the extent of it was. She’s about to apologize and tell him that they can change the subject when he answers.

“I’d see you wearing it out of uniform sometimes.” Lucy’s expression morphs into slight confusion as her brows knit together with a small smirk. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Spacial awareness,” he teases, “I thought that the moonstone was pretty. It’s what caught my eye. Afterward, when I’d see you wear it, I kind of hoped you were wearing it to remind yourself that you were a survivor.”

Her gaze brightens as a smile curves on her lips. “It was. It is.”

It’s funny how a little piece of jewelry could hold so much meaning. Before, it had been a statement piece that she liked to wear, something to jazz up her wardrobe. Afterward, it became a symbol of her resilience and a trinket of safety. She associated it with him the moment he gave it back to her. As if it was a reminder that as long as she had it, he’d be around to help and support her. He denied it once, saying that wasn’t really part of the job description but if there’s anyone Lucy trusts with her life, it’s Tim.

“It did remind me of that but it also reminded me of you.”

“Oh?”

“I was dead, Tim.” She can’t help but notice how he stiffens at this, his hand protectively squeezing hers in reaction to her statement. “I died and you brought me back to life. You helped find me, you pulled me out of the barrel, you held me as I fell apart, and you never left my side. Having you around made me feel so safe and I’ve known since that no matter where I am and no matter what’s going on, as long as you’re nearby, I’ll be okay.”

Just like that, he relaxes and she sees how all the negative emotions that suddenly clouded them by the topic of conservation melt away. His smile reaches his eyes as he gives her a small nod in agreement. “I’m never going anywhere. Promise”

“You better not or I’ll hurt you!” she chuckles.

Tim laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks at her with a brow raised, “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she nods as she shifts again, this time moving to be on top of him as she straddles him, knees pressed onto the bed as he realizes what she’s up to and catches her by the wrists, flipping her over in a swift move.

“I do love a good challenge.”

They laugh as they start to wrestle each other for a moment before Tim’s lips crash into hers and Lucy completely melts into him. Now that she knows his taste, knows his touch, it’s all she craves. She didn’t realize just how much she wanted needed him until a few hours ago when they discarded their clothes and stumbled onto her bed. A moan leaves her lips as his lips roam down her body, it’s absolute bliss and she’s unsure how she ever went about her life without Tim Bradford in it. 

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dancing With Visions - Morale - Cha-Cha - Gorou

Author Notes: Yet another Latin dance. This was actually my first time writing Gorou, but I don't think it turned out to bad. The performance in this fic was inspired by Nick Carter and Sharna Burgess’s Cha Cha to “I Don’t Like it, I Love it” by Flo Rida feat. Robin Thicke and Verdine White from season 21 week 1 of “Dancing with the Stars.” Just like the rest of this series, Reader is female. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist.

Type: Female reader/ dance/ fluff/platonic or romantic /sfw

Word Count: 1461

I almost pitied Gorou, but Kokomi had certainly gotten him this time. But I couldn’t blame the young woman. It had to be exhausting to be constantly asked for advice, and she had to have her fun somehow. So when Gorou had come asking for advice on how to bolster the troops morale, she’d seen her chance.

Telling him that performing a dance for the troops would boost morale and further asserting that learning said dance could be useful for strength and agility training was no doubt a bit of fun on her part. Especially since she knew I'd be perfectly willing to help the fluffy general with his plight as soon as he came requesting my help.

It had been endearing how focused he’d been during every single practice too. He’d given learning the cha-cha his all, and I had no doubts he’d do well now that it was time for us to perform. With that said, though, it was perfectly obvious that Gorou was feeling the pressure now.

Pressure, that no doubt came from the simple fact that Kokomi had been right. The very knowledge that their beloved general was going to be performing a dance had already pepped up the soldiers.

I let my hand rest lightly on his shoulder, smiling as Gorou looked over at me, slightly surprised with pricked ears, before he smiled in return when he noticed it was just me. 

“Nervous?” I questioned him softly, already knowing the answer even as I tilted my head at him.

He chuckled slightly at my one-word question before nodding, “Yeah, I guess I am. I don’t want to let anybody down, though. You included. You spent a lot of time teaching me.”

 I smiled at his earnest words, shaking my head fondly even though I was touched, “You won’t let me down, Gorou. You won’t let anyone down, no matter how the performance goes. What matters is that you're stepping forward and giving this an honest shot.”

He nodded again, smiling to himself all the while, “Thanks, but I still don’t want to do poorly.”

