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susanpike-author · 6 months

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Willing to sacrifice myself for you, my Love.

Susan Pike

Twenty years later, willing to give it another try. Been twenty years since David broke my heart in London, leaving me after he had quick sex with me. Leaving me frustrated and heartbroken. I had become a police officer since then and seen him a few times over the years. He was married then, and I had gained weight. Now I found out he was divorced., I was unmarried also. I was 41 years old now, David was 51 years old. I went on a strict diet, became a vegetarian. Got down to 126 lbs, my goal was 120. Darn last 6 pounds. Bought sexy dresses and underwear, garter belts and nylons. Tight fitting shorts and tops. Started checking David’s schedule for week appearances. Hopefully when I see him again, I can gain his interest again. I’m no longer in my early twenties like I was in London, but then again, I let him break my heart then. We had sex but it was a quickie on his part. I was upset when he left me. Didn't get a chance to give him the special giftI wanted to give him, or even tell him about it. Never told him about my emotional empathy connection with him either. When I connected with him, I stopped seeing him as famous, started seeing him as a real man. Knew he had money and career problems and was sexually frustrated back then. Also, a depression problem which led to his self-destructive behavior. I knew he drank alcohol a lot. I guess because of my emotional empathy, I wanted to help him. I loved him and cared about him. But wasn't in love with him. I had seen him over the years but, he was married, and I don't mess around with married men. I just wanted to be friends. Last time I seen him I had gained a lot of weight, didn't look so good anymore. Been a police officer for 11 years now. David had seen me a few times in uniform, so he knew I had become one. Along with my empathetic senses I would also sometimes get repeated dreams, weird when they came true or sometimes stopped a few bad things happening that was in them. I sometimes did dream about David, suspected he had deep depression problems and a deep loneliness. David was good at covering up his feelings and emotions, putting on that happy face to the public. Maybe that's why I never told him about my ability, to sense his strong feelings and emotions when I was near him. Then I started getting these repeated dreams about David, he was sitting down talking with people, he had some of his band members with him. It was not a stage he was on; he sang a bit but was mostly talking. Where could this be? In my dream as he was talking a man who I seen in my dream, male, white around early 30s wearing a dark blue shirt, came in and pulled a gun out and shot David right in his chest. He died instantly in my dream. I woke up crying. Then I kept having the nightmare dream repeatedly. I knew I had to warn David and try to stop it from coming true. Trying to figure out where this place he was at in my dream. Noticed he was due to make an appearance at a convention in California at a hotel there. That would be more informal, and he would talk rather than perform there. I had to go and warn him or stop it from happening somehow. It was a bit sooner then I wanted to see him. I was hoping to see him when he was on tour for a week somewhere. But, if my dream came true, I would never see him again. I couldn't let this happen, if I have to risk my own life protecting him I would. I made reservations at the hotel it was in. Hopefully I will see David to warn him, problem is how to get him to believe me.

Two weeks later I flew into the city where the convention was a few days before he was due to appear. Had booked my room for 5 days. A day before he was due to appear, I seen him in the hotel lobby, surrounded by people., I couldn't get to him. I waited around watching him. He headed for the restaurant with a group of people. I decided to do the same. Sitting at a table as close as I could get. I was wearing a low-cut sexy dress and was hoping he would notice me. Don't know how I would ever get to talk to him alone. I ordered a small salad and some hot tea. Another waitress was busy taking the groups order. David's group was the band members he brought with and Sam the photographer I happened to know. No women were with them. The one band members sitting next to David noticed me, even when I walked in and sat down. After the waitress left to put in their order. The band member Paul looked at me again, I looked at him and smiled. He whispered to David, think I've fallen in love with that very pretty and sexy woman over there at that table. David looked and his eyes widened as he recognized me. Sam David said, turn around slowly and look at that beautiful woman over there and tell me if you recognize her. Sam slowly turned around and looked at me. He’s eyes widened with a shocked expression on his face. I think it's Susan, David said I thought so, wonder if she is still a cop. Paul said, well it figures, you know the prettiest sexiest lady in here David. She's older than you are mate, David said. Paul said, I don't care if she is. She’s gorgeous. David said, I think she came here to see me. Sam said, you want me to make sure she doesn't get near you David. Hell no! I’d like to get near her. Sam whispered to David, maybe she will dance for you again. David laughed, I can only hope. David then got up from the table and walked over to me. Susan, I barely recognize you. You look great. I smiled at him. I came here to see you David, need to talk with you about something. David said, come and join us. David grabbed my cup of tea, coffee he asked, no tea, you put cream in your tea. He asked. Yes, I said since London. He took my cup, I grabbed my water and silverware, he led me over to their table. He sat back down, placed my cup close to his then told Paul to move over. He had me sit down next to him. My waitress had my salad and was looking for me. One of the guys, told her, she's over here. She brought me my salad. Asked her for another hot tea. Everyone’s food started arriving, David had a salad and a vegetable dish. I began cutting my salad into little pieces. David looked amused as I did it. Then he cut his too! My waitress brought me more hot tea. I poured a packet of sugar into it and some cream. After we finished. David asked me if I was still a police officer. I said, yes, 11 years now. Paul said, you can handcuff me anytime. David laughed, I smiled. He asked is that all your eating, just that small salad. I said, yes, trying to lose this last stubborn 6 lbs. David says, all you need is some more exercise, it will help you lose it. I laughed. David whispered in my ear, or you could dance for me again. I whispered back. Maybe you could finally get the special gift I had for you, that you missed because you left. What is this gift he inquired. I wanted to give you ecstasy. I said. The drug? No! What it's named after. It makes a man feel like he's naturally high. But a man has to be able to get hard a second time. I knew you could back then. He said, I still can now too! What is your room number he asked. 402, I said. He said, oh! We are on the same floor, I’m in 421. Don't drink any alcohol tonight, it dulls your senses I said. I’ll come to your room in an hour. He said. Ok! I said.

Went up to my room. Took a quick shower., blow dried my hair. Put on a sexy silk robe. Waited for David. He also took a shower, shaved and put on shorts and a t-shirt. We both brushed our teeth and used mouthwash. David knocked on my door. I said to myself. I’m going to totally please him, this time even if it took 20 years to get together again Enjoy doing it too! I put my arms around him and kissed him. He kissed me back passionately. We kissed for a bit; his hand went to my breast. He undid my robe, opening it. His mouth went down to my nipple licking and sucking on it. As he played with the other nipple. I took his shirt off. Then led him to the bed. Taking his shorts off. He still had a beautiful body and big hard cock. I took my robe off. David laying down next to me resumed licking and sucking on my nipples. You still have beautiful breasts luv, he said. His hand went between my legs, finding my special spot. I moaned, fingers went inside me making me hot and wet for him. My hand was on his cock rubbing him. He was hard, he always had a large cock, which surprised me 20 years ago. Considering he's only 5’3” tall. But he has big thick hands for a man his size I noticed. He got on top and entered me, he moaned, we moved together, he went slowly at first, giving me pleasure, I started to orgasm, crying out and moaning. He started thrusting harder, faster and deeper. I put my legs around him. He let out a cry and a moan as he came deep inside me. We were both breathing heavily. He kissed me, then went to my side laying down. I got up, cleaned up and brought him a warm washcloth. He cleaned himself off. I laidback down. Now about this gift I need to collect you told me about luv. I kissed him, then we kissed passionately. Then I kissed and licked his neck. Down his chest, licking and sucking on his nipples. Licking down his stomach. Licked his scar on his right side. Licked the head of his penis all around. He moaned, then licked down the outside of his penis to his balls. I spread his legs open, licking and sucking each one of his balls. He moaned again. Then I lifted his balls a bit and licked the spot underneath his balls, sending waves of pleasure to him. He was moaning and breathing heavy now. I licked the spot again. He moaned, then licked his balls again. Went back up licking his semi-hard penis, putting it in my mouth and sucking on him. Placing my finger underneath his balls lightly rubbing that spot again. He was moaning loudly now; his penis was getting very hard. I stopped and bent my legs on each side of him, so he didn't feel my weight. Placed his penis in my vagina. He moaned I let it only go halfway in going in and out, building him up to his peak. I orgasmed. He moaned as he felt it. I then went all the way down on his cock. He met my movement. Breathing heavily and moaning as he was thrusting deep inside me. He let out a loud cry of ecstasy, as he exploded deep inside me. I stayed on top of him, moving a bit, put my head on his chest. He began shivering and his whole-body shook, he moaned in pleasure as he was coming down from the special peak. I got off him going to his side. He was still breathing heavily. I put my hand on his chest and stomach rubbing him lightly. Took him 10 minutes before his breathing returned to normal. He still felt his body tingling from the aftereffects. He said, I have never in all my years of having sex ever felt anything as incredible as what you just did to me. It did feel like a natural high. You wanted to do this to me 20 years ago luv? Yes, I said. Dam, he said, I could have had you doing that to me for 20 years. I noticed when I first entered you,,your vagina was tight around me. Felt good but was surprised. That's because I haven't had sex in 5 years. Five years he said, he was surprised and kind of pleased. David before I went to London, I hadn't had sex in two years. Since before I divorced my husband. David said, I thought you had sex with Chris in Chicago. I said no, he never touched me.

I have never had sex with anyone around you or that you know personally. You're the only man I wanted at the time. I've wanted to give you my gift since cape Cod, knowing that you were sexually frustrated then. How did you know that? I'm have a special sensitivity gift. I also knew you were worried about money and your career. You were also angry at someone you were disagreeing with. That's when I started seeing you as the man you were. Not who you use to be. The sensitivity I had I didn't know the name of it back then. I do now. It's called emotional empathy. You were the first man I ever connected with so strongly. Suspected you have an empathy power of your own. Some actors do. Like putting yourself in a character's shoes and seeing through their eyes. I've been able to do that since I was young. He said. So, you do have a empathic power of your own. That's why I connected with you so strongly. What did you connect with he asked. Your higher feeling and emotions. I also know about your depression and anxiety. Seen your self-destructive behavior in Ohio. Was very worried about you. I’m sorry I never told you. I knew you relished your privacy, so I was afraid to tell you. Tears started streaming down my face. David hugged me, it's alright luv. I knew I needed to tell you, that's one reason I came, but I also had bad dreams that you were in danger here. In danger here, how? Kept having the same dream about you being in danger. That's the other reason I came. Do you know what kind of danger? He asked. From some jealous man. That's all I know. I also told him that his body needs to renew itself, he can't have the ecstasy for 48 hours, he can have regular sex, but not the ecstasy. Also, very little alcohol as it dulls the sensations. Every third day! How long is your vacation. I said a month. So, you're coming on tour with me a month. I was surprised but happy. Yes! I will if you want me too. David said, I want more of that gift luv. I laughed. We fell asleep cuddling each other. David slept well; he had not slept that well in a while. He felt good and full of energy. I told him I was going to take a shower; can I join you he said. I smiled. I ended up bending over a bit for him in the shower. hard, fast and deep. We both orgasmed together. Ordered up breakfast afterwards.

We went to the convention, David started talking about various topics. Answering questions. He brought the band members with him and sang a song. I sat up front. I started feeling déjà vu. Something was wrong. I remembered my dream. David was joking with the band members and the audience. He looked over at me once in a while and smiled. Then I noticed the guy that was the shooter in my dream. I got scared and protective at the same moment. I only had a few seconds to react. Seen the guy pull the gun from his pocket. Screamed, no! put myself in front of David when the shot rang out. I was stunned. Then collapsed. Backwards into David. He grabbed me. The audience grabbed the gun and the shooter had him down on the floor. David had me in his arms. He was calling for help. Now I had a bloody wound pooling around my stomach. Someone rushed up with towels. David held me in his arms. He was crying. I opened my eyes for a minute, making sure he was okay. Susan luv, helps on the way. I felt him holding me. Someone was putting pressure on my stomach using a towel. David's shirt and hands were full of blood. The paramedics rushed in, as well as the police. The police handcuffed the shooter and took the gun from the woman that was holding it. The room was being cleared by the police but asked people to stay around for interviews. The paramedics bandaged my wound and hooked me up to a monitor.,David stood nearby. They took me to the ambulance. David told them I was his girlfriend. He got into the ambulance with me. Headed for the hospital, the paramedics stabilized me. Hooked me up to an I.V. and oxygen. Tears were streaming down David's face. He was also in shock. He realized the bullet was meant for him. He also had my purse with him, someone handed it to him as he got into the ambulance. He went into my wallet and gave the paramedics my Driver's License. Seen my police star and ID showing them that. They returned my ID and DL to him. At the hospital they rushed me into trauma. David waited in the waiting room. He called one of his band members to bring him a clean shirt. He already had washed up in the restroom. The police showed up to interview David. They told him the shooter’s name, David said, he didn't know him. His wife was a longtime fan, and the man was unreasonably jealous of David. So, he tried to kill me? Doesn't make sense. David said. The doctor came out. Susan’s stable, the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs. She had old adhesions from a previous surgery. Luckily, they stopped the bullet from doing further damage. You can see her now, until we take her to surgery. A few band members arrived to be with David brought him clean clothes. There are news reporters outside. The story is already hitting the internet. About your girlfriend, who is a cop, saving your life. The hospital allowed David to represent me, since he knew me for over 20 years and. was my boyfriend. Family was too far away in Chicago. They asked David if they could keep the news media updated about my condition. He said it was ok. David went in the room to be with me. He sat by my bedside holding my hand. He started talking to me. I'm sorry luv you got shot; you saved my life though. Now you must get better. You know I was afraid of my own feelings in London. I wanted you badly. Ran away from myself and didn't mean to hurt you. I wanted you since the Cape. When I kept seeing you then I was drawn to you, even when I was married. That's why I didn't want you near me. I finally gave into my feelings last night. I'm glad I did. Didn't think you could handle my problems but, I know now I was wrong. You already knew and cared about me anyway. His phone rang. He stepped out of the room. Dad you okay, his daughter asked. I’m fine. How's your girlfriend? She's stable they are going to take her to surgery shortly. Do you need us their dad. No, I’m fine. I think I'm going to have to cancel some of the dates at the beginning of the tour. I'm sure they will understand. I need to be with Susan, till she's better. Dad, call us if you need us. Love you. Continue…

#david jones #davy jones #the monkees #sexy content #romance #writers on tumblr

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preservationofnormalcy · 4 months

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OOC: hey folks! Just wanted to give an ooc message. It’s a little late for new year’s, but still.

