#but at least we could set her up with a dry and warm spot in the yard

[rosymiel]

i think i just got adopted by a cat

#she's been coming around for a while but she's been coming into our backyard very frequently starting a month ago i think #she likes to watch the birds a lot in this one specific corner of the yard #but ever since she's been here more frequently we've been leaving food and water out for her #and she is SUCH a sweetheart! oh my god! #maybe a week ago we set up our greenhouse to have a bed and food/water area for her #and yesterday we got a couple of cat toys for her. she LOVES this one cat toy we got that has colorful fish attached to a stick #i didn't think she'd be so playful with the cat toy but she loves it so much!! #earlier after bringing her a fresh bowl of water i was giving her some attention and she laid down next to my foot and sunbathed with me #for a while #and she would grab my hand and pull it to her face to get face scritches #unfortunately we can't have her inside because of our two dogs and my mom's allergic #but at least we could set her up with a dry and warm spot in the yard #i've never had a cat before i love her so so much already #non sims

[icallhimjoey]

Can we have a sweet and soft Christmas eve with Joey? Just the two of us? pretty please

this was requested at the perfect time, so thank you, and merry christmas my sluts! Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Still Love Me?

"I'm sorry, I'm not crying because I'm upset, d-don't worry, I just..."

You don't get like this very often. Usually, trying to be extra affectionate makes you scrunch your nose up, makes you squirm and laugh and cringe. Makes you push him away, not taking the extra hugs and kisses seriously at all.

Joe doesn't mind.

"What's wrong?"

It's actually nice to not always feel the need to give you more. To not be afraid that maybe you'd be upset after not immediately coming over to hug and kiss you when he'd walk in at the end of the day.

But something's different tonight.

It's likely the holiday stress that's getting to you. Nothing a pair of extra affectionate warm embracing arms won't fix.

"I thought we had more cheese, but all we've got left is this..."

You suppress a sob.

Unsuccessfully.

Joe knows the tears are only there because all of everything has come together for the perfect storm, and you're just about ready to fall apart.

It's sort of cute that it's a lack of cheese that does it, and Joe's secretly glad it's not something that he'd done or said that got you. That it's not his fault, and that he doesn't have to apologise over something unimportant.

It's fine, though, the crying.

Joe had been ready for it.

He's got steady hands and is prepared to catch whatever needs catching. Knows how to put you back together just fine.

"Why did I do this? I've got to stop sneaking things, I– look, there's no... this is all we've got..."

You've got family coming over tomorrow, and it's the first year that your place is the spot for the big get together. It's nerve-racking in new ways you didn't know existed before because you're bringing both sets of parents in, and all you want to do is make the family proud.

Be the perfect daughter.

Have the stepmothers and stepdads get along as well as all of the divorced people. All of the siblings. Step-siblings.

Fuck, there's too many people coming over.

Could you still cancel, do you think?

You just... you just want Christmas be wholesome, and festive, and cosy, full of laughter and love and just... have it be perfect.

It's almost become a bit of a passion project, and it's quite literally driven you mad.

Well. Driven you to tears, at least.

Joe looks over and sees you hold a little block of brie cheese. It's not much, and it's got a bite taken out of it.

"Wait, did you–" Joe's already smiling, because what the fuck is he looking at right now? His girlfriend's got tears in her eyes and is stood in front of the opened fridge door, holding a bit of French cheese that has teeth marks in.

Surely, you are able to imagine what this looks like from his point of view.

It's at least a little funny.

But another sob wracks from your chest and all Joe can do is step closer and wrap arms around your shaking frame.

He's allowed to laugh as he does so.

"I didn't know- I thought we had more, b-but this was all we have, and I snuck a bite last night, because I– I was peckish and just wanted a little something, and–"

"Hey," Joe leans back and gets your face in both his hands. He's still smiling. Can't not smile, because this is ridiculous, but you also look very cute. Red nose. Fat tears stuck in your eyelashes. The colour of your eyes about ten times brighter because of the unshed ones.

"We'll serve 'em dry crackers, and they'll fucking take what they're given, all right?"

You pout and hold up the evidence of your late-night-snack-run in your own kitchen from the night before. It's right in between your faces and gives Joe a chance to really see the cause of the outburst.

"Still love me?"

Joe looks at the brie a second and then lurches forward with a growl, sinking teeth into the soft cheese for a bite of his own.

"Still love you." he replies, mouth full of cheese.

You can't help the choking laugh, head cocking to the side as a defeated soft chuckle leaves you. It only makes Joe want to grab hold of you tighter.

"Hmm," Joe hums, now chewing, and he frowns. "This is good. We should–" he can't finish the sentence without laughing, knowing it's likely the wrong thing to say, but he's already started the sentence. You get a good eyeful of the cheese in his mouth, in between his teeth. "We should get more of this."

Well, you can't.

Hence the crying.

You pout once more and then groan. It's so stupid, you're well aware. You just need a bit of sleep. Your family won't hate you because there's no cheese.

And if anything, you could throw it into the group chat and are sure that at least three people have some brie to bring along tomorrow.

You really are just very tired.

"Tell you what," Joe says, now taking the little piece of cheese from your fingers, one arm still around you. "We'll finish this, have some hot chocolate and just... relax. Watch a Christmas film. Tomorrow is tomorrow and tonight is tonight, you've done enough prepping and it'll all be fine–"

"Perfect." you correct.

It's important that everything will be perfect.

"It'll all be perfect." Joe coos, voice smooth like butter.

You sniff and look at him a moment. He's still chewing. Smiling. Joe's being all playful and it's reminding you of why you love him so much. Glancing into the living room, you know Joe's right. Everything's ready. Everything's done.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Calm before the storm." you sigh, patting Joe where you're holding onto him. Then lower down, quick touch to the bum. Joe easily lets you.

"Calm before the storm." he confirms before you let go of each other. You move to collect yourself, wiping fingers below your eyes, and Joe opens a cupboard to get to mugs out and says, "And I'll go get extra cheese tomorrow, it'll be fine."

You're about to protest. Tell him that the shop you usually go to won't be open. It'll be Christmas. And everyone's stocked up already. Shelves are empty all over. But Joe sees it across your face before you can say anything and adds, "I'll find some, don't worry about it."

And so you don't.

You accept a kiss to your temple, a deep inhale of your hair and you tilt your head for a kiss on the lips. A quiet thank you.

After a squeeze of your arm, Joe gets started on the hot chocolate and you decide to see if there's anything good on TV or if it'll be Netflix for the night.

Before you've been able to make a choice, you hear mugs being filled and you scurry back into the kitchen. You get to the fridge before Joe does, which was the plan. You find the can of squirty cream amongst all of the food and drink - your fridge has never been this full. It's almost triggeringly full; so much food, yet so little cheese.

It takes you too long, and Joe joins to look over your shoulder, to see if he can spot it before you do.

He doesn't.

You find it and giggle excitedly, a little delirious (you've gone mad, remember?) as you shake it with a wild arm. Your demeanor is the opposite of what it was minute earlier.

No tears. Just manic laughter.

Makes Joe laugh just the same. His girlfriend's gone insane and, if he's honest, he's kind of into it.

You spray some cream into both mugs that Joe's filled with hot chocolate, and before you place it back into the fridge, you shake the can again.

"You just said you should stop sneaking things," Joe isn't exactly trying to stop you, but he knows what you're about to do. Feels like it's worth saying something, to maybe prevent a further break down.

It's of no use, though.

His comment makes you glance him pointed a look. It's ridiculous of him to assume you'd been serious. Of course you're not going to stop sneaking things. He doesn't see the deadpan stare you give him because he's busy placing mini marshmallows onto your drinks, but despite the advice, you go for it anyway.

You tip your head back and spray some of the cream directly into your mouth.

"My God," Joe says when you let it go for a little too long, and when he looks, he barks a laugh.

You've overdone it.

It's too much.

Well, is it ever too much? Not really. But it doesn't fit into your mouth and thus there's a problem. This is going to be messy.

With your head still tilted back, you release a small sound of panic at the inability to close your mouth and raise a cupped hand, ready to catch whatever is going to spill.

But Joe knows just the perfect fix, and he's quick.

Before you know what's happening, your boyfriend's got his hand on the back of your neck, digging in strong fingers and guiding your head forward.

Just before whatever your lips can't curl around is about to slide down your chin, Joe's mouthing at it and manages to get it all, tongue licking and lips closing around your opened ones.

What follows is a weird, full-cheeked sticky, creamy, sugary kiss that has you giggling into each others mouths.

It's still messy, but you'd easily do this again. Would it be too obvious if you just went for an insane mouthful once more?

Joe pulls back, sees he's missed a bit and doesn't hesitate to lick at the corner of your mouth, making you shriek with your mouth closed, pushing him away.

"You're gross," you say fondly after swallowing.

He's also adorably sweet, but he doesn't need telling.

Joe lets his head bobble back a little as he silently laughs, wiping at his own mouth with the back of his hand, glad to have been of service.

"Yea? Still love me?"

Tomorrow's going to be fine.

There's no cheese but for the little chunk you're about to share. It'll likely be all gone if you both have a single cracker with some on.

And there probably also won't be any squirty cream left, what with your plan to bring the can over to the sofa for top-ups after you've eaten all of it off. Or, you know, after you've sprayed more of it into your mouth just so Joe can eat it out of there again.

You families can have hot chocolate without any, and Joe's right. They'll fucking take what they'll be given and be grateful.

Or, Joe can find some tomorrow.

Somewhere.

Whatever.

You're no longer fussed.

It's Christmas. Christmas Eve.

"Still love you." you beam, because you do.

You really, really do.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #still love me?

[marlynnofmany]

Invisibly Beautiful

The hot nighttime air blasting through the windows of the hovercar made conversation hard for all of us, but that didn't stop Paint. She pulled her lizardy face into the car long enough to ask "Can we make more deliveries to climates like this? It's great!" Not waiting for an answer, she stuck her snout back out into the gale.

"I'm just glad the air is moist," said Captain Sunlight from the driver's chair. She was as fond of extreme tropics as the next scaly little Heatseeker, but as least she was tactful about it. "If this was an arid climate, we'd dry out in no time."

Zhee snapped a pincher in irritation, adjusting the coldpack draped around his shoulders. He had another around his praying-mantis hips. "I," he declared, "am glad it is DARK. Sun this intense would fry us on the spot. This is not a temperature for any reasonable being." He cast a big bug eye in my direction, with what passed for subtlety.

I hadn't spoken up yet because I was busy guzzling water to replace all the sweat I was losing. "Agreed," I said when I came up for air. "There's a place this hot back home. We call it Death Valley."

Paint leaned back into her seat. "What? How could such a lovely heat mean death? It's so nice."

"For you," I said at the same time as Zhee. I would have high-fived him but didn't want to hurt myself on his pinchers. Instead I said, "I'd die of heatstroke in no time."

"But you have that temperature regulation!" Paint said, waving a hand in my direction. "I thought you were fine in hot and cold!”

"Just because I'm warm-blooded doesn't mean I'm comfortable in all temperatures," I said to my scaly crewmate. Holding up an arm, I asked, "You see this sweat? This is not fun." I was wearing the smallest amount of clothes I could stand: sports bra and shorts, and it was still too much. “At least the wind helps. I’ll want to get the unloading done as quickly as possible when we stop.”

“We’re almost there,” Captain Sunlight said, pointing at the navigation screen.

It was a good thing she had that screen, since the view outside was an endless nighttime seashore with sand dunes and rocks, but no memorable landmarks. You’d never know there was civilization here. We’d been instructed to land our ship far inland, so we didn’t risk blowing sand into a burrow when we took off again. Luckily the hovercar was acceptable. Thinking about dragging all those crates across the dunes by hand was enough to make me need another drink of water.

When we settled in to park, it was beside a boulder at the very edge of the water. Gentle waves lapped at a very flat shore. No civilization that I could see. The air gushing in the windows was oppressively hot and wet.

“The client should join us at any time,” Captain Sunlight said, getting out of the chair. “Let’s unload.”

“Aw,” Paint said.

Zhee led the way out the door while I focused on taking deep breaths. This was unpleasant.

Sunlight insisted on keeping all but the dimmest lights off, for the sake of the client’s nocturnal eyes. The many stars helped. Luckily there wasn’t much around to trip over. And the boxes were head-sized, not gigantic hassles. There were a lot of them though, and we weren’t quite finished stacking them on the wet sand when the client rose from the waves.

Captain Sunlight’s polite greeting prompted me to look up just in time to see what looked like a lobster the size of a horse come splashing toward us. I clamped down on a startled yelp. Professional calm, I reminded myself. This is entirely normal.

I did a pretty good job of pretending to be calm while I set down the box I was holding and went back for more. Sunlight kept up the small talk and handled payment, both thanks to technological aid: a translator and credit screen with some impressive waterproofing. The voice that came from the speakers was almost too deep to hear. It reminded me of my aunt’s favorite whale impression.

“Thank you for your use of time,” the client said. “Our previous delivery people arrived at high tide, leaving us with a long walk to the burrow.” A little crustacean leggie waved back at the water, where I assumed the doorway lurked. Now that I thought about it, I could almost make out a darker spot among the waves.

And that’s not so much a lobster as a huge shrimp, I decided, setting down another box. Looks like it would have some bright colors in the sun, too. The starlight didn’t illuminate much, but the faint glow from the ship’s cargo hold showed hints of red, blue, and green. And far too many legs, honestly. But you didn’t hear that from me.

“Last one,” Zhee announced, resting a box against the others. “Would the esteemed client like to confirm the count?”

The client did, waving two legs while counting. “Confirmed. I am pleased to do business with all of you.” Captain Sunlight started to say something else polite, but the client wasn’t done talking. “And it is pleasant to see such a lovely being of light.”

With the way all those legs moved, it took me a heartbeat to realize she meant me. “What?” I blurted.

The rest of the crew were confused too. “Being of light?” asked the captain tactfully.

“Yes, and with those charming stripes, too!”

It was all I could do not to ask “What?” again. I just looked at Sunlight, wondering if I was being pranked. If so, she didn’t look in on the joke.

“I, ah, can’t say I’d noticed,” she told the client.

“Your eyes are different, aren’t they?” asked that deep voice with even deeper sympathy.

“Um. Must be.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it, then. You two little ones blend in with the surroundings, while you, friend, look more like an artfully painted land-skimmer,” she said to Zhee, who looked like he had decided to take it as a compliment. “But you. You glow like a gentle moon, with all the curves of a crashing wave across your surface. My night has been enriched with the view.”

“Uh, thank you,” I managed. “My pleasure.”

“I will be sure to request such prompt and pleasurable couriers for my next delivery. I thank you.”

“And we thank you!” Captain Sunlight said. “We’ll be on our way. I trust you can get the boxes into your home without trouble?”

“Oh yes, this will be fine,” said the client with more leg waves. I wasn’t even sure which part of that complicated face to look at. “May you have safe travels!”

With more polite words from Sunlight, we re-entered the hovercar and took seats in even hotter air. The door shut, the engine started, and a very welcome breeze wafted in. Sunlight eased away from the beach at a tactful speed before gunning it toward the ship. No one spoke until the sea was out of view behind a dune.

“Glowing?” exclaimed Paint. “Stripes??”

“Did she mean heat vision?” Zhee wanted to know.

“Can’t be,” Sunlight said from where she drove madly. “She compared you to a nice paint job, remember?”

“As she should,” Zhee said. “But was that a different thing she was seeing when looking at me?”

“Hard to say,” Sunlight said. “Robin?”

“I have no idea!” I burst out. “This is the first I’ve heard of any of it! Is there a chance she’s joking?”

“I don’t think so,” said Captain Sunlight. “All the courier reviews of her behavior are top-notch. If she was the type to lie like that, then surely she would have done it before.”

“But stripes??” I asked, sticking a forearm into the aisle. “You’ve seen me! What stripes? I don’t even have that much body hair!”

“You don’t glow in the dark, either,” said Zhee, staring with the kind of intensity that only someone with truly gigantic bug eyes can. “You reflect a little starlight right now, what with all the grossness you’re exuding, but I doubt that’s what she meant.”

I laughed. “You know, people do sometimes describe sweating as glowing, but it’s really not meant to be taken literally.”

Paint leaned close, all curiosity. “Does something in your sweat fluoresce?”

“No!” I said. “Nothing about me does! This is absurd!”

“We can check the wiki as soon as we get back in range,” said Captain Sunlight. “The ship’s knowledge banks are pretty good, but let’s not kid ourselves.”

“I can’t wait,” Paint said. “My money is on the sweat.”

I shook my head and finished the water bottle. With the way Sunlight was driving, we made it to the ship quickly indeed. Paint was already out of the car and telling the rest of the crew about it while I had barely stood up. I exited to several other curious faces, immediately telling them no, I had no idea.

Normally after that kind of delivery I would have gone to wash up, but this time I just grabbed a towel to wipe off the sweat (and to wear as a shawl in the much cooler spaceship air). Captain Sunlight was calling for top speed.

And she got it. Good thing we’d be refueling soon, because I was pretty sure we’d used up a solid chunk of the reserves.

But we were back in range of easy broadcasts, in record time! Everyone who didn’t have to be somewhere else crowded into the meeting room with the big info screen.

And we all learned that humans freaking glow. Just too dim for anyone to see, unless they have extra-super-special eyes. The kind of eyes that can also pick up the seams from cell division that are usually just as invisible.

“What the heck,” I said, staring at the screen.

Sunlight had called up both topics side-by-side, and everyone was reading at different speeds. I’d skimmed enough to be unsure of what emotion to settle on.

“It’s not the sweat,” Zhee said.

“Well, it’s also not the heat vision!” Paint retorted.

“It may sometimes coincide with heat vision,” Captain Sunlight said, pointing as she read. “Tied in to metabolism, changing throughout the day. Human metabolism creates heat, right? So it could be both.”

“But it said it’s not.”

“I still win the bet,” Zhee insisted.

“Oh, you didn’t even make a bet!” Paint said.

Mur sat beside me, flipping a tentacle in amusement. “It’s a pity we don’t have anyone with those extreme eyes onboard,” he told me. “We could send the pair of you into dark areas, and she could see by your light.”

I shook my head. “This is just bizarre. I can’t believe nobody told me.”

The squiddy alien shrugged a pair of tentacles. “If you can’t see it and neither can most of the civilized galaxy, I’m not surprised that it isn’t common knowledge. What I want to know is—” he spoke louder “—Hey Zhee! Do you want to get glowing paint to decorate yourself with now, since somebody is outshining you?”

Zhee angled his antennae into a glare. “Maybe.”

“Ooh, me too!” said Paint, to no one’s surprise. “Can we do the walls too? It’ll be great if we ever lose power!”

I huffed a laugh. “Look what you started.”

“You’re welcome,” Mur said. “Care to see who can paint some nice new decorations in the highest and most creative places?”

“Absolutely. You know I can reach the top of the engineering crevices by putting a foot on each wall and shuffling upward, right?”

Mur cackled. “And you haven’t seen what a properly motivated Strongarm can do! Extra points for painting a likeness of Zhee somewhere he’ll never find.”