I sighed slightly, not entirely surprised by his words. I’d already seen how driven he was just from how determined he’d been throughout his lessons. He probably wasn’t entirely willing to accept the idea of doing poorly now.

I shifted closer, though, and bumped him lightly with my shoulder. And that was all it took to pull him from his own nervous thoughts and cause him to look my way as I spoke quietly, “You know how Lady Kokomi told you that your fatal flaw is getting too engrossed in battle?”

I eyed him closely as he looked back my way, frowning slightly before he nodded, “Of course I do. I take all of Her Excellency’s advice seriously.”

I nodded, looking away from him and at the stage set up for us, “You do that in dancing too. You get engrossed in your performance, determined to do your best every time. The difference here is that you can use that as a strength.”

I smiled back over at him, half-chuckling at his confused expression before I continued, “If you let yourself get engrossed in the dance, you’ll be able to dance freely without your nerves getting to you, and I guarantee you’ll do well.”

He was frowning, glancing side to side as if he were checking if anyone was listening before he looked back at me in an almost cautious fashion, “Really?”

I smiled at him, relaxed as I nodded in response, because I really was confident in him. Gorou had done wonderfully throughout his lessons and our practice. I had every faith that he could pull off one dance performance successfully, just like how he always returned, victorious, from battle.

He perked up, his ears twitching slightly as he smiled at me before he gave me a quick nod of his head, “Alright. I’ll trust you then.”

And with those words, he straightened, causing me to smile as we both took off. Both of us walking out onto the platform with him to the applause of Sangonomiya’s troops.

We entered our poses behind the screen that would have us silhouetted until it was removed. Me with one hip out to the side and my hands behind my head and him with his legs crossed, one leg kicked out as he leaned to the side and away from me.

He moved to the music first. Matching the beat with energetic steps that carried him towards me before he stopped and pointed my way right as I shifted. And then we both launched into motion, mirroring one another’s steps and pointing towards one another right as the screen was pulled up. Parting in the middle and revealing the two of us smiling at one another to the soldier who loudly applauded. Already cheering on their general as Kokomi clapped politely with a brilliant smile on her face.

Gorou reached out, taking my hand lightly in his and twirling me across the floor until I stopped in front of him. His hands clasping my waist as we both sashayed rhythmically.

It was amusing now to think back on how embarrassed Gorou had been by such motions when we’d first started dancing. By now he was used to them, and barely even hesitated, even with the thunderous applause that almost drowned out our music.

And while it was true that his motions weren’t perfect by any means, they were just fine and perfectly respectable for someone who’d only just learned how to dance the cha-cha.

We parted, smiling as we slid across the floor together. Perfectly matching one another even though we weren’t even holding hands as we danced together.

The beat of the music picked up, and I danced backwards, using the short, lively steps of the cha-cha to retreat away from Gorou, who danced towards me. A smile on his face that made the very idea of him being nervous mere moments ago seem ridiculous, save for the fact I’d been by his side this entire time.

He spun, holding out his hand in a silent request that I accepted with a grin as he spun me across the floor in front of him so that we were side by side once more and stepping lightly across the stage.

He let go of my hand as we continued to dance. Both of us reaching out and tracing our hands up the other’s shoulders and over to their chin as we leaned towards each other. Perfectly comfortable with one another after having practiced for so long together.

I turned, smiling out at the crowd as I danced away from him, half laughing at the way he followed along behind me. Ready and waiting with his hand held up for me to take as soon as I spun back to look at him.

Our hands locked together as we slid, sashaying to the side and grinning at each other. We parted though, spinning to look back at the crowd as we stepped together to the beat.

Without even having to glance at the other, we reached out. Our hands linking together once more as we spun first to face each other, then back out to look at the crowd, and repeat. 

We twirled together, our motions syncing so that we could both reach out to the other one without having to worry that they wouldn’t be there.  

My hands cupping his face and his hands rested lightly on my hips as soon as our rotations ended before we stepped, almost immediately, apart. Leaving us so that we were joined only by our hands that seemed to find one another on instinct.

He pulled me across the floor in front of him before letting go of me. Leaving me to twirl freely across the stage before I came to a stop. Looking at him as he ran, dropped to his knees, and slid over to where I waited. 

I looked down at him as he clasped my waist, looking up at me from his position on his knees with a smile as I laughed, reaching down and cupping his face with my hands.

I found myself bending slightly as he shifted, starting to stand as we both laughed, “See? You did great!” 

He nodded, stepped to his feet, and continued to laugh slightly as we both turned to face the crowd of soldiers whose morale had most certainly been boosted.