Thank you for following this little project. I’ve been consistently blown away by the following I have here. Thank you for supporting me both with likes, reblogs, and fun tags, but with merch as well. It means so much to me. I have like 300 asks in my inbox and so many of them made me laugh when I got them, or made my mind go crazy with ideas. I’ve developed a lot of this setting in large part due to submissions making me think about it.

I’m on the last day of a week long PTO I booked. I got a lot of stuff done behind the scenes, a couple projects I’m keeping secret for now but I hope you’ll see before too long. I also adjusted (hopefully for the final time) the button designs (including all the poster styles that weren’t available before), and did some writing. I wish I’d been able to sit down and just queue dozens of asks but alas - life and time don’t stop when you’re on vacation. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope someday I can do this full time (along with some other OPN-related things) so I can have a faster turnaround on that stuff. Going forward I might be a bit more choosy simply due to the amount.

I have a lot of ideas for things I want to do with this project and I hope I get to do even half of them. We’ve hinted at one of them already. I’m really excited for the future of this, and I hope you will be too.

As a final note, soon I’ll be adjusting the prices of the stuff in the shop. The stickers and buttons may increase in price by about 50 cents a piece, but sticker shipping cost will decrease. That may be in the next few days. Check out the ko-fi for prints of my posters, stickers, or buttons, or to just send good vibes.

Thank you all for your support and love. Reading tags is my favorite thing in the world currently. Over the rest of today, please feel free to send me any ooc asks you like (or reply to this post) about the setting or requesting something you’d like to see - more about a certain topic, or the interview for a certain poster, whatever. I’ll try and get to them sooner rather than later.

Finally - thank you so much to my co-writer for helping and being a sounding board. I appreciate you.

#ooc post #meta #love you all

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 years

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Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of intoxication, black out reader pronouns: she/her Daryl started to stir when he heard someone coming down the steps to his basement space, but he wasn’t fully awake until there was a light rap on the door, followed by the sound of your voice. That jolted him upright. “Daryl? Are you awake?” Ahh, fuck... He clutched a hand to his pounding head and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. Why had he drank so damn much last night? “Daryl? Please at least just answer me so I know you’re alright,” you said through the door. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and planted them on the floor, realizing his boots were still on. “Uhh, yeah... ‘M up. Hang on a second,” he drawled. He hastily tried to smooth his wild hair. He glanced down at what he was wearing. His clothes had deep wrinkles in them. He must have slept like the dead... He went to the door and pulled it open. You were standing at in the doorway looking somewhat worried. “Hey.” ”Hey...” you said, a little hesitantly for some reason. “How are you feeling?” Why did you look so on edge? Daryl cleared his throat. “‘M fine. Er—I mean... my head hurts...” he admitted with a dry laugh. You nodded seriously, the creases in your brow staying put. “I’m sorry if I woke you up... I just thought we should talk after last night... Sooner rather than later.” You watched a flash of confusion flicker over his features. “Righ’—last night. Uhh...” He scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his neck. “W—what ‘bout last nigh’?” An expression of sudden understanding dawned on you and Daryl thought that your cheeks flushed pink. “Oh. You don’t—don’t remember?” He chewed on his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “Nah, I—I mean, with this hangover I got I ain’t surprised.”

”Oh—umm...” You forced yourself to pull in a deep breath. Daryl’s heart started to race. “I hope I wasn’t an asshole... I can be kind of an asshole when I drink. And I dunno why I drank so damn much in the first place,” he murmured. For some reason this caused a queer sort of half-smile to appear on your face, and you felt a warmth in the middle of your chest again. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because you were too drunk to stand straight...” Daryl ducked his head, embarrassed and now thoroughly worried. “Sorry...” You debated for a moment whether to tell him what had happened at all, or whether you should just try to pretend like it hadn’t happened. But that would be damn near impossible for you... just the thought of it sent a shock like electricity right up your back, tingling and warmth and hair standing on end. “You picked a fight with Aiden,” you said. “I had to stop you from beating him to a pulp.” Daryl hazarded a glance up at you, trying to read your expression. “So, tha’s why my hand hurts.” He wasn’t expecting you to go on. ”And then you—” you froze and sighed, meeting his nervous blue eyes. “Well, I helped you home and you—” Daryl gulped again. “I what?” ”You kissed me.” The words finally tumbled out in a rush. And then the two of you were just staring at each other. His mouth dropped open like he was about to speak but nothing came out for a long moment. His heart was absolutely pounding. Ya kissed her while ya were fuckin’ drunk and now ya dun even remember it. Ya fuckin’ idiot... “I—I dun—” ”Daryl, all I want to know is if that was just some whim, some drunken impulse with nothing behind it or whether it was—real? You don’t have to say anything else.”

He straightened up, his broad shoulders falling back again and he sighed. “Course it was real.” He watched your face crack into a wide smile. You felt like a weight had been lifted off you. ”Look, I’d kiss ya again righ’ now,” he said urgently, “but I think I probably smell like stale booze...” he drawled. ”I can wait another hour,” you replied. Daryl had never gotten cleaned up so fast in his life. Prompt: “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because you were too drunk to stand straight.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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thegreatwicked · 2 months

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Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Under the Influence by Chris Brown

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

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His index finger rapped against the glass of scotch, the rhythm not bound by any conventional beat but rather mirroring the erratic tempo of Roman’s internal world. He listened intently to the audio from Belladonna's police interview. He’d lost track of how many times he’d replayed it, too many to count. He was fixated in particular on replaying the moments where Belladonna described her understanding of their relationship on an endless loop.

“Roman only cares about himself. You’re nothing to him.”

His lip curled up each time he listened to Ramirez’s bold assertions. Just who the fuck did he think he was? Every word that he spoke only egged on Roman’s more violent intrusive thoughts, every little dig at Belladonna, every attempt to rile her up and his index finger tapped a little harder on the glass. But then Belladonna’s voice came over the recording and his tempo returned to its earlier calm but odd tempo.

“I know.”

"I'm not stupid—maybe a little starry-eyed, but not stupid. I see the score. And you’re right, men like Roman don't fall in love; but they do dip their toes in it for a bit. I get it. Sooner or later, he'll move on, find someone more exciting, someone willing to do things I won't. And when that day comes, I'll thank him for the good times and go my own way."

Then his tapping stopped altogether, and his grip on the glass relaxed so much it nearly slipped from his hand.

“And what if he doesn’t let you go that easy?”

"Life's short—last year sure hammered that home. If Jimmy's fate tells us anything, it's that nothing's guaranteed. Not today, not tomorrow. So, until my clock runs out, I'm going to enjoy every second I can, and right now, I’m enjoying them with Roman. He makes me feel alive."

He grinned at that last part, so he made her feel alive, huh? Funny, he usually had the exact opposite reaction on people.

He’d had more than a few run screaming from his presence when he lost his temper, when the mask of the confident club owner slipped and the monster beneath it peaked out, eyes burning and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. One way or another, none of them had what it took to handle a man like him, though to be fair, he’d never been terribly interested in women as anything more than a means to let out some pent-up frustrations, and they didn’t always enjoy it either. He wasn’t a gentle lover. That wasn’t to say Roman ever forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to, he wasn’t one of those types.

Women were a fickle thing that he never understood, like most men, and he’d seen them all. The starry-eyed naive girls hoping to bring out a softer side to him, the wanna-be she-doms who thought they could control him, what a laugh. The ones that insisted they could be everything he wanted and meet his every desire, not in his experience. There had even been a few crazies who’d insisted they could match his particular brand of insanity, but Roman had time and time proved to be too much for even them to handle and in the end, they were just words.

He’d listened to the interview a handful of times since returning to the penthouse with Belladonna, long after the doc had told him to sit down and wait, there wasn’t anything else Roman could do apart from look like a lovesick puppy at her bedside. And he sure as shit wasn’t about to do that, though it didn’t stop him from occasionally putting down the recorder and wandering into the room to look at her.

He'd managed to keep his visits under five, and he certainly didn’t sit by her bedside, or rather his bed all weepy-eyed clutching her hand, no he simply stood in the doorway like a respectable psychopath, thank you very much. At least, he’d started out that way. With each visit he found himself drawn a little closer into the room but it had been hours since their return, and every time he looked at her, his gut twisted into tighter knots. She looked like a rag doll, her olive skin unnaturally pale and sickly—a sight that grated on him. When the hell was she going to wake up? This was just plain ridiculous.

He’d nearly strode into the room with the intent of shaking her awake but the second he’d felt her breath on his outstretched hand the sudden urge died inside him replaced by something he couldn’t understand or explain and he once more retreated to his office. Stan’s assurances did little to quell his unease; he claimed she was fine, just experiencing the aftermath of a sugar crash, and that sleeping was a natural consequence but he wasn't convinced.

Everyone in this whole damned penthouse was entirely too calm. He felt like he was going crazy. Well, crazier.

He didn’t even understand why he was so fixated on her. There was no reason to be.

Damn it, there wasn’t a safer place for her than right here, in his bed nonetheless.

She was fine.

It was fine.

Everything was fine!

Except it wasn’t. And he wasn’t the only one who knew that.

Powerless wasn’t a feeling Roman Sionis liked at all and that’s exactly how he felt. Powerless. All he could do was wait for her to wake up, and then they would have a discussion about her stupid decision to leave his penthouse. They’d most definitely be going over some of her answers in that interview… Oh, he had some thoughts about that too.

But then his thoughts would circle back to the reason for her departure in the first place, and he clenched his fists in frustration, cracking his knuckles, before pouring another scotch.

He wasn’t good at this. The whole waiting thing, patience wasn’t his strong suit. God, what he wouldn’t have given for a little good old-fashioned interrogation right now, just something to take his mind off the uncharted territory he was drifting in. He wanted familiarity and routine, his normal, so his mind wandered back to the only thing he could approach cold-heartedly; the recent encounter with Cobblepot. Surely focusing on business matters would provide some respite from the chaos of his emotions. Ew, emotions, what was he, turning into some pussy little girl? But as he replayed the scene in his mind, the anger that had simmered within him boiled over once more.

At first, he was furious with Belladonna for finding herself in such a precarious situation, his lip twitching. But when he saw the gun pointed at her, his fury transformed into a blazing inferno of rage. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to assert his dominance and stake his claim.

And then, without hesitation, he uttered those possessive words in front of both groups of men.

‘His woman.’

His.

It was a slip of the tongue, he told himself. Of course it was, he would never say something so stupid.

But then it wasn’t. Was it?

In his mind, he went back and forth, debating every which way he could, talking himself in circles. It was a purely tactical decision he’d made, a carefully selected choice of words. By attaching Belladonna to him like that, it sent a message loud and clear; keep away.

But at the same time, it was a double-edged sword, making her a bigger target, a vulnerability to Roman opening him up to further attacks from those who were stupid enough to use her against him. And of course, he had to protect her anyway, because if anything happened to her, his life would only get more complicated with the police breathing down his goddamn neck.

Frustrated and angry, he clenched his teeth and gripped the leather arms of his chair before everything inside him welled up and exploded like a reactor, chucking his glass of scotch at the wall in a burst of murderous glitter. Why had every moment since he’d decided to let her live only been incredibly complicated and taxing?

This wasn’t like him, and he knew that his little heroic display would cause problems within his ranks. His tunnel vision wasn’t so all-consuming that he missed the shocked and curious looks his men gave him as he left her loft, carrying Belladonna in his arms. No, this was going to be something he’d have to sort out later, probably in a very grand fashion. He needed to be more vigilant now than ever, more ruthless, which meant she had to stop being so damn careless. He had to bring her in closer, tell her more. Pull her in deeper.

Most of his men were simply hired help and very few of them possessed what one might think of as genuine loyalty; Zsasz aside, he couldn’t think of anyone specifically that he didn’t have to make a direct deposit to for reliability. Until the enigma that was Belladonna Black.

"If you want me to spin a story to help you dodge your duties and let the real killer go, find someone else," she asserted. "Roman didn’t kill Jimmy. He was with me, delivering a memorable experience against a cinderblock wall, then I gave him my number and got a lift home."

He smirked again as the audio came to its conclusion. She said she could do it and she’d done it. She’d lied for him and in exquisite fashion as well, it was a good performance, one she deserved a standing ovation for. She’d been in control of every second of that interview from the moment she’d sat down. It sounded so convincing and he would have given anything to see the look on Ramirez’s face, but Derrick assured him it was everything he imagined it was.