“You are on.” We shook on it, which is an absolutely disgusting experience when tentacles are involved, but I managed to pretend it wasn’t. Gotta be professional, you know.

~~~~~~~~~

Fact check! Humans do glow slightly, and we do have stripes called Blaschko’s Lines.

Yes I based the alien on a mantis shrimp; yes I know the shrimpvision thing has been debunked; did it anyway. They’re cool.

And if you enjoy these shenanigans, you may like the book that this is backstory for. More stories to come!

(Thanks to @theacegamingdemon for giving me the idea for this one months ago.)

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #hfy #haso #eiad #humans are space australians #my writing #Blaschko's Lines #shrimp colors #humans glow #the further adventures of #Robin Bennett #the Token Human

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Roadside Attraction" | Aki x Reader (Kinktober 2023)

Car Sex - Aki Hayakawa

Fandom: Chainsaw Man Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x Reader Words: 2.4k

A/N: This is my first time writing for any CSM character, so I'm not sure how this turned out, but at least I had fun with writing it! I have a soft spot for Aki, man needs a hug and lots of sleep for dealing with those 2 weirdos Denji and Power! (But I love them all.) Also I drew a blank with the title, if I think of a better one I'll change it. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Warnings: canon au, dry humping, brief breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, pulling out method, mentions of aftercare, slight dirty talk, Reader is unabashedly horny in this one

As much as you’ve grown to love Denji and Power over the last few weeks…you have to admit, they can be such serious cockblocks sometimes. 

Not that you and your boyfriend could ever be considered sex fiends (you both like to keep an air of modesty around, even in the safety of your shared apartment). But nowadays, it’s almost as if you can’t even kiss him without an extra pair of eyes drinking in the scene. 

Doing a load of laundry? Denji’s sitting on top of the dryer, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. Making dinner in the kitchen? Power’s not far behind, peeking over your shoulders, demanding to know what kind of food you’ve chosen to prepare for her. Hell, even your own bedroom isn’t as safe as it once was. One night Aki had barely managed to slip your shirt over your head, lips warm against the base of your throat, when you nearly screamed about something brushing against your leg.

Power’s pet cat Meowy, pressing her cheek against your leg, begging for a quick pat on the head. At that point you had half a mind to pick her up by the scruff and drop her right into Power’s lap—but the last thing you wanted was a vengeful Blood Fiend after you for daring to hurt her precious cat.

Even the fucking cat is getting in your way.

“We need a vacation,” you mumble one morning, perched on the kitchen counter.

Aki shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his coffee, not even bothering to chide you for sitting on the counter. You know damn well Denji and Power wouldn’t be able to get away with that.

“We have that mission from Ms. Makima coming up this weekend.”

“That’s…not what I meant…”

He pauses, lips lingering on the rim of his mug. His hair is still frazzled from sleep, hanging over his shoulders. (Not that you want to run your fingers through it or anything. No, of course not.)

“…Then what do you mean?”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his sleepshirt, inching his body closer to yours. “We need a vacation, a real one. Not just a solo mission, either. Just you and me…” You lean in close, lips brushing against the apple of his cheek. Lifting your knees and wrapping your legs around his waist. “…And maybe a nice hotel room, with soft sheets, a bottle of wine, and maybe even—”

“Ooh, sounds good! When are we heading out?”

The two of you pull away from each other at once; your face flushed with heat as Aki clears his throat, turning back to the mess of dishes in the sink. Denji sprawls his upper half along the counter, eyes shifting lazily back and forth between you and your boyfriend.

You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” you hiss through your teeth. “Forget it.”

He lets out a groan just as Power stumbles into the kitchen, Meowy snuggled up in her arms. You sigh and jump off the counter; out of the corner of your eye, you can see Aki shaking his head at you.

You love the little family the four of you have created…but damn it, not at the cost of a little private time with your own boyfriend.

Thankfully the weekend comes faster than you thought, and as you’re driving through the streets at night, the files from Makima resting in your lap, you’re starting to wonder if Aki had a point when he saw this as a vacation.

The destination’s set, the roads are quiet, and the stars are absolutely gorgeous. And the best part? No Denji and Power to bother you.

For the first time in literal months, you have Aki all to yourself. And you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

You shift in your seat, adjusting the papers and folders in your lap (also possibly parting your thighs a bit—just to get comfortable, you swear). “How much longer till we get there?”

“It’s not far,” he says, sounding a little strained from the long drive. “We’ll be there within the hour.”

Meaning the hotel Makima booked for the two of you. Despite the work and expectations for the two of you during this mission, it’s hard not to get excited at the thought of finally being alone with him. And in just an hour you’ll be in that hotel room, far away from any distractions named Denji and Power. Locked inside four walls with no one there to bother you. Just you, your boyfriend, a comfy king-sized bed…and the whole night ahead of you.

Trouble is, you don’t think you can wait that long.

You clear your throat and shift in your seat again. Aki hasn’t noticed your little game yet, too focused on the empty road ahead. So you stretch out your arms in a yawn, tossing the files into the backseat of his car. Rolling your shoulders, squeezing your thighs together.

When he still doesn’t glance your way, you reach out and rest your hand on his crotch.

You’re lucky he doesn’t swerve off the road at that; immediately his body goes rigid, his knuckles a stark white as he grips the steering wheel. Gritting his teeth as he struggles to keep his eyes on the road.

“…Seriously? You can’t wait a bit longer?”

“I’ve been waiting for weeks now,” you mumble, squeezing your fingers around him. He rolls his eyes, as though he’s not growing hard beneath your palm right now. “Can’t help it, I need you—”

“And I need to focus on driving.” He sucks in a sharp breath at your touch, but he makes no move to swat your hand away. “…Stop it.”

“Or what?” It’s hard not to smirk at the look on his face, the way his eyes glow beneath the faint lights on the side of the road. “You gonna punish me? Tell me what a bad girl I am?”

“I-I’m serious—”

“And so am I.” This time he full-on whines when you squeeze your hand around him. You press your thighs together, already feeling your panties growing damp. “It’s just the two of us, Aki. Me and you, like it was in the beginning. Like hell I’m not gonna try to get in your pants.”

He groans again, shaking his head, jolting when the car hits a slight bump in the road. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, eyes fluttering shut with every roll of your wrist, every touch of your fingers.  

But you win in the end; before you know it he’s slowing the car down to a stop, right on the side of the road. No one’s around for miles, no cars coming up in the distance.

Just you and him, as it always should be.

He’s panting by the time he unbuckles his seatbelt. Sliding his seat back to make room for you, as you wrestle with your own seatbelt in the passenger’s seat. It finally slips off and you crawl into his lap, pressing your chest against his own, lips hot and demanding as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, already fumbling with the hem of your shirt. You barely manage to pull it over your head before he’s on you again, trailing a line of kisses down the side of your neck. “Really couldn’t wait another fucking hour, huh?”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p with a smirk.

He opens his mouth but you cut him off with a roll of your hips. The delicious friction of your clothes and the heat of the car sending your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Damn it, you’re like a pair of horny teenagers. Has it really been that long since you last shared a night together? Are you really that desperate to be close to him that you’d risk it all for a quick fuck in his car on the side of the road?

Yes, absolutely. You’ve always been the type to take risks, after all.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth when you roll your hips again. Too eager to feel him against your body, can’t be bothered to take off any more of your clothes. He reaches up, squeezing your breasts, rolling them in his palms as you kiss your way down his neck. “T-too fast—”

But you can’t stop, and he makes no move to push you off. So you keep thrusting your hips, eagerly chasing your release. He brings your mouth to his again, sliding one hand to cup your ass, dragging your hips along his own.

You reach out behind him, fingers snagging on the little hair tie and pulling it free. His black hair spills over his shoulders, making it easier for you to tangle your fingers in the strands. He doesn’t seem to mind; only pulls you closer, hips stuttering against your own.

Your name tumbles from his lips as a faint pink color washes over his cheeks. “Can’t—shit, ’m gonna—”

You cut him off with a kiss, stilling your hips slightly, shifting yourself just enough to unfasten his belt. The last thing either of you want to do is finish the car ride with messy pants; it’s bad enough you already have to change your panties by the time you’re through here.

He slips his cock out, giving it a few quick strokes, his eyes never leaving yours as you shimmy your way out of your pants. It’s a little hard, given the lack of space in the car to begin with. But finally they’re on the passenger’s seat beside you, panties resting right on top of them. You spread your legs and straddle him, hands curled around his shoulders. Swallowing his moan of your name as you sink yourself onto him, the stretch of his cock sending a shiver down your spine.

“F-fuck,” he hisses against your throat, “missed this, y’know…”

You can’t hold back your smile, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. “I know, I did too.”

At least now you know you’re not the only one left feeling needy after the last couple months.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, getting used to the feel of each other. His hands sinking down to your waist, fingertips pressing into the soft skin of your hips. You swirl his hair in your hand, pulling it back and kissing his forehead. Only when he gives you a nod do you start to move your hips; slow and soft, eyes fluttering when you lean in and capture his lips in a kiss.

It’s been too fucking long since you were able to do this last; you’d almost forgotten how wonderful it feels, having him deep inside you. Hard and heavy, sending blissful shivers along the length of your body. Pressing up against that spongy spot inside you, the same one that makes you squirm and clench around his aching cock. Just the thought of it has you moving your hips faster, matching your earlier pace. But Aki is quick to help you, his hands guiding your hips against his own, moaning into your mouth with every thrust.

The windows are starting to fog up around you, the car jerking with every move you make. It must look so stereotypical from an outsider’s perspective; a couple of horny lovebirds who couldn’t wait till they got to their hotel room. Well, you’re the horny one—but Aki is just as guilty as you are, if his moans are anything to go by.

“That’s it,” he mumbles against your lips, “feel that? Feel how hard you get me? What you fucking do to me?”

Yeah, you do, and you love every fucking second of it.

“M-much better than waiting for the…for the hotel room, right?”

He doesn’t answer, only grasps your hips tighter and forces himself deeper into you. You’re panting hard, bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace, a thin layer of sweat beading at your forehead. Aki leans down to kiss your breasts, taking one of your nipples between his teeth.

You’re close, so fucking close you’re practically babbling at this point. Eyes squeezed shut as he rocks himself deeper into you. Whining out his name, nails biting into his shoulders as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” your voice is sweet against his lips, words tasting like honey on his tongue—and suddenly he’s thrusting into your wet heat as hard as he can, as fast as he can, just a little bit more, a little bit, a little bit—

He swallows your scream as you gush around his cock, thighs trembling around his waist. It’s not long before he follows suit, barely managing to pull out before he reaches his own peak. Your fingers find his cock at once, and with a few rapid strokes he’s groaning into your neck, thick white ropes coating your palms.

As much as you want to stay in his lap for a little while longer, you know better than to push your luck. Aki never likes dealing with too much of a mess after sex; besides, you two still have a mission to do, a hotel to get to before they give your room away.

He helps you climb off his lap, as gently as he can, settling you back into the passenger’s seat. He keeps a stash of wipes in the glove compartment, something you never thought you’d be grateful for in the past. He cleans you up and pulls your panties back over your legs, giving you a firm kiss on your lips when he’s done.

“Think you can hold out just a bit, till we get to the room?”

You give him a weak nod, snuggling against the seat cushion with a smile on your face. “I think so.”

And then he smiles, a soft and small one that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He rolls down the windows, letting the cool night air wash out the sticky smell of sex. Once your clothes are straightened and the windows aren’t as steamy, he starts the car again and begins the trek down the road, picking up right where the two of you left off.

But this time he holds your hand in his own, giving it a soft squeeze as declarations of love spill from your lips. 

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #kinktober 2023 #star's kinktober 2023 #aki hayakawa smut #smut #csm fics

[magicshopaholic]

Flipped (Jimin x OC)

Summary: Jimin meets his childhood love in his childhood hometown.

Pairing: Jimin x OC

Genre: Exes; humour, banter, flirting, fluff

Word count: 2.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: none

A/N: I may as well have denounced editing. Still, I've been looking forward to this little drabble for a good while now, so here it is. Since it's a drabble, it can be read standalone. Set about three months after Near Misses and a couple of weeks after Helping Hands.

This contains a little detail from a super popular movie that I watched on a flight after forever so kudos to anyone who can identify it :)

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: "heart“ by stars

jimin masterlist | main masterlist

The moment Jimin knew that he was in it, bad, was when he first saw Kim Sooah at a volleyball match.

It was against a neighbouring school and while the girls’ matches rarely pulled in the crowd that the boys’ matches did, somehow, the crowd was almost as large that day. Jimin attributed it to the fact that Sooah was playing; it was, after all, the only reason he was here.

That, and the fact that Taehyung had dragged him along. Although Jimin would never admit it to him, he was glad he came, for the atmosphere was incredible. There was at least a hundred people there, from several schools in the district, cheering and hooting with tiny bottles of water in their hands.

“Imagine if we get even half this crowd when we debut,” muttered Taehyung to him in a low voice. Despite the sardonic tone, Jimin could detect the longing in his statement.

His focus reverted to Sooah fairly quickly, however. The match was midway, as far as he could tell, and the girls on both teams were amped up and energetic and sweaty. Jimin didn’t even know which team was winning; all he could tell was that Sooah looked serious and in concentration as her team gathered before a serve, discussing something and pointing vaguely at each other.

Her hair was in a ponytail at the top of her head, the ends damp and sticking to the back of her neck. Jimin watched in awe and something else as she brushed it away absently, exposing the glowing skin and making his cheeks heat up. Her legs were lean and toned under her shorts as she jogged on the spot, but when his gaze moved up to her face, he frowned.

Was she crying? It was a hot day, but her nose was red. Even from this distance, it was unmistakable, the redness at the tip and the sniff that followed it. But her eyes seemed dry… Jimin watched in confusion as she sneezed and one of her team members snickered and patted her shoulder comfortingly, while Sooah rolled her eyes but smiled back, tapping her nose with a cupped hand.

It happened one more time - the sneeze, the sniff, the tapping of her nose which seemed to be a habit she wasn’t even aware of – before Jimin realised what it was. It was allergies. Kim Sooah - perfect, popular, dream girl Kim Sooah - had allergies. To what, he did not know, but he could recognise the signs and moreover, could feel his chest fill up with a warm admiration and amusement that despite being a bit of a hot mess, she’d not only shown up to play but was visibly enthusiastic and focused on the game.

The team dispersed and got into their positions, Sooah somewhere on the side as her teammate got ready to serve. Just before play resumed, Sooah sneezed again.

And Jimin’s heart flipped.

—

The sky is still light when the sun disappears over the horizon, across Sooah’s parents’ house. She snaps a picture that does the sight no justice and stretches her legs where she’s sitting on the pavement in front of the house. The street is quiet and empty, which is why even the slightest movement causes her to look up.

“Tell me it’s a coincidence that you’re in Busan the same weekend you knew I’d be here.” Jimin raises his eyebrows as he approaches her, a smug hint of a smile on his face.

His hair is a gorgeous silvery blond for the upcoming Europe leg of his tour. He’d sent her a picture of it while the stylist was still colouring it, and Sooah had spent the rest of the night wondering if it would feel like silk.

“Tell me it’s a coincidence that you’re on this street when your parents’ house is two blocks away.”

He smiles sheepishly and sits next to her, smelling clean and light and floral. “Totally a coincidence.”

“Same here.” She nudges his shoulder with hers. “How’s tour going?”

“You aren’t keeping up on social media?” He feigns shock. “I’m hurt, Sooah.”

“I have a job now. I can’t remain a teenage fangirl forever.” But she gives him a playful smile along with it, which he returns.

“So this is where you lived before Seoul, huh,” he remarks after a few moments. “One of my childhood friends used to live right down this street, somewhere at the end.”

“We might have crossed paths, too,” she offers.

“Nah, I would remember.” He plays absently with the loose laces of her shoe. “But I’m glad you moved to Seoul when you did.”

“I’m glad you did, too.” Sooah feels her stomach flutter slightly at the memory. “I wish you’d introduced yourself sooner.”

“We were in the same class, Kim Sooah,” he points out. “You could have noticed sooner.”

She nods, not missing the defensive note. “Yeah, I could’ve. Sorry.”

There is silence for a minute during which Sooah looks out at the horizon in her childhood neighbourhood, sitting beside her childhood love.

“Taehyung told me you went to Jeju with Hyeri and her gang a couple of weeks ago.”

“I did. It was nice. A little hot, but fun.”

“Yeah? Partied hard?”

“Kind of.” A smile flashes across her face. “It’s getting harder to pull all-nighters in my old age.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he says teasingly, before pausing. “I heard you guys booked a whole villa.”

“Hyunjin got a great deal on Airbnb or something so he booked it. It was huge.”

“That’s cool. I heard all the couples got their own rooms.”

“They did.”

“Hmm.” He nods. “Rooming is overrated.”

“I agree. I don't think I managed a single shower in my room before the hot water got over.”

There’s the distant sound of children playing in the park down a couple of streets over. Sooah glances at Jimin out of the corner of her eye; he’s looking straight at the horizon, his jawline sharp and eyes partially hidden by his bangs.

“Glad you had fun, I guess,” he says after a moment, still staring ahead.

“Yeah. Hyeri is a much better friend than a roommate, though, for future reference.”

She doesn’t pretend to miss how he visibly catches on. “For future reference?” he asks. “You mean in case I ever want to room with Hyeri?”

“You never know. I know how much you love rooming with friends from high school.”

Jimin nods, but Sooah doesn’t miss the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He glances at Sooah and presumably sees her much more obvious smile, and rolls his eyes. “I hate you,” he states, shaking his head but failing to hide his sheepish grin.

Sooah giggles. “Jesus Christ, Chim. If you want to know if I’m single, just ask.”

A small patch of pink appears on his cheek. “Historically, that hasn’t always given me the answer I want.”

“Let’s try it. Repeat after me: ‘Sooah, are you in a relationship?’”

He gives her a look but decides to humour her. “Sooah, are you in a relationship?” he asks deliberately.

“No, Jimin, I am not. But hopefully I will be, soon enough. Are you in a relationship?”

“This is a coincidence but I’m not either. But if things go well, I’m hoping I will be, too.”

“Interesting. Why aren’t you right now?”

“Well, the girl I have a thing for is a bit of an enigma, if I’m being honest.” Jimin tosses his hair out of his eyes and smirks slightly. “She’s very popular and we never seem to get the timing right.”

Sooah can’t help but smile, feeling her face soften at the confession. “You’re bound to, eventually. Right?”

He nods slowly, his grin fading but not all the way. “I hope so. The problem is…” He looks away and ducks his head. “I don’t know. I guess part of me always feels like a quiet nerd around her, no matter how much time passes.”

“Lucky for you, I have a thing for cute and shy nerds,” she says after a moment, dropping all pretense and resisting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“M-hm. Even when they get all ripped and start wearing designer clothes and have hoards of fans in love with them,” she says, “I find myself very fond of the person they are underneath all that.”

Jimin swallows and lets out a soft chuckle, before meeting her gaze, his eyes swimming with a hundred different thoughts. “I really feel like I’ve messed it up too many times with her, though,” he admits quietly.

Sooah nudges his shoulder again and this time rests her head on it as well. “She might share some of the blame for that, too,” she murmurs. “But you’ll never know if you don’t try.” She feels him nod, slowly, and she holds her breath as he starts to say something. Instead, she suddenly sneezes.

“Oh, God, no,” she grumbles, brushing strands of hair out of her face. “What - what is that? Are you wearing a new perfume or something? Because I think I might be allergic. What?” she asks, catching sight of his big grin that only widens when she frowns.

“You do this thing when you get your allergies,” he tells her. “This thing with your hand.”

“What thing?”

“Like this.” He mimics it, tapping his nose with his cupped hand. “It’s extremely cute.”

Sooah feels her face heat up in both pleasure and embarrassment. “Oh. I didn’t realise.”

“I know. But you’ve always done it. You did it when you were front row at our debut,” he reminds her.

At this, she smiles as well, reliving the old but clear memory. “Yeah, I was having allergies then, too. Can’t believe you noticed me in the crowd.”

“It was, like, thirty people.”

She nods in agreement, but then shrugs. “You still put on a hell of a show, Chimmy.”

“Shut up,” he mutters bashfully. “You should come for a concert now. There are actual lightsticks so you don’t have to wave the torch on your Nokia.” He flashes her a smile. “I’ll send you a flying kiss from the stage. The other girls there will hate you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she says dryly. “Although I think it might be harder to spot me in a crowd of thirty thousand.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll always spot you.”

Sooah’s heart flips. “I might just take you up on that offer. But you have enough girls in the front row, chasing after you.”

The same grins flickers on his face before he looks down at the road. “As long as you’re the only one who comes backstage with me, I’m good.”

“Really? You don’t think we’ve grown out of making out backstage after your show?”

“Never. We even have private rooms now. Where do you think Taehyung and Namjoon disappear for twenty minutes after every show?”

“And you want to join the club?”

“Depends. Are you joining me backstage?”

“Depends. Are you asking me to join you backstage?”

Jimin sighs hugely, giving her a look the whole time. “We can’t just let anyone backstage, you know? They only started making exceptions once Namjoon and Kaya started dating. Jungkook isn’t allowed to bring his flings back there either.”

“So it depends on whether I’m a girlfriend or a fling?” Her stomach flutters with anxiety at her own words. “Choose wisely, Jimin.”

The half-hearted smile tells Sooah that he’s picked up on the loaded statement. I feel like I’ve messed it up too many times, though. She bites her lip at the reminders, the slew of memories of both she and him drawn to each other multiple times, only to push each other away before anything could come of it.

On the pavement, Jimin slips his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d be the guy to whom Kim Sooah says yes twice.”

She bites her lip and smiles, wide. His fingers feel steady in between hers. “Sometimes it happens,” she says, tilting her head up and meeting him in a soft kiss. “Yes,” she whispers, her eyes staying closed, their noses still brushing against each other. 

Jimin doesn’t pull away immediately, but she feels him squeeze her hand. “Will I see you at the next show then?” he murmurs. “I can get you a ticket.”

“Front row?”

“I’ll be looking for you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to her forehead before sitting back in his original position but somehow feeling closer than before.

Sooah nods in assent. Sitting before her childhood home with her childhood love, she drops her head on his shoulder. A moment later, she feels his head rest on hers.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#jimin x fanfic #jimin x oc #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #micdropnet #k-vanity #wkcnet #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin fluff

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 23. Safe and sound

Previous chapter

Masterlist

18+ chapter

MDNI

I can't lie, they are everything to me This chapter is spicy (more than 1 chili pepper spicy)<3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: spice, tension, flirty flirty behavior, Pietro being cheeky, some angst (par for the course), domestic bliss.

I kept a few paces before him the entire walk, neither of us breaking the silence that sat heavy between us. By the time we stepped into the reception office my hair was drenched and clinging to me, much like my clothes that the still falling snow had melted through, saturated me. My teeth were chattering, limbs shaking as I spoke to the woman behind the front desk. The news that there was still one room available was a relief adding to the range of feelings I was experiencing presently. The room was significantly warmer than outside, yet the shivering only worsened. There was a single queen-sized bed in the center, and a small tv and kitchenette in the corner beside a door that I assumed led to the bathroom. Pietro went straight to the heater, turning it up to the highest setting as I grabbed all of the blankets from the cupboards, laying them on the bed before beginning to peel off my coat. My teeth were chattering so loudly that it caught Pietro’s attention, and, in an instant, he was before me, attempting to help me undress. I moved away from him, removing the rest of my clothing until I was left in the only dry items, my bra and underwear. Pietro did the same, left in only our undergarments we grabbed blankets and huddled before the heater. I grasped the soft material to my flesh closing my eyes tightly and bringing my knees to my chest. The teeth-chattering didn’t let up, my body still shaking and stinging from the cold that seemed to be clinging to me. I could feel Pietro’s gaze on me. “Nadia-”

“No.” I cut him off.

His tone shifted, no amusement, lightness or room for argument. “Stop now. I’m not letting you get hypothermia just because you’re stubborn.” My eyes slowly traveled over to his form as he opened his blanket covered arms and beckoned me over. I rolled my eyes at him, swallowing heavily and willing the cold to go away. When it didn’t and my body began to physically shudder with it, I sighed exasperatedly and crawled over to the man who immediately wrapped my up in himself and the blanket when my back pressed to his chest. “God, you’re freezing, why do you have to be so fucking resistant to help.” I didn’t respond as he enveloped me completely, pressing with exceedingly warm flesh to mine, acting as my personal furnace.

Slowly but surely, my teeth stopped chattering and my shaking calmed as his heat seeped into me, warming me to my bones. At some point the tenseness in my body eased slightly as I allowed him to take away the biting coldness.

I gave him a short glance over my shoulder before turning back to the plain brick wall that was before us. There was a silence between us that was so thick it felt as though it was practically strangling me, yet I refused to break it first. A S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned therapist once told me I tended to favor avoidant capabilities in times of emotional conflict; Pietro moved to sit by the fire beside me and I managed to see her point as I stared ahead at the place spot where the paint had begun to peel.

“So now you’re pissed off at me?” I didn’t respond at first, ignoring the feeling of his intense gaze burning into the side of my head. He didn’t falter once, unyielding as he stared at me. “That’s fair, could you maybe talk to me though?”

The look I gave him must have given away at least a portion of how incensed I was as he closed his eyes for a long moment before giving me a sheepish smile. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, taking a deep breath. “I’m not pissed off at you.”

He glanced down at my hands. “Right.”

“I’m trying to be a rational adult, so just give me a second to not be so mad.” He nodded, looking straight ahead again. The silence lasted approximately 3 seconds before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry I held us up, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I closed my eyes tightly, taking a deep breath as I leaned back slightly further against his chest. “Don’t be sorry, I’m not mad about that at all, I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He pressed a kiss so gentle to my cheek I barely felt it. Though, the meaning was not lost on me. “I just want you to tell me what’s going on, I don’t like the weird tension between us right now.”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

I shrugged, looking back at him “So? You’ve been strange since the other night, whatever it is, just say it.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water and I could see the battle in his eyes, the struggle to find the words. My mind reeled, running over everything that had happened since that night. Every word, every kiss, every touch.

Then I thought maybe I understood.

I moved out of his arms, sitting cross-legged before him, wrapping the other blanket around myself. “If you don’t want to touch me… in that way, you don’t have to… just say that.”

The only way to describe the look in his eyes then was pure distress. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned dramatically. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nadia, I want to touch you.” I narrowed my eyes at him opening my mouth to respond only to be cut off. “God, you have no idea how badly I want to touch you. It is all I’ve thought of for months, honestly, I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you.”

My heart rate picked up slightly at his words. “Well, then why have you been acting so weird and avoiding me?”

“Because I wanted it to be your decision.”

I asked him what he meant.

