#I want to be at peace because my mind is in disarray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somejazzinthemorning · 1 month

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snapshot.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] - Word Count: 1K

you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.

(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼

The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.

You sigh as you open your eyes.

The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.

Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.

And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.

So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.

Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,

“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.

“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”

He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”

Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.

Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”

“You want a photo of my boobs?”

“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.

Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.

“The hair,” he directs.

This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.

When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.

You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.

“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”

You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.

His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.

"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."

The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.

And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.

His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.

His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.

"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.

You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.

"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."

Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.

"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.

"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.

Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.

Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.

You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.

But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.

You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.

You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.

"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, come here."

"Not yet."

"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."

You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.

Climax is imminent.

You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.

When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.

"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”

“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”

As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.

As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.

“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”

Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible. Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶

#Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz Jr #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz x You #Carlos Sainz Smut #Carlos Sainz Fanfic #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Formula 1 x Reader #Formula 1 x You #F1 x Reader #F1 x You #F1 Imagine #F1 One Shot #Driver x Reader #F1 Driver x Reader #Driver x You #F1 Driver x You #F1 Fanfic #FanF1ction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 17 days

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the girl next door 18

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“You know, sweetie, I was thinking,” Steve stacks the plates and gathers the utensils, “if you’re going to take those pills, I don’t think you should be alone.”

You blink and sit up, rubbing your neck. You’re not a good liar. You weren’t planning on taking them. You were just going to go home and lay down but he keeps bringing it up. Maybe he’s suspicious.

“Oh, I think I’ll be okay--”

“Look, honey, your mom’s already in the hospital. I’d hate to see you in there with her. For my peace of mind, will you stay? Just for the night. That way we can head out bright and early to get mom,” he suggests.

“Well...” you trail off, staring at the wall.

He’s being pushy but for good reason. He’s looking out for you. You’re the one going against doctor’s orders and why? Because it’s embarrassing to think it’s that bad. Depressed? No, just pathetic.

“Here, you can borrow some of my clothes,” his voice muffles as he goes into the kitchen and the plates clink in the sink. He reappears and grabs the boxes from the table, wiggling free on and peeling the flap open, “take a shower and relax. You need a good night’s sleep.”

He pulls out the insert then reaches for the doctor’s note. He pops out a tablet and holds it out to you, “says you might get lightheaded. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I... It’s okay. I’ll go home to...” you bat your lashes at him and give up. He’s just as hard to argue with as your mother, although in a much different way. Your mom is stubborn and mean, but he’s concerned and you’re the one being obstinate. “Okay.”

You take the pill and stare at it. It’s so small. You probably won’t feel a thing. You shrug and grab your glass of water and swig it down, tossing the tablet in your mouth before you swallow. You gulp thickly and set down the glass.

“Right, let me get you something to sleep in. And a towel,” he says as he claps his hands.

You nod and stay at the table as he strides off. You look down at your lap, thumbs twiddling around each other. As nice as he is, you’re starting to feel like just another burden.

Before you can sink too far into self-pity, you make yourself get up. You take your glass and carry it into the kitchen. You flip on the faucet and dump what’s left of the water. You rinse out the glass and place it in the rack of the dishwasher. You do the plates next, then the cutlery. As you close the door and it clicks, you’re startled by the shadow to your left.

Where the counter extends, Steve stands on the other side. You blanch and fold your hands over your chest. You show your teeth sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he smiles. “You’re a guest.”

“I... I wanted to help,” you say, “um, but... I don’t know how to turn it on.”

“Leave that to me. I put the stuff in the bathroom for you. If you feel like it, you can have a bath. Help chase away the stressful day,” he offers.

“Shower’s fine,” you drop your arms and raises your shoulders, trying to make yourself smaller, “thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie,” he comes around the counter as you go to move in the opposite direction. You nearly collide and press yourself against the drawers as he grazes past you with and apology, “just... gonna finish up.”

He presses a button on the dishwasher door and you flit away. His cologne clings in your nostrils as his warmth lingers around you. Too close.

You go upstairs and shut yourself in the bathroom. It’s a little bit of solace. It’s not much but it’s space for yourself. You see the towel hung from the rack and the clothes folded on the counter. The tee shirt is grayish blue and the shorts are drawstring and stretchy.

You twist and turn the faucet, water running into the sharp-cornered tub but you can’t figure out how to get the showerhead going. You turn the water off then on. Off and on. What the heck?

“You okay in there, sweetie?” Steve calls through the door as friction rubs against the outside.

“Um, yeah,” you shut off the tub and back up. You go to the door and flick the lock back, opening it just a little. “How... I can’t get the shower...” your words jumble up with your embarrassment. How stupid. You can’t even figure that out.

“No problem,” he steps in and you back up.

He goes to the tub and flips on the water, pulling out the lever until the water flows from above. You could smack yourself. Instead ,you thank him and hug yourself. He turns and winks at you, “all good. Anything else?”

“No, I’m fine,” you assure him.

He nods and marches back to the door, turning to tap on the edge of the door, “alright, sweetie.”

He shuts the door and you go to lock it behind him. You retreat and slowly undress. The clothes you’ve been wearing since the night before are slightly musty with sweat and the stench of the hospital.

You step under the showerhead and let the temperature seep in. You lean your head back as it splashes down your chest. You stand with your eyes closed, your mind slowing and your eyelids scratchy. You feel your muscles slacken and sway just a little.

Oof. You open your eyes and steady yourself. You look around and find a bottle of woodsy-scented soap. It’ll have to do. You won’t use too much, either.

The steam forms a cloud around you. The humidity clogs in your nose and chest and swirls in your head. You’re dizzy as you slap a hand on the tile and turn off the faucet.

You stagger out. The heat of the water fogs the mirror, further setting you off kilter. You pull on the shirt and shorts then collect your own clothes. You leave the towel on the rod and lean into the door as you unlock it.

You trip out into the hall and wander along, for a moment, forgetting where you are. You enter the bedroom with the purple bedspread and dump the armful on the dresser. You stumble and sit on the edge of the bed. You slump onto your shoulder and your head lolls. You think the medicine is kicking in.

You close your eyes and descend into the grey. It’s as if you’re floating on water, swaying and rolling with the tides. Not quite awake and not quite asleep. You hear yourself droning nonsensically. Snort and jerk but can’t break free of the heaviness. The world is moving around you but your eyelids won’t peel back.

Your head pulses as you sink further and further down. Your subconscious is so deep it’s suffocating. The dim darkens to an endless void through which you hurtle down towards no bottom. The blackness unfurls before you, swallowing you up.

You wake to the ceiling above you. There’s warmth against your side and a gentle breath brushing over your cheek. You groan and look over as the slumbering form next to you. You nearly scream at the sight of Steve but you don’t have the strength to do more than babble.

Your arms shake as you sit up, your muscles sore and strained. You hold your head as you try to think straight. You shut your eyes again and urge yourself to wake up. It’s a nightmare. Some twisted dream.

Your lashes flick up and you tilt your head to follow the yellow light seeping in between the curtains. It’s morning already. Your vision turns vivid and you’re certain you’re truly awake. But how did you end up here?

“Sweetie,” Steve rasps groggily as he rolls onto his back, “you okay?”

“Steve,” you look down at the tee shirt, drooping down one shoulder, “how... why am I in here?”

“Hmm,” he rubs his forehead and opens his eyes, “you don’t remember?”

“Remember?”

“You came in here, saying you couldn’t sleep,” he lifts himself up, his chest bare as the blanket falls away, “you wouldn’t go back to bed so... I just let you stay. You seemed pretty out of it.”

“I... I did?” You gurgle.

“Must be the pills,” he rubs your back, “we can talk to the nurse again. Sweetie, are you okay?”

You don’t understand. Why would you come in here? How can you not remember?

“Nothing... happened?”

He laughs, “sweetie, what would happen?”

He stares at you and you grimace, shaking your head, “nothing. Nothing, I just... can’t remember.”

“Hm,” he hums and his hand slides lower, stopping just above your bum before brushing back up, “just sleeping. That’s it.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #series #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america

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flowerandblood · 9 months

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The Impossible Choice (38)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He could not fall asleep that night, but for the first time in his life not because of the nightmares, the war or his family. This time the reason was different, making him open his eye again as soon as he fell asleep, pressing his face against his wife's cheek, her naked back pressed against his chest, her legs entwined with his in disarray, her quiet, calm breathing the only sound in the tent.

I love you.

She said it aloud then and many more times afterwards as they made love, gently, slowly, tenderly. She knew he wanted to listen to those words endlessly − eventually he didn't even have to ask her to repeat them anymore − she mewled them in his ear as he rooted into her with slow, smooth thrusts of his hips, her hand stroking his hair.

He came inside her, panting with relief, feeling as if he were lighter, his chest filled with pure peace − he took his mind off what was happening around them and prayed to the gods that the night would last longer than usual, that the sun wouldn't rise, that he wouldn't have to tear himself away from her naked body.

He knew that with the next day − their world would collapse and everything around them would go up in flames.

Several times he fought with himself to whisper to her while she slept that he reciprocated her feelings, but he couldn't.

He was afraid that he would then cast some kind of curse on them, that until he said it aloud the gods did not know what he really felt and wouldn't take her away from him, thinking that she was not precious to him.

That he would succeed in deceiving them and destiny if he was destined to lose her.

He knew what it would mean to him.

The black, boundless abyss he had stood over before he flew to Storm's End and saw her.

He was dead and she was filled with life, quivering with uncertainty, feelings and emotions that he had drunk like nectar from her moist lips when he had stolen her first kiss so violently.

After that, he felt as if he had emerged from a watery depth and drew in deeply, the air painfully tearing at his lungs anew with life.

He was alive because she was alive.

He was living fire and she was like a rain that made sure that he didn't burn down along with everything around him, bringing him endless relief.

Fire and water.

He kissed her bare shoulder tenderly at that thought, his fingers massaging her lower abdomen where he held his hand, not letting go for a moment, in his mind protecting her and their child in this way.

Everything he wanted was in his arms.

Despite his prayers, morning came, and just after dawn a servant stepped into their tent, bowing shyly, not daring to look at their naked bodies − his wife covered herself quickly with the furs lying around them, ashamed of her scars. He stood up with a murmur of displeasure, putting on his breeches quickly, asking what was the matter.

"We have received a message from the Eyrie, Your Grace." Said the young boy and approached him without lifting his eyes, holding out his hand in front of him with a small note rolled up. He took it at once and unrolled the letter, reading it with rapidly beating heart.

According to the will of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne will remain Jacaerys Velaryon as her first-born son and successor.

War then, he thought, tightening his lips, shredding the letter into tiny pieces.

His wife looked at him uncertainly, furrowing her brow, covering her breasts and thighs with thick furs, breathing anxiously.

"Bring my armour." He said lowly, the servant nodded quickly and left their tent, leaving them alone.

"What does the message say?" She asked quietly. He pressed his lips together.

"There is no turning back now." He said coolly, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. She was sitting in front of him, her lips parted in worry, her eyes warm and shining.

He thought he wanted to do this with her.

He'd thought about it all night.

He planned it all in his head.

"Meet me at sunset on the hill by Vhagar's lair. Don't take anyone with you. Do you know where it is?" He asked, dressing quickly, his wife blinking, surprised.

"Yes… something has happened? What are you going to do?" She mumbled, clearly horrified by how it sounded, perhaps even thinking he was going to run away with her on Vhagar to Essos.

"We'll get married." He said matter-of-factly, tying his shirt. His wife swallowed loudly, not understanding completely what he meant, so she remained silent for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

"I… forgive me, I don't understand. We are married." She said quietly, as if she feared she had missed something.

"Not in the face of my gods." He said quietly, casting her a careful, proud look. "Not in the tradition of Old Valryia."

He saw her blush all over and tighten her lips, trying to suppress the smile that pressed itself onto her face. She lowered her gaze, playing with the material of the fur with her fingers.

"Oh."

"Mmm." He just hummed, deciding he didn't need to say anything more.

He wanted, before the fighting began in earnest, to marry her in a way worthy of his great-grandparents, a wedding of blood and fire, of pain and pleasure.

One they were not forced into, one they decided for themselves.

His manifestation of infinite love towards her, his fidelity and devotion.

Once he was in full armour he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her maid was just braiding her hair. His wife was looking at her hands, a dreamy expression on her face, her cheeks red, her lips curved in a gentle, almost invisible smile.

He felt a squeeze in his throat that all this was happening now, when she was closer to him than anyone had ever been. He left the tent without even saying goodbye to her, feeling that he wouldn't be able to get any words out.

He wanted to head for the tent where they met for council, but decided he would do something else, and made his way to the tent where Borros Baratheon was staying. The man threw him a surprised look when he stepped inside, Royce paused his words in mid-sentence, rising from his chair. They were both wearing armour.

"What is it?" Borros asked coolly, sitting down behind his large wooden table, on which were strewn maps and pawns, showing the proportions of the two opposing armies.

He figured he'd pretended that he hadn't heard him skip the courtesy phrase.