A quick flash of frustration, his stupid, fat, fucking face filling with disappointment and anger. But mostly it was a realization that Belladonna Black wasn’t going to be one turned so easily, and that brought a smile to his face.

Which was, precisely when the twin Detective Douchebags turned their focus on him. They wound him up easily and he couldn’t explain why. Well, that wasn’t true, he knew why he’d gotten so wound up. It was because, at the time, he hadn’t entirely trusted Belladonna; he didn’t know if he could. He knew it now though, and so did those fucking cops.

Fear didn’t keep someone loyal, it kept them afraid, and in that interview room, Craven had used that fear of Belladonna’s trustworthiness against him. All his pep talks, all his charm on Belladonna, and the few threats he’d made against her had all been unnecessary, she trusted him enough to put her neck on the line for him and he hadn’t exactly been a gentleman. At best he’d been a reliable source of thinly veiled threats, promises he’d yet to deliver on, and the occasional orgasm.

No, he couldn’t explain what was happening to him these last two months, any more than he could explain his decision to let Belladonna live. It was a whim. But the facts were the facts now, she was in far too deep for her to just disappear. And he was quickly coming to the understanding that he wanted it that way. That he wanted her to continue to drive him insane with her smart mouth and constant retorts, wanted to keep showing up at her work and making a spectacle out of their displays of affection but he also wanted to keep driving her insane too. He didn’t know why but he loved it.

Two firm raps at the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and Zsasz leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze taking in his brooding boss. He looked to Zsasz and gave a simple head nod to enter, then he rose to grab another glass and poured himself a new drink.

"It's not too late. We can still find a solution for her,"

Roman paused, and the gentle clinking of the decanter against his glass ceased.

Zsasz’s suggestion lacked his usual sharp certainty, but rather it held an edge of hesitancy that wasn’t typical for him. To some degree he was right, people disappeared in Gotham every day, never to be seen again, but the notion of Belladonna being one of them wasn’t one he was willing to entertain anymore.

Roman took a long sip of his drink before responding in a flat, emotionless voice, "No, Zsasz. I think we're past that now."

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, knowing that what Belladonna said about their relationship was true, but hating it all the same. He wanted her to want him, he couldn't pinpoint why, she had become important to him. It both irked and exhilarated him. It was the way she’d looked at him like he was the hero, as opposed to what he really was, the monster in the closet. Somehow she was changing from a pawn he liked to play with, to a queen whom he was pulling out all the stops for.

Zsasz sat down "If she's here to stay, we'll need to increase her security. We’re looking at major changes to protect her and address the problems this’ll cause."

Roman nodded, understanding that both he and Zsasz had similar concerns about maintaining his reputation as a formidable criminal without appearing weak. The notion that a woman could soften a man’s heart like him was a fantasy, the fact was; Roman was about to get meaner. There would be fewer severed ears and more severed limbs and plucked eyes.

“Where do we start?” Roman pushed a glass over to Zsasz. “Could we just burn down the whole damn city?”

“That’d be a lot of bodies,” Zsasz replied after a moment pouring himself a drink with no ice.

“Oh, what’s a few hundred thousand bodies?”

Zsasz smirked and looked as though he was running the numbers in his head but ultimately he came to the same conclusion he knew Roman had come to. They needed to be smart about this, the game was changing, and losers clung to outdated rules, while the victors won by creating their own.

“Her place is a weak point, had the men going through it top to bottom, found a few listening devices aside from yours, but we’ll need a team to do a more in-depth sweep for anything else. Cobblepot has access to top-tier gear, I doubt we’ve found everything.”

“Oswald… He’s not even the real problem is he?” The ice in Roman’s glass clinked with another sip. “What’s the word in the ranks?”

“There's some mutterings but nothing that can’t be fixed by an appropriate show of force.” An appropriate show of force usually meant bodies or blood. Or both. “She’ll have to step up too, they need to be just as afraid of her as they are of you.”

Roman scoffed, that was an amusing idea, his men being afraid of Belladonna, sure she had a resting bitch face that could make most people shrivel, but he couldn’t see Belladonna so much as squishing a bug. “Where are we with Jimmy?”

"Everything seems to line up with your plans," Zsasz reported, "except for one thing: Jimmy doesn't appear to have any association with Cobblepot."

“How the fuck is that possible? He had at least ten grand worth of product all with Cobblepots branding, and the boys at the lab even had it tested, it was all legit and 100% pure.”

"Well, Cobblepot did say you two needed to talk," Zsasz replied, a sly grin on his face. "We could get the information we need if you handle him carefully."

Roman agreed, scowling at the mention of Cobblepot's name. "How the fuck is he involved in this?" he muttered under his breath, adding, "Keep your enemies closer..."

Just then, a knock at the door alerted both men to the presence of Roman's personal doctor.

"Roman, she’s awake."

—

Belladonna's eyes fluttered open, the world around her resembled more of a kaleidoscope; unfocused and hazy. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, the only source of light came from a bedside table and a light outside the room she was in. The walls were a dark, rich color and adorned with expensive artwork. The furniture was modern and sleek, befitting of someone with lots of money. The sheets were luxurious and cool to the touch when she stretched out on them only to realize she was lying in a bed that wasn't her own. She knew this was likely Roman’s penthose but it wasn’t until she turned into his pillow and breathed it in.

A mixture of expensive cologne with an underlying hint of something dark and alluring. The clean, fresh scent of soap hung in the air, mingling with the cologne to create a distinctly masculine smell. And beneath it all was a raw, primal scent that could only be described as pure testosterone. All of it screaming Roman Sionis.

As she struggled to sit up, the room spun around her, and a sharp pain shot through her arm and she drew in a ragged breath; somewhere between a shriek and a gasp. When she finally managed to prop herself up, she noticed something that made her stomach drop: there was a needle lodged in her arm, connected to an IV bag hanging next to the bed. Panic quickly set in as she struggled to focus on the contents of the bag; her vision was still hazy. She had no clue what was being pumped into her and began to hyperventilate.

She couldn’t just unhook it, she didn’t know how, and she had nothing to stop the bleeding. She wanted to get out of there. She tried to stand but that was a mistake and dizziness washed over her like a tidal wave, causing her to lose her balance and fall back, grasping at the nightstand.

"Shit!" She muttered, knocking over a glass of water in the process, its contents spilling onto the cold floor, glass shattering everywhere. The needle in her arm shifted causing more pain and blood began to trickle down her arm. Fuck!

Footsteps quickly approached, and a man she had never seen before entered the room. Panic surged through her veins, and she scrambled away from him while trying to avoid the glass.

"Stay away from me!" Her voice was scratchy and weak.

"Miss Black, it's alright, I’m Dr. Stan," he said calmly, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm Roman's personal physician, and you're currently in his penthouse." She studied him for a minute, he could be a doctor, sure, he looked the right age, and his glasses gave him a scholarly kind of vibe. And not that it meant anything but she was fairly sure, he was wearing a hairpiece, but that wasn’t really a judgment on her part, just an observation.

"Roman?"

"You had a sugar crash, do you remember?" She squinted like she was trying to remember but groaned and clutched her head, ultimately shaking it. "Ok, I understand, don't worry, you're perfectly safe, I’m going to help you."

“What is that?”

He approached carefully like one might cozy up to a wounded animal with the intention of helping it. “It’s a dextrose solution, you were dehydrated and your sugar levels were too low, I had to administer an IV to get you to a safer place.”

Belladonna's gaze darted to the needle in her arm again, and she winced as she felt a sharp pain. "Can you take it out?" she pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency.

The doctor nodded, understanding her distress. "Of course," he said, moving closer to inspect the IV.

As her panic subsided, and she allowed him to come closer, he carefully helped her back onto the bed, kicking the glass aside.

What kind of name was Stan? Was that his first name or his last? Did doctors go by their first names when it came to personal doctors? She didn’t even know they made house calls. He reached for his medical bag that had been on the floor and pulled out a few things,

"How long was I out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been a few hours,"

She winced as he pressed a quarter-folded piece of gauze against the needle site, but she mostly stayed completely still. Once the bleeding subsided, he took an alcohol wipe and started cleaning up the blood that had trickled down her arm, before turning to the IV. His movements were precise and controlled, the adhesive tape pulled on her skin and it was the kind of sensation that made her want to rub the spot profusely.

"Hold pressure here," he instructed, placing another piece of gauze over the needle site before he finally removed it. Then he reached for a roll of blue self-adhesive tape and wrapped it around her arm, securing everything in place with a bit of pressure. “Better?”

“Much.”

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like the floor of a taxi," she admitted, rubbing her temples, he chuckled. At least her sense of humor was intact.

"Understandable. You were in pretty rough shape when Roman found you. Let’s check your vitals,”

He reached back into his bag and began pulling out several items, setting them on the bedside table; a blood pressure cuff, one of those things they stick on your finger at the doctor’s office, a stethoscope, and a thermometer. “You know, you’re very lucky, Roman knew how to stabilize your sugars."

Roman did what? She didn’t remember any of that, the last thing she remembered was seeing Roman looking as angry as she’d ever seen him telling her to come to him.

Belladonna furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to recall the events that had led her here but everything was hazy at best and it really did feel like a dream.

"What happened?"

He placed the cuff on her left arm and inflated it, inducing the familiar annoying pressure, then placed the stethoscope on her brachial artery listening as the pressure released slowly.

"You called Roman, and he arrived before you lost consciousness."

She vaguely remembered Roman telling her to eat something but it was so unclear she thought it was part of a dream. Doctor Stan must have noticed the constant licking of her lips and he supplied the answer before she even asked the question, “He said he got you to eat some M&Ms, but you were pretty out of it, good thing you had them handy, complex carbohydrates are your friend at a time like this.”

He loosened the cuff and the tingling in her fingers began to ebb. “120/80, that's good.”

He placed the pressure cuff back into the bag and placed the little monitoring thing, whatever it was, on her finger and then brought the thermometer to her forehead.

“He was pretty frantic when called me and had me come over, said it was a top-tier emergency, and to be honest I expected worse,” the thermometer beeped and he seemed pleased with the result, “98 degrees.” He said passively, then he took his stethoscope from his neck and put it on. "Alright, Belladonna, I'm going to listen to your breathing now. I need you to take slow, deep breaths through your nose. Inhale deeply, then exhale slowly."

"Roman was worried about me?" she asked skeptically before complying with the first breath, he moved the stethoscope and indicated another deep breath.

"Very much so," the doctor said, nodding. "I've never seen him like this. When he called me, I was surprised it wasn't about him being in trouble – but well, Roman has a way of defying conventional expectations." He moved the stethoscope one more time, “Few more deep breaths,”

She nearly laughed, then breathed in deeply and slowly several times. Feeling a spark of warmth at the thought as she settled back onto the bed.

"He’ll be glad to know you’re awake," He put the stethoscope away and took her pulse, centering his index and middle finger on her radial artery and applied pressure while looking at his watch.

“Your pulse looks good. Alright, sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Roman was worried? No, he didn’t say worried, he said; frantic. It was hard to picture Roman any other way than amused or angry, there was no in-between. At least not that she had ever seen. It was impossible to picture Roman as anything other than composed, what exactly did that mean? What was frantic Roman like? Probably very similar to angry Roman, she reasoned.

Roman wasn’t a man who liked it when he wasn’t in control. That much was well understood. She could almost imagine him yelling into a phone, lots of swearing, probably reiterating that money was no objective and it was a sweet thought. One that caught her off guard so much so that she almost didn’t notice the multiple sets of approaching footsteps.

Moments later, Roman appeared with Zsasz in tow. His expression was stern, but maybe there was just a hint of concern in his eyes. She wondered if she was imagining it.

“Welcome back, Angel.” Roman’s heavy and dark voice drifted back into the room. "Doctor, what's the verdict?"

Doctor Stan looked up at Roman and he seemed very pleased, "I think she’ll be fine, just going to do a few more things and I’ll be out of your hair, let's check your glucose levels."

He took out an alcohol wipe and produced a glucometer, a lancet, and a bandaid. As if second nature she held out her index finger, he wiped down her finger and the lancet snapped out pricking her fingertip, she made a face at the lancet and stuck her finger but otherwise didn’t react.

“Any lingering pains?” He pressed the test strip to her finger and the blood soaked into the strip.

“Just a headache.”

“Well, that’s normal, I’d recommend some electrolytes, sports drinks, or maybe some coconut water.”

Zsasz pulled a face at the lancet and the small bead of blood on her fingertip, he seemed uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on now Zsasz, with all the work you do for Roman, a little finger prick test has you squirming?”

“You have any idea how many nerve endings are in your fingertips?”

It seemed an off thing for Zsasz to be uncomfortable with but she supposed it made sense, she instinctively brought her fingertip to her lips but Roman quickly grabbed it and wrapped the bandage around her index finger.

“As a matter of fact I do, learned all about it in med school, over 3000 per square inch.”

He fed the test strip into the glucometer and waited for the device to finish its reading.

“The headache we can manage with over-the-counter headache medicine, but if you like I can give you something a little stronger, drink plenty of fluids, no strenuous activity.”

The glucometer beeped and he checked the results, his brow furrowed.