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I meant what I said that night, it couldn’t be some heat of the moment decision that you’d regret, I couldn’t take that, I didn’t want you to change your mind and the only way I felt like I could be sure that you were sure is if you initiated things.”

His words baffled me, truly astonished me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This had to be some kind of joke, yet his gaze was earnest and pained and I felt like slapping him across his pretty face. “You are the most idiotic person I have ever met.” His expression turned indignant, but I continued before he could interrupt. “I quite literally took my clothes off in front of you this morning and that wasn’t a clear enough initiation?”

Both his eyebrows rose as I spoke. “T-that was not as clear as you think it was.”

My eyes narrowed at him. “I told you to take my underwear off, Pietro.”

He snickered slightly even as a flush travelled up his neck. “Okay touché, but, in my defense… you are a tease.”

“Me?!” My tone dripped with disbelief as I shoved his shoulder. “You’re the one always starting things he can’t finish.”

“Hey, I absolutely can finish it, I’m just a gentleman.”

I shrugged. “Oh right, so you’re only all talk when it comes to me then. I guess I’ll just have to take your word for the rest of it.” The second the words left my mouth there was an evident shift in Pietro’s expression which had a shiver rushing down my spine.

“I don’t like that tone.” Before I could even think of a retort his lips were on mine, kissing me hungrily. I felt the way the air changed between us, frustration melting into something entirely different. His hand smoothed up my thigh gripping it tightly. “So… just to be clear you’re asking me to prove it to you?” I nodded and he yanked my leg, causing me to fall into his lap swiftly. His lips kissed along my jaw, cold fingers fiddling with the hem of my shirt. “Say the words, Nadia.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “Tell me what you want.” My lips hovered over his as I looked down into his piercing gaze.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

His grip on my thigh tightened and his hand slipped up slightly, pushing my blanket up with it. “Yes, I would, and if you want me to give you something you’d like, you’ll start listening.” His hand rose a little further, eclipsed by the fabric of the blanket as it ventured beneath. Goosebumps rose across my skin as I felt his other hand wrap around the back of my neck pulling me down against his lips again.

“I want you, Pietro. If that wasn’t obvious.” I felt his lips curving into a smirk against mine.

“Oh, it was, but I’d appreciate a little less attitude.”

I bit back a laugh, swallowing my pride and giving, just slightly. His hair was slightly damp from the snow that had touched it when we’d been outside, it caused the drying pieces to fall messily around his eyes, sticking up when I ran my fingers through it. He looked handsome like this, not I didn’t find him frustratingly handsome normally. My fingertips smoothed over his cheek, and I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I want you.” I smiled “All of the time.” I recounted the words he’d spoken to me after Amsterdam. Within seconds he’d moved to his feet and hoisted me up to wrap my legs around his waist.

“You have me.”

{MDNI}

That was the last thing he said before our surroundings blurred and my back hit the plush hotel bed. Pietro brought warmth with him when he crawled atop me, lips on mine the second he was above me. The imprint of his hands felt as though it burned me, but not in a way that made me pull back or flinch but in a way that had me craving more. I helped him push the blanket back off of his shoulders, leaving them bare. As soon as the fabric was cleared, I was guiding his lips back to mine and wrapping my arms around his neck. His hand travelled down my hip, hooking my thigh over his hip so he could lay further against me. I gasped into his mouth as his fingertips danced just below the band of my bra. With a single hand in the center of his chest I pushed him back, moving with him to sit upright and slip from beneath him. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he watched me unclasp my bra, the straps fell slowly down my arms before I slid the fabric completely off of my body. His eyes trailed from my own to take in the sight of my now bare chest, that heaved slightly with the tension of the moment. I walked toward him, letting my knee sink into the soft duvet on either side of him, settling onto his lap again and kissing him eagerly. One of his hands stroked my cheek tenderly, the other laying limp at his side. I grinned against his lips, smoothing my hand over his shoulder and down his bicep to grasp his wrist and move the limb upward. His eyes tracked the movement, completely mesmerized as I flattened his palm over one of my breasts. The still slightly chilly air of the room, combined with his proximity had the sensitive flesh stiffening under his palm. I kissed him yet again, lips parting to allow his tongue to make contact with mine.

“You’re usually so talkative, what happened?”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy to make conversation when your half naked and looking at me like you are.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How am I looking at you?”

His gaze darkened slightly as his lips drew into a thin line, his patience evidently wearing thin. My back arched and a sound of sharp pleasure fell from my lips when he fingertips pinched one of my nipples. “I think you know.”

When his hands moved downwards my heart rate picked up yet again, thrumming against my sternum as his fingers teased over my inner thigh, sliding around to slip just beneath the waistband of my panties. I could feel just how eager he was beneath me, prompting me to slide a little further into his lap. The sensation of him hard and pressing against me had a hum emanating from me. His hands moved to grip my hips tightly, dragging me over him at a pace that was excruciating and completely addictive at the same time. My head fell back slightly, the sound he made going straight between my legs.

“Wait.” I spoke up, pulling back just slightly. He stopped immediately, looking up at me with pupils that just about eclipsed his irises. I bit my lip before pressing another kiss to his lips because apparently, I hadn’t tasted enough of them yet. Forcing myself to pull away again I sighed, rolling my shoulders back before meeting his eyes again. “There’s just… I’ve never…” I shrugged, a flush travelling up my chest. “You know.”  He raised an eyebrow at me, lips quirking up at the corners. “I’ve never had an orgasm alright! Honestly, I don’t think I can.” I looked down, my voice quietening at the end. Pietro’s fingers tugged my chin back up to look at him.

“It’s okay.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what it is, there’s something wrong with me, I guess. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

His eyes softened, brows furrowing slightly. He tugged me toward him by the hips, flattening his hand to slide it over my thigh. In one swift maneuver he’d pulled me on top of him, settling me on his lap. His hands returned to my hips once more. “There is nothing wrong with you, Nadia. Being with you is all I want so how could I ever be disappointed when I get to do that?”

“Are you saying sweet things to me so you’ll get lucky?”

“I never dreamed I would get this lucky.” His lips were on mine then, firm and passionate and my nerves melted slightly. The way his lips felt against mine was entrancing and utterly addicting, I never wanted it to end. “I know that you think you can’t and maybe that’s true, but I still want to try, if you’re okay with it.”

His words had me breathless, or maybe it was less his words and more the way he looked at me as he spoke them. His lips were parted and glistening, eyes half lidded, dark lashes fluttered.

I kissed him again. “Okay.” I was on my back in seconds, giggling a little at his fervor. Pietro’s kisses dipped around my jaw, travelling down my neck but taking their sweet time on their journey, imprinting himself on each crevice of my flesh that was revealed to him. At first, I was nervous that being on my back would trigger a panic reaction, but as his mouth mapped a scorching path between my breasts, the red room was the furthest thing from my mind. I watched as he parted my legs, mind whirring and heart thrumming rhythmically against my sternum. I felt hot all over, flushed and powerless in a way that I craved. It was a feeling no one had ever sparked in me. My legs were trembling already and my chest heaved as he peeled the leggings from me at an excruciating pace before settling between my legs, head dipping to nip at my inner thigh. I gasped at the sting feeling his lips upturn as he kissed the place he’d bitten.

“Remember when you used to pretend you hated me?” I glanced down to see him peering up at me, shit-eating grin on his face. “Because I do.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “What a perfect time to talk about this.”

He snickered. Pressing another kiss to my thigh, fingers digging into the flesh a little. I bit my lip, working hard to not cant my hips up toward him. “I remember it very well. You were such a little shit, sauntering into training in those tight little outfits and being so mean to me. Do you have any idea how badly I wanted you? How hard it was to have you talk so much shit to me every day and not be able to do anything about it.”

“Are you going to keep on talking or are you going to finally do something about it?” The smirk that crossed his lips was positively devious, eyes darkening as he took my panties in his hand, a tearing sound following. The ruined fabric clutched in his hand before he threw it over his shoulder. “I liked those, you idiot.”

He only smiled at me, parting my legs again and falling between them. He pressed a kiss to my pelvis, rendering me completely speechless. He sent me one more gentle look before his mouth was on me and all thoughts simultaneously drained from my head. My legs snapped shut instinctively but he caught them, prying them open once more, not parting from me for even a moment. I threw my head back, mouth falling open as pleasure flooded through me. It had never felt like this before. Only one other person had done this to me, and I’d never been more uncomfortable but when it was Pietro everything was different. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even function. It was like being struck by lightning.

Sounds fell from my lips that I didn’t think I was capable of making as he licked and sucked hard on the bundle of nerves. He hummed against me, the noise pleasure-filled and completely content. I bit down on my bottom lip hard as my hips canted upward. He laid his arm over my pelvis, holding me still whilst reaching up to grab my hand and intertwine our fingers. I fisted the duvet in my free hand. “Fucking hell, Pietro.” I barely managed to get the words out. The sound that left him resembled a snort, but I didn’t have it in me to be annoyed when he was making me feel like this. He lifted his head from me, bringing our conjoined hands to his mouth and kissing my knuckles before letting go. With his free hand he kneaded the flesh of my thigh, pressing a gentle kiss against my clit that had me shuddering. His fingers smoothed down my leg and along the place where his mouth had been. My heart rate picked up again. I used my free hand to grip the sheets by my head, biting down hard on my bottom lip as Pietro doubled down in his efforts.

“Just relax.” He hummed against me. I hadn’t even realized how tense I was. “You can let go; I’ve got you… I’m never going to let anything happen to you, just let go.”

When it began, I was momentarily immobilized. Every nerve ending was blown to pieces and my eyes rolled back. I was faintly aware of Pietro grabbing my legs to keep them open, his lips remaining attached to me as the sensations ravaged my body. Tears formed in my eyes from the immenseness of the pleasure.

My chest rose and fall frantically as I attempted to catch my breath, Pietro beginning to kiss a path back up my body and when my eyes met his again, he was positively beaming.

He kissed me softly giving me a taste before pulling back to speak. “Glad we cleared that up.”

I laughed pushing my hair back out of my face. His fingertips caressed the flesh of my cheek as he laid against me. “Just give me a minute then we can go on.”

His smile grew as he brushed his nose over my cheek. “You’re tired, I am too. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“But what about you?”

“I already told you, all I want is to be with you.” He kissed me again. “Plus, I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.”

What had happened at the tree farm was still heavy on my mind as I laid beside Pietro, even with the very distracting events that had just taken place. These strange visions didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, in fact they seemed to have gotten worse since Sokovia. They didn’t make any sense to me, the song that I kept hearing, the unrecognizable voices that spoke to me, the man in the glasses. It all seemed so disconnected and yet it was as though my body, my mind was trying so desperately to tell me something in a language I didn’t understand. I figured that this was one of those things Anna and Natasha would berate me for keeping to myself but sharing it with anyone seemed unthinkable until I’d somewhat figured out their cause.

In the morning, sunlight filtered into the room through the little crevice where the curtains didn’t quite cover the window, prompting me to turn away. I reached my arm out to feel the cold empty spot that had once been occupied. When my eyes opened, I found myself in the same hotel room as last night, only there was no Pietro. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before pushing myself up out of the warm bed. I collected my now dry clothes from the backs of the chairs and dressed before approaching the front door. A glance outside solved the missing Pietro issue as I watched him get out of the car that had been stuck in the snow now, coffee in hand. I narrowed my eyes at him as he approached, smiling at me when our eyes met.

“For you.” He spoke, offering the cup to me. My eyes travelled between it and the car.

“How?”

He gestured for me to take the coffee. A sip of the beverage warmed me from the inside out, or maybe that was just the way he was looking at me. “I have my ways.” He murmured.

…

“I bought you something.” Pietro held out something brown and plastic that was mostly covered by his hands.

Upon closer inspection I quickly realized what it was, the corner of my mouth tugging upward slightly. I looked from the chocolate custard to him, questioningly. “How did you know I like these.”

“I saw Anna bring them for you when you were hurt after Sokovia, and again after Amsterdam.” I smiled down at the sealed snack, my face flushing slightly. “I figured it could be dessert.”

“Dessert?”

He took a step closer to me, lifting my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m cooking for us tonight.”

“Good luck keeping it just us.” I laughed. The corner of his lips upturned as he began collecting the ingredients from the fridge. I raised an eyebrow at him. “You did not tell them, did you?” He shrugged. “They are never going to let us live this down, you know that right?” As much as I tried to find it in me to scowl, a smile managed to break through. I wandered aimlessly behind him, attempting to find a way to help him, eventually picking up some of the vegetables he had out to begin washing them.

“Hey, none of that! I told you; I’m cooking for you.”

“But it will be quicker if I help.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m not going to change my mind, sit down and let me do this for you.”

“I don’t need you to do it for me.”  Before I could protest any further the tools were taken from me and my feet were off of the ground as Pietro slipped me onto the countertop, planting a firm kiss on my head.

“All you need to do is sit there and look pretty.” He spoke, causing me to roll my eyes at him. “You’re a natural already.” His words were as they often were, a little teasing and brimming with sweetness.

Soft music began filling the room then, courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y. I’d guess. Pietro hummed along to it, dancing his way back over to the stove and adding an array of items to a hot pan. I watched his every move, studying as I often did. His hair fell over his forehead as he looked down, a little messy as always but I thought he looked best like this, natural, unpolished. The muscles in his for arms tensed slightly as he chopped the beef. I had no idea what he was making but it wasn’t long before a mouth-watering smell filled the kitchen. He sent me numerous sidelong smiles, eventually bringing me a glass of white wine and pressing kiss to my lips.

“Did your mother teach you to make this too?” His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable as they fell on me then. “You told me she taught you to make goulash, did she teach you to make this too?”

He smiled, gaze lingering on me for a long moment before it returned to the pan before him. “She taught me to make a lot of things, but not this. I’ve actually never made this before.” The first hint of nervousness was evident in his voice then. I strained to try and see what was in the pan, onions and beef, I couldn’t make out the rest.

“What is it.” He moved to stand between my legs, prompting me to widen them to accommodate him. One of his hands sat on my hip, the other resting on the counter beside me.

“You’ll see.”

I attempted to bite back my smile, raising my eyebrows at him. “How very mysterious of you.” When we kissed then it was searing, branding me in every way. I ran my fingers through his soft hair, committing the way his lips felt to my memory. He was leaving tomorrow he and Sam were heading somewhere in South America for a search and rescue mission. I was blurry on the details, too focused on the prospect of Pietro being in harms way. Of course, I’d never voice those concerns to anyone, but they’d been rampant on my mind since the moment he told me he was going. It wasn’t as though he’d never been in danger on a mission before, the difference was I’d always been there to make sure he got back in one piece. I’d never worked with Same before, come to think of it, I barely ever really knew him outside of the fact that cap trusts him. Even though I reminded myself that I trusted Steve’s judgement wholeheartedly, my skin still crawled. “Do you trust Sam?”

“Really? You’re thinking about another man while I’m kissing you?” I ignored his taunt. Chewing the inside of my cheek as I thought about every interaction I’d had with the man. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He played with a strand of my hair, twirling it and eventually tucking it behind my ear. “I really, really like that you do, but everything is going to be fine.”

“So, you trust him?”

“I trust you.” Our eyes met again. “And I know that, normally, when you aren’t overthinking, you trust Sam.” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, and he brought his other hand up to rub along my forearm that rested on his shoulder. “I’m a big boy, I can look after myself. Although, it is very hot when you get all protective.”

I rolled my eyes at him, snorting at his antics. His attention was soon drawn back to the meal he was preparing when the pot of water began boiling.

Before me Pietro placed a plate of pasta with a rich creamy sauce over it. I inspected my plate carefully, leaning in to take a whiff of the beefy smell. “What is it?” I asked, swirling my fork through the dish.

“Beef stroganoff.”

I paused momentarily, a smile tugging at my lips. “Where are the potatoes?” I teased, glancing back down at the plate.

Pietro smiled sheepishly at me. “Well, I wanted to make you something Russian, but I read that pasta is a romantic food.”

“You read that? Where?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before looking back down at his own place, a pink tinge taking over his cheeks as he muttered something almost incoherent. Almost. “I googled it.”

“You googled romantic foods?”

He nodded slowly, still looking down at his plate, his cheeks reddening even more. A warm feeling filled the pit of my stomach as I watched him. I slid my hand across the table placing it over the top of his and using my thumb to rub back and forth. Then, I picked up my fork once more and dug in, finishing every bit of the meal he’d made me, only stopping when the plate was clear, and Pietro was no longer embarrassed.

…

I found myself unable to sleep that night, even as I lay there full and content, my mind refused to shut off. One would think with the amount I’d tossed and turned my body would have worn itself out, yet still, as darkness blanketed the compound and F.R.I.D.A.Y. fed quiet city sounds into my room, I laid wide awake.

Moonlight filtered in through the windows that lined the corridor as I snuck quietly through the compound, bathing my flesh in smooth silver light. I hesitated as my hand hovered over the door, feeling slightly foolish. The thought occurred to me that knocking might wake someone else up, inevitably leading to teasing that I’d rather not contend with. I lowered my hand slightly, considering simply returning to my room and forcing myself to sleep, yet just as my hand was about to drop to my side the door swung open, and a mess of silver hair was revealed to me. Pietro rubbed at his eyes for a second as if attempting to decipher if he was dreaming, he looked warm in his long cotton pajama pants and dark blue t-shirt. He was warm, I realized as took a hold of my hand, tugging me over the threshold and into his arms. We laid together, neither of us uttering a single word, Pietro’s arms wrapped around me, enveloping me in him. And there, with only the sound of his steady breath beside my ear, I fell asleep.

#pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #aaron taylor johnson #pietro maximoff fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson smut #pietro maximoff smut #marvel avengers #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj smut #avengers fanfiction #avengers smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader

[pttwice]

little!jeongyeon being all excited and happy because the unnies gave her a new dino and pooh stuffie please!

hi anon! i swear yall know the way to my heart & you're living in my brain at this point

stuffies

|| little!jeongyeon, cg!twice ||

As one of the members who regresses the least, it was a big day for Jeongyeon. All she wanted to do was be with her unnies to color and watch TV and cuddle. Jeongyeon woke up smaller than she usually would have liked, but it was okay. Her unnies would take good care of her.

When she looked around the whole dorm finding no one though, she broke down. She wasn't sure how to get a hold of her unnies so she spent the first hour she was awake crying and searching the dorm over and over again.

After an hour of crying, Jeongyeon finally ran out of tears. She sat on the couch very hungry and very lonely as she stared at the front door, willing someone to walk in and pay attention to her.

Jeongyeon stared at the door for a while, only small sniffles heard throughout the dorm every few minutes. When she was finally about to fall asleep from how much crying she'd done earlier, she heard the tell-tale beep of the keypad.

Jumping up from the couch, Jeongyeon rushed to the door. As the door slowly opened to reveal Mina in her practice clothes, Jeongyeon didn't hesitate to throw her arms around the girl. Mina jumped a little but wrapped her arms around Jeongyeon's waist.

"Woke up 'nd everyone was gone." Jeongyeon managed to choke out. A few big tears ran down her cheeks when she pulled away from Mina.

"I'm sorry, Jeongie. We had to get to early schedules, but I promise that everyone will be back soon. Do you want me to make you something to eat?" Mina kissed Jeongyeon's forehead and smiled when the little vigorously shook her head.

Jeongyeon held her arms up for Mina to carry her, but her unnie quickly apologized. "I'm not strong enough to pick you up, peanut, but if you want you can sit on my lap while you eat breakfast."

She really wanted to be held, but if all Mina could offer was her lap to sit on, then Jeongyeon was okay with that for now. She walked into the kitchen behind Mina, holding onto the sleeve of her shirt the entire time Mina made her breakfast.

Mina set down a plate of waffles, blueberries, and a little cup of yogurt at the table. She sat down and pulled Jeongyeon into her lap, the little happily eating her food.

While Jeongyeon ate and babbled away about the dream she had last night, Mina texted the rest of the girls. She let them know that Jeongyeon was regressed and she seemed pretty upset that she was all alone when she woke up.

//

By the time the rest of the girls came home from their schedules, Jeongyeon and Mina were finishing a late lunch. They had colored for a little while and gimbap. Jeongyeon was helping Mina dry the dishes when she heard the keypad beep again. The rest of the unnies were finally home!

"Hyo!" Jeongyeon set the drying towel down beside the sink and ran to Jihyo, tackling her to the couch. Jihyo let out a small laugh and wrapped her arms around the little.

"Hey there, peanut. We're sorry we left you this morning. We didn't even think about you being little. How are you feeling now?" Jihyo carefully pulled herself out of Jeongyeon's tight embrace and sat the little beside her.

Jeongyeon held Jihyo's hand and laid her head down on her unnie's chest. " 'm feelin' better. Ate 'nd colored wif Mina." Jeongyeon smiled and pointed down to the coloring book and stray crayons in front of the TV.

"Jeongie!" Sana sat down on the couch beside the little and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. The rest of the girls shuffled in and took their spots on the couch and the floor, just showering the little in love.

"We missed you, Jeongie."

"Do you want to cuddle?"

"Want unnie to help you color?"

She was a little overwhelmed with all the questions, but it was easily overtaken by a warm fuzzy feeling in her tummy. She was so happy that her unnies were back and she could spend the rest of the day with them.

"Since you were so brave for us, do you want to open a present?" Nayeon looked up at the little from her spot on the floor, chuckling when Jeongyeon excitedly yelled a 'yes'.

Chaeyoung and Dahyun got up from the couch and walked over to the front door. They picked up two bags and handed them both to the little. "Here you go, Jeongie. They're from all your unnies."

"I wonder what's inside." Momo said, a small smile on her lips.

Jeongyeon looked up at her unnies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she opened the first bag up. Her eyes went wide as she pulled out a brand new triceratops stuffy.

"'ceratops!" Jeongyeon giggled and hugged the dinosaur stuffy close to her chest, taking her time to thank each one of her unnies. She almost forgot about the other bag she was so excited with her dinosaur.

"There's still one more present left, Jeongie." Tzuyu sat the second bag down on Jeongyeon's lap and held onto her dinosaur stuffy while the little opened the second bag.

"Pooh!" Jeongyeon yelled out as soon as she saw inside the bag. She pulled the stuffy out and excitedly held him up. She took her triceratops from Tzuyu and hugged them both, quickly forgetting about how upset she was earlier.

The rest of the day was perfect for Jeongyeon. She usually didn't like having all the attention on her, but today she needed it. All she wanted was a day full of hugs, cuddles, and kisses for her and her new stuffies.

#twice agere #twice fanfic #twice fic #little!jeongyeon #caregiver!sana #sfw #sfw interaction only #sfw agere

[quill-pen]

Like George

Finally got this done! Now can focus on other things that need to be done. Thanks again to @rom-e-o for the inspiration.

I way overwrote on this. I need help.

Pairings: Assorted

Rating: Rated T--minors welcome

Warnings: Feelings of all kinds and sorts, the Asshat is here--he's disgusting and terrifying, depression, lack of self-confidence and self-esteem issues, sappiness and tooth-decaying sweetness at the end, some innuendo

Summary: A comparison of the significant men in Bess' life to the first man who ever held her heart, as well as her life around them all.

Theme: Assorted

Rural Ohio--Cincinnati 10 miles--August 1829;

"Figured I'd find you here."

Bess Sullivan looked down from her spot in her favorite tree to see her stepfather standing below her. The tall, bearded, curly brown-haired man smiled warmly up at her, his hands perched on his hips. Sniffling, the nine-year-old wiped her arm across her sodden cheeks and under her drippy nose. Her midnight-blue eyes still swam with tears. "H-Hi, George," she stammered, trying to steady her voice.

George's smile fell, concern flooding into his soft brown eyes. "Hey, I don't like that shaky voice--you sound like you've been cryin'," he remarked gently. The carpenter stepped closer to the trunk and craned his neck to try and get a better look at the girl. "What's wrong, Mudpuppy?" he asked, voice so full of softness and warmth.

His tone and the usage of her pet name set the child to sobbing all over again. Plunging her face into her skirt, Bess pulled her knees closer to her chest and wailed. She cried so loud and hard that she began hyperventilating.

That alarmed the man. "Whoa! Hey! Not good!" Without hesitation, the man grabbed a large knot in the tree's trunk, placed his foot on another, and began to haul himself up the tree. In seconds he was pulling himself up to sit on the branch that jutted out directly in front of his step-daughter. Throwing a leg over to straddle the limb, he scooted as close as he could to the girl and reached out for her. "Bess. Bessie, Sweetheart, look at me." He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them to get her attention. "Look at me, Little Darlin'." When the girl dared to peek up at him, he smiled encouragingly and nodded. "That's right, Mudpuppy." He cupped her cheek with a large, warm, weathered hand, stroking her tears away. "Look at me. And breathe--in-" he breathed deeply with her, "- and out." He exhaled with her. "In. Out. Slow, big breaths. That's my girl." George reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and brought it to Bess' face. He gently began to dry her off.

It was a few minutes before Bess had regained control of herself. Her puffy eyes were still watery, her lashes wet and heavy, her cheeks were hot with tear stains, and her nose hadn't stopped running yet, but she wasn't sobbing anymore, and she was mostly dried off. For the moment anyway.

"There now," George crooned. He shifted around on the branch to get more comfortable as he settled in for a conversation. "That's better, yeah? Think you can talk now? 'Cuz I'd like to know why you're up here cryin' like the sky's gonna come fallin' down."

The thing was, that was exactly how Bess was feeling at the moment: The sky was going to fall down--or at least her sky was. Hanging her head, the nine-year-old started to study the calico pattern of her skirt. "Did you talk to Mama?" she muttered hoarsely.

"Yep. That's why I came lookin' for ya. She said you two had an argument and you went runnin' off."

"Did she tell you exactly why I ran off?"

"Not in so many words." George's voice became very soft as he went on: "She said she told you about the baby."

Bess said nothing, just peeked up from beneath her brows at her stepfather.

The man looked genuinely sorry. "I wish she'd waited," he stated quietly, shaking his head. "I told her I wanted to be there when we told you, Mudpuppy." He smiled sympathetically at her. "To make it easier."

Bess sniffed and turned her gaze down again. "Yeah, well, she didn't," she grumbled. "That's Mama for you." Hugging her thighs, Bess drew her legs close again.

Silence fell over the tree. Wild birds' songs filled the emptiness.

"I know..." George broke the silence after a long while,"... it's gonna be a change, Bess--goin' from bein' an only child to bein' a big sister-"

"Does this mean you won't love me anymore?"

The question hit George like a battering ram, knocking all words and ability to speak right out of his head. He couldn't help but stare at the girl, who in turn stared almost desperately up at him as she waited for an answer. Finally George found his voice. "What?" he croaked in disbelief. "I... Bess, why would you ask that?"

Tears were welling in the girl's eyes, threatening to spill over again. "Mama said..." she quivered, "... th-that... now that you're having your own kids... y-you might not spend... s-so much time w-with me. Sh-She says... you might j-just want... yo-your own kid a-and n-not me." A tear trickled past Bess' lashes, and then another, glistening like diamonds as they descended down her freckled cheeks. "A-Are... are you not gonna be my daddy anymore, George?"