And as we bowed, I could honestly say that I suspected that it wasn’t just the troops whose moods had improved. Judging from the smile on Gorou’s face and the way his hand clasped mine tightly, I was almost positive that his mood was also soaring.

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[brainrotcharacters]

She Wasn’t Always Like That part 1 (It’s Not Enough)

ship: Ghost x reader

summary: Ghost knows you differently, but cares about you just as much. Maybe more. 

a/n: I’m relapsing into my cod era.

tags: sfw. angst comfort. reader is a member of 141. will they won’t they trope. reference to there’s only one bed trope. Ghost would rather die than acknowledge feeling feelings and honestly mood. 

part 2

She wasn't always like that.

Ghost knew that people didn't believe him when he describes you this way. They could never imagine the only woman of the 141, trained in espionage and assassination, as anything but sunlight given human form when you're off duty. You told Ghost you didn't mind, but he found the need to mention it regardless.

"Why?" You ask him at some point, handing him another washed plate to towel off. When he only stared at you sidelong, you continued. "I mean, why do you want people to know what I was like... before?"

You always sounded so ashamed, so uncomfortable, when you spoke about 'before'. As if keeping other people at arm's length because the alternative meant you were in danger was such an embarrassing way of thinking.

Put that way, Ghost was guilty of being inspired by you. The world knows you, but they don't know you, and it makes his skin crawl. But the words got cut up on the way out his mouth. He finished drying off the plate in his hands, placing it on the nearby rack. "Do you want me to stop?"

You blinked once. Unguarded, but intelligent eyes― the only times Ghost saw fear in those eyes was through camera feeds when he was separated from you, or when you were in active spy work. "I want to understand.”

He took in a breath, shoulders lifting slightly. How to say it? Better yet, how to say it without you catching on to him? Knowing you, you'd be too fucking quick with it.

You only angled your head at him, waiting patiently. Kindly.

Fuckin' hell. "You're happy running around with the boys here, yeah? For all your whinin' about Johnny, you'd kill for the man." 

"I already have," you chuckle, reaching for a mug. 

Right. Ghost's eyes tracked the way your hand gripped the cup. Firmly. "You'd be a hell of a lot happier if they didn't take your performance at face value."

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" 

"It's not enough, sweetheart.”

The tone of his voice was tense and unusual enough that you turned away from the sink to look at him. "They don't know what it takes for you to keep laughin' about with them. Fuck, they don't even know how much it takes you to get out of bed in the morning." 

Your eyes softened. As the person beside me in that bed, you'd know.

Ghost didn't look away. I do. "They rattle on and on about how good you are, how strong or how kind. I agree. Believe me, I'm with them. But..." 

Your thumbs slide over the now-scrubbed mug. Squeaky clean. You hand it to him, and he takes it, all too grateful for a reason to break eye contact. "Dude, I don't mind the opinions of the outside world. Yours is enough." 

Something in your mind clicked into place. It's not enough. I am not enough.

Ghost saw the realization flicker in your eyes, and rushed to speak before you managed to ask him about jealousy or self-pity or some bullshit like that. "I don't want to see you burn yourself out, is all." 

"Oh, I will." You laughed cynically. "And when I finally burn out―"

"Y/n, say if. Not when―" 

"Simon, when I burn out," you lift a serving spoon between you and him. Your hand visibly trembled. "I want you with me. The laughing and the jokes are nice, but I've been looking inward these days. Sooner than I'd like, I'm going to burn out. When that happens, I hope you're nearby." you twist the spoon in your fingers, handle facing Simon. "No pressure, but I don't know what I'll do if you aren't." 

Though he was still reeling at the sound of his name, he plucked the piece of cutlery from your grasp and toweled it off. "The thing about you and me: if I'm not with you, then it means one thing. I'm on my way." 

A small, affectionate smile lit up your face, or maybe that was the sunlight from the open window several feet behind him. The sky had the fucking audacity to have correct fucking timing― 

The door burst open, and a gaggle of your sisters-in-arms, plus Gaz, pushed through. "Y/N! Ghost, can we steal Y/N from you for a bit?" 

It was a rhetorical question; whatever you and him were, no one knew the entire story, and no one asked. Maybe Ghost was getting tired of people not understanding you the way he did, the same way they didn't understand what he was with you. Maybe not.

Simple as that, your practiced smile appeared, and you hollered. "LADIES! I told you not to bring goddamn Kyle into this." 

An outraged noise from the young man had you giggling. "Jokes, jokes. Let's go. Ah, hey Ghost?"

He turned.

"Thank you." you smiled, eyes shining. 

Ghost paused. Then nodded once. 