"Belladonna, your blood sugar level is a bit lower than we'd like to see right now. It's currently measuring between 60 to 70 milligrams per deciliter, which is slightly below the normal range for someone without diabetes. While it's not dangerously low, it's important to bring it up a bit to ensure you're feeling your best. A good balanced meal with carbohydrates, proteins, healthy fats, fruits, and vegetables should fix that. How do you feel about having a snack or a drink with some sugar in it?"

She offered a weak smile and nodded, “Sounds good actually,” Roman whispered something to Zsasz and he quickly left the room.

"A nice quiet evening will have you back on your feet and let's try to avoid any more sugar crashes, no skipping meals.” He actually wagged his finger at her, she hadn’t been chided by a doctor in a hot minute, but she liked Stan. Seemed like a nice guy and she added his name to the list of people whom she was shocked to associate with Roman Sionis.

“A nice evening of what the kids call 'Netflix and chill.'"

"It’s already handled" Roman agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What sort of snack in the meantime?”

“Candy can work in a pinch but let’s try to stay away from it, something like fruit would be better, it's absorbed more easily into the bloodstream. Don’t forget to replace that emergency stash of M&Ms in your bag.”

“With or without the chocolate fountain?” The doctor just chuckled, shaking his head at Roman, and packed up his bag.

“Get some rest, Miss Black, call me if you need anything.” He spoke the last part more to Roman than Belladonna.

"Thank you, Stan,"

Roman walked Dr. Stan to the door and in the shadows that fell over them, but they were still in Belladonna’s view, as was the small stack of cash Roman tried to discreetly hand him. Stan held out his hand to Roman and tried to wave it away but Roman didn’t budge.

“Oh, no, no, Roman, this is far too much. It's not like I removed a bullet."

"Not this time," Roman countered, his tone darkly humorous.

Dr. Stan chuckled and nodded, “Well, this was one of the easier house calls,” As they reached the door Dr. Stan mentioned something Belladonna heard but couldn’t understand it was too muffled from their distance, and Roman didn't respond.

There was the sound of Roman footsteps coming back into the room, but when he returned to her side, he held a pomegranate in his hand and wore the look of a parent about to lecture her. She pulled her knees a bit closer to her chest as he sat on the bed, still not saying a word.

She watched as Roman meticulously peeled the crimson pomegranate, its juice staining his fingers.

“Where’d Zsasz go?”

"I had him go get Thai for you." Her eyes widened in surprise; she didn't recall ever telling him she liked Thai, but then again, who didn’t?

"How'd you know I like Thai food?" she asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

Roman smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I have my ways, Angel." He held out the pomegranate to her. She hesitated, never having eaten one before, then pushed it away, seeking answers instead.

"Roman, what happened? Tell me about Oswald Cobblepot. Why was he at my place?"

"He was dropping off my dry cleaning," he replied humorlessly, but his expression turned serious, holding out the crimson gem-like pomegranate seed again, “I’m waiting, Angel.”

“So am I.” Stubborn as ever.

"I’ll make you a deal; questions answered, but only if you eat."

He gently pressed a pomegranate seed between her lips, holding his fingers there for her to bite down on. After a few seconds, her lips gave way and she accepted the piece of fruit, her lips brushing his fingers. He seemed relieved.

"Ask away, Angel," Roman said, biting into the pomegranate like an apple. He placed a chunk of the seeded fruit into her hand, which she studied for a minute before plucking several little ruby-like seeds and popping them into her mouth. The tart sweetness burst on her tongue in a way that put strawberries to shame, and she asked;

"Who is Oswald Cobblepot?"

"Oswald is a criminal who deals with stolen goods, bribery, witness intimidation, theft, controlled substances, and occasionally murder," Roman replied deadpan. "As for our personal relationship, we've known each other for years. We went to prep school together, and our families have a long history together."

So Cobblepot wasn’t lying about that, the conversation she had with him began to drift back into her mind. “Tell me about your family,"

His face darkened. "That's not up for discussion."

She looked away, the frustration was impossible to miss and after the day she’d had, and in a rare act of submission he offered up the following.

"We haven't spoken in years, I last saw them when I was twenty-one." he said tersely. "Now, let's talk about what happened at your apartment. What's the last thing you remember?”

She chewed on the seeds before spitting one into her hand, uncertain of what to do with it,

“Eat the seeds angel, they're good for you. You can swallow them whole.” Roman took another bite of the pomegranate juice staining his lips, something she tried to ignore.

“He had a magazine with our picture in it,”

Roman smirked, “I saw it. Explains what got into you that night after the party,” He grinned, biting into the fruit again and licking his lips.

“He was there when I got back, I didn’t even get the door shut all the way before I saw them, I went for the panel but it was disabled.” Roman nodded, “He said, he needed to talk to you about the docks and he thought I could get ahold of you. I called, a bunch,” she looked at him squarely in the eyes, “You didn’t pick up.”

“I’m sorry.”

It couldn’t go more silent than it already was, and it soon became overbearing with how he looked nowhere other than her eyes, black on black. No hiding, no deflecting, no excuses. He apologized to her. She was stunned.

“It’s-it’s ok-”

“No, it's not.” He chewed a few more seeds, “It won’t happen again, if you call I come running, guns blazing. No questions asked.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, she was speechless. She just nodded in agreement, unsure of how to handle such sincerity.

“Did he touch you?”

She thought back to her loft, aside from the hand patting a few times, the answer was a resounding no and she shuddered at the thought.

“Not really,” she rubbed her hands, “Patted my hands like a teacher or something.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” She shook her head and continued to rub at her hands trying to erase the memory.

“I feel like I need a scalding hot shower,”

Roman took her hand and pressed a surprisingly gentlemanly kiss to it, then her palm like he did whenever he visited her at work. It was a sweet gesture but it did little to counter the taste of apprehension that came with her next question.

“What happened at the docks?”

Roman paused and seemed like he was weighing his options before replying. “Business.”

“I saw the guy's ear, Roman. You did that?” He gave her a hard look, not a cold or cruel one but it was like he was trying to decide something. “And you, bit a kid's ear back in high school?” He smirked.

“Only a little.” At the mere mentioning of the memory, Roman grinned a dark grin.

He seemed to have made up his mind about what to tell her because he handed her more fruit and began speaking again.

“His men were trespassing on my territory, so I interrogated them.”

Interrogated.

“You mean tortured.”

Now he wore no smile, just a strangely detached expression that communicated just, nothing. “I had to send a message. Cobblepot was responding in his own way, I don’t usually send men back alive once they've crossed me. It was a bit out of character.”

“Is he going to come back?”

“Not if he’s smart, he won’t.” He sighed and laid on his side, “But it doesn't mean we’re out of the woods yet, in fact, now that he knows how important you are to me things are only going to get harder.” She stayed quiet on that last note, “You’re not going home.”

She wanted to argue and he knew it, her lips went to form a reply but ultimately her brain caught up with her mouth, and she nodded. Understanding that his concerns had more to do with the practicality of the situation and less about his possessive tendencies.

“That's the third time I know of that a man has broken in, not sure how I’ll ever sleep there again.”

“I had Zsasz make some calls to some shops for some things for you, I’m not going to have you wearing anything Cobblepot or his men might have touched.”

There was such a venomous tone to his voice just then and it should have scared her, but after today, Roman seemed like the lesser of the two evils. And in a way, she understood where he had been coming from, she wasn’t sure she wanted to wear any of it either. She stopped eating and stared off into space, maybe thinking of all the things that had gone on in her apartment in her absence and she shuddered.

“Keep eating, angel.”

“Am I in danger?”

He didn’t answer right away, “Yes.” She already knew the answer, but somehow she just needed to hear it from him, maybe because if Roman took something seriously then somehow it was comforting because he didn’t fuck around.

“Which is why things are going to change.” He suddenly became very serious and he sat up and reached forward to grasp her chin “You are never to leave my side, not even to that little bodega Ernies, no more mysterious motorcycle rides either. And don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” The expression ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ should have kept her silent but it didn’t, was she scared? Shitless. Did that make her spineless? Hell no.

“Angel, I don’t think you realize the gravity of our current situation. I came to your place in force with a dozen of my best-armed men and Cobblepot knows I’ll did it to protect you. My own men know that and let's just say they've never seen me hold a door open for a woman much less call up an armed assault. And I’ve certainly never carried an unconscious woman in my arms before.”

She started to smile but Roman's hard expression stopped her.

“There's going to be doubts I’ll have to quiet, people questioning me and my effectiveness. I’m going to have to make some examples. Painful, messy ones. So you’re going ot have to put a bandaid on that bleeding heart of yours.”

“The rules of our agreement have to change.” Now she looked like she might fight him but he stopped her.

“Never question me in front of any of my men. Ever. Don’t even talk back, nothing that might be construed as you having any sort of control over me, because if you do; I’m going to have to kill a lot of people to prove that you don’t.”

That stopped her, she didn’t know Romans men or what kind of men they were but she didn’t want any more blood on her hands.

“Things are going to get even more unsafe and more violent, which is why you can’t leave me, ever. Understand?”

When he said ‘you can’t leave me, ever,’ his voice did a funny thing, so subtle she almost missed it, there was the tiniest hint of pleading in his voice, like something desperate and quivering, then in an instant, it was gone. She nodded and looked to the ground briefly, only to be brought right back to Romans gaze by his grip on her chin, his thumb brushing her lip almost lovingly.

“You have to listen to me.”

“I promise.”

“You're going to have to learn to look the other way or ask me far fewer questions. Understand?” She nodded, not liking the picture he was painting but also realizing there was little other choice.

"Roman, about today—" she started hesitantly, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Enough about that. I have a lead on your mother," he said, effectively changing the subject. “It’s going to take some finessing but I’ve got Zsasz on it and I’ll know more within the week,”

The mention of her mother made her heart skip a beat. Had he found her already? How? She didn’t care and his confession prompted her to all but crawl into his lap leaning in for a kiss. There was every chance he was just saying it to keep her nice and calm and pliant, he could very well have been lying, but it didn't make sense. Roman was very protective about his reputation as a fairly honest criminal so when he said he had a lead on her mother, she believed him.

He accepted her kiss with little resistance but he clearly wasn’t expecting it, allowing her to lead the way with slow and smoldering movements. Surprisingly, his lips were soft and gentle against hers contrasting with the dangerous aura he had previously exuded.

But what surprised her even more was his docile behavior; he didn't try to take control or rush the pace. He seemed content to savor the pomegranate juice that lingered on her lips as they moved over his and her tongue dipped into his mouth.

Finally and with some effort, he pulled back from Belladonna’s almost feral advance, his voice a bit breathless and sounding like he was teetering on the edge of some invisible boundary, "Angel, doctor's orders," Roman reminded her as gently as he could manage.

She remembered his warning from the week prior, when he said ‘no’ he meant it and it had been an uncomfortable lesson and experience, her fingers curled in his hair as she pressed herself against him for one last deep kiss.

"I know I'm irresistible, but really, the doctor did say to rest," he teased. He held up more of the crimson fruit, “Keep eating.”

She took the seeds and sat back down. "Any more questions?" he asked.

“What now?”

“Now? We’re moving in together.” She blanched and shot him a panicked look, “Relax kitten, just until I sort out your apartment situation.”

“What's to sort out?

“Well security, obviously. And your place has been broken into four times, not three.” She looked like she was about to say something but he kept talking, “Need to sweep it for any listening devices or cameras that I didn’t put there before I let you go back.

“I knew it,” Roman winked at her.

“Until that's all settled, I’ll see to it you have anything you need, but for now, you stay here; where I know you’re safe.”

His choice of words in saying ‘I know you’re safe’ as opposed to 'where I can keep an eye on you’ settled over her with an odd sense of finality and comfort.

“Might just have you stay here till I wrap things up with Jimmy though, got a few things in the works for that too.”

What did he mean? Jimmy was dead, what sort of plans could he possibly have for a dead man? She started to speak but he placed his hand over her lips, “No, angel, not this. Can’t tell you this. It gives you plausible deniability.”

How oddly considerate of him? She smirked, lightly pressing her lips to his fingertips. He promptly withdrew them, maybe doubting his ability to adhere to his own suggestion of following the doctor's orders of avoiding strenuous activity.

"Earlier, you told me I was replaceable," Belladonna reminded him, her tone challenging. Roman gave her a hard look, unwilling to discuss it further. "But you seem to be pulling all the stops out for me," she pushed.

"Angel, you haven't seen anything yet," he answered cryptically, his dark eyes promising protection, possession, and a future rife with uncertainty.

The room seemed to swallow them as Roman and Belladonna fell into a heavy silence, she didn’t feel the need to ask any further questions, or maybe because she just couldn’t think of any.

"So who has pomegranates lying around instead of apples?"

"Someone with refined taste. You should expand your palate, Belladonna. Pomegranates are considered the fruit of the gods.” She eyed him skeptically. “The pomegranate holds great significance. Some even believe it was a pomegranate, not an apple, that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden. And it was the pomegranate that Persephone ate to become the queen of the underworld in the love story of Hades and Persephone."

"Wait," Belladonna interjected, her brow furrowing. "You mean the pomegranate Hades forced her to eat after he kidnapped her?"

Roman tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Belladonna, you're half-Greek; you should know your mythology better. There are theories that suggest Hades and Persephone had a passionate romance and she willingly went with him, just as much evidence as there is for his supposed kidnapping." There was an odd cheekiness to his expression, as though he was trying to make some coded reference.