"What? No!" George was incredulous, his heart breaking at the little girl's tears and palpable fear. Instinctively, the big man sat up and grabbed up the child, pulling her into his strong arms as he scooted in to take Bess' seat in the junction of the tree. He held his stepdaughter tight to his barrel of a chest, curling around her to envelop her with a physical representation of his love. "Of course, I'm gonna be your daddy, Bess," he murmured, cradling the back of her head in his large palm as she buried her face in his chest. "I'm always gonna be your daddy--nothin's ever gonna change that, not even a baby. Not even a hundred babies."

"Not even your own baby?" Bess squeaked, her voice muffled against his shirt. She hugged her stepfather with all her nine-year-old might, never wanting to let him go and never wanting him to let her go. She felt so protected in his arms--so safe; like no one and nothing would ever be able to touch her while she was being held by George. She didn't want that to go away, ever.

"You are my baby, Bessie."

"I'm not your blood though."

"Don't matter--you're as much my baby as any child your mama and I have together, and I'll always love you just as much." George kissed her forehead, nuzzling into her hair after. "You're my little Mudpuppy," he murmured. "I picked you when I picked your mama--fell in love with you as much as I fell in love with her. I adopted you, gave you my name: You're mine, Bess. Blood or not, you're my little girl and I couldn't be happier or prouder of that. You're my Mudpuppy, and I will always love you."

Bess' chin trembled, the man's words hugging her aching heart just as warmly and tightly as his arms hugged the rest of her. But her mother's words still haunted her. "B-But Mama said-"

"Shh, I know what your mama said," George stopped her, stroking her back soothingly. "She and I are gonna have a long talk about what she said when we get home. I want you to forget about what she said, Bess--all of it. Don't pay it any mind; your mama's wrong. I love her with all my heart, but your mama is wrong, Mudpuppy; and she never shoulda said somethin' like that to you."

Bess sniffled and let go of her stepfather, gently pushing away from him enough to meet his eyes. She loved his eyes--always had. Always so warm and gentle, even now in her heartache and fear, those deep brown irises made her feel so calm, so loved, so wanted. She felt like she was something special, in George's eyes; like she mattered. And when George looked at her like he was now, with nothing but softness, love, and compassion in his gaze, she felt like the very center of the world. It warmed her to the very core of her soul.

"So you're still gonna love me?" she whispered, drying her eyes on her sleeve again. "Even with you and Mama having a baby?"

Chuckling with a gentle smile, George cupped the girl's face in his palm again. "Yes, Mudpuppy," he cooed. "I'm still gonna love ya. Always and forever."

"And you're still gonna be my daddy?"

"Yep."

"And you're still gonna have time for me?"

"Yep. Maybe not quite as much as I do now 'cause the baby's gonna need me to be their daddy too, ya know, but I'll always make time for you, Bess."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Cross your heart?"

George did just that as he held his right hand to God. "And hope to die."

At that, a small hint of a smile finally quivered its way onto Bess' lips. She wrapped her arms around the man's neck again and cuddled close; a relieved sigh left her as her stepfather wrapped his arms tight around her again and she closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart in her ear. It was steady, strong, unwavering, and full of love. Love never withheld from her, no matter how sick or tired or hurt or angry he was, not even when she was in trouble; love that she never had to work to earn but was freely given without strings attached. Pure love. Pure love for her--that made her feel warm and cozy from head to toe.

"Hey," George quietly murmured after a moment, "remember what I told you, Mudpuppy? When I adopted you?"

Not opening her eyes, Bess nodded against his chest. "Uh-huh. You told me with you I'd always be safe, I'd always be wanted, and I'd always be loved."

"Yep. And I want you to remember that always, okay? No matter what happens or what anyone--even your mama--says, so long as I'm alive, I will always protect you and keep you safe; I will always want you as my little girl; and I will always love you with my whole heart. Ya hear me?"

"I hear you."

"And if you ever feel like you don't feel that way, or maybe I'm not givin' you enough, you tell me, okay?

"Okay, George."

"Never settle for anythin' less, Elizabeth. I don't ever want you to settle for less than you deserve, with anyone or anythin', includin' me."

"I won't, George. I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet girl."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Cincinnati, Ohio--May 1840;

"Where would you like to go?" The question sounded more like it was being asked out of polite obligation as opposed to a genuine interest in what she wanted.

Bess looked up at Oliver Sprague as they walked side-by-side down the bustling Cincinnati street. They'd been going steady for two years, and the young man still wouldn't hold her hand or offer her his arm in public. Bess was rather low maintenance when it came to romance and relationships (much too low maintenance in some of her loved one's eyes), but even she couldn't help but feel a little put out as they walked by other couples, all of whom were hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm at the very least. Briefly, at the start of their walk, the young woman had considered just snatching up his hand on her own and holding it until he pulled away. She could have easily done it; his hand had hung unguarded at his side, so close to hers. Oliver was decent and would have indulged her if she had, she was sure. But almost as if he had felt her eyeing his hand and read her thoughts, her beau had pulled his hand up to his chest to scratch it before casually slipping it into his pocket, all the while keeping his elbow tucked into his side. So much for that idea.

Bess' mouth twitched and twisted in quiet annoyance as she counted yet another obviously happy couple pass by. They were so close as they were arm-in-arm, they could have been conjoined at the side. Bess quietly huffed, once again letting her gaze fall to her own young man's arm. She knew Oliver was reserved with his emotions--she'd always known that since they were children--everyone who knew him did--and, truly, she didn't need public displays of affection (though they would undoubtedly be nice); but it was their anniversary. Could he not, just for one night, maybe, possibly be sweet enough in public with her to offer her his arm? She knew he was capable--he hugged and kissed his mother and granny in public, for crying out loud! They were sweethearts--he'd chosen her: Was she still not special enough?

Stop griping! that caustic voice at the back of her mind that sounded too much like her mother chastised her. You're lucky a boy like him even looks your way without being disgusted, with your history. You're incredibly lucky to have him. Take what you can get and soldier on!

And so, Bess, once again, pushed her disappointments and misgivings deep down inside her. But as she did so, she felt a smaller, more quiet, and gentle voice in her heart, one that sounded like George: Never settle for less than you deserve. However, as always whenever Bess thought to consider that advice, her mother's voice came back to remind her that she was damaged goods; and this third-rate, tepid romance (could you call it "romance" when the first kiss didn't even bring a single small butterfly to your stomach?) was what damaged goods deserved.

"Oh, I don't know," Bess finally answered his question. She fiddled her lonely hands together in her skirt, wondering if maybe she could trick herself into thinking Oliver really was holding her hand. His hands weren't that much bigger than hers, honestly. "I wish you'd told me we were going out tonight sooner. I could have made reservations somewhere." She tried not to sound annoyed or passive-aggressive, even though she was. Just a bit. Oliver wasn't one for celebrations, so she hadn't even considered booking something somewhere; she'd simply expected to spend this anniversary as they had their first; Oliver coming over for a quiet supper and then attempting to play dominoes only to give up halfway through as Oliver started preaching about the new strides being made in the field of photographing and how he was sure there was a way that, not just objects, but colors could somehow be captured in photographs. (Colored photographs--that was a thought to make one laugh.) So, needless to say, when she'd received the letter from Oliver in the noon post stating that they were going out for the evening, Bess had been surprised. And admittedly pleased. Until she'd learned when Oliver had shown up at her door that, no, he hadn't made plans to go anywhere, they were just going out. Talk about all dressed up with no place to go.

Oliver shrugged, completely unconcerned. "I didn't think about going out until this morning when Albert asked me what we were doing tonight." The red-headed boy chuckled. "You know, he had to remind me that this was our anniversary. Can you believe that?"

"That you forgot or that he remembered?" Bess grumbled under her breath, eyes trained on the cobbles at her feet. "Because I can certainly believe both." Honestly, at this point, Albert was more of an attentive beau to her than Oliver was, what with remembering all the important dates. Bess was sure Albert had bought her birthday gifts the past two years, too. And Christmas gifts. And picked her Valentine's cards. He'd probably written them, too--the handwriting hadn't looked exactly like Oliver's, neither had the words sounded like him. Honestly, Bess should have been out with Albert right now, and perhaps she would have been had it not been for the fact that she was not his... type of person. Shame, as he was heartbreakingly handsome.

An idea came to Bess. "Why don't we take a hansom cab to the park and go for a walk?" she suggested, looking hopefully bright up at her beau. "There won't be many people there, so it'll be quiet. Not to mention--dare I say--romantic." She bit her bottom lip and wiggled her brows playfully at Oliver, nudging him with her shoulder.

Oliver did not look at her, but instead seemed to be mulling the idea over. Much more carefully than he should have needed to. "Hmm, yeah, I don't know, Specks," he said uncertainly. "I'm kinda hungry--there's nowhere to eat near there."

"Oh, well, we can stop in a pub and eat first then, yeah? Then we can go to the park and walk it off after. What'd'ya say?"

Again, the boy took much longer to think about it than he should have. She wasn't asking him to take her to New York City, for God's sake! Bess held her tongue: She didn't want to argue with him tonight--not on their anniversary.

"Eh... yeah, that sounds fine, I guess," Oliver agreed after long deliberation. Then he perked up as he looked at her for the first time since they'd left her apartment. "Mack's?"

Bess couldn't help how her face scrunched up at the suggestion. "Oh, no, please, Ollie--we go there all the time. Can we try something different? Please? I'll pay if you like." She didn't need to pay; she knew Oliver had money and he wasn't short on it either--his job as a daguerreotypist paid well. But she also knew she needed to sweeten the deal to get him to even consider breaking habit.

It didn't work. "Aw, come on, Specks, you love Mack's and you know it. Besides, it's only fitting, right? We had our first date there." He wasn't completely wrong, though Bess did not love Mack's, she was just used to it; and his bringing up something as sentimental as their first date on their anniversary was actually surprisingly touching. And not at all like him to think of on his own. "Did Albert tell you to mention that?" she couldn't help but ask, giving the boy a deadpan look.

Not picking up on her unamusement, Oliver simply nodded with a slight grin. "Isn't he great? Best roommate ever."

Bess rolled her midnight-blue eyes. "Yep, he certainly is," she muttered. Then she sighed. "Fine. Mack's is fine. Let's just go. I'm feeling hungry too." Not that there was much of anything edible that came out of the pub's kitchen; Bess just had no energy to try harder to change Oliver's mind.

So they arrived at Mack's and took their usual table in the back corner. Oliver greeted the usual pub-goers, Bess tried her best to ignore the usual skeevy heels that eyed her and not let them make her skin crawl. The usual barmaid, Abigail McLintock, a girl Bess' age that they'd both gone to school with, came over to take their orders and, as usual, she flirted with Oliver. As usual, Oliver flirted back and ordered his regular meal. The tradition broke slightly as Oliver ordered for Bess rather than letting her order for herself, but the variation stopped there as he ordered her regular meal as well (shepherd's pie--it was the only appetizing thing in this place).

Abigail took their orders to the kitchen and again, as usual, Bess told her young man off for flirting with Abigail. Like always, Oliver brushed it off with the assurance that it didn't mean anything, that she was just a friend, and he only did it to ensure that they got the best service. Again, Bess didn't quite believe him, but she let it go. She always let it go. Why did she do that? Oliver was her beau and, while she'd never claim to be passionately in love with him, it did twinge whenever he flirted with and looked at other girls. Particularly Abigail, who had always been one of the worst bullies to Bess in school. Bess didn't usually have a problem voicing her opinions and feelings, except when it came to things like this; then she clammed up like... well, a clam. But why? Why did she do that? It wasn't like she would be being demanding or controlling; she wouldn't be insisting he couldn't interact with other women besides her. She would just be telling him she didn't like it when he flirted with other women and asking him not to do it out of respect for their relationship and her. But she couldn't bring herself to do that--why?!

Again, Bess heard the warring voices of George and her mother in her mind and heart.

It was while they sipped their drinks and waited for their food that, again, the routine changed. Bess was staring at the fly in her beer, wondering if it had just dived in there or if it had been there under the head the whole time, when Oliver cleared his throat. "Bess?" he asked.

The girl looked up to see him looking at her in a... different way. He didn't really appear nervous, but he certainly didn't seem as calm and relaxed as he usually was. It was almost like he was... uncomfortable Like he wasn't sure he should do something. Or like he wasn't sure he wanted to do something. "Yes?" Bess prompted him when he didn't continue.

"I've--um... I've got something for you."

Bess raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of that. She was still bemused by his expression. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Uh..." He dug into first one pant pocket, then the other before pulling his hand out. He stretched his arm across the table to her side and opened up his fist. Something fell to the tabletop with a metallic sound. "Here."

Bess looked from Oliver's face down to whatever he'd rather unceremoniously dropped on the table. She did a double-take, her eyes widening. "Oliver, is that a-"

"Ring? Yeah."

Bess picked the ring up. It looked like it had come from Atlantis, with the shoulders and the setting having been crafted to look like seashells. Small red garnets were set as the side stones and two larger, tear-drop, purplish-red garnets had been used as the center stones and positioned point to point so they made an eight. It looked older, so it wasn't polished up to look shiny and flashy, but it did look opulent, and it was big--big enough to draw attention--and it most definitely wasn't in Bess' taste. Oliver should have known that: Her fondness for simplicity and understatedness was one of the things he liked about her. (So he claimed.)

The longer she studied the ring, the more Bess tried to decipher why it was so familiar looking. When it hit her, her stomach plummeted. Oh, God, please no! "O-Ollie..." she gulped, feeling all the blood drain from her face, "... is... is this...?"

"Gran's engagement ring? Yeah." He said it so simply; as if he'd dropped his grandmother's laundry on the table and not a family heirloom that had been passed down through the generations from woman to woman.

Bess felt like she could be sick for a completely different reason than the fly in her beer. Her hands began shaking. Slowly, respectfully, she set the ring back down and pulled her hands in her lap, folding them together tightly to try and stop the tremors. She continued to stare at the ring, unable to look up and meet Oliver's gaze. The girl cleared her throat. "Why... are you giving me your grandmother's ring, Oliver?" she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice even.

"I think you know why."

"Probably. But I want you to say it anyway."

"Okay, fair enough. I think we should get married."

That finally caused Bess to look up at the boy again. He just sat there, looking at her, not completely emotionlessly as he still looked a little uncomfortable and uncertain about this, but he certainly didn't look nervous. Nor did he look at all happy. He didn't look like anything one might expect a young man asking his sweetheart of two years to marry him might look like. And Bess was certain she didn't feel anything like what a girl in that situation would be expected to feel like either.

"Why?" The word fell from her mouth like a lead ball. It almost surprised her, as she knew that wasn't typically something a person being proposed to said. Was this a proposal? Yes, it had to be; there was a ring, Oliver had said they should get married--what the hell else could it have possibly been? Yes, for all intents and purposes, this was a proposal. So why did it feel more like an... obligation?

Apparently, the question had taken Oliver by surprise too, as he started to fumble around for something to say. "Uh... well... we've been going together for two years, right?" he reasoned. "Don't people just normally get married after they've been doing that?"

Bess felt a pain stab through her chest. "Um... y-yeah, I suppose."

"And, besides, you know Ma really likes you."

"Your mother has called me a "lobsterback brat" for as long as I can remember, Oliver Howard," Bess countered flatly. "And that's the nicest thing she's ever called me."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on, Bess. You know she says everything out of affection."

"Oh? I was supposed to take "trollop" as a loving pet name?"

"Come on--I told her off for that."

"Yes. And I'm grateful to you for that, truly. But it doesn't change the fact that your mother is going to throw an absolute fit and scream about how I'll marry you over her cold, dead body and that I'm not good enough for you."

"Since when have you cared what people say about you?" No declarations that he didn't care what his mother might say. No reassurances that, whatever his mother or anyone said, she was good enough. No promises to defend and support her against whatever wrath might be directed her way as a result of their union. Merely a somewhat accusatory question that made her feel guilty for what she'd said.

"We're not just talking about just any people here, Ollie, we're talking about my future mother-in-law."

Oliver's mouth curled into that little, sly smirk that drove her up the wall in the worst possible way at that. "'Future mother-in-law', huh?" he repeated.

Bess knew what he was implying and frowned. "Don't take that as an answer--I haven't decided anything yet."

The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "What's there to decide, Specks? We've been steady for two years. We spend the weekends with your family or my family. We have supper at each other's places and go out for breakfast together. You make and pack my lunches for me. We're practically married already: We just need the legal stuff."

"Please don't be so flippant about this, Oliver: We're talking about marriage--you know how serious this is for me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know: Don't wanna end up like your mother."

"Don't say it like that--it's important to me, Oliver! Mama's first marriage practically ruined her until she met George, and it permanently soured her on me, even now that she's happy. I refuse to end up like her and I won't risk the chance that I do."

Oliver gave her an unconcerned look. "It's not like you have to worry about being a bad ma though, right?"

Bess felt like a prize purse-winning boxer had just socked her square in the gut. Her blood boiled; her eyes stung with the threat of tears. Did Oliver ever think about things before he said them? Did he ever consider the tone in which he said them, how cold and heartless he could sound? Did the thought that maybe this was something he should steer clear of ever cross his mind? "Wow," she croaked, trying her hardest to keep her temper under control. "Thanks for that. It's such a comfort to be reminded of the fact that I can't have children."

"Oh, don't be like that," Oliver grumbled, sounding the slightest bit annoyed. "You know I didn't mean anything nasty by it."

"Then do me the favor, Oliver, and just never mention it at all, yeah?"

Oliver held his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, yeah. Okay. Fine. Won't mention it at all."

Abigail was returning with their food at this point. She set their respective dishes down and the couple lapsed into silence for a long while as they ate, not so much as looking in the other's direction. There was an undeniable tension in the air over their table: You could have cut it with Mack's blunted knives.

Bess was about halfway through her shepherd's pie when her beau spoke again.

"So, what'd'ya think, Specks?"

Bess finally looked up to see Oliver looking at her again, still not appearing to be what one would consider happy over the situation. He did look more resigned, however; as if he'd finally managed to put to rest whatever doubts had made him initially uneasy.

With a shrug, as he noisily chewed on a fatty bit of his over-cooked pot roast, Oliver asked: "Ya wanna be Mrs. Oliver Sprague?"

Mrs. Oliver Sprague. A shiver ran through the young woman at the very thought, but not in a good way. And it made her feel horrible because it should have been in a good way. She should have been giddy, nauseous with butterflies, perhaps shedding tears of joy because the man she loved wanted to be with her forever. Instead, she felt dread and just plain sick. And for no good reason: Oliver was a decent fellow in both temperament and looks and had a job many people would have killed for if they realized how well it paid. And, above all else, he treated her like a person instead of some diseased vermin unfit to be around. Not the most romantic and passionate testimony one could make of their sweetheart, perhaps; but romance and passion weren't in the cards for her.

Again, Bess could hear the voice telling her she was lucky to have what she did--that she would be a fool to let it go: Your past, your looks, your attitude--you'll have a hard enough time finding any decent man to put up with your harsh edges, let alone a perfect one. Take it or leave it.

Again, Oliver was certainly decent. Mostly. He certainly never raised a hand or even his voice to her, and he never threatened her or tried to manipulate her into a compromising situation: She felt safe with him. Like George. Sort of--it wasn't quite the same kind of warm, fuzzy, homey feeling that came along with George's security; nor did it have the sense that he would do anything to protect her. Still, overall, she did feel safe and protected with Oliver, and that was important to her.

There are other important things to consider too, Mudpuppy, she felt George's voice in her heart again.

"Why do you want to marry me?" Bess asked by way of answer. She was almost afraid to hear his reasonings--her insides were already bracing for the blunt impact--but she had to hear them anyway.

Oliver looked at her as though she'd spoken French. His jaw ceased its grinding on the leathery beef in his mouth as he stared at her, completely taken off-guard. "What?" he mumbled around meat, potatoes, cabbage, onions, and carrots.

"Why do you want to marry me, Oliver?" she repeated calmly.

For a long moment, her young man was quiet as he tried to process that question and figure out how to answer it. Finally, he answered uncertainly: "Well... we've been going together for two years-"

Bess cut him off in some annoyance: "Yes, we've been steady for two years, and the family weekends, and I make supper, and we go to breakfast, and your lunches--I know--we've established all that. I want to know your feelings, Oliver. And I know how uncomfortable a topic that is for you, and I'm sorry, but I have to know before I decide anything: Why do you feel you want to marry me?" She repeated the question again, slowly, emphatically, looking her beau right in the eye as she said it.

Again, Oliver was clearly struggling with something to say. "Um... I... like you."

Bess felt her heart twist. "Like" not "love"; but Oliver was bad at communicating things like this, she reminded herself. "You like me. What does that mean, exactly?"

Oliver cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head and neck awkwardly. "Uh... w-well... I... I like when you cook and bake for me; everything you make tastes real good--even better than Ma's. And... I like that you can stitch up my clothes to make 'em look practically new. And I like how you don't hassle me like other girls to take you out on big, fancy dates all the time or demand I buy you expensive stuff."

The girl felt her insides completely drop into the abyss to leave her a cold, empty shell. None of those things had been about her as a person. They hadn't even been about her physical attributes, which was somehow both refreshing and vexing at the same time. And while it was nice to be appreciated for and complimented on one's skills, that wasn't exactly what one wanted for an answer as to why their sweetheart wanted to marry them. And it certainly didn't make one feel very loved. Valued, perhaps, but not loved.

Oliver sighed heavily, looking like that little confession had taken everything out of him. "Look, Bess," he said quietly, smiling a bit at her in a way that Bess couldn't help but feel a bit patronized, "I just... I think you'd make a good wife, and I know you've always wanted to be married, and we know each other and get on real well as a couple, I think, and I want to get married to a good wife. So... doesn't it just... makes sense that we tie the knot? Isn't it logical?"

"Logical": he was using logic to justify their being married. Of course, logic and sense had to play into something like this a bit; one didn't go around getting married willy-nilly--that would be idiotic. But to have that be the only thing considered felt wrong. And depressing. Bess felt like a spare princess being betrothed and married off to some foreign dignitary for the sake of political power and nothing more.

"Ollie," she began, leaning forward to look as closely into her beau's gray eyes as she could, "do you really want this?" She swallowed hard, thinking about how Oliver had started this conversation looking uncertain like he hadn't been exactly sure that he wanted to do this. Surely he had to have some misgivings about this idea. "Do you... do you really want me?" She thought about all the women Oliver had flirted with in the past while he had never flirted with her. Not once--before courting or during. Yes, he walked out with her, he called her his 'sweetheart', he hugged her on occasion, kissed her sometimes--all things he didn't do with other women. But he didn't ever play with her, or try to make her blush and laugh like he did with other women he called "friends". He didn't wink, didn't try to cop a feel (not that she wanted that... exactly), didn't try to tickle her--he did nothing with her that he did with his female "friends" and she was courting him. He didn't even call her by the same cute, endearing nicknames he did them: She was either 'Bess' or 'Specks', and 'Specks' had originally started out as something to make her cry when they were small children. Even as the one girl he'd asked to go steady with, the one girl to be chosen out of all the girls he could have picked, Bess had never felt wanted by him. Not as a friend. Not as a potential wife. Certainly not as a lover.

She should have taken George's advice back then; to ask Oliver why he was interested in courting her before jumping into the relationship. But she'd been eighteen and lonely, and Oliver was one of only a handful of people who weren't disgusted by her. The fact that he would look her in the eyes when he talked to her, was enough to make Bess swoon then. That initial feeling of what she thought was being in love had quickly faded as she'd realized just how generally uninterested in her he seemed--not to mention the serial flirting. But she stayed with him. Because she felt stupid for not taking George's advice and didn't want to disappoint him with the revelation that she had been wrong when she'd assured him she wasn't; and because she was terrified to be alone and not have a life. She was terrified of everything her mother told her about herself, and that it was all true. So if Oliver would take her in any capacity, she would accept it and count herself lucky. At least, that's what she'd told herself in the past. She didn't feel that way now that it was happening. Spending the rest of her life with someone that didn't seem to love or want her beyond the domestic services she could provide him sounded almost as bad as being a spinster.

Almost.

"I just... think it makes sense," Oliver replied to her question. She knew it was the closest thing to an answer she would ever get. "Isn't that good enough?"

Bess felt her stomach lurch and twist into a giant knot. No. It wasn't good enough. But it would have to be. Oliver was right about one thing; she wanted to be married--had dreamed of it ever since her mother and stepfather had married. Oliver was the only person who would ever be willing to give that to her, despite that he didn't seem to really love her, despite that he didn't seem to really want her. He was her one chance. And she was safe with him. Like George. She just wasn't loved or wanted by him, like George.

But safe--safe was good enough, she thought. Safe was all she would get, anyway.

With a sigh, Bess let her gaze fall to the ring again and tried not to show her distaste for it as she picked it back up. She slipped it on her left ring finger. Internally, the girl cringed; it looked so out of place on her hand--clashed so horribly with her sensibilities and who she was. But it was her engagement ring now; she would have to get used to it. "Okay, then," she sighed heavily. She looked up at Oliver and tried her best to smile at him, despite how sick she felt. "You got yourself a fiancée, Mr. Sprague." She'd never tasted anything so vile--it made her want to vomit on the grimy tavern floor. And that made her feel even more terrible because Oliver really didn't deserve that. He wasn't bad, he just wasn't The One. But he would be the only one she got. In return for that, she would make him a good wife.

Oliver smiled back at her, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "All right then," he said simply. He turned back to mutilating his pot roast.

Bess turned back to her own food, though she was no longer hungry. Picking through the remains of her meal, the girl stared at her new accessory, trying to will herself to like it; will herself to be happy; will herself to love Oliver. After her first initial, naive infatuation with her beau, Bess had held out for the hope that, maybe, she would eventually grow to love Oliver, just as her mother had done with George some time in their own courtship. The problem was, Oliver was nothing like her stepfather, and Bess was even farther away from loving him now than she had been then. Still, love or not, happiness or not, he was her one ticket to any sort of life worth having: Her mother was right--another one wouldn't come along anytime soon. Or ever.

No, Oliver Sprague wasn't like George. But he and the security he offered would be the best option Bess would ever get.

»»————-　♡　————-««

London, England--June 1845

Bess had never been so disgusted in all her life, and she'd had plenty of things in her life to be disgusted about. She didn't know how she was going to be able to eat her dinner, when it finally came, with him sitting right there next to her and his pompous, arrogant voice resounding loudly in her ears to the point she had a migraine. At least he wasn't directly in her line of sight, she supposed; but it was a bad trade because, sitting where he was, the man was well within reach to easily reach out and touch her. Which he did. A lot. Bess hadn't wanted to cut off somebody's hands so badly since she was fifteen.