"I would like to speak to you alone, Lord Baratheon." He said coldly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Royce, who snorted loudly.

"How dare you…"

"That's enough." Said Lord Borros, spreading himself out comfortably in the big wooden chair, sighing impatiently. "Leave us alone."

Royce pressed his lips together, looking away, and after a moment got up reluctantly, going outside. They were left alone.

"I don't have much time. Tell me what you're coming with." He said indifferently, looking him straight in the eye − his earlier fury had passed, his army did not look at all like they were gathering to return.

As long as his daughter stayed with him, he could not return with a calm heart to Storm's End.

He pressed his lips together at the thought of what he wanted to say.

He'd had all night to think about it, and he felt he had to do it if he was to be sure of his fidelity.

"My mother treats my wife as her daughter, however, you do not treat me as your son." He said indifferently, looking away, embarrassed by his own words. Lord Baratheon chuckled loudly, shaking his head.

"And you do not treat me as a father should be treated. You have neither respect nor patience altogether. My daughter and son, unlike you, know when to speak and when to be silent. You are a spoilt pup, nothing more." He said in a low, throaty, frustrated voice, slamming his fist on his armrest.

Aemond looked at him with his jaw clenched, furious. He felt humiliated, but he also recognised with pain that his father had never spoken to him in this way.

He didn't give him advice.

He did not lead him.

He was not his role model.

Criston tried to do so, but who was he to have the audacity to replace his father?

Lord Baratheon, however, was his wife's father, and though he could neither read nor write, he held his army in an iron grip, his soldiers respected him and listened intently to his words, his experience and sense of war strategy impressed even Criston, who did not have the gall to defy his orders.

He, although well-read in matters of war, had only a theoretical understanding of it.

He was the only one he could trust in this respect and whether he wanted it or not, he needed his support.

He grinned at his last words, but his smile did not reach his eye. He hummed and looked somewhere to the side, thoughtful.

"That is what we are alike in, my Lord." He said mischievously, and Borros pressed his lips together, wrinkling his brow, breathing anxiously.

He wanted to say something, but he would not let him.

"I will not leave my brother. My wife will not leave me. You will not leave her. Support me with your experience."

Silence fell around them. Lord Baratheon sighed heavily, massaging his temple, his face pale and tired, his wrinkles even more visible than usual.

"How can you let her stay here knowing what threatens her?" He asked defiantly, lowering his hand, not looking at him but somewhere to the side. He snorted.

"You know better than I do, my Lord, that she can be persuasive when she wants to be." He said lowly, glancing up at him to check his reaction. Her father measured his face with a wary look, apparently wondering whether he should believe him or not.

Go on, he thought.

Ask me.

"Why did you take her away from me?" He asked after a moment of regret and pain, and he struggled to hide the smirk of satisfaction that coursed across his face. "My youngest child. The most innocent, inexperienced, not knowing life −"

"− that's why." He said menacingly, glancing at him, a twinkle in his eye from which Lord Baratheon moved uneasily in his seat.

"You wanted to give me trained maidens, speaking from memory what they had been taught, what would be considered to please me. Do you know that one of your daughters came to me at night to suck my cock? Knowing my wife, I'm sure she's already told you about it." He said, his lips stretched at last in a mocking grin − he saw Borros press his lips together, reddened with shame, looking away.

He had him.

He had him in his grasp.

"I could have let her do it, because why not? I've heard of your many bastard children scattered throughout the kingdom, so you must have let the ladies take care of you this way more than once as well. My brother would say it's a manly thing, lust." He said, walking slowly around the tent, speaking lightly, his hands clasped behind his back. He could see her father shrinking into himself with every word he said, without even looking at him.

"Does my wife realise that she has many more siblings? I heard you left one behind in Harrenhal. Perhaps I should seek him out?"

He watched with a heart burning with joy as her father shook his head, as if the very thought of his beloved child finding out his unpleasant secrets put him off. Borros clenched his hand into a fist, tightening his lips, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage, his face red with shame.

"That's enough." He hissed, and Aemond hummed under his breath, looking contentedly to the side, sighing heavily.

"My wife seems to have inherited respect for herself and her body from her mother, for I have never experienced greater fulfilment with any other woman." He said calmly, as if he were telling some ordinary story, her father's eyelids closed at his words.

"For her sake I will never disrespect you in public again. For her sake I won't say anything about how you like to fuck on the side instead of taking a second legitimate wife, spawning bastards all over the kingdom on every hunt you visit. I won't tell her that you are in some ways like my brother, whom you both abhor so much." He said with emphasis on the last sentence, looking at him menacingly.

It was a warning and he knew it.

Borros swallowed heavily and let the air out loudly, his breath ragged. He ran his hand over his forehead, droplets of sweat from stress on his face − they both turned towards the entrance when a servant stepped inside and announced that the war meeting had begun and everyone was waiting for them. He threw him a smirk over his shoulder and left first.

During the council, he revealed to the lords that there would be no peaceful resolution of the situation because his sister would not relinquish the crown and pay tribute to his brother. He ordered the servants to send a letter to his brother on the matter to prepare for total war.

"How is the Greyjoy case?" He asked, glancing at Criston, who grunted loudly.

"Your grandfather proposed a marriage between your brother Prince Dareon and Lord Greyjoy's granddaughter. Lord Greyjoy accepted the offer." He said, and he pressed his lips together, nodding with satisfaction.

Perfect, he thought.

They'll blockade them at sea, he and Vhagar, and after his brother arrives, Dareon too will patrol the skies. Jason Lannister grunted, glancing at the map, stepping from foot to foot.

"The usurper has more dragons than we do. What if they just burn us alive?" He asked, several people nodded at him with uncertainty. He tightened his lips.

"Only the dragons of Daemon, Rhaenys and Rhaenyra are big enough to pose any threat. Rhaenyra won't poke her nose out of the Vale, because if she dies, all will be lost. The most dangerous rider is Daemon, Rhaenys also flies perfectly. I don't think Daemon or Rhaenyra would choose to put their children and their baby dragons at risk of death." He said, placing some pawns on the map in front of him.

"However, my Lords, I am the rider of the greatest dragon in the world. If they come within range of Vhagar's maw, they will die. The Harrenhal incident is a lesson to us, our army must stick together, so that I can protect us from above and not let anyone get close." He said lowly, glancing around him. The men nodded their heads, speaking to each other.

He thought with a beating heart that he had convinced them and himself.

It wasn't impossible.

They had to be careful and use their slight advantage, but it could work.

Lord Borros grunted, moving a few pawns back.

"If there will be a battle, you must set out in front of the army, watching over it from above. A situation may arise in which several dragons attack Vhagar, and several smaller dragons move on our army, scattering it. What then?" He asked, looking at him expectantly, on his face still rage and embarrassment after their conversation. He hummed at his words.

"That will be the task of my brother, Dareon. As a last resort, to protect our army, my sister, Helaena, can also help us." He said, placing an additional pawns with a dragon's head on the map.

He did not want to involve her in the war, but if the situation forces them to do so there will be no way out.

"According to my will, the armies from the south and the Hightower army are heading towards us. In terms of the number of armies, the fighting will be even, but it is the Baratheon army that is the most experienced in battle, and this is our strength." He said, throwing his wife's father an impatient look, and Borros only nodded. Royce looked uncertainly at his father, then at him, sensing that something had happened between them, but said nothing.

He walked out of the tent after his armor was pulled off, feeling hopeful for the first time in month.

His chest was filled with pleasant warmth for another reason as well.

He asked one of the dragon guardians to bring the robes that he had ordered to prepare for them earlier. They were not the same ones that his ancestors wore, but they were similar enough. He told him what he wanted to do, and the man nodded with understanding.

The two of them moved through the woods toward the hill near where Vhagar rested. He saw from afar a small hooded figure walking at a safe distance from her − his dragoness had her head raised high, looking at her, but did not move an inch.

She sensed that she had carried child in her womb, he thought fondly.

His wife turned over her shoulder hearing their footsteps and threw off her hood from her head. She was wearing a beautiful, ornate gown, red and brown, the colors of his and her lineage.

The corner of his mouth lifted up at the thought that she would have to pull it all off.

"We need to change." He said to her softly, the orange warm rays of the setting sun framing her face. She blinked, looking at him questioningly.

He held out his hand to the man in whose company he had come, and he handed him the ceremonial robes, cream-colored and dyed partly red. The man turned away, giving them a theoretical sense of intimacy.

"Here? What is this?" She asked at the same time frightened and curious − he felt heat run through his body at the thought of what they were about to do.

"These are our wedding robes." He hummed low, and she looked at him with wide-open eyes. She took one of the soft materials from him gently, looking at him with her lips tightened, her cheeks red with excitement and joy.

"You have to help me." She whispered, glancing at him, and he murmured low and nodded.

Untying the sleeves of her gown and her bodice proved more difficult than they had both anticipated, so they struggled with it for a while. It didn't spoil their mood, however; they glanced at each other once in a while, looks of contentment filling their eyes.

When she was finally left in just her chemise, he helped her put on the robe, placing it on her body with solemnity, tying it around her waist with a wide, gold girdle. He glanced at her with satisfaction and murmured under his breath, seeing how noble his wife looked in an attire similar to what his ancestors once wore.

"Let your hair down." He said calmly, and she threw him a surprised look.

She pressed her lips together, apparently having worked long on her exquisite hairstyle of braids tied up in a bun, however it did not match the headdress he had brought for her. He helped her slide the pins out of her hair, leaving them on the grass, lowering strand by strand onto her shoulders.

Once her hair had fallen down her back, framing her face wonderfully, he untied a triangular crown made of delicate material, decorated on the sides with tiny beads one the thin strings, all trimmed with gold threads. His wife looked at the object as if enchanted, her lips parted in mute admiration.

"It's beautiful." She whispered.

"Mmm." He hummed, lifting the crown up, gently placing it over her head. He moved back to look at her in all her glory and felt a tightening in his throat at the sight of her.

She looked as if they had stepped back in time, the simplicity and nobility of her robes made her look like a goddess, as if the Maiden herself had descended from the heavens to marry the god of the underworld, death, mystery, the Stranger.

He felt lust at that thought, at the sight of her innocent, soft face, red with emotion, at the sight of her warm eyes filled to the brim with affection for him, at the sight of her dark hair around which bright beads shimmered.

His beloved, whom he was about to marry.

She extended her hand to him. He passed her his robes and began to slowly undress − this time it was she who helped him, putting the long robe over his shoulders. He looked at her focused, thoughtful face, and saw her glance at him once in a while, embarrassed.

As if they were not yet married.

As if he hadn't fucked her for several months.

She tied an ornate girdle around his waist, tying it in front, looking up at him at last, her lips slightly parted, her gaze hot, from which he felt his manhood pulsate hard under his robe. He touched his fingers to her face, unable to stop himself as her hand reached for the black ribbon in his hair, loosening the strands tied back.

He pulled his eye patch off his head and took her face in his hands. She swallowed loudly, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you know what this ceremony involves?" He asked lowly, and she shook her head, scared and excited at the same time, placing her hand on his, pressing her cheek against his soft skin.

He thought he felt like ripping the robes off her and just fucking her, but he tried to focus and chase those thoughts away.

"Do you trust me?" He asked quietly. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

He hummed with satisfaction and leaned over her, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. He pressed his nose to her cheek and began to speak quietly, as if he had just revealed some secret or mystery to her.

"The man who came with me will lead the entire ceremony. He has dagger made of dragon glass with him. We will cut each other's lips with them, and then the insides of our hands. The blood will flow from them into a goblet, from which we will both drink afterwards." He said, stroking her cheek reassuringly with his thumb, seeing how terrified she was by what he said.

"− do not fret −" He whispered and kissed her greedily, slipping his tongue between her puffy, moist lips, drawing her close to him, letting her feel how much he wanted her, how much he needed her.

He pulled away from her, his hand still holding her cheek, her gaze dreamy and hot, full of affection from which he was filled with desire.

"Will you do it for me?" He whispered, and she nodded.

They walked slowly toward the man who was already waiting for them, the cup in his hand − he took out dagger made of dragon glass, which he handed to her. His wife took the object from him with a trembling hand, looking at him uncertainly, beautiful, pulsing with life.

His.

His lips formed soundlessly into the words do not fret again. He saw her swallow silently as the man spoke in a low voice the sentences in the language of his ancestors, the language of Old Valyria.

He felt the pride and solemnity of this moment fill him, the fact that this time they were deciding their own destiny.

His wife, his goddess, his Maiden approached him slowly, uncertainly, grasping his cheek in her hand, terrified that she felt she was about to do him harm, to hurt him. He, however, wanted nothing more than to feel the blade on his skin, to have their blood mingle, to be forever marked by her.

To be hers.

He grasped her petite hand in his, lifting it up, parting his lips with her fingers and nodded, encouraging her to do what she was about to do. He closed his eye when he felt the blade cut into his fleshy skin, going down his lower lip, felt a burning pain and sticky blood spilling over his palate.