He offered her another piece of the fruit, but she eyed it suspiciously. Roman smirked.

"It's too late. You're already trapped in my underworld until the investigation is done. You may as well enjoy the food."

It was fascinating how easily Roman could slip between personas - one moment the charming owner of Masquerade Noir, able to entertain and entice, and the next a cold-blooded criminal who had shown mercy by only cutting off a man's ear. The portrait of Roman lounging on his side on a luxurious bed, in a black shirt with a few buttons undone, black slacks, casually eating a pomegranate was quickly burning itself into her brain. He looked so normal.

"How did you know I'm hypoglycemic?"

Roman gave her a mysterious look, his eyes dark and unreadable raising his browns suggestively. "I have eyes everywhere."

"Like my bedroom?"

"Especially in your bedroom," he replied smoothly. "How else would I know about that little purple toy of yours?"

His teasing was less annoying and now more charming in its own odd way, and whereas before she might have ignored it or gotten irritated, she opted to give it right back to him.

“Guess, you didn’t find the big black one…”

Romans expression quickly fell and he didn’t look as amused as she was, but after he noted the upturn of her lips, he shook his head and finally answered her question.

"I did extensive research on you after we met. I know all about that fight with you and Olivia Danvers when you were sixteen and you’ve got one hell of a right hook.” Belladonna smirked a little bit at the memory. “It’s clear that you could have been valedictorian if not for that D on your senior chemistry final and your Spanish class, Eso no es bueno, ángel.”

Roman knowing Spanish wasn’t surprising but then it kind of was, he wasn’t stupid, no, Roman had proved time and time again that he was highly intelligent. But it just seemed such a… frivolous thing, to speak another language, like, it was such a normal thing, for normal people. But she quickly reminded herself that was stupid. Belladonna herself was trilingual, adding Greek, Italian, and Latin to her repertoire.

“I know how you switched majors halfway through college from business management to photography and graphic design even though you can’t really stand either one and I know all about the attack last year,” His tone dropped at the mention of her attack and he offered no particular insights on it. “But no one’s perfect, because despite how deep I dug, I somehow missed that little tidbit." Roman admitted with a hint of annoyance. "But Daisy clued me in after I sweet-talked it out of her."

Yeah, Daisy, that sounded about right. It wasn’t exactly privileged information, and she had no doubt there wasn’t much Roman couldn't sweet talk Daisy out of.

"I was diagnosed after the attack last year. It was hard to want to eat anything, didn’t sleep much." Belladonna said, "Guess I should thank you,"

His cocky demeanor returned in full force as sat up and he scooted closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “But how will you thank me?”

“Don’t get cocky, you’re still in la casita del perro in my book, you’ll be lucky if you get another kiss.”

Roman chuckled, undeterred, seeing her challenge as an invitation. He closed the distance between them, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered seductively, “Oh, really?”

"I can be very persuasive. And it seems to be working." Their lips barely brushed, a tantalizing tease of what could be. "Admit it, you've wanted to kiss me since the moment I rode in on my dark horse, saving the day that night in the back of my club with Jimmy."

That was certainly one way to put their meeting, if not a little skewed, it almost sounded romantic, and she couldn't resist teasing him. With a playful smirk, she grabbed his chin and planted a simple kiss, it wasn’t what he wanted, she knew that but he’d already shut her down when she was practically climbing on top of him.

"Is that all I get?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You'll get what I give you, and you'll like it.”

The door to the bedroom swung open and the scent of spicy Thai food quickly filled the air, mingling with the lingering tension between Roman and Belladonna. Zsasz strode into the room carrying takeout bags in both hands. He seemed to have returned faster than expected, much to Roman’s dismay, but then again, Zsasz was more often than not, more punctual than a Swiss watch. It also helped that he cut quite the intimidating figure and Belladonna wouldn’t have been surprised if people had jumped out of line upon seeing him.

“Cockblocked by the doctor's orders… and Thai food.”

Roman grumbled, finally tearing his gaze away from Belladonna and taking the food from Zsasz. A flicker of warmth flashed across Zsasz's usually cold eyes as he handed over the bags to Roman. It was a brief, unexpected moment that caught Belladonna off guard. Then with a curt nod that carried an unusual ease to it, Zsasz took a bag and disappeared. Was she beginning to grow on him?

Roman settled back onto the bed and produced several takeout boxes with enticing aromas that could only come from a yāy’s soulful cooking. Bold spices, succulent roasted meats, and hints of coconut. He handed her one box filled with Thai green chicken curry and rice, and another containing papaya salad. To her surprise, there was even a small container of mango sticky rice for dessert. She didn't bother asking how he knew her favorite dishes; his answer would probably involve some vague explanation about being "all-knowing."

As they ate, she watched Roman open his own container of Thai basil chicken, captivated by the movement of his jaw as he chewed, before drifting to Roman's strong hands, deftly maneuvering the chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. She had seen those same hands clenched in anger, and wrapped around a gun with deadly precision. Yet, here they were, sharing a simple meal together. Life was certainly dealing her some strange cards lately.

Here she was in Romans bed, after having briefly been held hostage in her own apartment, and being saved by her own knight on a dark horse, as he had dubbed himself. Eating Thai food, like any normal couple might, Roman lounging in a casual manner that Belladonna had never seen before using chopsticks like a pro. He seemed more like just a man eating Thai food with her than the dangerous figure she knew him to be.

"So, no Netflix?"

"The beds for sleeping, not Netflix," Roman replied playfully, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You should be glad I'm letting you eat in my bed at all."

“You don’t ever eat in bed?

"No," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I eat at a table like a civilized criminal." His tone was light, teasing even, and Belladonna couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. Was he making an honest joke? No dark undertones? Guess there was a first for everything.

“The only thing that gets eaten in this bed is pussy.” There it was. He couldn’t let it go, but a sex joke was better than a dark one, she supposed.

Belladonna glanced down at her box, a vibrant array of colorful vegetables and steaming rice accompanying the spicy chicken that filled her senses with a mixture of comfort and warmth. She hesitated for a moment before looking up to meet Roman's unwavering gaze. The dim lighting of his bedroom cast shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating the intensity behind his dark eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really know you," she admitted, her voice laced with vulnerability. It was a thought that had been gnawing at her ever since they'd gotten involved with each other – an unsettling feeling that there was always more beneath the surface. “You’re like a puzzle with no picture.”

A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I'm a puzzle, am I?" he asked, the playful tone in his voice belying the weight of her words. "How many pieces? I'm at least 10,000 pieces."

Belladonna couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted response, even as the unease continued to churn within her. As much as she wanted to believe that she could understand him, she knew deep down that there were aspects of his life that she never would.

"More like a Rubik's star cube," Belladonna countered, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she looked at Roman.

Roman raised an eyebrow, clearly appreciating the challenge. "Ah, one of those, huh? Well, I suppose that makes me even more intriguing."

"Alright, then," Roman said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Why don't you ask me something? Anything you want. Consider it your first move in solving this puzzle."

"It’s all just games to you, isn’t it?"

"Trust me, angel. I never play games with what's mine," he replied, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"Yours?" she echoed, feeling both a sense of belonging and unease at his words.

"Undeniably,"

——

The concept of moonlight illuminating a sleeping lovers form while they slept was bullshit, stupid and cliche. So was the idea of longingly looking at them, as if moonlight was a magic highlighter that drew attention to all the details that you never noticed before.

He always thought the moonlight at night thing only worked because the person you were looking at had finally shut up. He didn’t need the magic of a planet fragment reflecting light to draw his eye to Belladonna's hourglass form, he didn’t need it to draw his attention to the swell of her hips, the full lips he wanted to taste, that long black hair he wanted to use to direct her, or the curve of her breasts he wanted to touch. No, he could appreciate those things in broad daylight, the low light of his club or the artificial light of her studio while she worked.

But that’s exactly what Roman was doing

Fuck it, the moonlight was doing its job, casting that magical soft glow on Belladonna's peaceful face as she slept. And Roman lay next to her, wide awake, his dark eyes studying her delicate features. It was the first time he'd ever allowed a woman to share his bed without sex being involved, and strangely enough, he found himself not minding much. People were interesting to watch when they slept, Belladonna, for instance, was lying on her side with one arm embracing her pillow and her knees slightly drawn up towards her chest. It wasn't quite the fetal position, but she wasn't sprawling out either, and Roman couldn't blame her. She didn’t sprawl out and take up more of the bed than she should, didn’t hog the blankets leaving him to freeze his ass off, and she wasn’t one of those types who tried to suffocate him by clinging to him like a lovesick teenager.

That wasn’t Belladonna though.

Roman's interests were about as varied as the weather, but he always found the way people slept to be fascinating. It was like a secret language they couldn’t help but speak. Belladonna's sleeping habits, in particular, caught his attention. They suggested she was guarded and lacked a sense of security or comfort.

As for Roman himself, he usually slept on his back with his arms at his sides. He didn’t move around much unless he was really stressed. Occasionally, he might flop onto his stomach and bury his head in the pillow, but that was rare. He didn’t like how exposed he felt sleeping on his stomach, even if it was comfy as hell.

As for Zsasz, well, he had never seen Zsasz sleep but he was fairly certain if Zsasz slept at all, he slept like a vampire and he hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a coffin.

The whole situation was an odd one for him. Sure he’d let women sleep in his bed but more often than not it was only because he was too tired to kick them out right away. He’d let them sleep and then send them on their way to that glorious walk of shame home, in the clothes they’d worn the night before, covered in the marks he’d left on them, both seen and unseen. And really, even if he was tired, he would have much rather they leave as soon as he was done with them. His only real motivating factor behind letting them stay was the possibility of a morning blowjob. What man didn’t love waking up and having his dick sucked before breakfast?

His late-night musings were interrupted by a quiet presence at the door, Zsasz lingered just outside the room, he gave Roman a nod and Roman slipped from the bed's warmth.

"Got something."

Roman followed Zsasz to his study, where they reviewed the security footage from Belladonna's loft. The screen flickered to life, revealing Cobblepot's arrival and the entire conversation between him and Belladonna. Roman clenched his jaw, anger simmering beneath the surface.

It was the first time he’d watched the footage and it was just as she’d said earlier and although it infuriated him, he had to admit; he’d never been more impressed by a woman. Her voice hardly shook but he could hear it, there were no tears and she wasn’t frantic when she put the phone down after a finally failed attempt at reaching Roman. His lip twitched in a sneer when he thought of how many times she’d tried calling him and how calm she’d been throughout the whole thing and in a rare moment, he felt like shit.

He’d told her he’d take care of her so long as she was with him and he didn’t. In fact, he’d acted like some shithead teenager. It angered him but not as much as the moment Cobblepot offered a bullshit apology to Belladonna before directing one of his men to shoot her in the chest as opposed to the back of her head. Even still, she didn’t move, she didn’t cower, didn’t plead, didn’t cry. Nothing.

Solid as a statue, only closing her eyes. He knew grown men who wouldn’t have handled having a gun pointed at them half as well as she had.

"Reach out to Cobblepot's associates," he instructed Zsasz, his voice cold and controlled. As much as he didn’t like Cobblepot he wasn’t so stupid as to go on the warpath. "Set up a formal sit-down. No more surprise visits from him, I need to know how he's connected to all this and how Jimmy came to have his stuff if he didn’t work for him."

He didn’t much like Cobblepot but it would be idiotic to make him an enemy rather than a strained acquaintance.

"Arrange for new security measures at her loft, after it’s been cleared," Roman ordered, dismissing Zsasz's unspoken concerns. "She'll stay with me until everything is in place. Did you call the shoppers?” Zsasz nodded, “Good, make sure she has whatever she needs."

As Roman contemplated their situation, he found himself recalling the myth of Hades and Persephone—a tale that seemed to mirror his own relationship with Belladonna.

"Who is our Demeter?" he muttered, leaving Zsasz slightly confused, but not surprised. Roman often spoke in cryptic references that made sense only to him.

"Been keeping tabs on her father like you asked. Doesn't seem like he's actively involved in any major schemes anymore. Looks like he's content living off the family fortune," Zsasz reported, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I found something interesting while I was looking into him. Belladonna is the only heir to the family estate, assuming her father doesn’t blow it all. And he doesn’t seem too keen on her having much of it to herself based on the stipulations required for her to get access to her inheritance." Roman's interest piqued at the mention of Belladonna's wealth.

"She's entitled to half the estate according to her grandfather's will. However, her share is currently tied up due to certain conditions she hasn't fulfilled yet."

"What conditions?" Roman inquired, intrigued by the complexity of the situation.

"There are two options. Either her father passes away under circumstances deemed non-suspicious, and the inheritance is released once the investigation is concluded," Zsasz explained.

Roman smirked, that could certainly be arranged.

"Or she ties the knot." Zsasz's voice held a hint of amusement. "In that case, the money essentially falls under her husband's control, to be distributed at his discretion."

Roman's eyes narrowed with disdain. "So her fortune hinges on marriage. How... quaint."

“Tale as old as time.”

“Pathetic.” Roman shook his head at the man's manipulations. "I'll pay him a visit soon enough. What about her mother, what did you find?"

"Maria Lopez," Zsasz announced, handing Roman a medical file.

Roman pulled a confused face, that wasn’t her mothers’ name. It was Caruso, not Lopez.