Lawrence Bryant, on the surface, was everything a woman could possibly want: sinfully handsome, lively, devilishly charming, rich, and from a very powerful family. He was very good at making the most out of these qualities and making them appear deeper than they actually were. But Bess didn't believe him--not for a second. She had a sort of sixth sense about these kinds of things, an intuitive gut reaction; and hers had screamed that Bryant was bad news since the moment she'd met him a year ago.

She could still recall it vividly; how he'd eyed her, undressing her with his eyes the moment she'd walked into her uncle's library; how he'd snatched up her hand without invitation and gripped it so tightly, as though he'd never let go; how he lazily kissed her knuckles--she could still feel the moisture of his inner lips on her skin if she thought about it long enough, and it made her shudder and want to dunk herself in boiling water. She felt the same way now, as Bryant reached over again to brush her arm with the backs of his fingers. The woman was thankful for her long gloves that offered a barrier between their skin, but even then she shuddered and cringed away at his touch, unable to help herself.

She scolded herself: Stop it! She had to behave tonight--couldn't do anything to upset Bryant. If she did, she knew he'd report to her uncle how she displeased him, and then who knew what her uncle would do in response? If it was just herself she had to worry for, Bess wouldn't have cared and bitten Bryant's hands off the moment they moved to touch her. But she wasn't what she had to worry about--her siblings were. If she made her uncle angry, there was every possible chance he could use the stipulations set in her mother's will to break the terms of it early and take custody of her brothers and sisters while throwing her out on the street. However much she hated Bryant and felt disgusted and uncomfortable with him, Bess couldn't risk custody of her siblings. She couldn't allow them to grow up under her uncle's roof, where they would surely be treated with cruelty. Aunt Effie had already stated once that she would send her sisters abroad to boarding school: Bess couldn't allow that to happen to George's children!

Bess took a deep breath and let it go slowly through her nose. She could do this. She was a big girl--she could handle some discomfort and disgust for a few hours. Just focus on all the different ways you could torture Uncle Gerald and Aunt Effie, she thought to herself. That oughta keep you occupied. Might even be pretty cathartic. Unprompted her gaze shifted to the clock on the wall. They'd been sitting here for forty-five minutes--where was the food? The sooner the food came, the sooner she would be free!

"Looking to see how much time you have left to bask in my presence, Beautiful?" Bryant's voice brought the woman out of her thoughts.

Slightly shaking herself back into the moment, Bess looked from the clock back to her suitor. He was gazing much too intently at her with those deep blue eyes of his, as if he were trying to will her affections for him into being. His lips were curved and parted in a grin that was much too white and perfect. She supposed that smile was meant to set her insides aflutter with butterflies; instead it filled her guts with rancid, dead fish. Could the man be any more repulsive? Don't tempt fate, Elizabeth.

Trying her best to smile in an amicable way, Bess replied: "Something like that."

"Aaaawwww!" a sappy, syrupy, nasally voice grated like nails on a chalkboard in Bess' ears. Lady Penelope Anne Michaels and her fiance Mr. Rupert Anderson III, heir to the Earl of Overton were seated at the table across from them: A double date. Bess had been set up on a double date with a man whom she didn't like (putting it lightly) and a couple she didn't know (she'd heard the names and seen the faces at balls the past seasons, but that was as far as her acquaintance with the pair went).

Lady Penelope was looking between Bess and Bryant with an expression that reminded the Yank of her baby sister on Christmas morning. Grinning and biting her bottom lip to the point Bess worried she may have bitten through it, Penelope clapped her gloved hands and squealed girlishly. "Only your second outing together and you're already watching the time, trying to will it to not slip away from you. Ooh, that's positively adorable! Isn't that adorable, Rupey?" She turned to her fiance for his input.

"Rupey" was looking much the same as Penelope, only less wholesomely smitten and more knowingly sly. "Yes, Penny," he agreed. "Very adorable." He winked at Bryant and nodded toward Bess. "You're a lucky tyke, Larry: Don't let this one slip away from you. She's a keeper."

Bryant grinned widely at his friend, raising his glass of champagne in a toast to himself. He looked incredibly pleased with himself. "I have no intentions of letting such a thing happen, I assure you, Rupert. I am well aware I'm a lucky tyke in Bess!" he laughed in agreement He turned to Bess and winked brazenly at her. Beneath the table his hand found her knee and gave it a presumptuous squeeze that caused Bess to stiffen. "Maybe we'll find out just how lucky tonight, eh, Darling?" He threw back his head and raucous laughter, Rupert joining him.

Penny pressed a petite hand to her lips and tittered with amusement. "Oh, Larry, you naughty boy!" she affectionately teased the man. "You'll bring scandal down on your own head if you're not careful!" She continued to laugh with the men.

Bess didn't know she could feel even more sick, but she did at the utterance of those words. The rolling in her stomach was unbearable. She had to step away from this and breathe or else she was sure to vomit all over everyone and everything and then she really would be in trouble with her family. Doing her best to force her nausea down, Bess stood. She managed a small, tight smile at her companions as she told them: "If you'll excuse me--I must run to the powder room for a moment." She pivoted away and took off in a hasty walk before they were able to respond.

The woman hardly had time to get in front of the toilet before her stomach heaved and emptied itself. A vile, bitter concoction of bile, champagne, and bits of partially digested lunch spewed into the toilet bowl with a sickening, cascading splash. The second heave brought Bess collapsing to her knees, bracing her arms against the round porcelain edges of the bowl. She sucked in a desperate breath before heaving again. Goddamn it! Saliva flooded Bess' mouth in a desperate attempt to cleanse it of the nastiness, drool dripping down her lips and chin, ruining her once immaculate lipstick. She would have to reapply before going back to the table, or else Bryant would be upset. He had a horrid lipstick fetish, apparently.

After upchucking a few more times, Bess' stomach finally decided that it was empty enough and stilled. She gasped and coughed, trying to pull air back into her aching lungs. Propping her forehead in her hands, she tried to relax and pull herself together again. Tears burned her eyes. "I can't do this," she whispered. She wasn't sure who she was whispering to. Herself? The toilet? God? "I can't do this! I can't--I can't--I can't! I hate him! God, forgive me, but I hate him! I can't keep seeing him: I know I can't marry him! But that's what Uncle Gerald and Effie want, and if I don't do what they want..." she broke off into a choked sob, unable to stop it. Bess clasped her trembling hands together and buried her face in her arms, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. "Jesus, help me, what do I do? What do I do?!"

Ebenezer's face came to her mind's eye and the most agonizing of pangs wracked her body, heart, and soul. Bess wanted him. In every possible way, she wanted him, but right now, at this moment, she would have settled for just having him here beside her for moral support. She would have given anything to be surrounded by his long, strong arms and curl up into the protective warmth of his broad chest; drown in his deep, smokey, chocolatey smooth voice as he murmured sweet, gentle comforts into her ear. She needed his presence; she needed his advice; she needed his security; she just needed him! But Ebenezer was not here and, unless summoned by some miracle, wouldn't be here. She was on her own.

Sighing heavily, shakily, Bess pulled herself together and sat back from the toilet. She pulled her hankie from her bosom and wiped herself off before rising to her feet and flushing away her sick. Turning to the sink, she looked herself over in the mirror and finished drying off before turning on the water, removing her gloves, and cupping her hands under the stream. She pressed her face into the little pool in an attempt to cool her heated skin and soothe the slight headache starting to throb in her temples. The coolness of the water made her relax a bit. After a moment or two, Bess straightened up and looked at her reflection again. She didn't look quite as red; the cool water had soothed the tearstains. All she need do was straighten her dress, touch up her makeup, and reapply the lipstick and she would be good to go. She grabbed up her handbag that she'd dropped on the floor.

When Bess left the powder room, she ran smack dab into Penny. "Oh! Lady Penelope, pardon me!"

"Oh, it's quite all right," Penny assured her with a smile that was meant to be friendly but grated on Bess' nerves. It just seemed so fake. "No harm done. And please, call me 'Penny'. Any friend of dear Larry's has a right to do so."

Bess fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ah, yes--"dear Larry". Honestly, Penny talked about the sleaze like he was a saint! "Oh, well, all right then--if that's what you'd like. Penny."

Penny beamed. "Excellent! I merely came to find you and tell you our meals have arrived."

"Ah, I see. Well, thank you. I was just coming back."

Penny was looking at her closely, making Bess feel uneasy. What could she possibly be studying so hard on her face? "You've redone your makeup," she stated after a moment.

Bess didn't know what to say. "Uh...."

Penny's smile became knowing, almost conniving. "Bess, did you rush to the powder room in order to be sick?"

Again, Bess wasn't sure how to respond. "Um... well... n-not very-"

Penny squealed like a schoolgirl again, clapping her hands beneath her chin. "I knew it! I just knew it! I did the very same thing when I first started seeing Rupert! I was so charmed by him and so in love that I felt so rumbly and rolly with it all I couldn't help but be sick! And now here you are in your blossoming romance with Larry and experiencing the same thing! Oh, how magical!"

Yeah, Bess thought sarcastically. Magical. She offered the woman a small, awkward smile and replied: "Um... something like that."

"Ooh, and you're too shy to discuss it! Adorable! Simply adorable! Ah! I know the two of you have only been out twice, but trust me, my dear, I have an intuition about these sort of things--and I most definitely hear wedding bells!" Penny sang the last part of the statement, wiggling her brows at Bess.

Bess' stomach lurched a bit again. Penny was probably right, unfortunately, and not because Bess was in love with Bryant and wanted to marry him. She likely wouldn't have any choice.

The two women made their way back to the table together. Penny exchanged a little kiss with Rupert as she retook her seat beside him, staying as close to him as possible the entire time. Contrarily, Bess did her best to stay as far away from Bryant as possible, walking the long way around the table to get to her chair and slipping into it from the far side. Her gaze never met his and she stared at the seafood dish steaming on her plate. Drawing her lips into a thin line, Bess tried to will the remainder of her nausea away. She had to eat at least some of it or else Bryant would deduce something was amiss with her; he'd seen her appetite before and knew how healthy it was. "My Lady, you eat like all my horses combined!" he'd told her once. He'd said it as though it were a compliment.

No sooner had Bess sat down than Bryant was reaching for her again. She froze in order to keep herself from shifting away. She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from snapping. Good God, could he just not for two minutes?!

"I missed you," Bryant purred. It was probably supposed to sound loving, perhaps seductive: to Bess it sounded like the ravenous snarl of a lion. As always, Bryant gave her the sense he would eat her alive if given half a shot, and not in a good way. That feeling only grew as Bryant reached down to grab her hand and squeeze it tight as if he never meant to let go again.

Bess knew she should have reciprocated the squeeze, but she just couldn't bring herself to. She was using all her willpower to not throw up again. "I was only gone but a minute," she responded quietly, still not looking at the man.

"Ten minutes and twenty-six seconds," Bryant stated. There was a slight edge in his voice that time.

Bess felt like she was hit by a runaway carriage; she swore her heart jolted to a stop. Panic slammed into her stomach like a cannonball. Her head snapped towards the blond, mustached man as she finally looked at him, her utter shock forcing her to. "Yo-You... you timed me?" she gasped in disbelief. A nervous smile pulled at her mouth.

Bryant smiled at her, but there was nothing good in it: no warmth, no softness, no kindness. He tried to fake it, but Bess could tell. Her gut could tell. All Bryant's smile had to offer was desire, possessiveness, and danger--the kind that would end with her six feet under. Bess had never wanted to run so fast and far in her whole life. Again she longed for Ebenezer to be here to protect her and make her feel safe.

"Of course I timed you, stupid woman," her date chuckled. "Just as you were watching the clock to see how long we have together, I watched the clock to see when you would return to me." Bryant lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I love you."

There were a million things to scream on the tip of Bess' tongue. First was to tell him off for insulting her. Did the idiot really think calling a woman "stupid" even if he said it in what was meant to be an affectionate tone (which he failed at) was a surefire way into a woman's heart? He was the stupid one, and that was putting it lightly! The second was that it was not normal to time the absence of someone down to the second they returned. That was insanely disturbing and borderline psychotic behavior, and would not endear him to any sensible woman either. And the third Bess actually voiced: "You don't love me." She tried to say it as calmly and evenly as possible as if she were trying to reason with him instead of rebuffing him.

Bryant chuckled, leaning closer, pulling her closer at the same time. Bess' free fist instinctively clenched. "Of course I love you," the man insisted. If he thought that tone in his voice was seductive, he was dead wrong; Bess had never heard something sound so chilling and sinister. "I think about you all the time. I yearn for you all the time. Sometimes I feel as though I can't breathe without you." He trailed spidery fingers up the woman's arm and shoulder and brought them to brush her graceful jawline.

Bess couldn't help but pull away that time. "Mr. Bryant," she said, trying to sound polite but firm, mimicking how she'd heard other girls gently scold gentleman callers that weren't as repulsive as her current one was, "what you are describing is an infatuation-" actually it was more like "obsession", but Bryant was not the person to tell that to, "-not a love. Besides, we hardly know each other--there is no possible way you could honestly profess to love me."

"We know each other quite well, I believe," Bryant countered. He took hold of Bess' chin, holding it so tightly between his fingers that it pinched. Bess wanted to pull away, but the cold, flinty gleam in the man's gaze made her stay. "I saw you quite regularly throughout the season last year and this year. We've danced at every ball, sat beside each other at dinners, spent time together last summer at your Aunt's house party in Somerset: I'd say we've spent more time together than most couples."

"You've certainly spent more time together than we have, that's for sure," Rupert remarked as he devoured his beef wellington with a fervor that didn't quite reflect a gentleman.

"How much of that were we alone though?" Bess challenged Bryant, ignoring Rupert. "How much do we really know about each other? I mean, what did we really talk about during those times, Mr. Bryant? The weather? We certainly never discussed anything personal. The truth of the matter is, Mr. Bryant, we hardly know each other beyond name."

"I don't need to know anything other than your name and how beautiful you are," Bryant insisted, starting to sound a tad bit testy.

Bess felt an alarm bell go off in her head. She was pushing him too far--she had to calm this down, sweeten it up and smooth it. For a frantic moment, she thought, mind racing for ideas. "Mr. Bryant," she started slowly, "I once thought about love the same way you did; that only one or two things really mattered and everything else would fall into place. I came to find out the hard way that that isn't the case at all. Being in love isn't just about someone's looks or how they make you feel a certain way. Those things certainly factor into different degrees, of course, but they're not everything." She managed a small smile at the man, hoping it looked sweet and friendly and maybe even a tad sympathetic. "All I want is for you to be careful about this, Mr. Bryant," she fibbed. She really couldn't care less if he got hurt or not. "Take it from me--a broken heart is a terrible wound to suffer, especially if you find out it was already empty to begin with." She found the will to squeeze his fingers as if in reassurance. "We really should get to know each other better before we make such claims... Larry." Lord, calling him by his casual moniker made her want to be sick on the table all over again. Nothing had ever tasted so bad!

Bryant had been quiet the entire time, listening to Bess' words intently, his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but consideration. A couple times he'd even looked a bit surprised as she'd made insinuations about her past, something he had never inquired about even in all the time they'd apparently spent together. When Bess smiled, he'd smiled too, the sharpness leaving his eyes. When she'd squeezed his hand, he'd almost seemed to beam; a nasty, sickly-looking beam that only served to disclose his malignance further. And when Bess said his name, the woman was sure all the work she'd just attempted to do, had been undone, and the man was right back to being certain of his love for her; but she supposed she was never going to sway him from that thought. Perhaps she'd at least staunched the flow.

"Oh, I know my heart would never be broken when it comes to you, My Lady," Bryant crooned, pulling her hand back to his lips. "Because I know you would love me as purely and truly as I love you. In fact, I'm sure you feel the same way right now, but are only denying it because of the sorrow you experienced in your past." He smirked in some annoyance. "I'll admit that I find this a tad vexing, as I am not and could never be anything like the man who hurt you, and struggle to understand how you can't possibly see that after all our time in each other's company. However, I know women are of much more delicate sensibilities in matters of the heart-"

"Here, here!" Penny chimed in.

"-and I don't wish to appear insensitive to your womanly plight. As such, however hard it will be for me, I am more than willing to give you time to accept your feelings for me."

It took everything within Bess not to roll her eyes and clonk the dunderhead on the noggin. "Mr. Bryant," she said, shaking her head, "I can't promise you that I'll ever-" she was cut off as a cold, spidery finger was pressed to her lips. The woman froze, her heart leaping into her throat while her stomach plunged in the other direction. Wide-eyed, she stared at Bryant. He was so close to her--much too close! All of Bess' instincts screamed at her to strike out at the man and knock his block off, but she didn't. Hard as it was, she held back. For her siblings, she had to. Still, just in case, Bess tightened her already clenched fist.

"Hush," Bryant purred (Bess supposed that's what it was meant to be). He trailed his fingertip over her lips, smearing her lipstick onto the pad of it. "I will hear no such negative talk, my love," the man stated softly but adamantly. "Not when it comes to the concept of our love." He trailed his hand down beneath Bess's chin and cupped her jaw. "We are meant to be together, my love--you know it, I know it-" he gestured to the other couple, "-they know it." Bryant chuckled and leaned in even closer, his dark, desirous eyes gazing deep into hers. Bess had never felt so stricken with fear. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in this damn room knows we are meant to be together."

"Oh, there's no way they can't possibly know, Larry Darling!" Penny chimed in. She was watching the pair intently again, her hands clutching at her chest like her heart was about to implode. "To witness the two of you together is to witness true love personified! Oh! It's like seeing Romeo and Juliet together!"

Um... they died, is what Bess wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut, which was fairly easy to do, as her terror had dried her mouth entirely and glued her tongue to the roof of it. She didn't even think she'd be capable of squeaking.

Bryant must have taken her silence to mean she was so flustered and awash with sensations of love and desire that she couldn't speak. Finally he pulled his hand away from Bess' jaw and began to sit back in his chair. He looked at his lipstick stained finger and brought it to his mouth, kissing it, tracing it over his lips and smearing the paint onto them. The dark red color made him look even more ominous, as if he'd just recently killed and devoured raw flesh and had stained his lips with the blood of his victim.

Bess could only stare at the display in mesmerized horror. All of her instincts screamed at her to flee, but she was quite incapable of moving now, either to run or look away. She had never felt less safe. Even here in the middle of a busy restaurant among all these people, the Yank felt as though she was mere seconds away from Bryant slitting her throat and gutting her like a deer. Not even in the Connellys' household as a vulnerable teenager had she felt such danger.

Bryant wanted her. More than anything. And he was set on possessing her no matter what he had to do. His delusional thinking that what he felt was love and that she felt the same for him was what made it all the more threatening because it meant only one thing: He would stop at nothing to have her.

Bess felt she'd been dropped buck-naked in the middle of the Arctic Circle. All those times she'd silently wished and prayed to be wanted by someone again, this wasn't what she'd had in mind at all! This was nothing like George or what he'd talked about! Nothing like what she wanted! No sense of security, no loving warmth, only want, desire, lust--hotter and more obliterating than the furnace Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had been thrown into. And Bess suspected she wouldn't be saved from it as they had.

Finished coloring his lips, Bryant reached out again for her hand. He brought it to his lips once more and pressed a firm kiss to it, leaving behind a faded but undeniable lip print on the periwinkle blue silk. "I said I would wait for you to realize and accept your feelings in your own time, Bess," Bryant murmured, meeting her gaze as he caressed the lipstick stain on her knuckles. "But I yearn for you far too fervently to pass up this chance." With only that cryptic warning, the man yanked the American in by the hand , and pressed his mouth flush to hers.

Bess swore her soul fled her body. Simultaneously she felt her lips being branded with both hot and cold irons, marking her as this horrid man's. Everything faded away and she was left alone with Bryant in a vast, dark, perilous sea of existential dread. Something told her Bryant would never let her slip from his grasp now. Only the grave would be able to truly separate them, and it would likely be hers.

Very vaguely through the blackness and fear, Bess could hear both Penny and Rupert fawning and making comments at them, but she could not comprehend the words. Her mind was much too focused on Bryant: How his lips were just as possessive as the rest of him; how his cologne was even stronger this close and made her feel even sicker; how his mustache prickled uncomfortably beneath her nose; how he felt unpleasantly cold, even as his lips seared hers. The touch of a tongue against her top lip was what finally caused adrenaline to burst through the Yankee's system and force herself out of the kiss. (Not an easy thing to do, as Bryant had reached around to hold the back of her head at some point.) "Mr. Bryant, please!" she hissed, unable to keep the anger or the tremor out of her voice. She felt a mess: Her face burned with rage and humiliation, but her whole body trembled with fear now that they'd pulled apart.

Everyone else at the table merely chuckled.

"Oh, Darling, you look positively scandalized!" Penny tittered.

"Come on, Yank, don't be so prudish," Rupert said dismissively, successfully cementing himself on the list of individuals Bess wanted to box the ears of.

Bryant sneaked in and pecked another quick kiss on the corner of Bess' mouth, making her startle. "Don't worry, my dear," the man chuckled, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Public displays of affection will be limited, I promise." He leaned into the woman, hissing in her ear, "Once I have you in my house, I do not intend on ever letting you out again."

The tone was meant to be seductive, Bess was sure, but there also seemed to be a sinister threat in it that she wasn't just imagining. She looked out of the corner of her eye at her suitor, studying him carefully. Perhaps it was just the odd, peripheral angle at which she viewed him, but the American could have sworn his face distorted, and for a moment he appeared with some horrible, demonic visage. When she turned her head to look at him fully, he looked as he normally had, which honestly wasn't that much better in Bess' opinion.

With a chuckle, Bryant winked at her and pulled away to turn back to his meal.

Bess sat and watched him for a long moment, a hurricane of emotions whirling through her. Her lips and cheek still burned where Bryant's lips had touched her; her heart raced her boiling blood through her veins; the rotting, dead fish in her gut had transformed into a nest of angry hornets that were determined to tear her apart from the inside out. Bryant's statement rang in her ears, tattooing itself into her memory. She thought of what she'd heard of Bryant's past; all the women associated with him that had ended up hospitalized, institutionalized, a few even dead; the wife that had apparently just vanished; his own mother who he openly admitted had abandoned him and never spoke with him. Bryant joked bad things trailed him wherever he went; Bess was growing surer the longer she knew him that he was the bad thing. And in her gut filled with raging hornets, the woman knew if she married Bryant--if she ended up in his house--she would either be killed or chained up and locked away forever.

Bess' gaze fell away from Bryant and down her hand, locking and holding on the lipstick stain he'd left behind. All at once she felt dirty--tainted--as if she'd been branded by the devil himself. She was a marked woman: Desired, yearned for, wanted with a passion that would burn the globe to a crisp if it wasn't fulfilled. But not loved, whatever Bryant believed or claimed. And certainly not safe.

Lawrence Bryant was nothing like George. He wasn't even a decent man.

»»————-　♡　————-««

St. James' Square, London--House of the Dowager Countess of Calloway--November 23, 1850

Bess could hardly breathe she was laughing so hard. She'd always known Tom to be witty and clever, but she never could have guessed him to be an actual comedian. But here he was, standing in Granny Felicity's parlor before the assorted rabble that was their social circle, proving himself to be just that as he gave her a good and right-proper roasting for her birthday. Bess had mentioned to Addie months ago how she would like to be roasted, and evidently, her cousin had passed the word on to her hubby as well. A most welcome and appreciated surprise! And apparently, she wasn't the only one who thought so, as everyone in the room was laughing just as hard as she was. Except Granny of course. She never smiled or laughed; at least not with her mouth--those piercing blue eyes of hers were sparkling brighter than stars though.

"Now, when I first heard that our lovely Bess was engaged to our dear Mr. Scrooge, my first thought was: 'How would that even work?'" the swarthy man was saying, as he stood before the roaring fireplace and casually sipped at his champagne, the smile never dropping from his face as he gazed at his audience. "I mean, none of us, not even the happy couple, can deny the age difference, yeah? Thirty and... how old-"

"Old enough still to take you over my knee and learn you some manners if you finish that question," Ebenezer snarled good-naturedly.

"Now, easy does it, Mr. Scrooge," Tom snapped back with a devilish grin. "Save the spanking for the missus!"

An uproar of laughter and shrieks peeled out of the partygoers at that, even Granny FeFe letting loose a delightfully scandalized cry. It was only fueled further by the bright red faces of the couple being fired at.

Bess giggled madly as she hid her strawberry blush in Ebenezer's collar. The long arm draped loosely about her waist tightened in the most loving way as the man leaned his cheek against her hair, burring a warm chuckle into her ear. Bess shivered delightfully and cuddled closer to her hubby, reveling in his comforting warmth despite how stuffy the parlor was with the fire and all the bodies present. Ebenezer didn't seem to mind either as he pulled her even deeper into his lap. Bess' heart fluttered.

"Well, anyway," Tom went on with a chuckle, "as I said, I was more than a little perplexed with their union: the age difference, the culture difference." A wicked gleam came into Tom's eyes yet again. "But then I realized she's so young and he's so old, their bedtimes would be the same anyway, so."

Another round of laughter filled the parlor.

"That was utter rubbish," Ebenezer remarked quietly so only Bess could hear above the laughter.

"You're still laughing," Bess countered, grinning up at her love's smirking face.

The man's blush deepened as he smiled softly at her. He pressed a gentle smooch to her hairline and trailed butterfly kisses down her brow to the bridge of her nose before nuzzling her. Bess tittered happily.

"Hey, hey, hey--easy now!" Tom's scolding voice brought the couple out of their reverie and drew their attention to him. He scowled playfully at them. "Simmer it down, you lovebirds! Need I remind you there are youngsters here? And Harry?"

More laughter.

"It's my party, Thomas Aaron, and I'll kiss who I damn well please!" Bess shot back, drawing even more laughter from those around her.

Tom lifted his hands to try and quiet everyone down. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. "But no, all jokes aside, I think we can all agree what an honor it is to be here tonight to pay tribute-" Tom held out a hand toward Bess, "-to this lovely woman right here."

A round of "here, here's" went around the room and Bess felt her blush utterly burn in touched embarrassment.

"Lady Bess--Cousin-" Tom's eyes briefly fell on Addie, who sat closest to him, her hands and arms cradling her growing belly, her eyes and wedding ring shining like stars, "-I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we are all so very blessed to have you in our lives." The man moved towards his pregnant wife and took up her left hand, kissing her ring. "I know, at least for myself, that you have changed life for the better." He and Addie shared a brief, soft moment of gazing devotedly into each other's eyes before Tom turned back to Bess, though he remained grasping Addie's hand. "Bess, you are clever, kind, beautiful, and so full of love, you make this gloomy old city a better place just by living in it. You are truly a treasure. And for a Yankee... eh--you're not bad." Again everyone laughed, and then Tom raised his half-gone glass of champagne. "A toast!" he called out. "To our dearest Mrs. Lady Bess Scrooge. The happiest of birthdays to you! May you continue to grace the London streets and the lap of our dear Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge for many years to come."

From his spot in the corner, Harry suddenly sang out: "For she's a jolly good fellow!" Soon everyone had joined in the song, a dozen or so mixed voices echoing throughout the parlor with fervor.