He opened his eye, his wife was looking at him mesmerized − her breathing was uneven, her lips parted, her eyes misty, full of lust and desire.

He thought that he would fuck her all night, that he would devour her and finally become one with her.

He took the blade from her, and she drew in the air quietly, frightened. He hushed her quietly, stroking her plump, rosy cheek with his hand, drawing her closer to him. He looked at her with a pounding heart as his thumb slid inside her mouth and tilted her lower lip, soft and lusciously wet.

She trembled all over as he ran the blade gently over her fleshy skin, creating a red line from which a drop of blood dripped a moment later.

"− my brave girl −" He whispered, grabbing her neck, pressing his forehead to hers, looking at her with awe and reverence, feeling that they were taking part in something sacred, solemn, dark and beautiful at the same time. He put the blade back between her fingers and extended the inside of his hand to her.

This time she didn't hesitate that long and with a simple, sure, gentle cut she slashed his skin. The man in front of them placed a cup under their arms as he took the blade from her, grasping her hand in his, cutting it as gently as he could. He heard her quiet hiss of discomfort.

"− shhh − just a little more −" He whispered tenderly, then grasped her cut hand in his and intertwined them together, their mingled blood flowing into the cup beneath them.

They both looked at the scene as if mesmerized, for some reason both breathing loudly − when the blood stopped flowing, the man lifted the goblet up, handing it to his wife first.

She reached for it with her healthy hand, and he saw that she held it with difficulty, her fingers trembling all over. She looked at him uncertainly, and then took a deep sip from the cup, swallowing it with effort.

She handed it to him, and he drank its contents without hesitation − their blood had a tart, metallic aftertaste from which he shuddered all over.

Their blood mingled together.

They marked each other for eternity.

The Maiden and The Stranger.

Fire and Water.

They were one.

______

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata @menaosama @ladywin17 @queenofshinigamis @rae-seri @dark-night-sky-99

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marchtooctober · 11 months

Text

Twilight finally steps into Loid Forger's home. It was late at night and he thought for sure that everybody was already asleep, save for Bond who might get overzealous and wake everyone up. But the moment he closes the door, a figure appeared through his vision.

It was Yor, putting away laundry. She put them down and walked over to Loid.

"Loid! You're finally back!" She says in quiet surprise. Bond circled around them.

Loid pat Bond's head who then went back to his spot right away. Then he turned to Yor.

"I'm home. Sorry, I'm very late... I must have made you worried."

"Uhm... No! It's okay... You must have been very busy at work. " Yor asked.

"Well..." Loid's voice trailed off.

If only she knows what this man just went through.

"Yes... I had a very tough patient I had to deal with." He finally said.

Yor's eyes went wide.

"Did you have another concussive session with a patient?! Did you get hurt anywhere?! Oh, look! You have bruises! Let's treat you! Sorry, I didn't notice right away. It's dim." Yor stared at him with obviously worried eyes.

Loid couldn't stare back at her, feeling that he might end up letting his guard down.

"N-No! There's no need for that. My bruises are not that bad. I'm just... really tired with dealing with my patient today."

"Do you want some tea before you rest?"

Loid was very ready to retire to bed and sleep away the pain of his arm's gunshot wound. But chances of peace with Yor are ever so rare that he willed himself to stay.

"Ah... Sure."

"Okay. I'll pour you a cup."

Yor seated herself beside Loid on the sofa. The closeness made Loid all tingly but in a very comforting way. For the most of time, they were silent. Then Yor gave repeated glances at Loid.

"Is there something bothering you, Yor?"

"A-Wha-What? Sorry! It's just..." Yor emptied her cup and placed it on the table before continuing.

"Seeing that you can get hurt like this for treating a patient... Are you still okay with it?"

Loid seemed to be caught off guard, he only stared right back at Yor.

"Don't you regret being a psychiatrist?"

The silenced prolonged. The question gave a deep impression to Loid, to Twilight. As if asking if he regrets being a spy.

"Sorry! That was rude of me to ask! I'm not even the one to speak. I'm really sorry! You don't need to answer that, Loid."

Loid also placed his own empty cup on the table. He leaned back and stared up the ceiling.

"No. I don't regret it. Even when I get hurt doing this proffession. Because it's something that I have decided a long time ago. So there's nothing else for me but to stick with it, even during the hard times."

Yor fell silent, her eyes glinting as if understanding Loid's words very well.

Loid closed his eyes and recalled right away what he just said. It was something he just blurted out but it's true. Not only for him, but also for everyone else who decided their own path.

He drew his head back, almost hanging to the side. His mind is in total disarray. His eyes fluttered open in time only to see Yor leaning over him. Too tired and slow to react, his mind suddenly went blank when he felt a kiss on his forehead.

"You did well." Yor said and sat back.

Her calm demeanor quickly turned into surprise, and she covered her face with her hands.

Loid fixed himself in an instant, sitting properly. He faced a very embarrassed Yor. Internally, he was just as embarrassed because of their proximity just now.

"N-No! It's not what you think it is! I just..." Yor said and waved her hands.

"C-Calm down, Yor! Speak slowly." Loid said with a similarly frantic gesture.

After a few breaths, Yor continued.

"My coworkers told me that... a... w-welcome home kiss is a common thing between couples. B-But I couldn't do it earlier and you're too tired from work so I... just wanted to comfort you instead." She said and shyly looked at Loid.

Loid took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Yor. And I'm sorry." He said.

"What? You have nothing to apologize! I'm... the one who should say sorry."

"I'm sorry because I..."

His words trailed off once more as his body started moving on its own. It was as if his arm was no longer in pain and reached out for Yor's face. In an instant, Loid closed off the distance and pulled Yor into a kiss.

It was a kiss that was warmer than the tea they just had. Loid closes his eyes and thoroughly felt Yor's lips, his hand gently holding the base of her head. Yor was wide-eyed for a second before she let herself be pulled in deeper. To her, this first kiss doesn't taste like lemon. It was the sweetest thing there ever was.

All thought is lost, only this moment remains. And perhaps, it's just what Loid really needed as a reward after a hard day's work.

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toodrasticallydumb · 4 months

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Strickler and Jim headcanon?

Again. *Might've* gone overboard...like a little. This one actually took me a hot minute because I couldn't really find that many that I had but hey that's when you take the time to ✨figure it out✨ ;}>

Reblog if you have any of your own to add!!! Always fun to hear more of these.

They’re sassy at the dinner table. Like, impossibly so. They’ll trade jabs and good-natured quips, have petty fights about whatever, even THE WEATHER isn’t off the table if they’re that desperate for something to keep the surrealness of them eating as a family far out of their minds. Barb gets so sick of it sometimes she calls for who can stay quiet the longest just so she can enjoy her damn dinner in peace for once.

They’ll have mini-cooking contests for any given meal they have with Barbara as the judge, they’ll each make their own part of the meal and not reveal which part they did and constantly question Barbara about what she likes most about the meal and they both obsess of her facial expression when she takes any one bite off the plate while Barb is sitting there, resting-b-face and all, just wanting to eat HER DAMN FOOD. At the end, she always says they were perfect together and she could never rate them separate while they both cross their arms like preschoolers and ask in unison “But, hypothetically speaking, which *would* be your favorite?” “My glass of water.” “You served yourself that.” “Or so I did. Welp, I’m going to watch TV, I’m stuffed.”

After the Eternal Night is freshly over, and Strickler returns with Barbara to her home, she concedes to him staying the day because well, sun + changeling troll that is now just troll = easy sweep into the urn jar. So while he’s staying for the day and Barbara is called in for another shift, he has the house to himself and goes up the stairs to find Jim’s bedroom door slightly open and he peers inside to see it in a bit of disarray from Jim’s previous attempt to get off the amulet going badly. It’s mostly picked up but it’s still in need of some tidying. So, Strickler, after some mulling over, goes into the room and carefully starts cleaning things up, dusting, etc. for Barbara but also…mostly, for Jim. He knows what it’s like to need to start a new life from one day to the next. And for the following weeks, when it pains Barbara to go into the room, he takes it upon himself to keep it neat, keeping the hope at the back of his mind that Jim will return soon and it’s best to keep his room ready for him.

Jim was having a really hard time adjusting to a proper troll diet but actually got an unprompted message from Strickler with rocks/minerals that would be good to help him get the hang of eating rocks and ease him into it properly, and, later on, in an awkward phone call Barbara had passed to Strickler, Jim thanked him and Strickler sorta admitted that he had a sensitive stomach too and that he’d actually been experimenting recipes that could combine both human and troll tastes. Jim sorta kinda assumed it was mostly for himself that Strickler was experimenting but actually, Strickler was really surprised with how much he kept going failure after failure just to give Jim something he could eat with Barbara that wouldn’t feel awkward.

Y’know that sweater Strickler wore to Greenland in the movie-that-might-exist??? Well, if it did happen, Strickler was totally just trying to give Jim something to poke fun at. Something to bring back old times of them quipping at each other, especially with how stressed Jim was at the time. He was severely disappointed when Jim limited himself to just one slightly-snide comment about it. It made him realize just how much he wanted to protect Jim from more of all of this that had already changed him so much.

He ALWAYS texts Jim his mother’s schedule for the day/week and if it changes so he can find the best time to call her for the day. He gives his own suggestions for good times after she’s finished eating but before she goes to sleep (most of the time he tells Jim to call when it’s Barbara’s turn to care for the children/feed them/change diapers, and he takes the responsibility for her while they chat).

One day, while they’re texting to strategize when is the best time to call her, Jim refers to Barbara as just “Mom”. Not “my mom” and Strickler spends a ‘morning jog’/morning flight overthinking the whole interaction so much he forgets to bring Barb a flower, she wonders why and says she misses it but it’s okay, there’ll be plenty of other days for more flowers, and that’s when Jim calls and she automatically puts it on speaker and Jim automatically says “Hey, guys!” instead of “Hey, Mom” and Strickler realizes he has a son now. He has a lover. He has a family.

Another day, after a friendly spar, (it can either be pre-wizards/rott or just whenever), Jim and Strickler are both exhausted with just a narrow tie being called instead of a victory for either of them. In the exhaustion and half-loopiness of the moment, Strickler actually says how proud he is of Jim's improvement not only in fighting with Daylight and making the amulet his own but being adaptable and quick-thinking, and analyzing weaknesses to exploit and turning the battle in his favor, and "Yeah, well, I have you and Nomura to thank for that last stuff," he chuckled, "even if your 'training' was borderline 'almost kill--'" And that's when Strickler, unconsciously, bumped his forehead into Jim's with a hand at the back of his black hair. "Oh..." Jim just kinda goes still until Strickler blinks, realizes what he did, and clears his throat, absentmindedly ruffling Jim's hair before the conversation gets pretty awkward. "Well. We should uh- We should find Mom, she'll get worried." "Right- Of course, that's best avoided." "...Um....Thanks though, that wasn't...super weird....it was chill, I wouldn't like, tell you not to do that again." "....I'll em...I'll keep it in mind."

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wordsbyrian · 11 months

Text

Short: Portland - Adriana Leon x Reader

Summary: a short fic about Dri being loaned to Portland

A/N: I wrote this weeks ago for an anon request and in true me fashion, I forgot about it. And there are like no Adriana Leon gifs on this site which is odd.

You’re not shocked by the news.

You had already known it was going to happen, you and Adriana had been discussing it a few weeks ago.

You knew it was going to happen but having Evie read it out to you while you were giving someone made it feel real.

“@LeonAdriana9 will spend the remainder of 2022/23 on loan at Portland Thorns,” the receptionist reads, standing in the entrance of your booth. “Did you know about this?”

“Yup.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” “Didn’t know I needed to,” you respond, attention still on the tattoo in front of you. “You still doing good, bro,” you ask the client.

Getting a nod in the affirmative, you continue your task, no longer paying any attention to Evie or the way she’s glaring at you.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

Yourfriend and coworker stands and stares at you for a moment longer before she shakes her head and leaves, giving you the peace you’ve wanted since she’s walked into the room.

That night when you return home, you’re unsurprised to see the living room in a state of disarray with clothes and suitcases all over the place.

And somewhere in there, amongst the mess, is your girlfriend. Folding clothes and panicking over which shoes to bring.

Stepping more fully into the space, you can make out her figure sitting on the couch.

Carefully traversing the space, you make your way to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey Dri,” you say, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “I see you’ve been busy.”

Leaning into your embrace she responds, “Well I tried. How was your day?”

“Same as always, put some ink under people’s skin, and tried to ignore Evie’s antics.”

That gets a small laugh out of your girlfriend, the woman leaning even further into you as her exhaustion becomes clear.

Pulling her as close as possible, you let her take a moment, running a hand gently up and down her back until you feel her all but melt into you.

“So,” you say after some time has passed. “I think that you should figure out what you’d like to order for dinner. And in the meantime I can finish up your packing.”

You feel Dri nod and mumble her agreement into your chest although she makes no attempt to move.