“She's tucked away in a top-tier facility in Metropolis, specifically tailored for clients grappling with significant trauma." Zsasz made air quotes around the term 'significant trauma,' his tone dripping with skepticism.

“Why Metropolis?” Zsasz shrugged.

“Probably because it's not in Gotham. Makes her harder to find, especially if Belladonna was trying to keep a low profile.”

Roman nodded for Zsasz to continue as he looked through Maria’s file. He didn’t ask Zsasz how he got ahold of privileged medical records; some things were better left unsaid. But based on what Roman was looking at, it was all doctored up and as authentic as a spring breakers driver's license.

"The alias is completely disconnected from anyone in Belladonna's family,”

“Who pays for it?” Roman asked, his voice low and tense as he looked at Maria's photograph, fixated on the sorrowful expression in her gaze.

She looked nothing like the woman he had imagined; she appeared exhausted, fragile, and hollow inside, though the resemblance was striking. Belladonna got her looks from her mother, no doubt. He suddenly understood how bad of a situation Maria must have found herself in as a young immigrant worker to a man like Benjamin Syrus Black. The predatory nature of it disgusted him, her mother was sixteen when she’d become pregnant with Belladonna, barely a woman. Not even a woman by his standards.

“A numbered bank account. Easy enough to set up, probably had a lawyer do it."

"So, no paper trail leading back to her old man. Jesus. No wonder Belladonna couldn't track her down,"

Roman remarked with a hint of disdain. The records spoke of years of physical trauma as well as several psychiatric conditions ranging from bipolar disorder to schizophrenia. He threw the file onto the table, sending papers scattering across the surface.

“This reads like a dossier of Arkham's most dangerous inmates; bi-polar disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, dementia, dissociative identity disorder, psychotic depression, PTSD,”

Roman looked back and forth from several documents but he seemed to be studying their headers, logos and signatures as much as he was reading the diagnosis and treatment history. It was a chaotic mess.

“These diagnoses contradict each other. Bet money no one was paying attention when she was admitted."

"Even if she somehow found her mother now, there's no way she could get her released, probably wouldn’t even be allowed to visit her."

Zsasz nodded grimly in agreement. "But on the bright side, this gives us leverage over whoever is treating her. If they want to keep this quiet, they won’t involve the police." A sly smile spread across Roman's face.

Roman smirked at Zsasz, “Maybe they just need a good scare.”

“Pain is scary,” Zsasz said with a smile.

"We'll need to take a trip to Metropolis soon. But before we do, make sure you dig up every detail possible on the doctors in charge of her care and anyone involved in her admission. I want it all. I won't tolerate any more surprises."

Zsasz nodded, “Got it.”

“I’m going to bed.” His voice dripped with deadly intent as he tossed the file back onto the desk and turned, stalking off toward his bedroom.

Roman crawled back into his bed and looked over to the side he usually slept on, Belladonna had her back to him, she had rolled over in her sleep and he found himself staring at a scar on her back. Long and jagged, one that had taken over thirty sutures to close, his lip curled up when he thought about how it got there. The tip of his finger had barely brushed against her skin when she turned over and curled closer to him, not close enough to nestle in his arms but close enough he could leisurely touch her, his hand slipped from her shoulder down the curve of her side before settling on her hip. She made a little noise of contentment and scooted a bit closer. Stans words to him played over in his head as sleepiness began to gently tug at him.

“She could be good for, Roman,”

Roman just smirked, shook his head then pulled his hand away and folded his pillow over, eventually drifting off to sleep.

—-

Belladonna slowly blinked awake, the cool space beside her a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. This time, when she woke up in Roman’s bed she felt no panic, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Sure, she wouldn’t have minded staying in bed, rolling over, and going back to sleep but the sunlight streaming in from the window made that hard. She sat up and stretched, disentangling the sheets that had twisted around her legs, searching the room for any trace of Roman.

The faint sound of running water drew her towards the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. With careful steps, she approached, peeking inside to find Roman at the sink. He stood tall, only a black towel wrapped around his waist, traces of shaving cream on his jawline as he focused on his steam-framed reflection.

She held her breath, captivated by the oddly domestic sight of Roman. Despite their closeness, she had never seen him so undressed, always shrouded in mystery and tailored suits. His broad muscular back bore was a blank canvas, surprisingly devoid of tattoos, she hadn’t exactly expected any as they didn't seem like they fit his personality. She only saw maybe two faded scars, one looked like a knife wound and another maybe a bullet, he certainly wasn’t covered in them like Zsasz was. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on the edge of the towel, if only he wasn’t so paranoid...

"Roman had me get some things for you for work," Zsasz's voice broke the moment as he entered with a garment bag. Startled, Belladonna jumped with a startled gasp and stepped back, feeling a flush of embarrassment. But it was too late, when she changed a glance over her shoulder Roman met her gaze with a smirk and a freshly shaven face.

A knowing grin playing on his lips. Her heart quickened, realizing she had been caught off guard, a rarity she tried to avoid.

“Time for work angel,”

Fifteen

---

Little R&R Roman style? I know, I'm a tease... Sorry guys, stay tuned the spice is coming soon...!

@keffirinne @daenerys-skywalker @supernatural-lover

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dranna · 9 months

Text

Blossoming Love through the Ages

2500BC - Chapter 1

AO3 / Commissions / Links / Prologue

Summary: How does their friendship and eventually their feelings blossomed through the ages? I'm attempting to rethink the scenes we saw from the seasons, adding Crowle's thoughts and additional segments.

Warnings: none

a/n: I've finally gathered enough courage because I've never wrote nor shared anything of this poetic, sonnet like?? fanfiction before. I'm a little nervous tbh, but comments and feedbacks are warmly welcomed! Let me know, if you would like to see more:))

Later on, I might add my drawings too.

English is not my first language, so I apologise for mistakes.

Crowley’s POV:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the year 2500 BC,

Stood someone, on top of a dry hill,

where this story line began growing.

There he was in all confidence,

Because he knew, he was protected by the law of all Light and Dark of the Great Universe.

He was, as he always been a soul of a misunderstood kind,

Caught up in between the two sides of eternal corrival.

His name was Crowley, not long ago changed from Crawly,

A Demon, fallen from the cold, white sky,

Which he once filled with hope and light.

His stature was camouflaged with all black, decorated with a little carmine,

Just like ever since, after the Beginning of Time.

As he was standing in the frying rays,

The flaming flocks and bushy beard of his, absorbed every heat it seemed.

His golden, snake-like eyes, remained hidden,

Under the darkened glasses of man made brand.

“You should know why, you are about to die.

I was sent here to tell and corrupt, there is no need to deny,

God has abandoned you, yet claims to love you.

Demands your praise, and has given you up to be ruined.”

How ironic is it not? To send a once all devoted angel to the destruction of a devoted man?

What was his sin, if I might ask, or it’s just for thy amusement?

He gave all of his mind and heart to you,

Is it thy reward to kill, then give everything back but new?

– Reflected the serpent, while placing the huge fire of decay,

In front of the burning planet’s radiate.

-------------------------------

The destruction of Job, was about to begin,

When came in a warm golden light,

The warning of another eternal life.

In appearance he was the opposite of the fiend,

White and gold were what he wore,

Hair white, cheeks puffy and in general being silly.

Aziraphale, as he was called, appeared out of a colourless mess,

Demanding the demon to stop his evil progress.

Before he could cast something holy upon him however, he halted amused:

“Oh! It’s you isn't it?

We haven't met since the drowning of the creatures of this Planet.”

“Ah, yeah. That's quite correct.”

“....Well, if you don't mind, I have a duty here, I can't neglect–”

With that exchange, he opened the blanket of his holy light,

And started his speech a second time.

How charmful he is standing there,

Casting blessed words to my care.

He is rather lovely on his own,

Wouldn't need all this devine glow.

What a funny effect it will have,

When I tell him, I’m allowed to do that!

– Crowley was chuckling inside,

Then suddenly, calmly exhaled,

“No”

“No?”

Azriaphale was so surprised,

He thought, he didn't hear it right.

After all, what he had known all this time,

That Job is the favourite of the Creator.

And, God is just and right,

He wouldn't punish an innocent that tight.

“What do you mean no?

I would like to remind you, that Job

Is favoured by God,

Therefore you see, I can't let you do your evil deed.”

“Noooo.. Thank you? I have a permit you see,

By God. Yes!

So I’m more than allowed to do that.“

“But this can't be right!

You know well, I don't mind jokes of the harmless kind,

However this–”

Crowley reeled the parchment of the godly permits,

The sooner before Aziraphale could finish his speech.

The paper just rolled and rolled and rolled,

Over hills and valleys,

Because it was so long.

To the utter fright of the Angel,

The licence seemed legit.

His look of puzzlement has such an endearing effect,

As he is focusing on the subject,

How is it possible that we are on friendly terms,

Since he still has so much fate,

In the doings of Heavenly concerns?

Why do I wish to be closer to him, to him!

Among all beings?

— The Snake’s reflections wandered yet again,

As his good companion took the permit,

And took a visit to the Ones Up there.

How come, he didn't know,

While everyone got a note?

I’m pretty sure the High Ranks were the firsts,

Who was imparted in confidence,

How he, who was sent to Earth,

Didn't learned about this providence?

-----------------------

Alright now I should destroy everything this poor man, Job has,

Farms, buildings, animals and children,

What did they ever do to You?

Nevertheless I have no choice,

But to obey the orders of my Boss.…….

Yet, I'm a Demon after all,

So they mustn't be mad if I do fuckery.

After all, what Beings of the Down supposed to do,

But do mischievous tricks on their own?

– Sighed the Demon with the flaming hair,

Then launched the fires from the air,

He seemed to be in deep, deep thought,

While all the goats, to whom he first spoke,

Appeared to be evaporate under the heat,

Still he carried on, in rather a cheery emotional state.

Yes, the idea might work,

His home will be perfect for this toil,

All I have to do is be careful and focus,

So the Downstareians don’t except a thing!

With that, he turned towards the home of Job,

Among the falling fiery petal jewels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading dears! <33

Tags my beloveds: @giosnape

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bethdutten · 2 years

Text

something spicy

arranged marriage!eskel x reader

part 1 / 2 / 3

You knew you would be married off eventually. There would be no choice in who you would spend the rest of you life with-- you’d accepted that a long time ago. But when it was decided that man would be a Witcher, well... that changed things.

It wasn’t that you believed any of the lore surrounding them; but they could not give you children, spent almost the year off hunting monsters, and would most likely leave you a widow sooner rather than later. It would be a miracle if he turned out to be kind, as well-- they had no need to develop social skills to keep a wife happy. It was a business transaction, and you might as well get used to being alone.

Then you met Eskel.

He was gentle. That was the first thing you noticed. He didn’t seem to shy away from your touch when you held hands at the altar-- instead, he held you carefully, like he was afraid to break you. You got the sense he was waiting for you to flinch away from you-- you got a good look at the scars on his face right away, but he was doing his best to hide them-- and you could tell he was used to others treating him harshly. You knew then and there you would never let that man feel nothing but loved and cared for, if only because that is all you wanted-- and it seemed he was at least capable of doing that for you.

So, when you exchanged your rings and it was time for the kiss, you didn’t hesitate to touch those scars and hope he understood that you weren’t afraid of him.

And now your new husband was sitting beside you, uncomfortably grimacing off into the distance like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Are you alright?” You reached out and placed a hand on his thigh, hoping to make him more at ease-- he instantly stiffened, and you had to stop yourself from pulling away.

He stuttered out a reply. “No, no, I’m fine.” You weren’t convinced, but leaned away regardless, the noise and people getting to you after such a long day. Maybe he just wanted to be alone.

“Well, let me know if you need to get out of here. I wouldn’t mind escaping, either.” Your mind flashed to the lacy red lingerie you had tucked in a drawer in your bedroom, nervous anticipation bubbling in your stomach at the thoughts of what tonight would be like.

“Just make sure he is happy. Satisfy him, your own needs are no longer important. Understand?”

You nodded at your favorite maid, the woman who had practically raised you and now stood with tears in her eyes like she was the one giving her daughter away as she clasped the last hook in your wedding dress.

She made sure everything was in place, turning you to face her. “Okay, love. No matter what you feel about him, make him happy.”

Looking over at your new husband, you wondered what exactly it would take to make Eskel happy. He seemed to hate this arrangement more than even you, but more than just the fact that your choice had been taken from you— more like he didn’t want to touch you, or even look at you too long. That would make… tonight difficult. To say the least.

He nervously squirmed in his seat, almost looking apologetic as he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “I could leave, yes.”

You let out a sigh of relief, grabbing your husband and pulling him away from the crowd without a single goodbye.

Eskel was following behind you, almost taking up the entire hallway as you led him down the confusing corridors to your bed chambers. You were ready to get this stupid dress off; although, what came next made you nervous and excited all at the same time.

You were torn from your thoughts from the man you were now married to calling you ‘Princess’— you laughed, shaking your head.

“We must be on equal footing. Something else you can call me, something more… sweet.”

He looked so adorably puzzled that you felt a blush warm your cheeks as he mumbled, “Sweet…heart?”

You grinned, finally reaching your bedroom. “I’d like that very much, my love,” you replied, just to tease him.

You didn’t miss his shy returning smile, the first one you’d seen that night. It took your breath away— you were already falling for your husband, and the night was just beginning.