Bess hid her face in her hands and buried it into her husband's chest for good measure, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room or the handful of glasses of her favorite wine flowing through her veins. She felt so appreciated--so cherished. Six, five, even four years ago, the Yank never would have guessed she would be so awash in affection, or so deeply ensconced in her own little network of society that she would never have to worry about being alone ever again. The lonely, friendless little girl of her past would have burst into wailing tears of happiness to hear such news: Bess was a bit older and more mature now, so she didn't wail, but she did quietly sob into Ebenezer's waistcoat. The man rubbed her back and kissed her crown in comfort.

"-And so say all of us!" the group finished with a shout, practically vibrating the room with their volume. Whoops resounded, what remained of drinks was finished off, and everyone rejoiced as one.

"Tommy," Granny spoke up as soon as they'd all quieted down some, "as hostess of this little soiree, I believe it's my turn to have the floor."

Tom bowed low with a grin. "But of course, My Lady. The floor is all yours." He stepped aside and took his space next to Addie, his lips immediately connecting with her temple and one of his hands coming to rest upon and gently caress her belly. Addie beamed at him, totally and completely in love.

Standing straight and tall and stately as ever, Granna Felicity slowly made her way to Tom's previous spot in front of the fireplace. Her elegant, silver-headed cane tapped out a steady, strong rhythm on the floor. Coming to a stop in the center of the hearth, the old woman turned towards the group, shoulders straight and square, head held high and proud. The woman was an absolute pillar of their little community. Piercing blue eyes found and fell upon Bess, who had pulled her face from Ebenezer's chest, but still remained resting upon his shoulder. Granny's eyes warmed, and her thin, wrinkled lips softened ever so slightly, but did not curl. The closest thing to a smile that would ever grace her face.

"Bess," Granny began, her thin, wavering voice strong and commanding absolute attention, "my darling great-granddaughter, lost to me but then found, I cannot tell you how it overjoys me that I am here today, able to bless you with this celebration of your thirtieth-year of life that you so greatly deserve. And I hope to endow you with more as time carries off." At that, Granny sighed deeply, and she suddenly looked very tired as she leaned more heavily on her cane. "But, let us be honest--I am old--no spring chicken by far." She drew herself straight again. "In light of that, I believe it would only be fair that I open the dancing tonight with your fine young man."

Bess couldn't help throwing back her head in a laugh. "Granny!" she exclaimed. "It's my birthday!" She tightened her arms around Ebenezer and cuddled even deeper into his lap.

Granny looked completely unfazed. "I know, my dear, but you are likely to have many, many more birthdays, whereas I am likely to keel over any moment now and am limited on the amount of time at which I might be swept around the dancefloor by a strapping young gentleman."

"You know, she has a point," Ebenezer remarked with a smirk, his slate-blue eyes sparkling with delight.

Bess turned on him and fixed the man with a good-natured glare. "You just like being called "young man"," she accused.

Ebenezer didn't even try to deny it and simply shrugged. "Regardless."

"And, need I remind you, Elizabeth," Granny continued, "that if it weren't for me, you and that wonderful young shaver you're so tightly wrapped up with currently may never have come into being at all." A playful yet slightly haughty shadow settled over the woman withered and wise visage. "All that is to say, I am due for my just desserts--wouldn't you agree?

Snorting, Bess rolled her eyes. "Fine," she sighed melodramatically, "but I get him directly and immediately after you're done." A serious look fell over the American's face as another thought crossed her mind, and she held up a firm finger toward her great-grandmother. "And absolutely no groping. Or pinching. I mean that now, Granny."

Granny's eyes twinkled deviously. "But, my darling girl, you know as well as I, that's where all the fun is!"

The small orchestra Granny FeFe had hired was no half-baked group. Despite their small size, they played as well as, if not better than, the Philharmonic Society. They filled the front hall with a beautiful and speedy waltz which Ebenezer and Granny danced to splendidly. The steely-haired man gracefully swept the old woman around the wood floor, always controlled and collected in his movements despite how free he made the dance look. Granny's eyes sparkled though her mouth remained set in stone as ever. She, herself, moved with such grace and fluidity that she could have been floating along with Ebenezer. The music seemed to revitalize the octogenarian, shaving decades off her as she flitted about; if it weren't for her stark white hair, one could have sworn she was a far younger woman.

Waltzing around in Tom's arms (Addie had most graciously surrendered her husband for the moment), Bess grinned from ear to ear and guffawed as the man made a comment about her grandmother (or their grandmother technically) sweeping off with her husband if she weren't careful. Bess cheekily remarked that, with as much fun as he appeared to be having, it was more likely they would have to keep an eye on Ebenezer sweeping Granny off. They both laughed at that.

Hearing a startled yelp, Bess' head snapped in the direction of the pair in question. "Granny!" she barked over the music. "I said no pinching!" She tried to school her gaze into a firm glare, but it was difficult to do, especially when she caught the goofy grin on her hubby's blushing face. The black-haired beauty snorted and shook her head. He'd never admit it or let it cause him to stray, but Ebenezer did rather enjoy being felt up and admired for a younger man, and Granny FeFe was always more than happy to oblige him.

Bess couldn't help but keep her eyes on Ebenezer throughout the rest of the waltz. She didn't regret allowing her great-grandmother a treat (it only seemed fair after the woman had put together this wonderful party for her), but she was longing to return to her love's arms so that they might sweep off together too. Even surrounded by all this love and warmth from her friends--which of course she was exceptionally grateful for--Bess wanted to be surrounded by Ebenezer's love most. It had taken her so long to find him--a man that was compassionate, kind, humble, intelligent, loyal, handsome, and charming and possessed a passion that matched her own; and she wanted to be completely enveloped in him as often as possible.

Finally, the waltz ended and everyone on the floor parted and bowed/curtsied to their partners. Bess walked arm-in-arm with Tom back to Addie. "Here's your hubby back!" she chirped to her cousin. "Thanks ever so much for lending him to me. He's a spectacular dancer!"

"Best there is in London!" Tom piped up, puffing out his chest as he hooked his thumbs in his lapels.

Addie giggled. "Don't I know it," she remarked. She reached her hands out to her man, and he instantly took them in his and knelt before her, gazing up into her round, glowing face. Addie giggled again, blushing all the way up her ears, her gaze locked on Tom's.

Bess smiled, her heart filled with joy. First, she and Ebenezer had tied the knot (although not under the most romantic circumstances); then Addie and Tom; now Ernie and Ella were only a few months away from their wedding; Jules and Martha were likely to be engaged any day; Josie, Belinda, and Kathy all had wonderful, steady beaus; Ida was making good headway with Harold (he'd actually come with her tonight though he wasn't dancing--that seemed to be just too far out of his comfort zone); and, to top it all off, the next generation was well underway, with Harry and Hela on their fourth child and Addie and Tom their first. Bess had a feeling her duties as a midwife would be even more taxing in the coming years, but she couldn't wait to watch and help their extended family grow. Again she thought of her lonely childhood and how happy her child-self would be to know that she grew up to be surrounded by love of all kinds.

Then she thought of George. She could almost hear his deep, warm, gentle voice in her head: You made it, Mudpuppy. And you done good. I knew you'd get there. Tears pricked at her eyes, and Bess reached up to wipe them, sniffling ever so slightly.

A deep, velvet voice called her: "Bess?"

Bess turned to see Ebenezer coming her way, a concerned look on his face as he watched her dry her eyes. She smiled reassuringly at him, though her lips did quiver, and stepped toward him. "I'm all right," she said with a little dismissive wave of her hand. "Just... thinking is all."

"Ah," her husband replied, the worry fading from his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, raising it to her face to gently dab at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. "A dangerous pastime."

Bess rolled her eyes and giggled. "I know." She brought her left hand up to gently hold his right wrist as the Englishman blotted away her tears, leaning into his touch. Ebenezer's free hand sought hers, twining their fingers together and squeezing soothingly. Bess squeezed back, gazing up into her lover's face, her eyes brimming full with adoration as she admired him for the millionth time in their six years together (two of friendship--four of marriage). She felt a soft warmth bloom on her cheeks: She didn't believe she'd ever get over this remarkable, handsome man and how he was all hers.

"May I ask what you were thinking of?" Ebenezer murmured quietly. He sopped up a tear at the corner of his wife's left eye before bowing down to gently kiss her there, trailing more kisses along her cheekbone until he came nose to nose with her. The man gazed into her eyes, love, admiration, and desire shining out from his soft, slate-blue depths. Just as they always did.

Bess felt her heart clench almost painfully with love for the gentleman, bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She was very emotional this evening. "Just... the future. And the past," she answered vaguely. "And about George--what he would say if he were here."

Ebenezer hummed in consideration. Letting go of Bess' hand, he folded his handkerchief again and replaced it, gazing around the hall at all of the people here specifically to celebrate his wonderful wife: The Cratchits and their oldest children, the Huffmans (including Mr. Huffman Sr.), the Chars, the future Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, the Jenkinses, the Dowager of course, Ida and Harold, Bess' siblings of course. So many people here, just for her. Well aware of her past and how melancholy it had been (much like his own), Ebenezer knew what this party and all these people being here meant to Bess.

Still gazing around the hall, the reformed miser reached out and pulled his wife into his arms, pulling her close to his chest, Bess wrapping her own arms around his waist. He brought his gaze to hers again, smiling warmly at her. "I never knew George, of course," he stated, "but I like to think I've heard you speak enough of him that I could know him." Ebenezer touched his forehead to Bess' and gently smushed their noses together, making her giggle: His heart soared for it. "I know he'd be proud of you," he quietly cooed. "He'd be proud and happy and tickled every shade of pink for you and the life you've built for yourself." The man pecked a feather-light kiss on his love's painted lips before burying his face in the hair cascading over her shoulder and hugging her tight to him. "I know I am," he whispered meaningfully into her neck. He pressed his lips to the burn scar partially hidden by the new choker he'd gifted her, making Bess tremble ever so slightly.

That quiet declaration touched Bess deep in her soul: She felt more tears sting her eyes as the smile on her lips pulled wider in reaction. Clutching at her man's back, she pressed her face into his chest, trying to be as close to his heart as possible. His beautiful heart; so full of love for her. A heart that had not only proven its love for her but wanted her and beat with a fierce desire to protect her unto the ends of the earth. Like George. Just like her beloved George's heart, was her beloved Ebenezer's heart. Bess wanted nothing more than to kiss and cherish it into eternity.

"I've failed in telling you thus far, because I haven't been able to find the right words to say," Ebenezer murmured, stroking a hand up to cradle the back of her neck, his lips hidden in her hair right beside her ear, "but I am so very, very proud of you, my darling Bess. I still can't quite put it into words, I'm so proud of you."

Bess knew she was about to cry, his words filling and soothing a void deep within her that had been there ever since George's untimely passing. She hugged her husband tighter, never wanting to let go or him to let go. A quiet sob shuddered its way from her lungs. "Ebenezer...."

"You've grown so much, Bess," Ebenezer continued softly, reciprocating her constrictor-like grip. "You arrived in London hardly more than a girl; alone, lost, nearly penniless, thrust into parenthood and a society and culture you scarcely knew how to navigate. Look at you now! A grown woman who's successfully raised two children into adulthood and two more into fine youths; an accomplished and much sought-after midwife; a darling of London society-"

Bess snorted. "I wouldn't quite say that."

"-surrounded on her birthday by all the people who know and love her. You've come into your own, Sweetness--become the woman I always knew you could be. My chest is so tight and swollen with pride in you, I feel it will burst into pieces."

Bess nuzzled lovingly into his pectorals. The cheeky part of her wanted to make a quip about how she hoped not because she rather liked his chest in one piece, but the lump in her throat wouldn't allow the words through. She was so happy--so very happy! Never growing up would Bess have believed it possible for anyone--much less herself--could be as happy as she was in that moment: She felt she could explode off and fly all the way to Heaven's golden gates with the force of the blast. What had she ever done to deserve such fortune? What had she ever done to deserve this man holding her?

"You forgot one very important thing," the woman rasped. She pulled back just enough to gaze up at her tall love and meet his eyes with her tear-filled ones. "I'm a wife. A wife to an amazing, wonderful, magnificent man who loves me so much and treats me so well. And who helped to make everything else you've already mentioned possible."

Ebenezer smiled humbly, his cheeks pinking up a bit. He shook his head. "Bess-"

"No, Ebenezer, I mean it," Bess insisted, giving him a severe look. "It's true. I... I never could have done everything I have without you by my side. None of this would have happened if you weren't in my life." She reached up and grabbed his face, holding it in her hands and pulling him down closer to her to gaze even deeper into his eyes. "You helped me. You saved me--more than once. You've always had confidence in me even when I've had none in myself and given me the strength to carry on even in the darkest of moments. You've done so much for me that I can never repay."

"You are my wife," Ebenezer replied. He lifted a hand to wipe away some tears that had breached her barrier. "I love you. And before that, I was your friend and still loved you. You needn't ever repay me, Sweetness; all services were given freely from my heart." He smiled gently. "After all, it's not as if you haven't done the same for me in turn."

Bess' lips quivered into a smile. "You're my husband," she flipped it back around. "I love you. My life... it wouldn't be a life without you." She tilted his face further down to kiss his brow.

Her husband chuckled softly, leaning into her touch. "Nor would mine be without you," he murmured. Slipping a finger beneath her chin, the Englishman kissed his American love sweetly and slowly, his lips slotting expertly in with hers.

Bess utterly melted, her insides turning to quivering mush. Wrapping her arms around his bowed neck, she went up on tiptoe to deepen the contact. She squeaked against his mouth when Ebenezer suddenly clutched her about the waist and thighs and swept her up off the floor. Lovely, gorgeous, strong, tall man! Tickled by internal butterflies, a muffled giggle left her. The kiss was already making her giddy, and the sensation of nothing under her feet made it almost feel like she was floating. Her heart certainly was. The elation of it all caused both of the woman's feet to pop; knees together beneath her skirts, toes primly pointed skyward.

The band was finishing with a song and starting in on another. The couple parted for breath.

"Would you care to dance, Mrs. Scrooge?" Ebenezer lowly rumbled against the Yank's lips. His half-lidded gaze held hers.

Bess smiled a bit dazedly and nuzzled his nose. "I would be delighted, Mr. Scrooge." She loosened her grip around the man's neck and slowly, gracefully descended to the floor again.

Ebenezer took a slight step to the side, folded an arm behind his back, and debonairly offered her his left hand. Bess bit back a giggle and reached out with her right to take it. Holding hands they made their way to the middle of the floor, avoiding the other dancers. Turning again to each other, they bowed and curtsied respectfully before Ebenezer held out his hand again, smoothly pulling Bess into his arms when she took it. He pulled her quite a bit closer than was traditional, her front coming flush with his. His right hand fell much, much lower on her back than was proper. Bess gasped, a blush instantly heating her cheeks, and raised a speculative eyebrow at the man. "I say, Mr. Scrooge!" she hissed with a smirk.

Her lover merely snickered, raising a devilish eyebrow of his own, a spark of desire flashing through his slate-blue eyes that made the woman in his hold shiver with excitement. "Consider this a prelude for tonight, Mrs. Scrooge," he growled huskily as he leaned down towards her ear. "You'll have one more present to unwrap and play with before it's all said and done."

Bess' blush grew hotter, her smirk turning saucy. "However I wish?" she inquired coquettishly. Her hold on him tightened, her hand squeezing his, her nails lightly digging into the back of his shoulder.

"However you wish," came the rumbled answer. As if to provide further reassurance, Ebenezer's hand only trailed up slightly higher on Bess' backside, but only for the sake of comfort.

A wave of anticipatory pleasure rolled through the woman, settling low in her pelvis and tickling with delight. Her heart skipped a beat. Oh, what a lucky girl she was!

Hands lovingly clasped, their free hands positioned properly on backs and shoulders, Ebenezer and Bess finally swept into the next waltz with everyone else, the gentleman's long legs carrying them rapidly around the circle. They held each other's gazes the entire time, following the path simply by instinct. That never would have happened six years ago, when Ebenezer was first helping Bess learn to waltz. Which, perhaps not so coincidentally, had taken place in this exact hall.

Bess smiled at the memory. Even back then, when they'd hardly been more than acquaintances yet, Ebenezer had helped her--had been willing to help her. Even though she'd been a perfect stranger from a foreign land who'd been an absolute and sometimes offensive idiot about everything English, he'd been nothing but compassionate and shown nothing but kindness and graciousness to her all while expecting nothing in return. She hadn't thought of it then (there'd been so much else to consider) but as she thought of it now, it reminded her of George and the first time they'd met: Her a little buck-naked urchin, caked in the mud of a puddle she'd run away from home to find, and he a gentle-hearted giant of a man who hadn't batted an eye at her antics and had wrapped her up in his own shirt and taken her back home. The parallels didn't end there, as both Ebenezer and George had kept coming back, offering support and protection free of any charge. Then, eventually, both had also stayed for love and want of her.

Bess pulled her gaze away from Ebenezer's and rested her head against his shoulder, slipping her hand on his shoulder around the back of his neck to embrace him. Closing her eyes, she simply let her husband--the man she loved and trust more than any other person in this world--steer and carry her wherever he wished. It didn't matter where it was, she would go with him; wherever he went, she would follow.

"Sweetness?" Ebenezer murmured, slowing their dancing just a bit. He watched her with some concern.

"Thank you," Bess sighed with contentment. She looked up at him again, her head never leaving his shoulder, and offered a small smile. "Thank you so much."

Her husband smiled warmly. "For what, may I ask?"

Bess felt the prick of tears again at the corner of her eyes; she blinked them back. "For being everything I've ever wanted in a man," she answered softly. She squeezed his hand. "For making me feel safe, wanted, and loved. For being..." she trailed off to take a shaky breath as one more tear dripped from her lashes, "... for being even better than George."

Ebenezer's eyes softened, and Bess could swear she saw a sheen of tears in them too. Bowing his head, the tall man lovingly kissed her brow before resting his cheek against her head. His arm around her waist tightened, as did his grip on her hand. "If that's true, you're happiness is thanks enough, my darling," he assured her. "And it would be my greatest honor to continue these things if you'll allow me."

Bess could only nod her head and squeak "Yes," as the lump was back in her throat. Her lips quivered into a tight smile as she tried to control herself. She had cried so much already tonight, she didn't want to cry anymore. Squeezing her eyes shut, the American buried her face back into her man's chest, breathing in his comforting scent. Not only would George be proud of her--he would also be happy; for she'd finally done it. She'd finally found a man that measured up to him--out-measured him actually. Ebenezer was everything George had been and more, and he was hers. All hers. She still wasn't sure she deserved him, but that was neither here nor there--she had him. And she was not letting him go.

And he was not letting her go. Not ever. Just like George.

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @crimson-phantom-designs @ofvampiirisms @purgratoriat

#Youtube #scrooge 2022 #netflix scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #scrooge #ebenezer scrooge #scrooge x oc #ebenezer x bess #ebeness #scrooge romance #fluffy scrooge #married scrooge #past relationships #FEELS #ALL THE FEELS #father figures #strong male role models #scrooge ocs #george sullivan #lawrence bryant #the asshat #ex boyfriend #bess has not had a great past #but she will have the brightest future!

[the-lost-girl-in-the-tardis]

House of the rising sun

Pairing: Doctor x reader

Reader type: Gender Neutral

Song: House of the rising sun- the animals

Warnings: N/A

An: Is this something anyone would be interested in? I've got this much done and planned on it spanning a few parts/chapters. But I've kinda hit a rough patch with it. Any feedback would be nice lol. And if enough people like it I'll come back and write more/ actually do the whole thing lol.

Word count:2259

"All sins are attempts to fill voids"

-Simone Weil.

The air is hot and dry when you step off the Tardis. Warm air blew through the near empty street as you spun on the spot taking in the small town before you. It looked like something from the old west films your grandparents enjoyed so much. Tall wooden buildings and a dusty winding road. Some where, out in the distance, a bell rung. The sound bright in the air.

Your guitar hits your back as you jump off the small ledge the Tardis had landed on. The Doctor was close behind. Locking the Tardis doors and adjusting his jacket as he stepped away from her. It was insane that he could wear the same thing in just about any weather or climate. Yet here you were with sweat already rolling off of you in shorts and a t shirt.

"Here we are! Home to the famous House Of The Rising Sun!" The Doctor exclaimed with a small flourish of his hands. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Like the song?" You asked falling into step next to the Doctor who shook his head.

"Oh hardly." He waved his hand before the small town the two of you were walking towards. "This place is brilliant! They have some of the best food and drinks this side of the galaxy." He threw his arm around your shoulders mindful of your guitar. "Some of the best music to." He winks and you shove your body against his.

"Oh I'll be the judge of that."

.

Well. You did have to admit the food was great and the drinks. Oh the drinks were fantastic. Just this side of sweet with a hint of fizz. If you had to tell someone what the drink of the gods were the little purple drink in front of you would have to be it.

There was a wide range of people there. From species you have already met to people you couldn't have even began to dream of existing. The place the Doctor had brought to you was huge. At least three stories in height and made of stunning dark wood.

In the center, where the two of you currently sat, was hundreds of tables. Each of them filled with people dining. To the right of you was what you assumed was a bar. Honestly you were a little too nervous to go up there by yourself and find out. Talking to new people had never been a strong suit of yours and especially not in a place as big as this.

Directly in front of you was a large stage. There were three microphones lined along the front of it and in the back had an assortment of both alien and familiar instruments. One that had caught your eye looked similar to your guitar. Almost as if another human from earth had come here.

"Would you like another drink?" A soft voice asked next to you. It was the kind women that had been your server for most of the night. She, like many others, had two sets of arms. The bottom two were holding her notepad close to her chest. She took both yours and the Doctors empty glasses when you nodded your head.

The scent of flowers lingered when she left. A sweet and powdery scent that you couldn't help but wonder where she got it from.

"Enjoying yourself?" The Doctor asked with a chuckle. Watching you as you looked about with wide eyes. Drinking in every sight the House had to offer. You looked back with a grin.

"Oh absolutely!" You pulled another fry from your dwindling plate. Well. It wasn't exactly like a fry made from potatoes but it was still starchy, carb filled, goodness.

"Good." He smiled and ate another jam filled treat. "Because what coming up next will blow your socks off." He furrowed his brows. "Not. Not literally though. Your socks will still be on." A pause. "I hope." You snorted a laugh and leaned back in your chair.

Your hand found your guitar next to you. You had brought it with you because the two of you had planned to stay the night for the next day festivities and you didn't want to be board while waiting.

Your drinks came to you just as the lights went out.

"Doctor?" You reached you hand out. To many mis-adventures had you waiting for any threats to come. You felt the Doctor lay his hand over yours.

"It's alright. The show's about to start." The show? A single spotlight fell onto the stage before you and landed on a man dressed in dark leather. You could hear your server chuckle from beside you.

"This your first show sweetheart?" You looked to her and nodded your head. "Well then you are in for a treat. Abiram doesn't perform very often." She looked at your guitar beside you and gave you a tooth filled smile. "Somethin' tells me you like him just fine." Her voice reminded you of a southern drawl.

Your attention is drawn away when he tapped into the microphone in front of him. The man pulled his cowboy style hat away with one hand. The other wrapped around the microphone.

"Evening ladies, gents, and those in-between." His hat is set down on a stool next to him. Like your waiter he to had two sets of arms. On of which was now pulling a guitar seemingly from thin air. "I am grateful that you are all here tonight. It warms my heart to know that you still enjoy music from this old man." Abiram had a deep voice. Smooth and mellow. Like a smokey whiskey if you wanted to truly give it a name.

You were able to pick of some details here and there as the man moved about on the stage. You could catch whiffs of what smelled like tobacco smoke. You could see the many rings he had on long and nimble fingers. One hand though was different from all the rest. You couldn't see it clearly until he had hung his guitar from his shoulders.

One hand was made entirely from metal. It gave the guitar a twangy sound as he plucked at the strings. A few notes drifted through the air a small rhythm of the man's own making. His fingers slid over the neck of the guitar. Silencing it as he looked out over the crowd.

"Now the first song im going to play you all know very well." A round of soft hearted laughter rolled over the crowd. "It's practically tradition at this point." Abiram's gaze fell on you. His head tilting as dark eyes looked you up and down. His lips pulled back into a grin. "This song is called White Flowers, for all you newcomers. It's a song about my stunning Dolon. May they always have my heart." The crowd broke into a cheer and beside you the Doctor clapped his hands together.

Given the chance, this song is one you would learn. Your own hands craved to grab your guitar and play along. White Flowers was nothing short of stunning. It pulled at your heart to listen along. Fulling enraptured with the mans singing. Abiram sung about his love as if they had made the very stars you and the Doctor had come from. As if they had made the earth you stand on. The very House you sit in now. Whoever Abriam called his very well had his heart.

He sung of their kindness. Their bright soul. His guiding light in it all. God if it were paired up with a movie or any kind of visuals really, you would be crying. Even now you almost held your breath. Practically crawling over the table to get closer to the man. To hear more of his music.

All to soon the final notes rang out. Abirams voice echoing in his silent stage. It wasn't until after the last string found its silence the crowd erupted into applause. Shouting and hollering stamping of feet and the thunderous sound of people clapping and cheering.

You were one of them. A grin at your lips as you laughed and cheered with the rest. You could hear the Doctor next to you doing the same. When you glanced over at him you noticed that at some point during the song he had slipped his coat off. His sleeves were rolled up over his forearms. A drink in one hand as he cheered with it.

"Will there be more?" You leaned towards him to be heard over the raucous. The Doctor tilted his head towards you.

"Just watch." He laughed out. You leaned back into your chair. Taking a drink as you let out another cheer.

There was, in fact, more. Abiram only sung a few more songs. Each one more enthralling than the last. From a soft and sweet ballad to something that would make Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis proud. There were others after him. Songs that had your feet stomping on the wooden floor and body moving from the sheer energy of the music alone.

By the time the night came and fell you were tired. The kind of tired when you had been swimming all day as a kid and had just come home. Blissfully exhausted. And as you and the Doctor rose to leave, giggling and laughing at one another. You realized you may have had one to many of said purple drinks.

The two of you began to make your way to the large double doors of the House. Weaving around other laughing friends and dancing couples.

"That. We have to do that again." You told the Doctor. You were leaning against him. You guitar in one hand so as to not accidentally break it in the dense crowd. The Doctor humed a response next to you.

"We could. There's more places out there like this. This one just happens to be my favorite." The Doctor had his coat slung over one shoulder. His bowtie slightly askew and a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks from the alcohol that had been in the drinks.

You open your mouth and begin to ask where these places are when your interrupted. The woman that had been your waitress was coming up to the two of you. A piece of paper fluttered in her hand. Her others arms were being used to move people aside so she could get to the two of you.

"There you are! Thought I had missed the two of ya." Light eyes settled on the two of you as she handed the Doctor the paper. "Now. You have every right to refuse but I suggest that ya don't." There was swirling script on the paper that the Tardis began to translate for you.

"Abiram took notice of the two of ya and your friends own instrument." She gave you a wink. "And wants' to be the one to invite the two of you for the House's late night special." The Doctors brow rose. His arm falling away from around your shoulders as he held the paper in both hands.

"I never heard of any "Late night specials" Before." The Doctor looked to the woman for an answer.