“You’ll have to let me up for that, of course.”

A headshake.

“So we’re just gonna waste away here on the couch?”

A nod.

“If that’s what you wish, then I guess it would be an acceptable way to die: here with you in my arms,” you say, pulling her practically on top of you. “Although I had kind of hoped it would be many many years from now, not you know, today or tomorrow.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dri says, leaning away from you so she can sit up.

“I’m fine with that,” you respond with a laugh, “mostly because I know that you also think that I’m very attractive and good in bed.”

“And insufferable.”

“That too,” you agree, sliding off the couch to sit on the ground, surrounded on all sides by suitcases, clothes and shoes. “Go order something to eat, I’ve got this under control.”

And you really meant that because 25 minutes later when the food arrives, you’ve managed to mostly clear up the space, having pushed two full suitcases off to the side.

Dinner is mostly eaten in silence, the two of you content to just be in each other’s presence with the tv providing background noise.

The conversation after that is kept light, neither of you wanting to address the fact that in less than 24 hours, Adriana will be on a plane back to the United States without you.

So you talk about anything and everything else. How things are going at the shop, the latest family drama provided to you by your mothers, everything but the inevitable.

Later that night, after you’ve both crawled into bed, the topic seems to be keeping you both awake so you can’t help but say what’s on your mind.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when we had all of your teammates over her and you kept telling me that I was worried for nothing,” you ask, but you continue before she can answer your rhetorical question. “I think that you’re overthinking this whole Portland thing, especially since we’ve already talked this over.”

“Babe…”

“No, hear me out Dri,” you interrupt. “You’ll go to POrtland and You’ll get the minutes you need before this summer. Meanwhile, I’ll be back here doing what I do best, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not worried about that. Last time we were an ocean apart, you and your brother crashed into the back of an 18-wheeler.”

“Luckily for us, my brother is back in Canada.”

“You’re not funny,” she says, and you can just make out the glare she’s sending you through the tiny bit of light creeping in from the window. “At all.”

“Will it make you feel better if I told you that I’ve accepted a guest artist spot at Chico’s new shop in Portland?” Adriana sits up suddenly turning to face you.

“You waited until now to tell me this? After letting me sulk all day?”

“It seemed to be very important sulking,” you try to explain but it comes out more as a question.

“You’re the worst.”

“And you love me for it,” you remind her, pulling her to lay back down against you.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #adriana leon imagine #adriana leon x reader #canwnt imagine #canwnt x reader

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tabbiwritesgenshin · 11 months

Text

much needed comfort | various

synopsis: you sharing a moment of comfort with them

genre: fluff

a/n: literally just came back from disappearing off this platform for months because a pretty big writers block hurt my smooth brain. also my previous post is almost at 1000 notes so that's something that blows my aforementioned smooth monke brain

Amber —

Night fell once again, and the people of Mondstadt retired to their homes to get the much-needed rest. Some departed from the various shops and bars scattered around, while others left the brightly lit fountain at the city's center. However, Y/n entered from beyond the walls, the only one who didn't appear quite as content.

Taking measured steps, they entered a cozy home, releasing a sigh of relief as their gaze fell upon Amber. Her signature bunny ribbon was absent, her hair in disarray, and she was wrapped in a few covers.

"Well, well, seems like my favorite person is finally home~" Amber playfully remarked, opening one of her eyes and offering Y/n a tired smile. Y/n, however, responded with a confused expression.

"What took you so long?"

Y/n's expression seemed to falter as they pondered their response. Meanwhile, Amber examined them, noticing specks of dirt, mud, and branches on their knight armor.

"I was on the verge of completing that case I mentioned... or at least, I was until they slipped away from my grasp."

Amber gave Y/n a sympathetic look, pulling them towards the scattered covers that enveloped her body, sharing her warmth with them.

"That's a bummer... Well, don't lose hope just yet, okay? I'm sure you'll catch them eventually! I believe in you~!"

Amber wasn't the best at comforting people, but her efforts were usually enough to uplift their spirits, perhaps a little too effectively.

For now, the duo would remain beneath the comforting covers until the sun rose again, signaling their next attempt.

Collei —

Many steps covered Sumeru's city square, among them were Y/n's and Collei's. The latter felt nervous. Despite the smile she had, her inner mind was silently melting.

Y/n talked with confidence, their soft tone and cheery attitude made Collei feel normal, like she belonged there and wasn't that. Yet, it was that exact feeling that brought her discomfort. She didn't want to ruin the relationship that had brought her much joy in the past. It was one of the few things that brought her happiness.

"Hm? Collei, are you alright?"

Collei, who had been staring blankly ahead, snapped out of her reverie when she heard Y/n's words and smiled warmly at them.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine! Thank you for asking. Just thinking about things. It's nothing important, though…"

She put on a small smile as she tried her best to set aside her feelings and simply enjoy this conversation. Y/n seemed doubtful for a second but softly nodded, not thinking too much of it.

After a while, the sun began to set, and the two of them found themselves atop a small hill, with the forest overlooking them. It was a peaceful moment, enough to let Collei start pondering again. It hadn't been long since she was in Mondstadt, questioning if she could even still be considered a person, and now here she was, feeling loved.

Collei placed her hand on Y/n's, something that caught them off guard since she had said many times she disliked physical contact. Collei felt an immediate rush of comfort as Y/n's fingers interlinked with her own. She felt herself melting into their touch, her thoughts disappearing like mist.

"It's nice here, isn't it?" she said, breaking the silence.

After a long pause, a thought struck her.

"Y/n... Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah...?" Y/n responded.

Before speaking, Collei took a deep breath, trying to muster up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"I'm sure you know that I can sometimes be a bit strange. Or, well... more than a bit strange... Do you dislike me for that? Do you see me as... well... a freak?"

As she asked the question, she began to fidget nervously, avoiding Y/n's gaze.

"No, why would I even think about that? You're amazing. I'm not sure where you come from, nor why you are so enclosed, but even then, you've had nothing but a positive effect on me and my entire life. I'd never think less of you over such a silly thing," Y/n reassured her.

Collei's face softened at Y/n's words.

"Thank you... I really mean it…"

After another pause, she spoke again, her eyes now focused on Y/n's.

"I don't want you to think I'm weird, but when I'm with you, it's like there's no one else in this world. I've never met anyone who's made me feel like that."

Suddenly, she grabbed Y/n's hand and pulled them closer into a hug.

"Oh no, I'm being weird again, aren't I?" she said with a small chuckle."

Hu Tao —

One glimmer, then another, and soon enough the entire sky was filled with these sparks of light, lit up by these humans. Their lives were so short; some could even say they were as beautiful as the colors those fireworks left behind. Perhaps, or perhaps not, Y/n had trouble even remembering how humans were. Their duties as an adeptus had taken most of their time and consumed most of their life.

Hidden behind that particular mask was a fear of relationships, perhaps some could say it was a fear of loss. The truth was that a long time ago, the lone adeptus had ventured too far into the mortal realm and had formed a meaningful bond with one of them, only to see them wither away while they stayed the same.

The border of immortality was too much for Y/n to consider the possibility of contacting another mortal human, so they operated in the shadows, even to this very day.

Hu Tao was taking a small trip to collect some things that she needed and perhaps find a client or two, but instead, she stumbled upon a person, or at least she thought it was one, meditating out in the cold.

She pondered whether she should continue with whatever she was doing or if she should indulge in her curiosity and learn more about this individual. But alas, she tiptoed closer, trying not to disturb them.

Her intuition told her that they could maybe be someone praying to the Adepti, but on closer inspection, they didn't seem like the type that usually did that. They looked normal, except that they had a terrible fashion sense, that is.

They were calm despite the conditions, almost like a machine. Hu Tao cleared her throat to no avail. Then she got closer and poked their shoulder, but before her finger could make contact with their skin, they turned to look at her, their eyes being a sharp yellow that glowed through the night.

"Hey, buddy, you're in great danger of catching a cold."

Y/n's eyes looked at her up and down, but soon enough, they landed on Hu Tao's vision. Only then did their composure loosen up, and they spoke their first word to her.

"What?"

"My, my. You're awake."

"As I was looking for certain herbs up here, I happened upon you. But you were just sitting there, alone, in a trance. There have been many incidents in the past involving such things... Well, nothing really. Forget I said anything."

She sat next to them.

"Now, let me get a better look at you. Hmm... You're rather pale. You are at risk of frostbite and hypothermia! You should be more careful, or else…"

"..My skin is like that," they sounded slightly offended.

She tilted her head at them.

"You don't feel cold at all? Your skin shouldn't be that pale unless you're cold. Or I should say, your skin is cold."

A thought crossed her mind.

"Are you possibly some sort of non-human entity?"

Silence.

"What brings you here?"

She paused, wondering if she should tell them the truth, and eventually just shrugged.

"I'm a mortician, so I gather herbs around the cliffs on the outskirts of Liyue from time to time. It's... a rather boring task."

"But what would someone like you be doing way up here? Just meditating?"

They stayed silent for a short while.

"I have duties."

She let out a chuckle.

"Duties? Duties like what? What could anyone possibly ask of you, all the way out here, in such a remote and desolate place?"

Then another thought struck her.

"Say, how old even are you?"

They looked a bit nervous.

"Old enough."

She raised an eyebrow. Their response only got her more curious.

"Old enough for what? Old enough to drink? Old enough to know what taxes are? Old enough to be married?"

She sighed, then her expression turned serious.

"You're not that old... are you, perchance... an immortal?"

Their expression turned into one of slight irritation.

"Why are you so persistent?"

She frowned a little, but her usual smile returned soon after.

"Alright, alright, I won't poke the bear too much."

"Say, what's your name?"

That question... It left them in silence for a short while. It was another human trying to get to know them. Was it worth it? They had spent most of their existence in solitude, yet the only time they branched out, it ended in pain for them. Yet before that, they were the happiest they had ever been..."

"Y/n... that's my name."

word count: 1549

#genshin impact #genshin #hu tao x reader #amber x reader #amber genshin impact #amber x y/n #hu tao x y/n #collei x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #❥ tabbi writes ❥

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yujo-nishimura · 6 months

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The Escape - Part 27

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26

Warning: Buggy x femreader Smut. Minors do not interact.

He stays silent for a moment, feels that his gesture might have interrupted your word flow. As he slowly takes his hand back, you quickly reach for it, holding it tight with your unbandaged hand, leading it gently to your chest. Buggys face softens as he can feel your heartbeat through your clothes.

“I am a bad leader and my impulsive decisions have killed people in the past and made me a wanted person. I started all this to make a peaceful change but in the end there is nothing you can do when there are people around you who get misled. And now, siding with the Buggy pirates, probably becoming even more dangerous to the world government, my bounty has probably increased and Baroque works are also informed about this.”

You gulp, breathing heavily as you say this, squeezing his hand tightly on your chest.

“Maybe I am the reason you have been constantly in danger. Maybe because of me there are more people now pursuing this ship, your crew and you as a captain.” To your surprise Buggy starts laughing, he gently removes his hand from your grip and cups your face with it.

“I am a pirate, little girl. If I would not be prosecuted for my crimes, I would do something wrong.”

You see the fire in his eyes, you suddenly realize that your honesty and your vulnerability has sparkled this desire in him again. As your lips try to form his name, he quickly presses his mouth on yours. This kiss is less sloppy and more intense than last time. In fact, it feels like heaven. You can feel all his acceptance and his approval while he gently pulls you toward him to deepen the kiss. He shortly interrupts it to whisper gently:

“Since you have been so honest to me, I allow you to act shamelessly tonight…”

Something in you seems to break, you cannot endure this desire any longer as he just uttered these words. You wrap your arms around him, you lean into him, all your senses are attune to Buggys smell, his taste, his touch. You can feel his hands wandering over your body, he is taking his time today, wanting to make you feel good. Without hesitation you take off your shirt, you want to be close to him, want to feel your skin on his heated body. He starts kissing your neck, you can hear how his breathing is getting quicker, you gently throw your head back to give him all the access to your neck and chest, to kiss you, to fondle you. He is more careful this time, taking off his coat, his hat, but keeping his clothes and his bandana on. You yearn to see him not just as your captain, but as your lover, and so you tenderly reach out, gently unraveling the bandana that conceals his identity, allowing his long blue hair to fall free on his shoulders.

His mesmerizing blue locks spill around him, framing his face and accentuating his features. The sight of him in this unguarded state evokes a sense of intimacy and authenticity and you can only feel deep admiration and affection for him in this moment. Buggy gradually eases himself backward, enveloping you in his embrace as both of you sink into the inviting bed. His tousled hair cascades across the pillow, creating a halo of disarrayed strands. You delicately position yourself on top of him, the connection between your lips unbroken as the kiss deepens. Mindful of his nose, you tilt your head ever so slightly to maintain the intimate contact.