—

It was a dirty trick, but effective. You had a tool to help you remove your dress, instead asking Eskel to help so you can subtly strip out of your dress and give him a taste of what was to come. The lingerie on, body arranged on the bed, you cleared your throat and prayed he would be happy with what he saw. That you would satisfy him.

And you had a feeling he may satisfy you as well.

Only, the lust you hoped to see in his eyes upon seeing you only lasted a moment, before it was gone and replaced by what could only be described as terror.

Did it really look that bad? Isn’t this what husbands expected?

“You know I can’t— I can’t… can’t give you children, right?”

You frowned, taken aback. In truth, you were glad you didn't have to worry about the possibility of children in the future, especially if you were to be taken to Kaer Morhen-- you never felt the need to be a mother, and being one in isolation seemed like hell. Why was he bringing that up now?

“I know. That was explained to me. I just— I thought you’d want to…” It suddenly occurred to you that Eskel didn’t want you at all-- that he was disgusted at the idea of having to touch you. And here you were throwing yourself at him, forcing yourself on him like it was your right as his wife-- You quickly grabbed at your robe, trying to cover yourself with what little fabric you could. “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed, I—“

Eskel burst out, “No!” making you pause, the Witcher looking uncomfortable and out of place in his wedding outfit while you remained practically naked. “No, no, that’s not--”

Before you could start panicking, he came closer and took a seat on the bed beside you, giving you a closer look at him straight on since the wedding ceremony.

He was beautiful-- his eyes shined, skin glowing despite the scars, and the strength he had showed in every muscle and movement.

You hoped he couldn’t smell how wet you were becoming.

“Sweetheart,” he began softly, and you had to practically bite back a whimper. “I need you to… tell me. What you want. Tonight, or any night. I need to… hear you say it. Because I don’t want to read something wrong, and make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

You considered what he said, pulling your gaze away from where it had drifted to his lap, those thighs and--

Wait. “Oh. You just— you just prefer me to tell you want I want?”

This sexy, stupid idiot. He thought you were doing this out of some sort of duty? “I want you. I’ll tell you however often you need. Gods, Eskel, I thought I made that very clear.”

When he didn’t look 100% convinced, you slowly spread your legs and met his eyes, reaching down to pull aside your underwear to give him a view of the wet and swollen lips of your cunt, glistening in the candlelight.

“Maybe you need to see, too.”

You saw him swallow, gaze drifting between the apex of your thighs and your face. “Sweetheart...”

This time you did whine, your hand reaching out for him. “Eskel. Please. I want you.”

He licked his lips, making you inhale sharply. He smirked, a bit of confidence colouring his cheeks now. “I can’t say no to my wife, now, can I?”

#eskel #eskel imagine #eskel smut #eskel x reader #eskel fic #netflix!eskel x reader #game!eskel x reader #a mix between between netflix and game eskel honestly #part 3 will be all smut

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azuisreading · 4 months

Text

Born of Scourge by S. Jean

Legends say when the skies grow dark and scourge starves the land, a star will fall in order to save humanity. Only when the star is sacrificed at the end of their journey will light return. It's a cycle—one humanity refuses to break because stars are plentiful and their sacrifices easier than learning the true nature of the scourge. When Sol finally falls, it's not because of humanity. It's because he's had enough of watching his brethren be sacrificed. He has one goal: end humanity and end the cycle. Unfortunately, he has to pretend he cares before humans get wise. It doesn't matter how soft the princess who catches him is—Celena will be dead by the time his journey ends. Nor how kind his assigned companions are—the outgoing Mira with her ballads, the brave Nebora with her axe, and the hero Loren with his soft voice and friendly smile. For centuries, humanity has lied and their kindness is a ruse to bring about Sol's own destruction at the end of his tale. He will not be fooled. No one cares about the cries of the stars they've destroyed over and over again and Sol will make sure this time, humanity is the one sacrificed. At least, that's the plan until his traitorous heart begins to care for the humans he sought to eradicate.

Review

Following S. Jean from their web novel series «The Magician and The Bard» brought me this greatness. I was able to apply to join their ARC team to read this gem, even though I was a bit unconvinced about their writing, but this ended up being an amazing decision. I’m in love with Born of Scourge and their storytelling skills, and I’m already in for whatever she wants to tell in the future (and for what I’ve already missed in the past).

So, what are you gonna encounter here? A lot of angst. And a pretty dark theme. This isn’t a light reading, everyone knows the world is ending, but all of us rather play dumb. That doesn’t stop the passing of time and we’re unfortunately aware. Which I believe makes things worse. There wasn’t a moment in which I believed the story would end in a happy or positive ending, and I’m pretty good at leaning toward this stuff.

Why read it, then? Because it’s amazing. You can feel the bond between the characters and how, even when everything has an end and sooner or later it will come, things have meaning. What you do it’s important. How you decide to act will always be the key. You can help someone to have a better or a worse journey just with a few, usually not significant to you, words. Just by staying for a moment. Just being you.

You can go through the world wanting to end it and still spread hope. The world could not deserve you, but what you do will always be more than enough.

I think that if a book can make me this philosophical and positive about our existence and the way our world is working right now, then it deserves a shot. I never expected to find a book with such dark tones on my comfort shelf. I never expected to have fun delving into such themes. The prose is magnificent, incredibly beautiful. I took out a few phrases just because it was going to be a big spoiler (and highly illegal, hahah) to take the whole book.

I’ll keep its love story, because I believe that’s what is about. Even this dark, is a beacon of light and hope. You know how it goes: you only can appreciate the beauty of life when you have seen its ugly side.

Phrases that I liked so much that I marked them while reading

«She held the star as close to her heart as possible because he would bring back the light. She was sure of it.» — Prologue.

«All of it was rote, normal, and helped her ignore the fact the world was ending around them. Sol didn’t mind helping her forget. He liked the way she smiled.» — Chapter I.

«And besides, she harbored the belief the world wouldn’t end because Sol was there. He hadn’t the heart to tell her otherwise or about the promise he’d made as he’d fallen through the skies. Let her believe he’d save the world if it made her smile so.» — Chapter I.

«Early on, Celena had told Sol the names of every single plant they grew here, but only these two stood out because Celena absolutely loved them.» — Chapter I.

«It was calm simply existing together like this, arms entwined, and Sol wouldn’t have minded staying like this the entire day.» — Chapter I.

«For some reason, when she spoke his name, it made him want to smile.» — Chapter I.

«The smiles she graced him with were bright and dazzling and made him forget what he was.» — Chapter I.

«When he opened his eyes again, Celena had returned. Still radiated a softness in the world Sol couldn’t help but want to hold.» — Chapter I.

«Celena was so resplendent when she smiled. Sol wanted to memorize it and sought to trace it with his fingers, so he’d never forget. Even when darkness claimed everything that was and ever would be, he’d hold onto this smile. This afternoon as they swept each other through the gardens, their soft laughter mixing together amongst the whispers in the wind.» — Chapter I.

«“Part of me actually hoped they wouldn’t come. So then I’d have more time with you.”» — Chapter II.

«“Are you ready?” “As long as I am with you,” Sol said.» — Chapter II.

«Sol drifted off, simply listening to her breathe and the way her blood hummed against him, and part of him hoped morning never came because deep down buried in his heart, he didn’t want to leave her.» — Chapter III.

«Gareth looked between Nebora and Loren, silent with his eyebrows high in amusement. For once, he wasn’t the one being yelled at.» — Chapter IX.

«As much as he wanted it to be true, these were not those he’d once been nestled beside in the cosmos. They were echoes of who they’d been, hardened into scourge and then left behind when the light returned. They would never again be who they once were.» — Chapter X.

#born of scourge #s. jean #earlronove #ronove #book blog #booklover #book review #review #reading

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

What If: Rewind

Series: What If

Original Series: Bad Romance

More: Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam, Liam x Max, Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Mature themes I guess

Word Count: 2,351

This is an alternated ending to Maximum Damage because @21wishes threatened to stalk, harass and bully me until I gave her an alternate ending to the alternate ending. 😆 I was planning to do it anyway, but she lit a fire under me to get it done sooner rather than later and I appreciate her for it because being able to bounce back and forth to this one helped me get through the (as she put it) emotional carnage that Maximum Damage inflicted.

Thanks @nestledonthaveone and @harleybeaumont for prereading.

My other stuff: Master List.

Ramsford….

“Max, wake up.” Riley poked him.

His eyes fluttered open to find her smiling down at him and happiness washed over him, “Good morning, my everything. What can I do for you this morning? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

She giggled, “No. I mean yes, I could eat, and I’d love a bagel with cream cheese but there’s something else I want and you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day, about Liam and Drake and I think…well, I know you’re right.”

“I am?” He sat up quickly as hope surged through him, “I mean, I know I am but what changed your mind?”

She drew her knees up and leaned her chin on them, “It was the thing you said about everyone being responsible for their own choices and for how they deal with the circumstances dealt to them. I’ve been blaming Liam for Drake leaving but it’s not fair. Drake made that choice on his own and I probably pushed him to it. It was just easier to blame Liam than to deal with my own pain and guilt.”

“So…does that mean….” He sucked in a breath and held it as he watched her face.

She grinned again as she nodded and dropped her hands to cradle her newly expanded midsection, “I want to go home, I want us to be a family, all of us.”

“So, we can finally tell Liam about the baby?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, Riley! This is the best news ever! I’m going to call Liam!” Max bounded out of bed looking for his cell phone.

“Wait!” Riley grabbed for him, and missed.

“What?” Max laughed as he danced out of her reach.

“What am I going to say to him, Max? I can’t tell him about the baby over the phone!”

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

Max had already hit dial and put the call on speaker. It rang twice.

“Hello?”

“Liam! I have great news!”

“What’s that?”

“Riley wants to come home!”

“What? Like, for real? For good? She’s not…I thought she didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” There was a catch in his voice.

“She’s right here, Li. You’re on speaker. Ask her yourself.”

“Riley?”

“I’m here, Liam.”

“Is it true? You want to come home?”

“Yes, if….if that’s ok with you…”

“How can you even ask that question? Please come home, I’ve been miserable without you. You and Max both, I’m completely broken without you!”

“I’m so sorry, Liam! I’ve been blaming you for things that weren’t your fault, or at least not entirely your fault.”

“I did a lot of things I regret, Riley, I-“

“It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is I love you, and you love me and Max loves you and we should all be together. It doesn’t feel right any other way. Liam….are you crying?”

“Yes. I really thought…it doesn’t matter. What can I do? Should I send a car?”

“Liam, there’s something I need to tell you and I’m afraid you’re going to be mad, and hurt, that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I don’t want to do it over the phone.”

“Riley, my love. My queen, light of my life. There is nothing you can tell me that will make me stop loving you or not want to be with you, so whatever it is, tell me now, tell me when you get here, it doesn’t matter, and it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Max hit mute as he told her, “Riley, he’s going to know the moment he sees you. Wouldn’t it be better if he’s prepared?”

From the phone, Liam’s voice asked, “Riley? Are you there? Did I lose you?”

She stared at Max for a moment then nodded. He unmuted the phone and handed it to her. She took it in her hand, but left it on speaker as she replied, “I’m here. I….I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but…”

She paused, looked to Max for support, then sucked in a giant breath and blurted the words out as fast as she could, “I’m pregnant and it’s Drake’s baby.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath.

There was silence for about five seconds. Just as she opened her eyes to look at Max, Liam said, “A baby is amazing news. We’ll deal with the rest, like we talked about last year when we thought you might be pregnant and didn’t know if it was mine or Max’s. Is that why you left? You thought I couldn’t handle you being pregnant with Drake’s child?” The thought that his own insecurities had almost cost him the woman he loved gutted him.

“That was part of it. I’m so relieved that you’re ok with it. I just want to come home. I miss you. I love you.”

“I love you too and I’ve missed you terribly, you and Max both. But you can’t come home just yet.”

“What? Why not? You just said-“

“I think there’s one more person you need to tell about the baby, don’t you?”

“You mean Drake? I don’t know, Liam, he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he told her, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean, that’s where I’m wrong? I haven’t heard from him since Paris, Liam.”

“He was here, today, at the palace.”

“What? Why? What was he doing there?”

“Looking for you, love. He wants to come home too.”

She looked up at Max with tears in her eyes, “He does?”

“Yes, but he’s on his way to Ramsford right now, so you should wait for him, then the three of you can come home together.”

“What time did he leave?” Max asked.

“About an hour ago, so he should be there in two.” Liam replied.

“Ok, we’ll wait.”

An hour later…..

They were lingering over a leisurely breakfast on the terrace when Riley suddenly pitched forward and grabbed her stomach, “Fuck!”

“What is it? Are you ok?”

“No, that really fucking hurt! Shit, was that a contraction?”

“What? No, it’s way too early!”

“I can’t breathe…shit…”

“I’m calling 911!”

“I don’t feel so good….this can’t be normal, I…I can’t see, Max, I’m scared! I feel so dizzy!” It was the last thing she said before her body slumped in her chair.

“Riley! Riley!” She slowly blinked her eyes. She was on the floor surrounded by people. Max, Savannah, Bertrand, and two paramedics. There was an IV in her arm.

There was a ringing in her ears as she heard an unfamiliar voice say, “The nitroglycerin is working! Let’s get her to the hospital.”

“I’m coming with you!” Max insisted as he ran along side the gurney, “Riley! Riley, I’m here, I’m right here blossom!”