"Of course not sweetheart. It's usually only for the people who perform here. " She paused. "And others. But sometimes some people out in the crowd are invited. It's very special." She wrapped the Doctors hands round the paper. "What do ya say?"

.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked the Doctor. The two of you stood outside the large double doors of the house. Faintly you could hear people speaking. The calling out of names and numbers. A few cheers and yells.

"No. But when have I ever turned down the chance for an adventure." You shrugged your shoulders at that.

"Can't argue with that." You bumped the Doctors shoulder with your own. "After you Doctor." With that the Doctor grinned and pulled open one of the doors.

When you stepped inside you were immediately assaulted with the smell of tobacco smoke. The room was hazy with it as a few hundred people puffed away at cigar like smokes.

"Going once. Twice. Sold! To the lovely lady in the red dress." You shifted your guitar on your back. Taking in the rows of people. Some were mingling off the the side.

"Are. Are they bidding?" A few feet in front of you and to your left was a table of people talking over a game of cards. A few casino like chips tossed back and forth on the table.

"Gambling." The Doctor said. You jumped when someone laid a hand on your shoulder. You spun towards them taking a few steps back.

"Sorry darlin'. Didn't mean to spook ya." Abiram stood in front of you. Hat pulled low over his brow. A cigar sat between his lips and in one of his hands a drink. He used the metal one to pull the cigar away from his lips and smoke bellowed from them. "I'm just happy to see that the two of ya made it. It's not often we get people like yourself out here." You don't think he's wrong. For the entire time that you've been here you and the Doctor where the only human or human like people here.

Abiram motioned with his hand. "Please. Follow me." You glanced at the Doctor who looked at you.

#eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor #not finished #eleventh doctor x reader

[veryberryjelly]

stop it 

pairing ; yelena belova x reader

prompt -  After a long day, person a just wants to sleep but person b just can’t keep it in their pants and they lose it, eventually running away

wc ; 1.4k

——————

Sleep.

That’s all you could think about as you pulled up to your apartment.

You needed sleep.

It had been a really tough week. With Yelena gone on a mission for the past 8 days you didn’t have any sort of support when you felt like shit after coming home every day.

You had Lucky, but it wasn’t the same as curling up to your girlfriend's side while she stroked your hair and let you vent about your horrible day.

He was super soft and cuddly, but he wasn’t exactly responsive.

“ one more day “ you muttered as you climbed out of your car and put your bag over your shoulder, reaching into the backseat to grab the groceries you had bought on the way home.

Apparently you couldn’t bend that way, not only did you drop the bag, but you pulled a muscle in your shoulder.

“ ow, fuck “ you winced, pulling your arm back and holding your other hand to it to try and sooth the pain there.

This day couldn’t get much worse.

First your boss cut your hours for next week down to only work four days, then you got caught in miles of traffic on your way home. This was the last straw. You were done for the day.

You needed to shower and get in bed. At least tomorrow was saturday. Your day off. And the day your love returned home.

You carried the groceries up to the apartment, smiling briefly when you spotted Lucky asleep on the couch across the room. Once you set the groceries down on the kitchen island, you unpacked and put away what you needed to, leaving the dry items in the bag to unpack in the morning when you felt better.

With that done, you walked across the apartment to your bedroom to strip out of your clothes. You were too focused on getting the tight and itchy fabric off of you that you didn't notice the light under the bathroom door. It was only when you were sliding your shoes off to put them on the rack that you noticed yelena’s combat boots were back in their usual place. Your brow furrowed softly, wondering how that had even happened.

And then the toilet flushed. Your head shot up to look at the door to the bathroom attached to your bedroom.

The second the door opened and you spotted your girlfriend's soft features, you shot across the room and wrapped your arms around her neck, burying your head in her warm skin.

She didn’t say anything either, and just wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you close to her.

Only after about a minute did the two of you pull apart, your hands going straight to her cheeks to look her over for injuries.

“ are you okay? Are you hurt ?” you asked slightly hurriedly as your eyes dropped to a bandage on her upper shoulder.

“ i’m fine детка, just a few scratches, nothing a few days of rest can’t fix “ yelena spoke soothingly, lifting her hands to take yours and press a kiss onto your soft palms.

“ well then, let’s get started on that rest. “ you said, a soft smile falling onto your lips as you led her towards your bed.

The idea of a shower had completely left your mind, all you wanted now was to lay and cuddle with yelena until tomorrow came.

Unfortunately your lover had other plans.

Before you could drag her to bed she pulled you back into her arms and kissed you with a lot more force than the first time. It was a moment or two before you pulled away to look at her with a slightly confused look on your face.

“ lena, what are you doing ?”

“ i missed you, дорогой. Haven’t felt you in over a week. “ her voice was hushed but every word felt like she was confused why you weren’t into this.

“ baby, i love you, and i have missed you, but i am so tired, can we please just wait until tomorrow? “

You had never turned yelena down for sex before. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that response.

You unwrapped her arms from around you and made your way to your side of the bed, pulling your pyjamas from under your pillow and sliding them on, the simple cotton shorts and an old t-shirt.

The minute your head hit the pillow you were out like a light, only lasting long enough to cuddle up to yelena under the covers.

—-------------

You were woken up from your peaceful slumber by a pair of hands inching under your shirt and up towards your chest.

You thought you could just move her hand, but after you did that it just travelled down towards the band of your underwear.

“ lena, stop “ you mumbled, your voice riddled with sleep.

“ it’s tomorrow, baby. I don’t think i can last much longer without you. “ she muttered, sliding closer to you and pressing kisses onto your neck, hoping to get you in the mood for this.

But it only angered you.

“ yelena. Stop it. I don’t want to have sex right now “ you said, pulling her hands off of you and sitting up in bed.

“ okay, i’m sorry i missed you. “ she said rather sarcastically.

You let out a frustrated sigh before standing from the bed, sliding on a hoodie and grabbing your phone.

“ i’m sleeping on the couch tonight, i’ll see you in the morning, lena “ you said, exhaustion and irritance clear in your voice as you walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind you, but not before lucky followed you out of the room.

You could hear a muttered swear on the other side of the door. As much as you wanted to just sleep peacefully in your bed with yelena and lucky, she had made that impossible for you tonight.

You grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and laid down on the piece of furniture, hoping to finally catch some sleep. A soft smile graced your lips for a few moments when lucky jumped up and curled into your body. You draped your arm over the blonde creature and finally got some peaceful sleep.

—-------------

The next morning you were woken up by the smell of coffee.

Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the sight of yelena setting down a mug for you before she sat down on the armchair.

You lifted your head, smiling softly when you found that lucky hadnt moved from his spot all night. You tapped his body lightly, signalling for him to move so you could move.

The sound of a soft “ morning “ from the armchair brought your attention to yelena.

“ morning. “ you responded simply, reaching over to take your coffee.

The two of you sat in palpable silence for a few moments before she spoke up.

“ i’m so sorry, моя любовь. I know there’s no excuse, but i just missed you so much, and i- i never meant to try and push that on you. “

You could hear the wavering in her voice. She had never liked when you fought, especially when it ended with the two of you sleeping apart.

“ it’s okay, lena… “ you paused, setting your coffee on the table and taking the few steps over to her and perching on the arm of the chair. “ i forgive you. I just had a really tough week and i just wanted to sleep last night. “

“ i couldn’t sleep after you left, i felt so terrible. “ she said quietly, tilting her head up to look at you.

You lifted your hand and rested it on her cheek, muttering a soft ‘ oh, baby. ‘ before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“ you don’t have to go anywhere, right ?” you questioned, earning a shake of the head from yelena. “ well why don’t we have some breakfast and spend the day in bed? I didnt sleep to well out here either “

A soft smile fell onto her lips before she rested her head briefly down on your thigh

“ that sounds nice “

#🍓 - jelly writes #☕️ - jelly prompt challenge #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐚 #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜 #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #florence pugh #yelena belova icons #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova angst #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova fluff #yelena belova fic #florence pugh fic #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu x reader #avengers x reader

[theblerdbox]

Innocent. (Holes AU x Nevermore Academy)

TW: Physical Abuse, Corporal Punishment

"Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me." Psalm 23:4

Nevermore Academy for Impressionable Young Women and Camp Green Lake crossed paths once in history - Valentine's Day 1979.

Fifteen-year-old Eva tugged at the hem of her shrunken plaid skirt. She pulled it beyond her knees and it sprung into position upon release. "You're making it worse," Elle groaned, "I've been telling you it's time to size up -"

"I'm not sizing up," Eva snapped, "I refuse to gain weight in this place. She was getting nervous. A Nevermore Girl never breaks the dress code: Sunday skirts are to fall right at the knee, no lower and certainly no higher.

"It's your funeral," Elle said flatly.

The bus ride to Camp Green Lake was 12 hours of silence. They had only heard the rumors about Camp Green Lake before - The dust, the heat, the yellow spotted lizard. While lumber duty, the girls would challenge each assumption with the swing of an axe.

"Poor little babies. It must be sooooo hard digging ONE hole for the day."

"We risk our lives out here on those climbs."

"I can count on two hands how many times I've almost been clipped by a rogue branch!"

"Did you hear about that senior who can't walk anymore? She can't walk AT ALL!"

"And they just have to dig a hole - Some punishment."

"I heard Headmaster Walker and his sister have a bet," Claire bit her lip, itching to share what she'd overheard during quiet hour through the walls, "He thinks her camp is bullshit. Headmaster Walker made a bet with his sister, that if her camp is any better than his, he'll finally gift the camp with a fat check."

"And if she loses?"

"He takes the land and she's out on the street."

Valentine's Day 1979 was simply a house check. Simon, Professor Clarice Thompkins, guidance counselor, and Nevermore's 10 best students made their way to what was formerly known as Green Lake, TX - Simon's hometown.

The girls filed off the bus one by one, perfectly groomed, matching from head to two. It disturbed Mr. Sir how the girls looked exactly alike. The girls remained silent and held their chins high enough to be aware but locking eyes with no one.

"Well trained," Mr. Pendanski assessed, "You didn't tell us your brother was military.

Lou Walker took the last toke of her cigarette and tossed it to the side, ignoring the assumption of her colleague. She recognized the clenched jaws, fidgeting fingers, and dry glances through the orange jumpsuit-wearing boys who called out to them. "Those girls are scared to death."

She met her brother and pulled him into a warm hug, "Welcome home, Simon!"

Simon huffed and reluctantly returned the embrace before shrugging his sister off, "You know how I am about touch." Despite the heat, Simon was elaborately draped in his favorite black cape. Underneath he dawned a three-piece black suit and a solid-colored bowtie.

"Mother always did say you were a diva," The Warden teased.

"Mother was always right," Simon sang under his breath before addressing the ladies in plaid skirts awaiting his command, "Lou, these are some of my best students. I hope that their testimony may be of inspiration for some of your - inmates."

He hissed the word inmates with distaste and the girls acknowledged the Camp Green Lake Staff with a slight choreographed nod. Mr. Sir eyed them with overt suspicion.

"Honestly sister," he continued with a condescending giggle, "You could at least put them inside a building. These poor young men have been sleeping in tents? No wonder you have trouble taming them."

"Teenagers are hard to manage." While Lou took her brother on a Camp Green Lake grounds tour, The girls set up the Wreck Room for the Valentine's Dance they'd planned. The girls wrote each camper a valentine, signed with a heart.

The Nevermore Academy/Camp Green Lake pen pal program was three years old, organized by the camps' guidance counselors Mr. Pendanski and Miss Leo. The two were excited to meet each other after writing for so long. In their letters, they'd share their worst desk salad recipes. For the visit, Pendanski took it upon himself to prepare his best. He thought it was cute how she covered her mouth while she ate. "It's so far out," she took a sip of cola, "that I finally get to sit here with you and have the best sad desk salad."

"Oh, don't you just love love!?" Ellie danced around with the pink streamers she was assigned to hang, "God, I hope they're cute. Are any of them cute?"

"Cute as a python," Claire scoffed, "These boys are doing jail time."

"Hey, now, we're here because we messed up too," an older girl called from atop the ladder, gesturing for Ellie to pass on the work.

"We're reformed. They're wasting space. I heard there's on in for murder."

The others gasped and shook their heads in disbelief.

Ellie gazed out the window at the first set of boys returning from a day's work, "I think we all deserve to be loved, don't you, Eva?"

Eva quietly placed the finishing touches on her valentine by the pool table. It was a sketch of her and, Mitch, her pen pal of 8 months. He was in for shoplifting, like her.

As long as I have you, I don't need to steal anything, he wrote.

Ellie had been writing with his bunkie, Spider. Eva fantasized about the day the four of them would get to double date after they finish their sentences - free. She snapped the valentine shut as she felt Ellie hover over her shoulder, "I think love is a privilege. Not a right."

The Wreck Room door flew open and the first set of boys piled in, smelling like fresh soap. Eva caught her breath, masking the nerves that budded at the thought that Mitch could be in the same room. She tugged on her skirt and stood to her feet. The shift's waistband was pulled to her growing hips. An older girl lent Eva a sweater to wrap around her waist, "It happens to the best of us."

From a distance, she heard Mr. Pendanski address a tall boy of A-Tent, as Mitchell. Eva and Mitchell locked eyes from across the room, recognizing each other immediately. Ellie crept up behind Eva and slowly pushed her friend forward, whispering into her ear, "Jackpot!"

They were having the night of their lives. Mitch and Eva caught up and chatted the whole night. It was like they'd always known each other. They stood to make another trip to the punch bowl and Eva forgot to tug on her skirt. She thought nothing of it until an hour later.

Simon sauntered into the Wreck Room, Lou after him. He sniffed the air and frowned at the cheap decorations. His eyes landed on Eva and he swiftly clapped his hands, a signal for Miss Leo to cut the music for a very important announcement.

Simon, ever the Drama King, waited for complete silence before speaking, "Well, I am glad you are all enjoying the visit. It's a real party in here tonight!" He kept his eyes on Eva and her stomach dropped.

"What's with this guy?" Mitch whispered. Recognizing the seriousness in The Headmaster's tone, Eva shook her head, her eyes pleading with Mitch not to say more.

"Take Eva for example," The Headmaster held out a hand, gesturing for Eva to step forward into the room's center he created with a terrifying aura. Her knees quivered with each step and she suddenly wished she took a bathroom break from catching up with Mitch.

"Don't be scared," The Headmaster hissed, "I don't bite."

Once Eva reached him, Simon placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. She jumped as he started talking again and in her peripheral, she caught his sister doing the same. "Gentlemen, this is Eva. One of our brightest stars and youngest graduates. She's made quite the progress - Haven't you, Eva?"

Eva gulped and cleared her throat. The Headmaster repeated himself with a shout that made all the room's occupants jump, including Mr. Sir, whose hand rested readily on the pistol holstered to his waistband.

"I'm almost done with my tenure," Eva's voice cracked with embarrassment.

"Then how would you explain this?" Simon tugged on the hem of Eva's shrinking plaid skirt and she whimpered. "Is this what Nevermore has taught you?" He screamed at her, "To show out for the boys?"

Spider, Mitch, and the rest of A-Tent stepped forward at the ready, but Mr. Sir intercepted them with a strong arm and a warning, "Gentlemen."

In actuality, Mr. Sir wanted to step in. He didn't know how. But seeing Lou Walker's eyes well up with guilt as she watched her brother humiliate that girl was something worth killing to never see again.

Simon continued, saying in a sweet sinister undertone, "Now, darling, you must know I'm not mad. I'm just thoroughly disappointed. Nevermore Academy," The Headmaster addressed the girls only, as if the dozens of boys in orange jumpsuits disappeared, "What is the punishment appropriate for a violation of the dress code? Anyone? Call it out, ladies. You know this!"

"40 lashes," called a voice from the back of the room.

"Very good!" Simon removed his cape and jacket, piling both into Miss Leo's empty arms. She removed his cuff links, with care, and rolled up his sleeves.

He removed his belt and returned his attention to a now crying Eva. She bowed her head and prayed. That was the only thing that could save her now. She chanted to herself the words her abuela made her memorize in the fifth grade, "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."

Simon continued with afternoon trivia, "And what is the punishment associated with misrepresenting the Nevermore Academy brand?"

"Simon, stop this," Lou begged, "The girl gets it. We get it."

Simon repeated his answer with a scream and was met with an answer from a pale girl in front.

"50 lashes."

Mr. Sir pushed through the crowd with authority "That's enough! You stop this right now -"

Simon fearlessly looked the gun-toting cowboy in the eyes and stepped towards him, "I don't know who you are," he spoke slowly, "But, I know you're making a big mistake."

Mr. Sir looked to Lou who shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

"I -" Eva started to speak and the room went quiet again. She spoke through tears, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

Simon stopped in front of the girl and placed both hands on her shoulders, slowly pushing her down onto the chair waiting behind her. He rolled up her skirt, exposing her thighs to the onlooking campers, "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

She bow her head and began to pray again, "Thou anointest my head with oil."

CRACK!

"My cup runneth over."

CRACK!

"Surely goodness and mercy -"

CRACK!

"- follow me all the days -"

CRACK!

"- of my life -"

CRACK!

Eva looked up through her tears, riddled with strength as each lash landed against her exposed thighs. Bloody welts formed and all she could see was Mitch. He held her gaze, nodding for her to hold strong.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"And I will dwell -"

CRACK!

"I shall dwell -"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"I shall dwell in the house of the Lord!" She cried out with a roar.

CRACK! CRACK!

"Forever."

Eva passed out shortly after. The other girls silently surrounded her, covering her lifeless, exposed body with their own sweaters and blankets. Yes, she messed up, but she was their sister.

"Back on the bus, all of you. We're done here." Simon hissed at Nevermore students and staff, shaken and bewildered by the scene. He repeated himself with a scream as he stormed out the Wreck Room door. The boys parted like the Red Sea for him. That cursed man was nothing to play with. Simon was met by his sister, blocking the exit with crossed arms and a scowl.

"It goes without saying that we won't be back."

"You're not welcome back. You're a monster. And I'll see to it your establishment ends in ruin."

"Now, that's a sight that I'd like to see," Simon glowed with dark sarcasm before pushing his way through The Warden and onto the awaiting coach bus. The girls followed behind him, carrying an unconscious Eva in their arms like a martyr.

Mitch, torn apart with grief tried to chase after them, but Pandanski and Mr. Sir held him back with the help of A-Tent. A medic eventually had to sedate him. Mitch was never the same after that day. He wrote Eva a letter every day, hoping for a response, but he never for one. None of the boys heard from the Nevermore Girls again. It was like they disappeared into thin air.

For months, the air of Camp Green Lake took a turn. The boys were softer with one another. Never again would they complain about having to dig a hole; bitch about the hot sun; or dread the possible sighting of the cursed yellow spotted lizard. Nothing was more jarring than experiencing another run-in with Simon Walker, Headmaster of Nevermore Academy for Impressionable Young Women.

That's episode 2! I hope it was a fun read. I promise I'll go back to Wicked Games after this. I just needed the warm-up.

Now, I want to hear from the readers, would you rather dig a hole a day in the hot sun for 8 months or chop down trees in the forest for 8 months? Comment below. (Jail is not an option!)

@ceruleanmusings

@ocfairygodmother

#holes 1998 #fanfiction #oc au #one shot #Nevermore Academy #Desperado spinoff #holes prequel #Riley Keough for The Warden should there be a Holes remake #ocfairygodmother #I'l proof read this later #The Warden x Mr Sir

[mymisfitsbabe]

Camp AU

(This is a continuation of the camp AU I started for Harringrove week in June...https://at.tumblr.com/mymisfitsbabe/well-we-got-no-choice-all-the-girls-and-boys/6fk52io4bbi7)

Running on five hours of sleep had made Steve sloppy, he’d been too tired to pay proper attention to his job for the day. It was his turn to take the lifeguard post at the edge of the roped off section of the lake. Three large groups of campers were scheduled to have canoe training, they were preparing for the big race set to take place the last week of camp.

Kathy, Billy, Argyle, Tommy and Chrissy were the teens in charge of leading each canoe. Tina, Jason, Heather, Tammy and Steve were the lifeguards, they were scattered throughout the roped off section armed with floaties just in case any kiddies managed to fall into the water without the canoe leader noticing.

Steve normally loved life guard duty, but today he couldn't quite keep his eyes open as the sun glared down on him. The warmth soaked into him drying his wet clothes and lulling him in it's warmth, the water gently lapping at the wooden lifeguards post like a gentle song.

Peeking out through one half lidded eye Steve watched the first group gather on the shore. They wouldn't be in the water for at least another twenty minutes. With a heavy sigh he relaxed against the seat. Steve used his pointer finger to push his sunglasses up his nose, letting his eyes shut.

The first group would be Billy’s group and Billy had never once let a kid out of line enough fall in let alone tip the canoe. Somehow Billy could make even the wildest of campers fall in line, no one back talked Hargrove.

“Harrington!!” Billy’s voice boomed over the lake startling Steve awake.

Jumping to his feet on the wooden lifeguard’s post Steve searched for the voice that had woken him, he spotted Billy standing in his canoe about ten feet away pointing out into the water. 

Without hesitation Steve grabbed the floatation device next to him and dove into the lake as close to the flailing child as he could. The water was cool, not quite cold but nowhere near warm, Steve kicked his feet and pushed forward as the float in his hand pulled him upward toward the surface. The kid was half screaming, half choking when Steve reached her. 

“I’m here, grab on to-” Steve had managed to get out before the kid was scrambling over him.

The kid was panicking, she clawed at the water trying to grab onto anything that would keep her above the dark murky blue water. Steve was the first thing the kid managed to latch onto, she tried to pull herself up onto him shoving him down under the water as she flailed about.

Shit, Steve vaguely remembered something in training about what to do when a person is panicking in the water but he couldn't quite remember. Breaking the surface Steve gasped and sucked in a lungful of air before he was being pushed back under, the girl’s knee catching his mouth as she tried to crawl on top of him.

Fuck, fuck. Steve kicked his feet trying to put some distance between him and the girl, but when he’d managed to get about a foot of space between them she started sinking. Steve reached out and yanked her back upward, sending himself down deeper in return. Steve swam back up to the surface, he had his back to the girl as he broke through and reemerged. 

Immediately she was on him, Steve was still trying to take a gasping breath when she plunged him back down into the water. Water filled his mouth and lungs, Steve kicked furiously toward the surface. Once he resurfaced Steve coughed up the water and searched frantically for the floatie, the girl shoved him back down but he’d seen it. 

The damn float was at least five feet away now, all the struggling had caused waves to carry it out toward the rope that marked the edge of the safety zone. With burning lungs Steve swam for it, the girl still struggling on his back clawing at him when she’d dip into the water.

Steve didn't think he was going to make it, his lungs were on the verge of bursting, his vision was starting to go white and his head was pounding. Desperate Steve broke the surface again, he took a short gasps of air before diving down deep into the water. 

The girl held on tight even after he’d pulled her into the water she’d been so scared of, she was probably in shock, or maybe she was too scared to let go. Swimming as hard as he could Steve kept his eyes locked on the round white outline of the floatation device, he was almost there, he was almost there!

Just as Steve’s lungs gave in, sucking in a large pull of water, he broke the surface again scrambling to snatch the floatie. By some miracle Steve had managed it, he clung to the plastic ring choking on the water in his lungs. The girl thrashed forward trying to take the flotation device from Steve with one hand as the other gripped tighter to him. 

The struggle was causing them both to drown as waves crashed into them and the floatie dunked in and out of the water. Another set of hands grabbed onto Steve and the girl, the other person forced them apart and shoved the girl away. Steve dipped back down into the water, the floatie was wrenched from his hands and kicked toward the flailing child.

The girl snatched the float and tried to climb up onto it like a cat trying to claw it's way out of danger. Steve struggled in the other person’s arms as he tried to force out the water from his lungs AND breathe at the same time. 

“Don't fight, don't fight, I’ve got you. Just relax.” Billy spoke in Steve’s ear as he shifted so Steve was laying back to chest with him.

Steve fought the urge to panic, he was still trying to work out how to breathe, his body instinctively objected to being on his back while trying to dislodge the remaining water from his lungs. Billy grabbed Steve’s jaw and forced him straight, lengthen Steve's neck and tilting his head back ever so slightly. Billy slowly kicked his feet under the water till they were both almost prone across the surface of the water, floating on their back, or rather Billy floating on his back and Steve floating on Billy. 

Steve did his best not to tense when he felt Billy’s free hand on his stomach, low, Billy trailed his palm up Steve’s body till he reached the dip in between Steve’s collarbones. Billy repeated the process again and again.

“Just breathe, slow and steady, slow and steady.” Billy muttered softly, his mouth against Steve’s ear causing the sound to vibrate through Steve’s whole body.

Coughing out the last bit of water Steve swallowed hard, his throat hurt, raw from the water that had almost drowned him. Steve startled when Billy shifted in the water, he twisted around and slammed his arm down on the wooden platform of the lifeguards post.

“Get up, and stay here Harrington. If you so much as look at the water again I’m going to fucking kill you do you understand me?” Billy shoved Steve’s back into the wood and glared into his eyes, angry.

Shocked, Steve opened his mouth to speak but Billy pushed himself forward into Steve’s face and growled. “Do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes!” Steve sputtered as he shifted around to cling to the platform.

“Good boy.” Billy shoved Steve upward.

Steve scrambled up onto the wooden platform, Billy’s free hand dug into Steve’s hip helping lift him out of the water.

“Lay on your side and don't go to sleep.” Billy dove back into the water before Steve could say another word.

Steve laid himself back on the wooden deck just breathing in big lungful's of air while the sun soaked into him again. Groaning Steve rolled to his side, still the ever obedient person he was. Laying there Steve tried not to think about the burning claw marks that the girl had left all over his body or the tenderness of his throat, or the feel of Billy’s hands all over his body.

It wasn't long before a canoe pulled up beside him, apparently Chrissy and Argyle had come to help when they saw the kid in the water start to panic. Ashamed Steve climbed into the canoe with them and grabbed a paddle.

“Oh my god Steve! You look like you tried to give a cat a bath.” Chrissy started fiddling with Steve’s hair, brushing it back so she could check his scratches.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I just want to get to shore.” Steve smiled weakly at her.

“Okay.” She smiled back at him warmly.

#steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #Camp AU #Sorry its not that long and not that great

[hexpea]

Ch. 22 - Just a Confession

"So you're telling me, that you moved all the way back out here because of Suguru?" Mei Mei laughed as the two of you lounged on the shore on a pair of outdoor chaise as the sun began to set. 

It was the early evening of the day you arrived back home. While you weren't back in Haebaru specifically, you were glad to be home along the shores of Okinawa. You had instead opted for calling Naha home, still close to your mother but far enough away for independence - and beach access. 

"Essentially," you sighed, closing your eyes behind your sunglasses as the warm sun stung your skin. 

Mei Mei was sat next to you, arms folded behind her head, her own pair of sunglasses covered mostly by her large front braid. "And the whole Gojo thing didn't work out either, so..." you trailed off. She often found herself down here as a vacation spot, and, when it came to her work, some of her highest paying clients had vacation homes needing protection. 

"Hm..." she hummed to herself. "So if not Satoru...and Suguru was never an option..." she trailed off. "That one kid you graduated with isn't so bad. Nanami, right? Kento?"

"Oh, him," you blushed slightly, "he's too busy with work to even consider a relationship. I've hardly seen him since graduation. And I think he's got something going on with Haibara."

"Okay, so then he and Haibara are off the table then," she brought her arms down and crossed them in front of herself in thought. "I'm not available." She winked at you though you could barely see it. "And Hime is all the way north... Every other sorcerer I know is too old. What about Shoko?" Her teasing became a bit sadder when she realized the options were slim.