With his body beneath you, a newfound sense of empowerment courses through your veins. It's as if the weight of the world has momentarily lifted, and in this intimate moment, you feel a rare sense of control. It's a sensation that is both exhilarating and liberating, a departure from the uncertainties and struggles that have defined your journey thus far. He has allowed you to finally make a decision. He has given himself to you even for this short moment. You smile as you realize that he trusted you completely.

Breaking the kiss for a second you take off your underwear and your pants. You sit completely naked on your captain, he is still fully dressed, blushing even through his makeup at your sight. He has not seen you like this before, the other day when you were intimate it was just to please him and to blow off the steam and desire he had felt without taking notice of your body.

Now, his gaze traces every contour, capturing the delicate curve of your hips, the graceful shape of your breasts, and the stories etched into the scars that adorn your skin.

You kiss again, he slightly lifts his head, wanting more of you and you can feel the bulge in his pants pushing against you again as you lower yourself on his lap, longing to feel some friction.

You slowly start grinding on him, feeling how he stiffens up, pushing into you. He wants to give you the lead, but you can feel his impatience. As you trace the lines of his face with your fingers, you can feel how he has opened up his pants, taking out his throbbing cock. You smile as you realize he cannot wait anymore. But you don't want to make it too easy for him. His gaze follows you all the way as you slowly lower yourself on the bed, crawling between his legs like a little kitten. You take his cock in between your hands, feeling his heat underneath the hardness. You can hear him hissing your name as you take his member in your mouth, carefully sucking down the shaft, carefully touching his balls with your right hand. He has been very patient until now, but you can feel he is at his limits. With detached hands he grabs for your head, fingers in your hair, gently but firmly guiding you. “That feels so good, Y/n…!”, he gently moans and you feel so much happiness from him praising you and wanting more.

As you feel him growing more impatient, you slow your movements down, he willingly lets go of your hair and you crawl up towards him, gently pressing another kiss on his lips. “I want you.”, he finally manages to utter this and you feel like not wanting to waste anymore time either. You lower yourself on his hard cock and moan as you can feel his hardness filling you completely out. This time you feel no pain, but only pure pleasure running down your spine, you immediately start to move, seeing your captain so submissive and helpless in his lust in front of you is almost driving you mad. He is holding on to you, hissing your name while pumping into your hips from below. You are riding him really good, slowly grinding down and his only half opened pants give you all the friction you need to become even wetter. You try to be silent as you realize he is also muffling his groans, making sure the crew does not hear you both being sunk into complete lust for each other. Buggy who had been looking at your body slowly jumping up and down on him now closes his eyes, completely enjoying you taking over. It doesn't take long until he suddenly stiffens under you, grabbing your ass with all might, pushing relentlessly in you until his climax. His moan is the loudest you have heard him uttering so far this evening and you quickly bend over to shut him up with a kiss as you can feel his hot juices flowing inside of you. He eagerly kisses you back, still holding your ass, you can feel his fingers grabbing on tight, so tight that it feels like he is leaving some marks on your skin. “You're too good to me…”, he lets out a tired sigh, trying to grasp his breath. For a moment you look deep into his eyes, wondering if you should try saying “it” again or if he would shut you again just like last time. You stay silent, biting your lips, smiling as you see he is smiling at you as well. You roll down from him, on the bed, next to his long blue locks. “Gonna make sure to protect you from the world government and anybody else who tries to take you away from me…” Buggy murmurs this more into himself than saying this to you, he doesn't look at you as he says this, but reaches out for your warm hand, to hold his very tight. You cannot remember when you finally drift into a warm dark sleep, but you remember feeling full of bliss before sleep took over you.

#one piece #buggytheclown #buggy the clown x reader #one piece buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x you #long fanfic #nanowrimo 2023 #long reads

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

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The Quiet Chaos - Chapter 1

Pairing: Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike) x OFC

Summary: After a bad breakup throws her carefully-planned life into disarray, Esme has sworn off dating forever. However, when she forms an unexpected connection with a young man named Billy, who's dealing with his own struggles, Esme is forced to face the truth: sometimes you can't plan for love.

A/N: I had the hardest time writing this because it's not my usual fare of slow-burn angsty pining - there is angst, and it is kind of slow-burn, but the characters get together pretty quickly and spend most of the fic figuring out their relationship, which is not my forte at all. Ah well, it was a fun challenge.

Also, there are a lot of references to Discworld in this. I wanted to weave the Uffington White Horse into the story and my mind just immediately went to the chalk horse in the Tiffany Aching books, and it sort of spiraled from there. I tried not to let it distract from the story too much though.

Warnings: mental health issues, angst, slow-burn, developing relationship, dysfunctional family, some violence (non-graphic), some smut

Chapter word count: 2.4k

Chapter 1 - Billy

Is there anything lonelier than working the night shift at a not particularly busy 24-hour veterinarian clinic? Esme thought to herself as she made the rounds of the kennels. The clinic was a small one, so they never kept more than three or four animals overnight at the most, and that night, there was only a gray tabby cat, recovering from his recent surgery and looking rather glum about it. A roll of thunder in the distance, signaling rain, did little to lift his mood. "Cheer up, Monty," Esme told him, giving his ear a little stroke. "You'll be going home tomorrow."

Well, I suppose being the night guard at a museum may be lonelier, she admitted. Or a lighthouse keeper. Or working at a morgue. In fact, there are loads more jobs that are lonelier. But somehow, sharing her night with a living, breathing creature, one that she could talk to but couldn't answer back, made Esme more aware of how alone she was. Then again, if there was another person here with her, she knew she would soon get bored with the chit-chatting and wish for some peace and quiet again.

She used to love the night shift. She could use that as an excuse not to go out with her ex, Neil. "Sorry, I can't go out tonight, I have the night shift "or" Sorry, I just worked the night shift, I'm knackered." Of course, she didn't like the night shift just because of that. She had always enjoyed being on her own, doing things at her own pace. Neil's idea of being a couple was to go out constantly, to bars and restaurants and events and parties. When they first started dating, his sophistication had dazzled her, but after a while, it had become exhausting. However, if Esme suggested they went to something quieter like the theater or a museum, or, God forbid, stayed in, he would moan the whole time about how boring it was. Eventually, she stopped suggesting and started signing up for more night shifts just to have some time to herself. Still, as the nights stretched on and she was stuck in the empty clinic, sometimes it could feel as though she was the last person on earth.

Esme sighed at her own contradictoriness and reminded herself she has nothing to fill her nights anyway. Curl up with a book? She could do that here, on the threadbare sofa in the employee's lounge. Unpack the rest of her things? When she moved into the new flat four months ago, her parents had insisted she took with her some of the decorations and knick-knacks she'd left at home, though Esme kept saying she had no room for them. Now they still languished in boxes in the storage shed, a reminder of an old life. No, better to stay here, enjoying the company of the animals, knowing that she was keeping them safe, and wishing there wasn't going to be an emergency more serious than a dog that had eaten something it shouldn't.

But it didn't look like it was going to be one of those nights.

Esme was fixing the few things scattered on the front desk - the sign-in pad, the pen, the bowl of pick-and-mix - making them line up perfectly, when the front door slammed open and a man burst in, a dog cradled in his arms. "Help, please!" he shouted. "She's hurt!"

Esme jumped into action. The dog, a little mongrel of white and brown, was panting and whining in a way Esme knew too well, one of her back legs dangling at an unnatural angle and already swelling up. "What happened?" Esme asked.

"I just found her," the man said. "She must've been hit by a car..."

Esme took the dog from him. Now she noticed the dirty, matted fur, the protruding ribs, the gunk-filled eyes, and the lack of a collar. A stray. "Don't worry," she said, both to the dog and the man, who was looking frantic.

She rushed the dog into the operating room. The man trailed after her. "Would you mind waiting outside, please?" she asked.

He automatically took a step back, but kept wringing his hands and shifting his weight, fighting the urge to follow her.

"We'll take good care of her," she said reassuringly. Then, remembering that there was no one here but her, she corrected herself, "I will."

The dog, apparently frightened by the smells and sight of the operating room, started wriggling, her whines becoming more high-pitched as her broken leg brushed against Esme's arm. The man stepped in and put out a hand. The dog quieted down the moment his hand was on her. Esme threw him a surprised look.

"Sorry—I'm—" he mumbled.

"No, it's alright," Esme said. She was glad for the help. She gently moved the dog to the operating table, sedated her, and felt the fracture. Seemed to be a closed one, which was good, but she took an X-ray to be sure anyway. Then, while the man kept stroking the dog, his touch soft and soothing, Esme quickly set the bone and put it in a cast.

"There," she said, once the cast was finished. "She's young, so it shouldn't take long to heal. Thank you for your help."

The man nodded, still looking anxious. "What'll happen to her?" he asked.

Esme peered more closely at him. He was younger than she'd thought at first, probably in his late twenties, but despite a scruffy beard, there was still something boyish in his large brown eyes and tousled dark hair. He seemed strangely skittish, however - his eyes kept darting to hers and then away again, unable to hold the contact, and he carried himself rather stiffly. For a moment, she wondered if he was on some kind of drugs, neurodivergent, or perhaps simply shy.

"Once her fracture heals, we'll give her a once-over to make sure she's healthy and check if she's micro-chipped," she answered. "But she's most likely a stray, so she'll go to a rescue center."

He lifted his eyes to her face briefly, questioningly. Esme thought she understood the concern. "You don't have to worry about the bill," she said. "We get help from local animal charities for situations like this."

But the man shook his head. "No, will they—are they going to—I've heard that they put animals down at those places," he muttered.

"Oh." His concern warmed Esme's heart. Most people wouldn't even take the time to bring in a stray, let alone worry about their future. "Not if she's healthy. They'll find her a good home."

That seemed to reassure him. He nodded again and hesitated at the door, apparently unsure if he should stay or go.

"Thank you for bringing her in," Esme said. The man noted the final air of her words and turned to go, while she lifted the dog into a crate.

As she did so, Esme noticed the dog's pink, swollen teats. "Oh, no," she exclaimed.

The man turned back. "What is it?" he asked, looking stressed again.

"This dog is nursing," Esme said, her heart sinking. "She has puppies."

As if to add more drama to the situation, the thunder chose that moment to let out a low rumble. Rain was coming. Heavy rain. Small puppies would not survive in this weather without shelter.

"Where did you find her?" she asked the man. "Is it far?"

"No, just down the road, near Aldersbrook..."

Esme grabbed a carrier from the shelf, dug under the front desk for a torch, and shrugged her coat on. "Show me."

The man hung back, an uncertain look mixed with something else—Fear? Distrust?—crossed his face. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"We need to find the puppies before the rain comes."

He looked around the clinic. "But—what if there's an emergency..."

"This is an emergency. Come on!"

***

It started pouring down by the time they reach Aldersbrook Lane, one of those small, seedy-looking alleys that ran behind warehouses and blocks of cheap flats, ending at a railway bridge. "Right here," the man said. "I found her crawling on the road, dragging her leg."

"She must've left the puppies to look for food," Esme said, or, rather, shouted over the roar of the rain and the thunder. "But she wouldn't go too far. So they should be around here."

She strained her ear, listening for the sound of puppies crying, but the rain was drowning out even her own thoughts. Rain plastered her already lank hair to her head and ran down the collar of her coat in cold, clammy rivulets. She wondered what she was doing here, on a darkened road, in a storm, with a stranger who didn't seem all there. But, she reasoned with herself, anyone who brought an injured stray dog to a vet can't be untrustworthy.

A stale odor assaulted Esme's nostrils as they neared the railway bridge. A brook, or the remnant of one, which gave the lane its name, ran under the bridge, almost dry and choked with rubbish. The noise of the storm lessened here, and Esme thought she heard something, a soft whimpering. She swept the torch over the rubbish.

"There!" the man shouted, grabbing her arm to still the beam of the torch. "You see?"

She squinted. Indeed, under a milk crate turned on its side, she caught a glimpse of movement, something white and small. The poor mother dog had made a den out of rags and old newspaper inside the crate, right on top of an islet of rubbish. While the brook remained dry, she and her puppies were safe, but with the storm, the water was rising fast, and the puppies would drown.

Esme looked down the brook, chewing her lip. The brook bed was deep, and the slimy surface showing here and there amongst the rubbish looked treacherous. It might hold some small dogs, but she was certain it would not hold her. Perhaps she could reach them from the bank...

"Hold my hand," she said to the man, handing him the torch. "I'll try to reach them."

"Are—are you sure?"

"I don't want to risk climbing down there and sinking up to my armpits in slime. If you hold my hand and I lean down, I could reach them." When he still looked unsure, she turned to face him. "I trust you, alright? What's your name?"

"Billy." The answer came hesitantly, as though he wasn't used to people asking him his name.

"OK, Billy, I'm Esme." She took his hand and gave it a brief but firm shake. His grip was strong, his hand surprisingly warm. "Now let's save some puppies."