When the door closed behind you, and the noise of friends enjoying your performance faded away, the image and sound of you burned in his memory. 

God fucking damnit.  

[fixing-bad-posts]

From your tags: "if anyone wants to ask me about rings of power please do because i have thoughts™" This is me asking. (Also love your blog!)

i love you for asking, thank you 💛💛💛 this will be part three: parting thoughts & the funniest details from rings of power (part one; part two).

some parting thoughts:

i absolutely hate that all critics of the show are labelled as racists, misogynists, and anti-progressives, especially when the show’s treatment of women is tokenizing and pitiful, and it does nothing revolutionary nor makes a meaningful statement on issues of marginalized race. they don’t get to position themselves as champions of diversity just by doing the bare minimum and casting poc in side-roles, and having one original-character black elf whose plotline is tragically underwritten. they’re already taking vast liberties with the source material—why not a black galadriel? why not an asian elrond?

with that out of the way, some of my favourite* parts from rings of power:

* when i say "favourite" i mean i'm about to make fun of the show.

i love the part in the show where galadriel spends years of her life tracking down the ‘mark of sauron’—which looks like a little stylized pitchfork—only to discover it’s actually not a sigil. it’s a map, turned sideways, and sketched in modern minimalist style with the least helpful, least detailed, least interpretable shapes because apparently morgoth was really really bad at drawing mountains. and sauron, for some reason, is so forgetful that he carves this “map” into dead bodies and his tables and weapons and gloves so that he? won’t forget which mountain range he’s trying to conquer? wants to give his enemies fun clues about his favourite piece of real estate? unclear.

i love that one scene where galadriel and halbrand are on a raft and the set designers/director did not give morfydd clark enough stage business so she spends the whole scene pulling the same piece of rope tight, and then loosening it, and then pulling it tight again, on a random piece of wood.

in the same vein, i love the part where a conversation between nori and her mom happens except the stage business they were given for the scene was apparently… rub a rock on a piece of wood. and they just have to do that for the entire scene as if it’s normal.

i love the part where the writers seemingly forgot to actually go in and edit their placeholder dialogue and they have gandalf yell, “i’m good!” when he’s mistaken for sauron in the finale.

i love the part where galadriel discovers who sauron is and then goes inside and does not tell anyone what she learned for some reason. and elrond asks her what’s up and she’s just like, there’s no time to explain. and then never explains ever.

i think it’s really funny that the writers want sauron to be “like walter white, tony soprano and the joker,” when these characters have nothing in common except being well-written characters. i like to imagine they sit around the writers’ room examining every single piece of well-written television, marvelling over the very idea of multifaceted characters—a concept completely foreign to them.

and, for posterity—i have fun criticizing rings of power. i like to think i gave rop a fair shot—when i started watching it, i was fully hoping it would be well-done. when i heard the show was coming out, it gave me an excuse to re-read the silmarillion for the first time in years, and has connected me with the tolkien fandom on tumblr. i’m also a script writer irl and, so it’s been a fun exercise to pick apart why the show didn’t work for me both from a fan’s perspective and a writer’s perspective. a lot of tolkien fans are deeply hurt by this show and hate its existence and its fans—that’s not me. i would not be engaging with this material if i wasn’t having a good time doing it.

that's all for me, folks—thanks for tuning in; i'll shut up about this now haha.

[bookishfeylin]

What do you think about the whole “Tamlin was in love with the idea of Feyre” ?

I don’t really understand it tbh and I’d like to hear your thoughts.

Also here’s a kiss 😽 I hope you’re having a fantastic day.

Thank you love!

So I feel like I have to explain what that means first before fully debunking it. In short, THAT SIDE of the fandom feels that Tamlin loves a version of Feyre that wants to be coddled and taken care of and protected and provided for--aka a version of Feyre who no longer exists in ACOMAF--hence why he cannot stand and adjust to her change post-UTM when she suddenly wants a more adventurous life. Feyre herself thinks this in ACOMAF, mentioning that Tamlin being a provider+protector suited "who she was before" but not who she is now, which according to her is (one of the many reasons) why they were incompatible:

“I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety. And I’m thinking maybe he knew that—maybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that person for someone. And maybe that worked for who I was before. Maybe it doesn’t work for who—what I am now.” (ACOMAF Chapter 15)

This idea, that Feyre just wants a soft life essentially where she can relax and not be burdened with being the caregiver and even be taken care of herself, where she can be given kindness and safety, is also alluded to in book one:

Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls. (ACOTAR Chapter 1)