"You really don't need to help me find someone," you giggled, "the right person will come along with time. They don't have to be a sorcerer either."

"Whatever you say," she shrugged.

After your relaxing afternoon with Mei Mei, who so graciously helped you move after a hefty payment, you went back to your new apartment to spend the rest of your night.  You at least found some peace in not being interrupted while cooking. Gojo ended up being right, cooking was a great hobby. 

"Y/N!" Gojo's obnoxious voice suddenly appeared, causing you to nearly lose a finger while chopping some vegetables. 

"Do you know how to knock?" You hissed at him and put the knife down. "How did you even find me anyways?" 

"Mei Mei..." Gojo stood straight with a dumbfounded look on his face. "I can't believe you moved without telling us."

"It was for your own good. I didn't belong there," you muttered and leaned your hip against the counter, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Oh, come on," Gojo rolled his eyes from behind his blindfold. "It's not just me." You blushed against the accusation. "It was Suguru, too, wasn't it? Are you sure you won't just come back? We like having you around."

"No," you answered quickly, as much as it hurt. "I don't want to see him ever again. I don't want to hear his voice. I don't even want to have him in my head as a thought. It was supposed to be this way anyway. If it wasn't for our stupid plan to try and get me with you...none of this ever would've happened."

"What now?" Gojo was thrown off by your sudden confession. He quickly shook his head and changed the subject, your return more important than whatever ploy you and Geto had. "You're really not interested in coming home?"

"This is home," you pointed to the ground sternly, "Tokyo was never home. And no, I don't plan on returning. 

Gojo stood silently for a moment. "Got it," he muttered, "guess I'll go then." You nodded, trying to maintain a stern look despite being incredibly saddened by his unannounced appearance.

Meanwhile, back in Tokyo, Geto was blow drying his hair after a shower - lazily getting ready for a night out with Gojo. He knew what he was feeling and it wasn't his usual depression. There was a cause. It was a cause that could be fixed...or made worse if he actually grew a pair - or at least that's what he was telling himself. But he figured he was too late, especially as his new relationship was developing. His, and your, stubbornness caused a rupture in your relationship, whether you would accept him or not. His sour attitude and your lack of confidence to be straightforward with him was a mess neither of you knew how to navigate.

"Ready?" Gojo shouted over the noise of the hair dryer as he appeared unannounced. 

Geto turned off the dryer for a moment to give Gojo a dirty look as he stood still wrapped in a towel. "Do I look ready to you?"

"Nope!" Gojo grinned, eyeing him up from behind his blindfold. "I just like being a dick."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Geto mumbled, determining his hair was dry enough and went to his closet instead to grab his clothing.

"Listen," Gojo began, watching as Geto tossed a t-shirt, underwear, and a pair of pants on his bed. "I don't want you to have to worry tonight. Drink..." Gojo's voice wavered a bit as Geto dropped his towel and grabbed his boxer briefs to put on, "as much as...you want."

"I plan to," Geto mumbled as he slipped his ankles through his underwear. "I could care less about a hangover tomorrow. I've got no missions planned."

"Right," Gojo politely looked away, which would be strange considering they were two guys with the same parts - having seen one another nude a few times before. But things were different since Gojo's feelings had changed. "So...this girl you're with, is it serious? Like, are you serious about her? She's LTR material?"

"LTR?" Geto chuckled. "I guess so. I just needed someone to occupy my time, and she was willing. Whether it will last? Time will tell."

"So you don't particularly feel anything  for her right now?" Gojo continued. His pressing on the matter caused Geto to give him a funny look. 

"No, why?" Geto asked while he slipped his shirt over his head.

"No reason," Gojo answered quickly, watching as Geto meandered to his dresser to dab some cologne against his jugular. "Ready now?"

"Yeah, let's go," Geto sighed with a bit of irritation and grabbed his coat by the door before leaving with Gojo.

When the pair reached the club, it had just barely opened for the night but was already booming with plenty of people and bass-boosted music. Once inside, Gojo and Geto squeezed through the crowd in order to go straight for the bar. 

"On me tonight," Gojo happily slapped his credit card on the bar top to start a tab. The bartender rolled his eyes and took the card away and began tapping in their first order onto a computer.

"I'd hope so," Geto muttered, barely audible over the music. He leaned his body against the bar top, head in his hand. 

"I can't wait to get some alcohol in you," Gojo lightly shook Geto by his shoulder, "so you can stop being so mopey."

"I'm not mopey," he reassured his friend and shrugged off his arm. Gojo also had other plans in mind, knowing that his current relationship wasn't as serious as he had thought.

"Uh huh, and I'm not the strongest," Gojo rolled his eyes and slid the newly placed shot toward Geto's slumped over frame. Geto glared at him as he took the shot. "Just shut up and drink." Gojo encouraged, downing his own with a nasty face afterward.

With a still scowling face, Geto sucked down the shot without wavering. That first shot was one that lead to many. Gojo, after having stopped after the first shot and opting for something a bit more gentle and flavorful, watched as Geto steadily loosened up after each swallow. 

"So," Gojo started slowly as Geto sucked down what was likely his sixth, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. Especially after finding out your...current relationship isn't as serious as I thought."

"Okay," Geto sloppily encouraged Gojo to go on, rolling his wrist ridiculously in an attempt to shoo away Gojo's nerves. 

"Alright, well," Gojo's hesitation was clear. Geto had never seen his best friend, the strongest, appear so nervous before. "I've been seeing you in a...different light lately."

"A different light?" Geto inquired with a drunken smile on his face. "Do tell."

"Ever since we started going on more missions together, albeit intense missions, I've come to think of you as my best friend..."

"I agree," Geto noted, his tone dragging out as if he were continuing to encourage Gojo to get out his thoughts. 

"At times, I think you know me better than I know myself," Gojo gave a weak laugh, his face turning bright pink as he took a sip from his stout glass. It was clear he was getting fed up with himself, frustrated at his pounding heart. "Suguru, I...think I'm in love with you."

#geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x y/n #suguru getou x you #suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #getou suguru #suguru getou #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[catboyelimgarak]

I was going to write a fix-it small fic because I finished the last episode of DS9, but I dont think I can finish it. So I’ll post what I had so far here and maybe when I feel better motivated, finish it with Julian asking about Garak and throwing himself into his arm lmao.

What do you do when what you thought was desired turned out to be so…anticlimactic.

How did one go on to attempt explaining the phenomenon?

Laying side by side there was nothing but silence and satisfied breathing. The heat between them still warm and mixed with the subtle musk of sex. Sweat slowly drying on both brown skin and shining spots. The flashes of just moments ago lingered in his head: arms wrapped tight around her petite body, and her own arms hooked under his pits to bring their chest flushed together. Ezri proved herself more than just a gentle soul. Whether it is from her symbiote which held some of the most experienced beings in the galaxy, or Ezri Tigan herself, either way her cries had driven him further than he had before. Reaching the highest point of being twined together had been just that: the highest point, and nothing more. So it really went to wondering:

Why the hell did he feel like any other night with a beautiful woman?

Ezri Dax was no other woman, she was someone who he could easily talk to without being the butt of a joke. She listened to him babble without looking bored — or at least not terribly so. And her smiles always set his heart pulsating against his ribcage as if to escape. She wasa Dax, with years of knowledge on him from the previous host. What made this so passive?

Her chest pressing against his backside. Fingers brushed over his bicep and warm breath washed over his ear. “We still need to get up, Julian.”

Work. War. Cardassia Prime.

“Hey…”

“Hm?”

“...It’s not there, huh?”

Slowly Julian turned around to better face her blue eyes; they were like the sky on Earth,  which only made him ache for the planet. Tenderly she looked at him, tracing over his brow, then down his long cheeks, and finally back up to his own gaze.  

“This wasn’t how either of us thought it would be like.”

Relieved  that he was not alone in disappointment, there still was a zap of shock; she had thought this would be the end of their little teenage love scene. Ezri’s face melted into sympathy as a small smile pulled the corners of her lips. No longer were they filled with that passion the months had been filled with. Instead there laid only confusion and sadness.

“I thought this was it.” He murmured against her forehead.

“Me too.” She laid her arm over his waist, gently scratching her nails over his backside. “It did bring some clarity though.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve hung on to Jadzia’s memories and emotions this whole time, and that…that isn’t what I need or want.”

It would have been you, those words did nothing to him now. Perhaps before, laced with bittersweetness, but now he knew them to be a poorly aged emotion. ‘Would have’ and ‘now’ were two different times, so distinct and contrasting in so little time. Julian could not wrap his mind, with all its augmented capacity, around the idea. Ezri could, but explaining appeared difficult.

“We’re not the same anymore. Not just as Dax and Julian, but as Ezri weeks ago and Julian from weeks ago as well. We’re always changing, that’s how the universe does it. If we were to stay as we were for long, then we’d never grow wiser!”

Simple, yet still so hard to fully comprehend as he felt a chill wash over his bare body.

Ezri sat up without a care to pull the blanket over her chest — because, really, what did it matter after sex — then exhaled a deep breathe. “You know, I had a suspicious feeling this was how it’d be.”

“I’m starting to realize that's just a Dax thing.”

“Well, when you have hundreds of years under your symbiote, you tend to just recognize things without realizing it.” She shrugged, though not without flashing him a smile over her shoulder.

“Do tell: what exactly did this feeling entail?” 

“I don’t think I will…but a very Jadzia thought begs me to give you a clue.”

Of course she would. Ezri or not, Jadzia was still fresh in the symbiote and loved to have her fun. 

“I’m just a substitute, and you’re too dumb to realize why, how, and who.” And the blankets were thrown aside to hit him in the face.

Sitting up, Julian sputtered. “What the hell does that mean?!”

With a towel now in one hand and an extra set of clothes in the other, Ezri shook her head. “Figure it out.” And she left him to watch her spotted backside walk into the refresher.

And as much as her vagueness frustrated him to narrow his eyes and look dumb with his mouth agape,  Julian could not deny he loved to see her walk away with the sway of her lovely hips.

#nsfw-ish #bizarre art #Julian Bashir

[gobboguy]

Chapter 8: The Journey Begins

As Gelbeg and Ionia journeyed westward through the countryside of Farfield, they passed lush farmland dotted with quaint cottages and grazing livestock. Concerned looks from various farmers and countryfolk followed their progress, their whispers mingling with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. The rhythmic clopping of hooves and the clank of Ionia's armor resonated in the air, accompanied by the soft thud of Gelbeg's booted feet on the dirt path.

Despite the picturesque scenery, Ionia struggled to hide her disgust as she kept her distance from Gelbeg, finding his presence repulsive. Gelbeg, however, seemed amused by her discomfort, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as they continued their journey.

Gelbeg trudged along with a heavy pack slung over his broad shoulders, its weight causing his muscles to strain. The pack, made of rugged leather and stitched together with sturdy twine, bulged with provisions for their journey: dried meat, hard bread, and water skins filled to the brim with fresh water from the nearby stream. His axe, its edge keen and glinting in the sunlight, was strapped securely to the side of the pack, ready for any threat they might encounter on the road.

Meanwhile, Ionia rode atop her horse with a smaller pack strapped to her back, containing her essentials for the journey: a few changes of clothing, a waterskin, and a map of the surrounding area. Her sword, sheathed in its scabbard and resting comfortably against her hip, was her constant companion and source of reassurance. Together, Gelbeg and Ionia carried enough supplies to sustain them on their quest, their determination unwavering as they pressed onward into the unknown.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the green fields of Farfield, Gelbeg and Ionia finally found a suitable spot to make camp. Beneath the comforting shade of towering trees, they unloaded their packs and set to work. Ionia swiftly gathered dry twigs and kindling, expertly arranging them into a makeshift fire pit while Gelbeg prepared their evening meal.

With practiced hands, Gelbeg skewered strips of beef onto a long stick, each piece sizzling as it made contact with the flames. The savory aroma of cooking meat wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the surrounding forest. The crackling of the fire provided a soothing backdrop to their campsite, casting dancing shadows upon the ground as darkness gradually descended.

As the meat slowly cooked over the open flame, Gelbeg and Ionia settled in for the night, their weary bodies finding solace in the warmth of the fire and the promise of a hearty meal. Despite the uncertainties of their journey ahead, in this moment, beneath the starlit sky, they found a sense of peace and camaraderie that strengthened their resolve to continue onwards.

As the fire crackled, an awkward silence enveloped Gelbeg and Ionia, broken only by the occasional snap of burning wood. Ionia's suspicious glances at Gelbeg did not go unnoticed, but he chose to meet her scrutiny with an amused grin rather than addressing it outright.

Finally, breaking the tense quiet, Ionia turned to Gelbeg with a pointed question. "How do you plan to keep up with me?" she asked, gesturing toward her Nag grazing nearby. "I doubt you'll match my pace on foot, especially with the horse to carry me."

Gelbeg's hearty laughter filled the air as he responded confidently, "Orcs are no strangers to long journeys on foot, I assure you. I'll keep up just fine. And if need be," he added with a wink, "the horse could always serve as a tasty addition to our dinner."

Ionia frowned, prodding at the fire with a long stick. "How much longer until we reach this supposed 'holy site' of yours?" she asked, her tone tinged with impatience.

Gelbeg shrugged, his expression grim. "It'll be a few more days at least," he replied, glancing at their dwindling supplies. "We need to make them last."

"It's in the Frozen Spine mountains in Acury," he added, anticipating her next question.

Ionia let out an exasperated huff, her frustration evident. "All this for some foolish superstition," she muttered, casting a disdainful glance at Gelbeg. With a sharp gesture, she spat onto the ground, expressing her contempt for the journey ahead.

Gelbeg, sensing a sensitive topic, ventured cautiously, "Does that mean you don't believe in the gods of Farfield?"

Ionia snorted, tossing a piece of grass into the fire. "At one time, I was an adherent to the Old Dominion," she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But that faith has long been shattered."

"Why?" Gelbeg inquired, intrigued by her revelation.

"After all my praise, after all my faith," she began, her tone heavy with disillusionment, "the Gods consistently rewarded those who didn't deserve it."

Gelbeg pondered her words for a moment before responding, "I can't sympathize. MOG, the Orc God, rewards his people for their devotion."

Ionia's laughter echoed across the campfire, a sharp contrast to the seriousness in Gelbeg's eyes. "Your faith in MOG seems to have blinded you," she jeered, gesturing at their surroundings. "Look at the sorry state of your people. What kind of god would allow such suffering?"

Gelbeg's expression remained steadfast, his voice unwavering. "This crisis," he declared, meeting Ionia's gaze with determination, "is merely a test. MOG has chosen us, the Orcs, as his people. We will endure this trial and emerge stronger on the other side."

Ionia's skepticism lingered in the air like a heavy fog. "So, this MOG of yours, he's been quite generous, hasn't he?" she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Bestowing strength and intelligence upon you?"

Gelbeg's eyes gleamed with fervor as he affirmed, "Yes, MOG has blessed me with strength and wisdom. He has guided me to lead my people toward a brighter future."

Ionia shook her head incredulously. "All these tales of divine intervention," she scoffed, "it's all the same. Gods claiming to be benevolent while their followers suffer. I've seen enough of it in the Old Dominion."

Gelbeg's conviction remained unshaken. "MOG is different," he insisted. "He listens to our prayers and grants us strength in times of need. Unlike the distant and indifferent deities of the Old Dominion."

Ionia's laughter echoed through the clearing, a bitter sound in the stillness of the night. "Gelbeg, do you truly believe that all gods are so benevolent?" she challenged, her eyes narrowing as she regarded him.

Gelbeg's expression remained resolute, his faith unwavering. "MOG has blessed me with strength and cunning," he affirmed, his voice steady. "He has chosen me to guide our people toward a new destiny."

Ionia shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and disdain flickering across her features. "And what about those who suffer?" she pressed. "Do you believe MOG has forsaken them, or perhaps they were never his chosen in the first place?"

Gelbeg's gaze hardened with resolve. "MOG's wisdom is beyond our mortal understanding," he replied firmly. "But I will do everything in my power to lead our people to a better future, regardless of the challenges we face."

Ionia's voice, edged with curiosity, cut through the silence as she asked Gelbeg, "What's it like being the only Orc out there with intelligence exceeding that of a child's?"

Ionia's question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Gelbeg shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his response. "It's a lonely path," he admitted at last, his voice tinged with melancholy. "But I have faith that one day, all Orcs will share in the knowledge and wisdom that MOG has granted me."

Ionia's laughter was sharp and derisive, cutting through the solemnity of the moment. "You truly believe that, don't you?" she remarked, her tone dripping with scorn. "I hate to break it to you, Gelbeg, but intelligence isn't something that can simply be bestowed upon a race of beings. It's innate, and it's clear to me that the Orcs will never possess it."

"I'm turning in," Ionia announced after a beat, settling her head on her pack, armor clinking softly. She shifted uncomfortably, trying in vain to find a way to sleep in full gear.

"In your armor?" Gelbeg inquired, eyebrows raised.

"I don't want you getting any ideas," Ionia retorted sharply. She stared at him as if he were some ravenous beast waiting to devour her.

Gelbeg chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself. Orcs don't find humans attractive."

Ionia cockily asked Gelbeg, her face betraying her disugst: "What is it that Orcs could possibly find so attractive about their own race?"

Gelbeg paused, considering Ionia's question carefully. "Human females lack the large gut that speaks of strength and vitality," he began, his tone thoughtful. "They lack the muscled arms and legs capable of defending their people, the proud odor that speaks of trials and victories, the large breasts capable of feeding multiple whelps, and the wide hips capable of birthing whole litters. All together, you're quite an ugly example of the human form."

Ionia recoiled, her expression twisting with disgust. "You're nothing but a pig," she spat at Gelbeg before turning away from the fire, seeking solace in the darkness beyond.

Gelbeg's laughter rang out, though devoid of amusement. "You humans will never understand the essence of the Orcs," he muttered to himself. Gazing up at the starry sky, he offered a silent prayer to MOG, seeking guidance from the Orc God to navigate the challenges ahead.

#fantasy #orcs #goblins #literature #gobboguy #songsofpower7

[literenture]

Not sure exact placement & timing of this, but uh, Jordan shows up!

They sat huddled together out of the rain, doing their best to stay warm. Rui wrapped his scarf around the three of them, Santu by his side with Sowaca in her arms. He watched the young girl as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Mm,” Santu mumbled groggily, burrowing her damp head into his shoulder.

——-

Santu heard a thud from behind her. She snapped around and her eyes widened as she saw Rui lying on the ground. He was pushing himself up with some effort as she ran to his side.

“Rui-nii!”

He raised a hand towards her worried face.

“It’s nothing, Santu. I just tripped is all.”

Despite his insistence, it was clear that he was breathing heavily and struggling to stay on his feet. There was a sickly sheen to his face. Beside him, Sowaca was silent and grim.

“Don’t over do it, kid.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rui said, voice strained.

He was not convincing either of them, and Santu set her foot down.

“Santu is tired now,” Santu said, pointing to herself. “Let’s rest?”

Rui looked exasperated and she expected him to insist on continuing once more, but to her surprise he nodded. Sowaca let out a visible sigh of relief.

“It looks like the rain’s only going to get worse. Let’s see if we can find a dry spot to spend the night. No point risking walking blind in this forest.”

She was relieved to hear him agree, although concern still tore at her heart. His shoulders heaved as he leaned against his staff, barely able to stand. It took him a moment to catch his breath, but when Santu tried to come help him he shrugged her off.

“I can walk at least that far, it’s fine,” he insisted.

Santu bit her lower lip, standing near his side as they made their way slowly along the overgrown mountain path. They had to pause as they went, Rui with his weight on the improvised walking staff. The weaker he got, the weaker too Sowaca got, until Santu had to scoop him up and carry him.

She was beginning to worry when her ears pricked up. Her head snapped around, eyes wide and searching.

“Over there.”

She tugged lightly on the Observer’s sleeve and pointed urgently.

—-

“Santu can make dinner, so just rest okay?”

Rui made no response, but nevertheless she began to rifle through their packs. They had some rice cakes left and a bit of dried squid that she found disgusting but Rui had a taste for.

As she rummaged her mind began to run in circles, worrying over just what she should do. Rui sat with his eyes closed, one hand on Sowaca who sat in his lap. His chest rose and fell erratically and even sitting up seemed to be a chore.

They sat beside the fire eating in silence. Santu couldn’t help but glance over at Rui throughout the meal. Ever since their run in with those Fell Arm bearers he’d been especially quiet and introverted. No, even before that, something had been off. Had he been injured worse than he’d claimed? But it had been a few days, surely by now they’d have mostly healed up. Not to mention the redness in his cheeks and the effort he put into even simple tasks.

There was also Sowaca’s condition. The small cat god spoke little, and much of the time he just slept beside the Observer. Rui’s face was full of concern as he stroked his sodden fur.

Times like this, Santu could not help but feel as though she were an intruder. She tried her best not to be overly worried, but her anxiety was obvious in her actions.

She was so lost in thought that she jumped as he moved. Not even bothering to remove his wet clothes, he’d pulled out one of the blankets and turned on his side, curling up around Sowaca.

“Rui-nii is okay?” Santu asked timidly.

“You say ‘are you okay.’ And yes. Dandy. Just let me get some sleep.”

His voice was tired and on edge, freezing Santu in her tracks as she approached him. She hesitated before placing one hand gently on his forehead.

The skin there was clammy and hot, white hairs slick against his head. His eyebrows furrowed at her touch, but as he saw the expression on Santu’s face his own softened.

“Really, don’t be such a worrywort.”

His weak smile did little to calm her nerves, but Santu just nodded.

—-

His fever hadn’t gone down in days as the ever pouring rain drowned out the world outside of the cave. It was like they were lost in some timeless place, and Rui was locked in an endless battle with his fever. Checking the bandages, Santu winced. Rather than healing, the wounds he’d sustained in the battle had festered. There were dark black veins framing each cut, and every day they grew only more.

Sowaca, too, seemed to be suffering from some illness. He slept most of the time, and had little appetite, though he put on a good face for Santu. Still, she wasn’t fooled. She knew something was terribly wrong.

It had been nearly an entire day since Rui had lost consciousness. He had moments where he’d wake up in his delirium and say things Santu didn’t understand. Seeing him so frail and so shattered was terrifying to her. She’d been unable to sleep due to worry. Nothing she did seemed to help, and without Rui to guide her she had no idea which powders and herbs in his pack were safe and which weren’t, aside from one simple herb you ground to make an ointment for mild scratches. It was no use on deep piercing wounds, but Santu still tried it. She decided that she’d ask Sowaca the next time he woke up.

It didn’t matter that he’d said he couldn’t die. Santu could smell it, that sickly sweet scent of death. It was like he’d given up on trying and accepted his fate, and she couldn’t have that. How could he leave her behind like that, after promising to always be by her side? Her heart felt like it was being torn apart and crushed.

“..Rin…”

Santu whipped her head around to Rui. His eyes were closed but his face was screwed up in pain. She knelt down beside him.

“I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

She had never heard his voice sound so childlike, so fragile, as though the slightest breath might shatter it. It shook her to her core. Gone was the confident joviality and measured tone that didn’t quite match his appearance. Now he truly sounded like a lost child.

“Shhh, it is okay,” she said hesitantly. “Rui-nii is only good. Not a bad man.”

Although he didn’t respond, his brow relaxed slightly at her touch. Santu sighed, worry filling her. She remembered what the Hedgewitch had said about sighing, that a little of your soul escaped every time, and inhaled sharply. The Observer needed her, she knew that, but what could she even do?

Her stormy thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of a bell. Her ears perked up and she stood and ran to the mouth of the cave, hands cupped to better hear. She could have sworn it was Sowaca’s bell, but he was in deep sleep beside the Observer.

As she stood there, the sound rang out again and she whipped her head around.

There, in the rainy forest, stood an ethereal white fox. It had red markings on its face that reminded Santu of an off color version of Rui’s mask. The fox looked straight at her, then turned and trotted off. For some reason Santu knew she should follow it, even if that meant leaving Rui and Sowaca for the time being.

“Santu is getting help, so hold on!”

With one final glance back at the cave, Santu ran off after the spectral fox.

As she ran she caught glimpses of it through the rain and the trees, and when she lost sight of it she simply followed the sound of the bell. They wove through the dense underbrush, the fresh spring growth impeding her way as she dashed uphill. Her long tail flailed about, barely keeping her balance on the slopes. After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than one, she stumbled out of the wood into a small, flat clearing. Tall sentinel trees surrounded the place, and in its center was a small pond with a large tree at one end, its roots spread into the water. The rain had calmed to a drizzle as they walked.

The fox stood at the edge of the water, beside which stood also a woman dressed all in stark whites. Her robes were wrapped in the funereal style, right over left, and her skin was pale as porcelain. She had long, jet black hair that framed her masked face.

The mask was the near perfect inverse of the Observer’s: whereas his was a black jackal with golden accents, the woman wore a white and red mask not unlike the fox that stood next to her. Santu approached warily, uncertain what this woman was doing so deep in the mountains, let alone how she’d gotten here without a speck of dirt on her pristine clothing.

The woman stepped forward.

“You must be Santu. I’ve heard all about you.”

“Who are you?” Santu asked hesitantly.

The woman raised a hand to her chin in surprise.

“Oh, my apologies. It’s been so long since I spoke to anyone, I’ve forgotten my manners. You know my little brother.”

She reached up and grasped her mask, lifting it from her face. Underneath, her face took Santu by surprise. It looked so much like the face of the Observer who had rescued her.

“They call me Jordan,” the woman continued. “But you can call me Rin.”

She grinned, her red painted lips widening. Her face was expressive and kind, and Santu found herself trusting her in spite of herself. Besides, if she were really Rui’s sister, didn’t that mean she was like a big sister to Santu as well?

However, something felt very off about the situation, and Santu checked herself before she fell into a trap.

“Rui-nii never said he had a sister,” she said, eyes narrowing.

That made Rin’s face fall, and she looked away, one hand holding her other wrist.

“Ah, I suppose that’s to be expected. We’ve had a, well, complex history.”

Santu wondered what that meant. It was all too much to process, but another worry exploded into her mind.

“Rui-nii is hurt bad! And Sowacchi is sick!”

She grabbed Rin’s hands in hers and looked into her eyes, pleading.

“They need help. Santu doesn’t know what to do.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and her chest clenched as she thought back to the pitiful Observer. She gripped Rin’s cool hands in her own, words failing her. The woman squeezed back and gave Santu a stern look.

“Alcona will help you carry him,” she said, gesturing toward the fox. “But you need to get them to me.”

“Will Rui-nii be okay?”

Rin smiled sadly.

“He will be. He’s strong.”

——

They made good time getting Rui and Sowaca to the pond. Alcona had changed into a larger form and pulled a large, sturdy sled of leaves. It was a bumpy ride but time was of the essence. As they broke the cover of trees and came upon the clearing, Santu gasped in relief. She was breathing hard from the anxiety and exertion, and wanted nothing more than to collapse right there, but she followed Alcona to the edge of the pond.

“Help me with this,” Rin said, kneeling and scooping her arms around the Observer’s limp form. Santu got his other side and together they eased him into the clear water of the pond. He was shivering with fever and cold, and Santu worried that the water would only make it worse but to her surprise it was warm to the touch.

Next, Rin cradled the unconscious Sowaca in her arms as she gently set him next to Rui. He had not stirred throughout the entire journey, even now barely twitching as he was set in the shallows.

With the Observer and the god in the pond, the two sat back. Santu was exhausted and splayed on the grass, still catching her breath, before a question bubbled into her head.

“Now what?”

Rin sighed and shifted, placing her brother’s head in her lap as she knelt in the water. Santu noticed that her robes remained stainless.

“We wait, and we believe in them.”

——

#writing #Aelmidean #mirepoix #wip #observer #santu #Jordan