With Billy holding her left hand and keeping the torch fixed on the crate, Esme scrambled down the steep bank and leaned over as far as she could, while still keeping her feet on solid ground. She managed to hook her fingertips to the crate. A chorus of yelps from inside confirmed that it was indeed where the puppies were. She strained, drawing it closer until she could reach her hand in and pull out a warm, squirming bundle of soft fur. She passed the first one to Billy, who placed it in the carrier. One, two, three, four. The puppies were so young their eyes weren't even opened yet, but they soon snuggled down into the warmth of the carrier and lay still.

"Is that all?" Billy asked.

"I think so," Esme replied, running her hand over the milk crate once more to make sure. "Yeah, that's all." She started climbing back up the bank.

"Wait," Billy said, putting up a hand. "I still hear something."

Esme struggled to listen. Thankfully, the puppies in the carrier had gone quiet, but she still couldn't hear anything. "I don't—"

"Shh! There!"

Now she heard it—a tiny cry, weaker than the others. Following the beam of the torch, she noticed a stirring under some crisp packets, further away from where the milk crate was, close to the middle of the brook, where some of the rubbish was getting swept away by the rising water. She and Billy formed a human chain again, but this time, the straggler was too far. Esme's entire torso was hanging over the brook, with only the tip of her shoes gripping the bank. She could feel Billy struggling to hold on to her other hand. She clicked her fingers and made suckling sounds with her pursed lips, trying to entice the puppy closer. "Come on, little fella... Come join your brothers and sisters... Your mum's waiting..."

Finally, a black nose poked out from under the crisp packet, followed by a brindle body, no bigger than her palm. Esme made a grab for the puppy, just as her fingers slip out of Billy's hand, and the rubbish-covered bed of the brook loomed toward her at an alarming speed—

—only for Billy to snatch her wrist and haul her to her feet.

For a moment, Esme could only stand there and gasp for breath, glad of the firm ground under her feet. Then she became aware that Billy's arms were around her, and she had one hand on his chest, staring into his eyes, with the puppy squished between them. She scooted back, while Billy also looked away, his hands twitching at his sides. Bending down to hide her flushed face, Esme placed the puppy into the carrier with its brethren and zipped it up.

The moment they walked in through the door of the kennel room, the mother dog sat up in her crate, alert, her tail thumping like crazy. The yelps from the carrier rose to a deafening crescendo, and the mum tried to get to her feet. "OK, OK, here you go, don't hurt yourself again," Esme said, placing the puppies into the crate. The mum sniffed them, then gave them a good lick, and finally, satisfied, lay down with her babies. Esme smiled up at Billy, who was watching the dogs with a riveted expression.

"We did it," she told him. He smiled back at her, a brief and uncertain smile, yet it still lit up his whole face, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @quinnypixie (if you want to be tagged, just send me a message!)

#billy knight #billy knight strike #cb strike #billy knight fic #billy knight x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn character

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mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake · 2 years

Text

While the world wasn't safe and the monsters still roamed among the humans and Shadowhunters, biding their time, it was peaceful and serene. And while everyone was happy, celebrating the fact that Jocelyn Fray was finally saved from Valentine's clutches, your world remained in disarray. She was frequenting the Institute and it was hard to avoid her. You didn't want her to recognise you, to insert herself forcefully into your perfect life. Your Parabatai didn't like it, he watched you grow more miserable by the day.

The Clave sent you to talk to the Seelies again, asking them to send scouts to look for Morgenstern. The Queen favoured you and often listened to your reasoning, but you knew not to take it for granted. She was manipulative and devious, masked behind kindness. However, she was only willing to talk to you from everyone in the Clave. »I sense a great sadness from you, Lilith.« Stopping in your walk to the exit back to the human world, you look at her with a somber smile. »I have a lot on my mind.« »You're always welcome here, even to rest and gather your thoughts.« »I appreciate it, Amara. Thank you.«

Your Parabatai and you head back, talking about the mission and the intel you gathered from the Seelie Queen. His cellphone rings and his previously serious expression turns into a cheerful one. He then tells you that your parents are here to visit you. It immediately brightens your day.

The sight you come upon entering the Institute makes your smile drop. Your parents are talking to Jocelyn Fray, along with Maryse. Your mother smiles and waves you over, giving you a quick hug. »It's been a while, huh? I'm glad to see you.« »Happy to see you, too. But what are you doing here?« »Well,« she glances at your Parabatai and you narrow your eyes at him, immediately knowing what this is about. He promised not to tell anyone about your relation to Jocelyn Fray, but he just couldn't express how it affected you to your parents. He rubs the back of his neck with an awkward expression, afraid to meet your gaze. »Come on,« your mother says, »let's get some tea and talk. Join us, Jocelyn?« »Of course.«

The two Fray women follow your parents to the mess hall and you stay rooted to the floor. Your Parabatai squeezes your shoulder in comfort, giving you that final push. It was time to face your worst nightmare. You sit down at the round table beside your father who has been silent all this time. Like you, he didn't see the need to explain or justify your origins, but your mother was the more reasonable of the pair. »I don't even know if you've met, Lilith this is Jocelyn. We go way back.« »I've seen you around.« »It's nice to meet you,« you offer a pursed smile and avoid your gaze, Jocelyn staring at you with a wondering look. Your mother pulls out familiar papers, adoption papers that exist in the human world and the Shadowhunters'. Jocelyn looks at them in shock, then at Clary and finally you. »You…« »Don't expect me to call you mother.«

Clary looks at you in shock and then back at her mother. »What's going on? Can someone explain?« »You're a little slow, aren't you?« You taunt Clary who glares at you, which makes you smirk. »It means we're sisters. Jocelyn over here gave me up for adoption when I was born. Which is hilarious because you're a year older.« Clary sits there shocked, never even glossing over the thought that she might have a sister. Not that she would remember, having had any lingering memories of that erased by Magnus. »Lilith… I'm… I'm so honoured to finally meet you. I didn't think I'd see the day.« »I was hoping you wouldn't.« »Lily,« your mother scolds you in a whisper and squeezes your hand, but being touched bothers you when you’re angry or sad, so you quickly move your hand away.

Looking into the distance, you sigh, getting up suddenly. Excusing yourself from the table, you leave the mess hall and to your Parabatai's room. He lets you enter without a word, watching you wrap yourself in his thick blankets in bed, unable to speak as thoughts moved in your head like a turbulent sea. Your anxiety was rising, making you visibly shake. Intrusive thoughts keep asking why; why would she give you up for adoption, why you and not your older sister, why were you such a horrible burden as a second child, why have a second child if she wasn't up for one.

»Why me…«

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters imagine #jocelyn fray #clary fray #jocelyn fairchild #not my gif #imagine #shadowhunters x reader #shadowhunters tv series #clary fairchild

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tiianwens · 3 months

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29. Reaction to sudden interpersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) --- for the excessively detailed hc meme !

the excessively detailed hc meme.

putting his heart under a thousand locks and doing what needs to be done, and then processing it much, much later. too many people died on him, and he's been hurt in other ways too many times (in both lifetimes), but any sort of disaster is usually a call to action. his skills are needed, so he has to stay level-headed and cool to make sure no one else gets hurt, and of course, the first instinct that kicks in is to protect his disciples. the aftermath will leave him shattered where no one can witness it, but on the outside he would usually appear so calm and unperturbed that it would be only natural to assume he doesn't care at all.

the same applies to conflict/interpersonal painful situations. if it's possible to leave and avoid, he'd leave and avoid. if it's not (e.g. in 0.5 verse where the discomfort is constant and escaping the situation physically isn't an option), he'll try to distance his mind and heart from it as much as possible, usually involving going nonverbal and avoiding any form of communication. the man is too proud to let his true feelings be known. he's not really used to anyone giving a damn either, so it's easier to just keep everything bottled up and slowly pull the thorns out one by one and assess the damage while no one watches.

but when i think of the worst case scenarios for him (big story spoilers ahead for those who are reading the book and don't want plot twists to be ruined!!), there are two amazing illustrations:

— the realization that he fucked up in 0.5 if he managed to a) allow his disciple to be affected by a horrible, irreversible curse that slowly but surely eroded and erased his entire personality and b) watch the man he loved turn into a monster and deem it the result of his own hatred rather than a curse. because when conflict occurred, CWN was the one to distance himself where he could've apologized (he wanted to apologize, yet he chose to do it by proxy who followed his instructions and didn't mention that he was the one who made the goddamn wontons).

and it left him with the horrible knowledge that he couldn't share with anyone, as he knew that whoever was behind it would be watching closely and things could become worse. it left him defenceless on so many levels because he couldn't do anything to help (as it was too late and he didn't have a golden core anymore) and he couldn't even hide behind the facade of resentment anymore — it's easy to hate a self-made monster, but not so easy to hate someone you loved and failed. when i say that sex scenes in 2ha aren't skippable because they contain essential character development, chapters 247-250 or around that are the ones on my mind. the realization left CWN in such an intense emotional disarray that he threw the remains of his dignity out of the window and for the first time showed that he wanted this too. and for him, in that verse, it's huge. and yet he collected himself and managed to come up with a plan to do something, even though he had nothing to counter with and the damage was irreversible.

— and secondly, having to deal with a massive calamity after losing many people he held dear and most importantly, Mo Ran. i can't think of anything worse than what he's gone through at that point. he watched the man he loved get destroyed by an angry mob, knowing that he wasn't guilty. he slaughtered his way through to at least give him some peace, while being very much aware that saving him was no longer an option. and after all that he knew he had to go on, he had to face the living corpse with the same face and the same memories, the twisted and distorted projection of his beloved.

but he managed to put that grief on hold and he almost single-handedly thwarted the big evil plan in action. he made sure that whoever wanted to be saved was saved, and only then did he ask to 'let him be selfish for once'. and that selfish want, to him, was to die with Taxian-jun (the wording still sends me, it's such an insane detail). so he locked that pain away, did what had to be done, and then allowed it to finally consume him.

#hc.#an excessively detailed answer ig #these two scenes haunt me daily. but they just prove the point here. the man is resilient af when he wants to be

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maplecornia · 1 year

Text

chapter 67

infinite stars masterlist | BTS masterlist | masterlist | playlist

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.7K

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: bts x female!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: so what is love, if we aren't selfish?

After so many visits one would think it gets easier.

But it doesn't.

Swallowing hard before walking in and setting his bouquet down on the table beside her, he tries his hardest to ignore the pain in his heart at the sight of her lifeless body connected by wires and tubes, the only thing keeping her alive a beeping box that sits idly by the side of her bed. As though they were waiting for the chance to decide whether or not she was worthy to stay alive or if she was always meant to go.

Jimin had imagined Jocelynn sleeping beside him many times in the moments he had known her.

He would think of how it would feel to wake up with her next to him, her body cradled in his arms, her face finally at peace in her slumber. Maybe he would wake her with breakfast in bed or perhaps he would cuddle next to her and watch the way her eyelashes fluttered when she dreamed. He would try his best not to move, in an attempt to encapsulate that one perfect moment in his mind, to remember something so tranquil and serene right there by his side. And every time he imagined it, he wondered if at that moment he would feel at home. He wondered if she was his home, and if she was in his arms, he wondered if everything would be okay. He wondered if it would be possible to forget everything even if it was just for just a moment.

But he never imagined this.

"I wanted to get your favorites." He murmurs as he takes out the flowers he had brought in just a few days ago from their former vase, chuckling bitterly to himself. "But I realized I don't know what they are."

As he tosses the dying bouquet in the wastebasket near the door, he stares at the disarray for a moment. The way they are so easily discarded the moment a bit of decay is shown. He wonders if the heart is so easily thrown away. If even one part begins to gray, does that mean there is no hope for redemption? Or are we too far gone to be healed?

“It’s ridiculous, but given the way…” His voice breaks as he still realizes they don’t have a definitive answer to their relationship. Even after everything, he still cannot tell her what he wants, and now he doesn't even know if she'd be willing to accept. Or if there ever was a chance she would. “Well, I thought I knew more about you. But I suppose I was never given the chance."

Walking back over to the bed, he picks up the new bouquet, fiddling with the arrangement as he places it into the vase if only to give him something to do. Something to help him ignore the growing hole of guilt and dejection that continues to spread throughout his body.

"And because of my foolishness, I may never get that chance again.”

This is all your fault.

Jimin freezes at the memory.

The look of anger and hatred in Yen's eyes as she looked at him, the way they masked something much uglier and broken within. Something it seemed as though she had been burying for a long time had finally begun to rise to the surface. The way her words broke him straight to his core, and the way he has been left shattered ever since.

And the worst part of it all is that he knows she's right.

He knows that Jocelynn would have never had to face such pain if he wasn't who he was. That in another life, another instance, perhaps they could have been happy. Perhaps they could have had the happily ever after, perhaps he would have been allowed the luxury to hold her in his arms.

See her every day when he wakes up.

To always be at her side.

But he is who he is.

Never before has Jimin so desperately wished he was not.

“You know, Yen doesn’t want me to come here, she doesn't want me to see you. I’m lucky she hasn’t told the nurses to deny the access as of yet.” His voice breaking, he has to pause, staring before reaching forward and gingerly taking her hand into his own. Almost as though he were scared to hold it, as though he wasn't so sure now if he was worthy to even touch her. “She’s right, you know."