[Tamlin] came a step closer, as if forcibly leaving behind the dark, sad stain of what had happened to Lucien, and the starlight danced in his eyes as he said, “What would be enough to make you happy?” I blushed from my neck to the top of my head. “I—I don’t know.” It was true—I’d never given that sort of thing any thought beyond getting my sisters safely married off and having enough food for me and my father, and time to learn to paint. (ACOTAR Chapter 18)

[Tamlin] was quiet as we turned down another sun-drenched marble hallway, and I dared to look at him. I found him carefully studying me, his lips in a thin line. “Has anyone ever taken care of you?” he asked quietly. “No.” I’d long since stopped feeling sorry for myself about it. (ACOTAR Chapter 12)

So Feyre does want a quieter life where she can focus on herself rather than being busy caring for other people, and Tamlin feels pity for her that she can't get that life, indicating there is some basis for the fandom's idea. But there are several problems with this per canon itself, the first being that no, Feyre did not fall in love for the "first creature" who was kind to her. If that were true, then she would've fallen in love with Isaac Hale first, not Tamlin. The second reason is that this is not why Tamlin fell in love with Feyre? Like he explicitly did not fall for her because he saw a dainty feminine object he could protect and provide for. Aside from Feyre spending 90% of their romance wearing pants and plotting, scheming, and running around planting snares, stealing knives and shit... That's not why Tamlin falls for Feyre.

“I wonder if your family realizes it,” he murmured. “That everything you’ve done wasn’t about that promise to your mother, or for your sake, but for theirs.” I said nothing, not trusting my voice to keep my shame hidden. “I know—I know that when I said it earlier, it didn’t come out well, but I could help you write—” “Leave me alone,” I said. I was almost through the door when I ran into someone—into him. I stumbled back a step. I’d forgotten how fast he was. “I’m not insulting you.” His quiet voice made it all the worse. “I don’t need your help.” “Clearly not,” he said with a half smile. But the smile faded. “A human who can take down a faerie in a wolf’s skin, who ensnared the Suriel and killed two naga on her own…” He choked on a laugh, and shook his head. The firelight danced along his mask. “They’re fools. Fools for not seeing it." (ACOTAR Chapter 16)

“I never knew,” Tamlin said from behind me, “that humans were capable of …” He trailed off as I turned, the hand I’d put on my throat sliding down to my chest, where my heart roared with a fierce sort of joy and grief and overwhelming humility—humility before that magnificent art. (ACOTAR Chapter 19)

Tamlin is impressed by her overall badassery and her willingness to self-sacrifice per quote 1 and per quote 2 he loved her artistic soul. And most importantly:

He picked up the small painting of the frozen forest and examined it again. “I’ve had many lovers,” he admitted. “Females of noble birth, warriors, princesses …” Rage hit me, low and deep in the gut at the thought of them—rage at their titles, their undoubtedly good looks, at their closeness to him. “But they never understood. What it was like, what it is like, for me to care for my people, my lands. What scars are still there, what the bad days feel like.” That wrathful jealousy faded away like morning dew as he smiled at my painting. “This reminds me of it.” "Of what?" I breathed. He lowered the painting, looking right at me, right into me. "That I'm not alone." (ACOTAR Chapter 22)

He loves her because she also understands the burden of responsibility in a way few others do, that he's not alone in that feeling.

And we get this quote:

Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again, his breath caressing my ear. “You’re exactly as I dreamed you’d be, too.” Darkness swallowed everything. (ACOTAR Chapter 23)

I also have a lot of feelings about what that quote means because WE NEVER GET AN EXPLANATION FOR TAMLIN DREAMING ABOUT FEYRE. So apparently Feyre's aforementioned snare planting and knife stealing and scheming to escape and constantly disobeying things he asks her to do to stay safe and whatnot does not manage to dissuade Tamlin from finding her attractive! Not at all, actually, in fact she's ~the girl of his dreams~ And:

“I love you,” he whispered, and kissed my brow. “Thorns and all.” (ACOTAR Chapter 27)

Idk y'all I don't think "I love you thorns and all" means "I only love you if you fulfill my fantasies of being a perfect obedient housewife despite there being 0 evidence of you displaying any remotely housewife-like tendencies, least of all being obedient" but that's just me. That quote is... incredibly significant but I've seen the larger fandom mostly ignore it like they ignore the rest of book one.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: book 1 Feyre is cool and does some wild shit and Tamlin sees her doing wild shit and is like "yep. That's the one for me. My dream gal <3" and ignoring this to push forward a "Tamlin never loved the real Feyre" narrative ignores what Feyre was actually like when Tamlin fell in love with her in the first place and what they actually bonded over.