He plays with her fingers, absentmindedly, hoping that perhaps he can massage some form of life into her lifeless body.

"I was selfish.” His grip tightens on Jocelynn's hands as he struggles to hold back the growing lump in his throat. “I was so ready to take the risk, I didn’t care about anything or anyone else standing in my way. I thought that was enough, that I could protect you.”

When the first tear falls, he brings her hand close to his lips kissing it, a subconscious reach for comfort that only she can provide. He's shaking, finding it harder and harder to breathe much less speak, his heart constricting tight against his chest.

“But I was foolish, and I failed."

Throughout his life, Jimin has known pain. He's felt worthless, empty, and alone. He's felt his heart ripped from his chest and glued back together. He's understood what it means to look around and only see darkness and despair. To know that you've fallen so deep inside your own depression that you can't find a way out. He's known all of these and more, things he never thought he'd be capable of feeling, and yet has felt to an extent which he felt as though if he didn't escape he wouldn't forgive himself.

"It wasn’t enough, I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. All I could do, all I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

But Jimin has never felt pain such as this.

“I’m sorry."

It's a pain that doesn't leave. A pain that clings to him, and this time he is unable to chase it away. It's a pain, a feeling that has stuck with him since the moment he saw Jocelynn sitting in this hospital cot for the first time. No matter how much he drinks, or how much he tries to distract himself, he cannot be rid of it. And now it's grown so strong, so tantalizing that he cannot find it within himself to stop the tears. With every constriction he just holds tighter to Jocelynn, his lifeline, the only thing that keeps him together through the constant storm.

"I’m so sorry."

Between his sobs, he can't even bear to look at her. His lips part against her skin and he presses her hand to his forehead as he bows before her. Begging for her forgiveness because if she could forgive him perhaps that would ease his heart. Perhaps she could heal him again like she's done since the first moment he laid eyes on her.

"I’m sorry that I’m me, and that they hurt you. I wish things could be different, and I wish I was able to meet you in a life where I wouldn’t hurt you." He shakes his head, wondering if now he would wish to go back. If he would give it all up for her, for the chance to be beside her even if it meant he lost everything. "But most of all I wish there was a world where I could love you without having to apologize for it."

And now, perhaps at the most crucial moment, he finally realizes that if it meant he couldn't be hers he wouldn't want to be anyone else's. If she couldn't stay by his side, then he would give everything to be with her.

Because she is all that matters.

Her pain is his pain.

No longer does he wish to be selfish.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I love you.”

And as his throat closes off, and he can no longer find the strength to speak, he hangs his head, clinging to her hand in desperation. Hoping that if he holds on a bit longer he wouldn't regret it as much when he leaves. That her comfort can stay with him for just one moment more.

And so when Jocelynn begins to wake, he cannot feel it at first. He does not see when her eyes flutter open or the way she drowsily looks around to try and decipher where she is, and who is holding tight to her hand. It is only when she twitches her fingers does Jimin realize she is awake. And it is only when her lips murmur his name beneath her chapped lips does he raise his head and meets her eyes for the first time since they left each other in the rain.

"Jimin..."

And as he looks at her with wide eyes, his cheeks stained with his tears, Jocelynn smiles softly, her mind still stuck in delirium she reaches forward to caress his cheek and wipe the tears away. Somehow the touch brings Jimin to life and reassures him that this is real. She's here, she's awake, she's alive and breathing. No longer lifeless, no longer broken and hanging on.

She's here.

“Jocelynn!" He takes the hand on his cheek and pulls it close to his chest as he stands. "Oh thank god.”

Turning from where she still lies, he presses the call button for the nurse and tries to leave to make sure they come as soon as possible, but at the sight, Jocelynn takes his hand forcefully. Confused, Jimin turns to her and can feel his heart drop as he sees the paralyzing fear in her.

"No. Don't leave! Please…please don't leave me again."

His heart nearly breaks as she begins to go into hysterics, her hands flailing to find his hand again, and her chest heaving with fear as tears begin to appear at the corner of her frightened eyes. Forgetting everything else besides Jocelynn and her well-being, he immediately kneels by her side, taking her hands into his own and pressing his lips against them.

"I won't." He murmurs against her skin as he kisses her temple and squeezes her hand, holding her close to him. "I promise I'm not going anywhere."

And for a moment, there is nothing but the two of them in the world. He isn't a star, she isn't a mother, and they are just two people in love. There’s no one there to hold them back, no one to pull them apart, and nothing standing in the way of their love.

The world and everyone in it be damned.

And as Yen witnesses this, she can hardly feel it as the tears begin to course down her cheeks. The nurses brush past her, and before anyone else can see as she breaks down, she turns away, her anger finally giving way to her pain.

note :: again, my hiatus isn't over, but i wanted to post something for our story's mother Jocelynn! ...and also do a little gift for my mother who's been BEGGING ME to update LMAO anyways...HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL THE MOTHER'S OUT THERE!

chapter 68 here

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novafire-is-thinking · 9 months

Note

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

(for this ask meme)

orchid

I’m gonna go with another Caleb Etheridge song I adore:

Caelestis (Spotify | YouTube)

The name. The vibes. Everything.

abelia

Not really. I rarely wear jewelry of any kind because I’m particularly sensitive to how it feels on my skin. The few pieces I do have are worn based on what I think looks best with my outfits, so if I suddenly lost all of them in a fire or flood, I would hardly notice they’re gone.

daffodil

I have one younger sister. While we’ve often been perceived as near opposites, I’ve come to see how we’re similar, but with very different approaches to the same things.

We’re both stubborn, but I can be reasoned with more easily.

We both react unfavorably when things change suddenly, but she gets louder while I go silent.

We’re both conflict-avoidant, but she’s more likely to speak her mind anyway.

She’s more of a fighter, but I’m more intense.

She’s quicker to take action, but I’m more decisive and self-assured.

She’s better at interacting with people, but I’m better at capturing an audience.

She’s grounded and present while I’m lost in my head.

She treasures the past and appreciates what is, while I value the future and struggle to be content with anything.

She’s meadows of wildflowers, turbulent ocean waves, and fairy lights, while I’m constellations, thunderstorms, and books with gold tooled covers.

…and so many more differences I could come up with.

aloe vera

I can’t think of any more mundane things, so I’ll go with something else:

I’d love to own a motorcycle someday—electric is preferred, since it looks more Cybertronian. lol

nutmeg

For all that I love interior design, my actual room and living spaces are in total disarray. I lack the resources and motivation to decorate the way I want to, but I know exactly which theme(s) I’d go with. I’m not sure how to describe it… However, I will say I have expensive tastes and am quite proud of that fact.

papyrus

Last Breath by J.T. Peterson (Spotify | YouTube)

This one’s been on rotation in my dishwashing playlist for a little while now.

It also happens to be one of the songs in my TFP Optimus playlist. It makes me think of him because he fought for peace and unity for Cybertron and humanity until his very last breath, figuratively speaking.

#thank you Karly!#figuring out ways to describe how my sister and I are similar and different was interesting and fun #asteroid belt of asks & answers

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vanshikagera · 8 months

Text

i left and maybe now I'm just adrift

i agree, our love was definitely a gift

i miss the midnights, talking about our dreams

my mornings all about you too, all those daydreams

well but now what's left for me to do?

overthink nd feeling so askew

I wish I'd spoken and not felt so needy

but when I did everything went so speedily

was I jus crazy or were you playing games

towards my heart, your lethal arrow aims

wheres the truth in what you say?

I trust you still, my minds in disarray

i spend hours tryna know the truth

hoping you're right, might help my heart soothe

but you were wrong with excuses so new

yet I trust you maybe you're what u say is true

why would you think I'd go so low

to sexualize you, you should've known

I'd never do that, but now you twist your words

"i never meant that". haha okay alright my love

my bad, that I asked you

you seemed to mean it before though

my bad that i overthought about it

because at the end, it's probably my fault

flirted with my friend didn't know until it was over

never blocking your ex, you both might just become better lovers

Following her private too, the reason's unclear

forget it though, my bad that i had so much fear

but ig friendships with exes are your decree

then why not with me? Explain that to me?

just hid your story, not wanting to talk

replied to others, I recall it all

there's never a point in saying sorry later

what do I do with it love? doesn't make shit better

I said my feelings faded the reasons, they're clear,

You can't hurt me now, I've lost the fear

but honestly, I miss the guy I once knew,

The love and peace, forever true.

not sure when I'll move along,

so I'll cry the nights away, missing our song

you'll find a new girl, won't take you long

i hope ur treated right, I hope she feels like she belongs

you're amazing, you deserve the love

but only if u be the guy you once were,

i honestly wish you the best even if u dont

i hope shit works out at home

I'm sorry for everything I did wrong too

and I guess this is goodbye, so i love you and I'll miss you

thank you for existing every time I told you to

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thepinkwriterr · 2 years

Text

Capricorn Season Chapter Fourteen

Hello, sorry for the lapse in posting. I’ve had this chapter finished since April but I haven’t published it because I wasn’t very proud of it. I have most of the story finished but now I need to do re-writes and major editing. This is the part I’m not very good with! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. No special header for this one. I plan to post another chapter next week. As always, just ask to be added to the taglist if you'd like to be. My inbox is always open and ready for submissions! Thanks.

"Hello!" I was bubbly, the wash of morning gone. The sun had awoken me from my peaceful slumber by trickling around the drawn curtains. I hadn't been outside yet, but I figured it was still chilly.

"Hello, love. What time is it there?"

His voice was soft and smooth, like warm water down your throat.

"Only nine A.M. What about for you?"

"It is 11. We've just had breakfast, and now I'm calling. I wanted to hear the sound of your sweet voice to wake me."

"You're far too kind," I giggled and picked at the edge of my white sock.

"Love, I miss you so." He sighed. His cheery tone dropped and his voice was flat.

"I miss you as well. It is so lonely here without the sounds of your guitar and laughter."

"I feel that my heart has died without you. I can't believe how I feel. Every night I just lay in my bed, missing the feeling of you in my arms. This has never happened to me before, I've never felt this way. I fear that I am losing you, the distance between us too great."

"I know, I feel the same way. But you know you're not losing me. This is so- this is so odd, you know that, right?"

"What is?"

"The way we are. I mean, it was like one day we were just- I feel so silly saying this. But it's like one day we were just married. We met all of sudden and now I'm looking after your home, receiving your calls of despair like you're some down-trodden soldier looking for comfort."

I laughed as I wandered around the kitchen, moving as far as the chord would allow me. The room was messy, with dishes stacked in the sink and snacks left out on the counter. I felt bad for my lack of cleaning skills and was a little glad he wasn't here to see his house in a state of disarray. I didn't even want to think about what he would say if he saw the living room!

"I know that this is all a bit sudden and inane. But it feels right, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it does. But I can't help feeling that it's all a dream. I always think I'm going to wake tomorrow, back in my apartment, and wonder who you really are."

"Every day is a production of sanity, Guinevere. We are only sane if we believe we are. And I don't know if we've ever been. Why pretend the feeling is not there when it is? Even when we are apart I can feel the beating of your heart, the warmth of your hands on mine."

We finished our phone conversation shortly after his omission of feeling. There was a light in my chest, a calling of love. I worried about this and fought to push it down. Surely he tells every girl this. My eyes traced feminine figures up and down the stairs, in the kitchen, lying on the couch. I wonder how many women he'd conned into looking after him and his house. But that was the dark, the anxious part of my brain. It was the primal part. The center where my abandonment issues lingered, creeping out only to destroy things that I held dear. The whole of my mind was settled on the truth. And the truth was, he wanted me to stay at his house, offered for Lucy to join, and called me each day. The ringing was clockwork, a mysterious and unpunctual thing, but recurring nonetheless. When I heard the phone I was happy, knowing it was him. Sometimes I'd have an awkward conversation with a friend of his, occasionally having to turn away those looking to do business with him. I would pen their information and pass it along to Jimmy. But when I heard the operator, "distance call from Mr. Page", I was delighted. I wasn't into the business of lying to myself, and I couldn't deny how happy he made me. That was what frightened me the most, I suppose. He made me feel something, awakened that cold and slumbering organ in my chest.

"Distance call from Mr. Page." The operator was the first voice I heard. When these words were spoken I could feel my heart rattling in its cage, wanting to burst free from the shackles of my body. When the line gave way to his lilting accent of velvet and song, I could've cried in happiness. "Hello, love. How are you doing on this fine evening?"

"Well, it's not evening here. It's midday, but I'm doing fine. Just made something to eat and was settling down with some poetry and petting Lucy." I looked at the ball of fluff that was perched on the counter. I tried my best to shoo her from there when I could, not wanting Jimmy to see that I allowed her on there when he returned.

"That sounds lovely. What book are you reading now? Still the same as last time?"

"No, actually, it's a new one. It's a collection of works by Percy Bysshe Shelley. They're quite good. Mostly about love, which happens to be my favorite subject."

"You'll have to send me some. I would love to hear one."

"I will include my favorite in your next letter. That'll be sent to Iceland, correct?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I hate that we have to plan this stuff out. I'm sorry you don't have a normal relationship."

If it weren't for his charming and breathy laugh my chest would have ached in sorrow at his words. "Well, I wouldn't trade it for the world. You're a gem, one I don't mind waiting for." I could hear the smile in his voice as he went on, rambling about the tour and all the things he's seen. I enjoyed hearing his tales, occasionally getting interrupted by his bandmates or people wanting his attention. But he always turned them away, stating that he would be with them when his phone call was over.

I cherished these moments with him when it was just the two of us on this phone. I pulled up a white chair and sat next to the hanging rotary phone that belonged to Jimmy, in his house, wearing his clothing. I was entirely engulfed in him and I enjoyed every second of it. The lack of stability once scared me, not long ago. But ever since he'd made me his girlfriend I felt better than ever. With the letters and phone calls, I felt less lonely, but nothing ever satiated my thirst for him like having him in my presence. I would have to settle for hearing his voice and reading his sprawling script.

"Hi, Gwenythn! I hope you're having a great time in dreary England. Not too much fun, I suppose." Bonzo was yelling over Jimmy, being his usual obnoxious and garish self. "That was right in my ear, Bonz. What the hell!"

"Sorry, Jim, I wanted to say hi to the broad. Tell her what a good boy you've been."

"Here, let me talk to him." I laughed. When I could hear the phone being passed I spoke once more, "I know he's being good, I've got him nice and whipped. Are you being good?" His laughter pelted my ears, thunderous and full, as always. "Of course!"

"No shenanigans, right? You're not messing up any hotel rooms or tearing up any stages?"

"Of course I am. But that is good for me, I suppose. Are you taking a lot of photos? Being as charming and impish as ever?"

"I'm trying, at the very least."

"You and Pagey are a match made in heaven. You both spend too much time in those pretty little heads. I always wonder what he's thinking, wearing that stone-cold face, fiddling with his hands."

"You and me both. If you think it's hard to be his bandmate, imagine how it is to be his girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend? Oh, we've made things official. Way to go, Pagey! You better marry this one, I think she really likes you." He laughed once more, no doubt annoying Jimmy. I could see his sour face now, features twisted in annoyance and anger. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you be. Have to call my wife, and talk to the kids. Enjoy your night, Gwen."

"You as well, Bonz," I spoke but he was already gone, replaced by Jimmy's sighing. "I apologize for that. He's being himself, as always."

"I'm quite used to it, fortunately. I enjoy his teasing, especially when it's aimed at you. Your face is so cute when you're pissed off."

"Oh, shut up." He was laughing now too, a glorious sound of light and glee. I never tired of hearing this. "You can't even see me."

"Yeah, but I know you're grimacing right now."

"I have some news to share with the group." Bonzo was wearing a cheeky smile. Trouble was brewing when he was painted pink with this look. "Well, go on." Peter was intrigued, thinking the news was of any real importance. "It seems our friend, James Page, has truly ended his reign over the female gender. Parents will no longer need to lock up their daughters and hide their hairspray, as he's found the girl for him. I thought all this "I'm done with the groupies" muck was just talk, something he'd put aside quickly. But no, it seems to be true. He's made our dear photographer, Gwen, his girlfriend. Told me herself just an hour ago."

Robert was the only one really interested now. Peter rolled his eyes and turned around, sick to death of their poking and prodding at one another. He swore they were actually a group of women, the way they fought like catty birds. Jonesy was happy for the couple but didn't care for the display of Jimmy's private business. He enjoyed Gwen's company and saw that their love was true. Bonzo tended to take things too far and Jimmy was especially touchy. Mostly in the matters of his personal life. The dealings of a man's heart concerned only him, Jonesy thought.

"You have? Well, isn't that wonderful! We'll have to call up the chapel and prepare the rings." Robert matched Bonzo's smirk, now teasing his guitarist. They were double trouble, tag-teaming an assault on Jimmy's peace. "Will you two shut up? Don't act as if you've never had one."

"No, not a love as grand and deep as yours! Tell us, she sends you love poems, doesn't she?"

"Even my wife doesn't send me letters. This girl must really care about you."

"Guys, c'mon, leave him alone. He's clearly not right in the head. This woman must have you pretty lovesick to quit the groupies." Richard nudged Jimmy with his elbow, earning a glare from him. "You all think you're so funny, don't you?" He grimaced. "Downright hilarious," Robert said. "We must be if it's bothering you." Bonzo smiled with a shit-eating grin. Jimmy stood and stomped out of the room, arms crossed and anger on his face. "You all just have to take the piss, don't you? Well, I hope you're happy." Peter followed suit, mirroring the grumpy guitarist's actions. "Jeez, what's up everyone's ass today?" Bonzo asked. "I'm not sure. But we all know if Jimmy's not happy, no one can be."

"I can't imagine what it's like to be Gwen. With him around, it's already like having a girlfriend." Robert rolled his eyes. Everything had to be a certain way around Jimmy, it had to be his way. "She must be a lesbian." Richard cracked. This caused the guys to laugh, even Jonesy joined in.

Dearest James,

I thought you would find this interesting. I read about an artist named A.Y. Jackson. He's Canadian and paints beautiful landscapes, but is known for his paintings of war. It's not garish or gory like you'd think, rather it's wonderful and shows the beauty of Canada. There was a school in Toronto that opened with his name and he attended the opening, that's where I heard about him. I enclosed a clipping of the paper I found. I figure you miss the papers here, the American ones are a daft drag. I'm starting to sound so British, aren't I? By the time you get back, I'll have the accent and everything.

I hope your tour is going well and I hope you're enjoying yourself. I am having a great time here, working away at a job I hate. I feel like I'm performing slave labor! Johnathan has me doing the most menial tasks. I think he wants to punish me. For what, I am not sure. But it feels like a punishment. I got him a fucking coffee yesterday. I am supposed to be taking actual photos! Ever since I did that shoot with The Who he's been upset with me. Maybe that's what has him so pissed. Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. Tell me about your travels and tour stories.

I have also included my favorite poem from my book! It is titled "Indian Serenade" and was published in 1819. I hope you enjoy it.

I arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright:

I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet

Hath led me—who knows how?

To thy chamber window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream—

The Champak odors fail

Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

The Nightingale's complaint,

It dies upon her heart;—

As I must on thine,

Oh, belovèd as thou art!

Oh lift me from the grass!

I die! I faint! I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale.

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast;—

Oh! press it to thine own again,

Where it will break at last.

Love,

Gwen

Fair Guinevere,

I found some works by A.Y. Jackson and they are lovely. I appreciate you passing the message of his genius along. I enjoyed looking at his work so! I hate that you're not having a good time at work. Perhaps talk with Johnathan about your role at the company? He seems to have a stick up his ass. I'm sure he's just intimidated by your talent.

We're currently in Iceland and it is wonderful. It is a Nordic nation that has beautiful scenery of geysers, volcanoes, hot springs, and lava fields. A lava field is something I'd never heard of before traveling here. It is an ocean of dark and muddied lava, shielded by grass and dirt. With a name like Iceland, you'd think it's a Taiga wasteland, but it's not. How misleading! There are great and bounding stretches of green land, adorned with caves and cliffs. Robert said it reminded him of Middle Earth, and I have to agree. It is so beautiful here, I only wish you were here. The only sight that would be better than these sprawling hills and hot springs is you. I miss the smooth skin that covers your lithe frame, the delicate chin, and eyes you possess. Luckily I will be home soon, back in our home and in your arms, where I most certainly belong.

That poem was very lovely. It made me think of how much I miss you and your lips. I read it many times over and even showed it to Robert, although he only laughed at you sending me poems. I'm sure he enjoyed it nonetheless. At the risk of sounding ignorant, what is Champak?

Lastly, do not think I overlooked your greeting. As you know I admonish the moniker of "James". But I will let it slide because you are so lovely.

Yours truly and always,

Jimmy.

It was a new day and a new chance to talk to Jimmy. I missed even the smell of his sweat. I didn't know what was happening to me. I was feeling so deeply for this man. We barely knew each other. Did he even know what state I'm from? Did I even know where he was from? No. But did I miss him and want desperately to see him again? Yes. I guess that is infatuation. It is without reason, brings the sanest of men to trembling knees with quivering lips and teary eyes.

I was a victim of this terrible thing most people would call love, but I knew it was not that. It was in fact infatuation. We were not, nor would we probably ever be, in love. That was something that was built over time and took many hours and hands to construct. And I didn't think Jimmy and I would ever get that far. It was illogical to think that.

I was delighted by the ringing of the phone. When the operator transferred me over to him I greeted him with a smile in my voice. "Jimmy!" I was giddy, due to my missing him more than ever. It seemed everything reminded me of him. The running tap water sounded just like his laugh and the TV dials looked just like his face in the morning. And don't even get me started on the radio! Whole Lotta Love was playing nonstop and it almost made me weep each time.

"Good morning, love."

"It's not morning here, more like mid-day. Where are you?"

"Pheonix, Arizona. It's so bloody hot here I feel like I could melt. I thought it would be a little colder here, given that it's not even May yet."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure it's hot there. Pheonix is close to the equator. Make sure you wear a hat."

He laughed at my words. It was gentle and quiet, almost a whisper, but was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. I missed hearing it so much. I was lost in nostalgia, remembering all the wonderful times I'd heard him giggle. I almost didn't hear him at first.

"I have something I need to talk to you about."

I was troubled by what he said. I was afraid it was something serious, perhaps our relationship was in jeopardy. In my mind, fires were set and I needed to put them out. My thoughts wandered in eradicate patterns, trying my best to solve imaginary problems. It was a long moment before I spoke. "What is it?"

He must've heard the tension in my tone. He gave another laugh and assured me it was nothing serious. I felt like I could breathe again. I breathed a sigh of relief and he began, "We have a break in touring for a few weeks, right after our last show in London, on April 23rd. Robert suggested we go to this little cottage in Wales called Bron-Yr-Aur. It hasn't electricity or running water. It sounds lovely for writing. We both feel we need a break from modern society, it would help us greatly. Robert's wife and daughter will be coming along and I was hoping you would accompany me."

"That sounds great but won't it be kind of awkward to bring me? I mean, we haven't been together very long and-"

"Nonsense, we'd all love to have you!"

"Um, I think I have to work and my birthday is coming up"

"We can have your birthday there, it would be so nice! Imagine it now, lying in bed with nothing but each other, spending our days trudging through creeks and admiring the nature. Wouldn't you say it sounds great?"

I sighed. How do I let him down easily? It helped that I couldn't see the disappointment on his face. I just had to put on my big girl pants and tell him how I felt. "I'm sorry, Jimmy, but I just don't think it would be a good idea."

"Well, why not?" He sounded just as hurt as I feared he would. I was wrong, it didn't make it easier that I couldn't see him. If anything, it made it worse. All I could do was picture how his face looked and his reaction after we ended our call.

"It feels too soon for me."

"Too soon? What does that mean?"

I sighed again. This conversation was taking a sour turn. I was happy at first that he'd called, I missed him dearly and I wanted to talk to him. Now all I wanted to do was slam the phone on the hook and pretend this wasn't happening. But I pushed these feelings down and trekked forward with honesty. I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere by lying. He saw right through it. "We haven't been together for that long. Going on a trip sounds a little..."

"A little what?"

"Soon."

"Oh, love, I was afraid you would feel this way. I just want you with me and I thought you would be overjoyed at the offer."

"I am- I am happy that you offered, but I don't want to rush things."

"Okay, I guess I can understand that. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I respect your honesty."

"I'm glad you can see it from my point of view. It doesn't mean I like you any less, I promise. I just need time. I'm sensitive, you have to be careful with me."

"I know, I know. That's one of the reasons I admire you, one of the many at least."

"Oh, stop, now you're just trying to flatter me so I'll come with you."

"No, no, I swear. It's all true. But not that I'm thinking of it, you mentioned your birthday coming up. You've never told me your actual birthday. When is it? I'd like to be home to celebrate it with you. Even if that means cutting my trip short."

"Luckily, you wouldn't have to. My birthday is May 10th"

"May 10th? What a lovely day! I'll make sure I'm there to celebrate with you."

"You don't have to do that."

"Of course I do. Remember what you said to me on my special day? I want to make it equally as special for you. My wonderful and beautiful Guinevere."

I could hear his smile through the phone. As if his cheesy words weren't enough to tip me off. "Stop! You are too kind to me."

"I could never be."

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@anothercanyonlady , @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @jimmys-zeppelin , @paginate54 , @jimmypages , @seventieswhore

#jimmy page #the beatles #led zeppelin #robert plant #jimmy page fanfic #Jimmy Page smut #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock #classic rock fandom #classic rock fanfiction #60s #80s #70s'#masterlist #chapter 14

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