An hour later….

Drake rushed into the hospital, skidding around the corner and nearly colliding into the admissions desk, “Where is she? Where is the queen?”

Hospital security poured into the hallway to surround him.

“Move, let this man through! He’s a captain in the Queen’s Guard!”

Drake looked around for the source of the voice, “Marco! Where is she?”

Marco waved hospital security off and pulled Drake to an elevator bank. He pushed the call button as he said, “Come on, I’ll take you up. She’s fine. She’s going to be ok. It’s good to see you, man. You’ve been missed.”

“Thanks, I…uh…” Drake stepped into the elevator and slumped against the wall. He raked a hand through his hair, “This is surreal. She’s pregnant?”

Liam had called him while he was driving and filled him in on everything. He still couldn’t believe Riley was pregnant and the baby was his. It was a lot to wrap his head around.

“Well, she was.” Marco replied with a grin, “Baby got here a little early, but she’s doing great, they both are.”

“That’s…that’s good. Shit.”

The elevator stopped and the door slid open. “Hey man, I mean it, it’s good to have you back. Maybe don’t be an idiot and leave again, ok?”

“Heh.” Drake gave a short, ironic laugh, “Yeah. Count on it.”

Marco walked him down the hallway toward Riley’s room, where Drake was surprised to find Liam waiting for him outside the door.

“About time you showed up.” Liam quipped.

“How the hell did you beat me here, man?” Drake asked as he pulled his lifelong friend into a quick embrace.

“Helicopter.” Liam grinned at him.

“Right. King shit.” Drake laughed softly.

Liam clapped him on the back, “Riley’s doing fine, the baby was early, but her odds are very good. She got prompt and excellent medical attention. She’s in the NICU right now, but come on, I think someone is waiting to see you.”

Liam ushered Drake into the room and motioned to Max, who stood and greeted Drake on his way out of the room.

“Riley.” Drake moved to her bedside and took her hand in his, “You’re really ok?”

“I’m fine. Just a little high blood pressure.”

“Don’t joke. You scared the hell out of all of us.”

She pulled her hand out of his, “Why are you here, Drake?”

He flushed with guilt. That was a valid question, he had spent the better part of the last two years running away from her, running away from his own feelings. But he was here now.

“I was wrong. You were right. I’m not ok without you. I want to come home. I want…I want to be there for you, for the baby, as much as you’ll let me. If you don’t want me back, I understand, but I’d like to at least be friends again, try to coparent, maybe. Whatever you want, whatever you need. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving you can trust me again.”

She let him take her hand back as he pulled a chair up and sat next to the bed. He held her hand in both of his, “I love you and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make this work. We can go to couples therapy if you want.”

Riley laughed, “What?”

“I’m serious, Riley. I need you to understand that I’m all in this time, no matter what. They…uh, there are therapists that specialize in polyamorous relationships.”

Riley blinked, “There are?”

“There are.” He confirmed.

“And you know this how?”

Drake flushed, “I googled it. I just…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and a little research and I’m ready to try this. No, not try, I’m ready to do this!”

“Are you sure? This seems like a complete one eighty from the last year and half.”

“All I know is I was happy when we were together, even though I knew Liam and Max were both in the picture. And I was miserable without you. Liam and Max are both ok with it. The only one standing in the way of my happiness is me.”

“I think I tried telling you that at the cabin that day.” Liam said as he came back into the room.

“I know.” Drake answered, “Everyone’s always telling me I’m an idiot. Guess it’s true.”

“And people think I’m the flighty one.” Max shook his head.

“I understand if you say no. I’ll take as much or as little as you’re willing to give me.”

“Oh, Drake, you idiot.” She smiled at him, “All I’ve wanted for the last year and half was for you to come back to me.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know that doesn’t mean this will be easy, but I think it’s worth fighting for. You’re worth fighting for and I started out this morning with my own hat in my hands, so to speak and someone showed me a hell of a lot of grace and forgiveness when he agreed to take me back.” She shot an adoring look at Liam, “So I’m more than happy to pay that forward.”

Drake brushed a tear from the corner of his eyes and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you. I’ll never make you regret it, I promise.”

Liam pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed on her other side, taking her free hand in his, “There was nothing to forgive. I can’t wait to get you back home and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never want to leave again.”

“You’re going to make me cry, Li!” Max sniffled.

“I can’t tell you how happy I was to get that phone call this morning!” Liam squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, she was going to wait and surprise you, but I talked her into calling.” Max explained.

A shadow crossed Liam’s face, “It’s a damn good thing you did. If you hadn’t called, this would have happened an hour into your drive to the palace. On that stretch of highway that runs through nothing and nowhere.”

He shuddered at the thought.

“I know I have a lot to catch up on with both of you,” Riley gave Liam and Drake each a quick smile, “But I’d really like to go see my baby now.”

“Absolutely, love!” Liam was up and out the door looking for a nurse immediately.

As Riley settled into the wheelchair with Liam’s assistance, Drake asked nervously, “So, how is this going to work, exactly? With the baby?”

He had just started to think through the ramifications.

Max squeezed his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. Right now, let’s just focus on getting the baby out of the NICU and ready to go home.”

“He’s right.” Liam agreed, “We have a lot to worry about, and a lot to be grateful for right now. The rest, is just details.”

Riley reached for his hand, “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it all out, because we can get through anything, do anything, as long as we’re together, all of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Bad Romance:

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ask-remy-lebeau · 1 year

Note

“S.O.S.” Rogue sent off the text to Remy. Hoping that he wasn’t on a job or something.

She stormed down the hallway away from Laura’s room.

She needed out of here. Sooner rather than later. Hoping to avoid an awkward conversation with either Jean or Logan.

She was so distraught that she didn’t notice Bobby till she collided with him.

“Woah, Rogue. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She replies.

“You don’t sound fine.”

She huffs. Helping him pick up the scattered books.

“Just family stuff I need to be anywhere but here right now.”

“Hey if you need to get out of here, this can wait.” He gestures to his scattered papers.

“No, I mean… I don’t wanna bother ya.”

“Come on. If nothing else you’ll be able to clear your head and I can slack off on work.”

She sighs. “This may be a problem I can only solve with alchohol.”

“Hey if you’re buying, I’ll drive and pay for gas.”

“Deal.”

Some time later. Bobby arrives back at the mansion supporting a very drunk Rogue. She pets his beard.

“Yer beard feels like Velcro.” She informs him.

“Thank you? Come on Rogue I think you need some coffee.” He chuckles. Jumping as two red eyes blink out at them from the darkness.

“Hey! That’s my guy!” Rogue exclaims excitedly. Almost falling over.

Bobby adjusts his arm around her to prevent this before giving Remy a friendly smile.

“Hey Gambit. Rogue’s having a bit of a rough day so we went out for a friendly drink.”

@hiya-sugah

Remy had been working on helping the older munchkins fix something in the barn and hadn't noticed his phone buzzing when she texted him. As soon as he saw the text he rushed right over, only to find she wasn't at the school. When he spotted Bobby entering and saw her on his arm, Remy couldn't stop the jealousy and anger bubbling up inside him, though he could certainly prevent himself from killing Bobby at least until he knew more of what was going on.

"A drink huh? That all that y'all went out for? The text I missed from her had me worried something more life threatening was gonna go down..." He shuffles a deck of cards as he speaks, one of the cards consistently glowing magenta. "I mean, SOS ain't usually reserved for a friendly drink in my experience... She tell ya what happened?"

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thetimemoves · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @discordantwords to share some of the WIPs I'm currently working on. Thanks for the tag!

Rules: post the first few lines or the summary of as many WIPs that you care to expose to the reading public. Tag others if you are curious to see what they are working on.

I have a lot of WIPs! Here are three that have a very good chance of being posted sooner rather than later. We’ll see. Life keeps throwing surprises my way.

Roundabout

A fic for @discordantwords, who had an old Holmestice prompt for Sherlock and John at an amusement park.

When John and Sherlock find themselves stuck on what just might be the oldest wheel in England, they finally run out of excuses and confront their feelings. Confessions abound.

“Sit still, you git!” John tightened his grip on the metal bar locked across his and Sherlock’s laps. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to tip out.”

Next to him, Sherlock scooted back—fractionally—but continued to lean forward, making the car sway uncomfortably. He was too busy looking over the park to admire the sea view, clearly aware of John’s tension, but also clearly determined to ignore it.

John shook his head and tried not to curse. Again. He focused on the water in the near distance, sparkling like diamonds as the sun glinted off the waves of the Channel. He didn’t like heights, never had, yet here he was. The things he did for Sherlock Holmes.

The old car rocked to and fro as they spun round, dropping towards the ground and rising back to the sky. Over and over.

“Remind me why we’re going round in circles on what has to be the oldest wheel in England?” John picked at the chipping paint on the bar and wondered when the ride had last been inspected.

“It’s called an observation wheel for a reason, John.” Sherlock didn’t look over, just kept scanning the crowds on the ground. “I’m observing. What better way than from the highest point in the park?”

Pull Me Up Again

This is a gift for @educatedinyellow, inspired by her amazing Reichenbach vid Underwater (I can’t rec it enough, all the Reichenfeels!). It’s a gentle, domestic post-Fall fic with John and Sherlock finding their way back to each other.

Sherlock is not actually dead after all.

In fact, he’s currently at the kitchen table happily grumbling to himself over his latest experiment. A viscous liquid, possibly poisonous but almost certainly corrosive, bubbles away in a beaker. There’s the scratch of pen across paper and the clink of slides, all signs of Sherlock completely engrossed.

John is in his chair doing his best to concentrate on the book in his hands, but it’s a lost cause. He can’t see Sherlock from where he’s sitting, but that doesn’t keep him from repeatedly cocking his head to listen to the familiar sounds coming from the kitchen. He knows he’s being ridiculous but doesn’t care. It’s needed reassurance that this is all real, that Sherlock is there, and he is there and that this miracle is not in his head.

Against all hope and logic, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are back at 221b Baker Street. Together. The ‘how’ is still mostly a blur to John and the ‘where’ is even more so, but the ‘when’ happens eight days, three hours, and 51 minutes after Sherlock’s dramatic reappearance on John’s doorstep.

The ‘why’ is the easiest part. Sherlock is there, so John will be there too. Full stop.

A Dreadful Darkness Closes In

This is another installment in my (2021, yikes) Whumptober challenge, a short fic from Mycroft’s POV during the initial days of Victor Trevor’s disappearance. Here, young Mycroft helps search for little Victor Trevor, comforts a distraught Sherlock, and comes to a horrifying realization about Eurus.

It’s late, well after 9 pm, when Mycroft and his father return to Musgrave Hall.

An unsettled silence hangs over the house as they shrug off their coats. There’s no sign of Mummy, but Mycroft detects the slightest hint of woodsmoke. She is likely in the sitting room, waiting by the dying fire for an update.

Another day of unfruitful searching. Victor Trevor is still missing, vanished into thin air.

Mycroft watches his father toss keys into little ceramic frog that has been on the table next to door for as long as he can remember. A box of Halloween decorations sits on the floor, untouched.

The menfolk of the village have been searching for Victor Trevor for the last three days, with Siger Holmes leading the efforts.

Mycroft was on the first train home upon hearing the news. His first thought was of sweet Redbeard, that tiny towheaded pirate who is constantly, happily, attached to Sherlock’s hip. His second was of Sherlock, who can’t go a day without asking to see his best friend. The two of them together are a hurricane of noise and activity and a joy to watch. Their intense bond is a relief to Mycroft, who knows his time away at school upsets his baby brother. He can’t fathom not finding little Victor, can’t bear to think of what will happen if they don’t.

Of Shags and Squires

And a bonus WIP, one that has been languishing for a few years. It’s my BBC update of REIG, with John dragging Sherlock down to the countryside for a rest after an exhausting case. They’re staying with John’s old Army buddy, Colin Hayter. There will be kisses and confessions and a curious case featuring an old legend to crack. This bit takes place when they arrive at Colin’s place. The names might be familiar to ACD canon lovers. :)

As they stepped out of the car, they were swarmed by three large, fluffy white dogs. Sherlock immediately knelt down and opened his arms up to one of the dogs, which proceeded to lick his face.

“Down, girls!” Colin laughed as he moved to pull the dog away from Sherlock, who had a wide grin on his face. “I assume John warned you about these beasts, yeah?”

“He did, but I do like dogs very much, so you needn’t worry.” Sherlock scratched the dog’s head and practically hugged it.

“That’s Birdy, she’s a love, isn’t she? The one mauling John over there is Bradstreet, and the one waiting for whichever one of you is free first is Baynes.”

“Great Pyrenees, I presume? They make excellent guard dogs for the sheep, I presume.”

“That’s right. Sisters from the same litter. I was only looking for one but couldn’t bear to part them. They’re a handful, but I can’t imagine life without them now.”

“Sorry, boss!” A young man jogged around the corner of the garage. “I was trying to keep them together, but they bolted as soon as they heard the car turn down the lane.” He pulled up, panting, and bent over slightly to catch his breath. “Naughty things.” He ruffled the fur of Bradstreet, who ran back over to him.

Colin smiled. “Gents, this is Liam Kirwin. His mum works for the Cunninghams next door and they live on the estate over there. He’s been helping me out a lot as the place gets busier. Think I might poach him from Old Cunningham and install him here. Don’t know what I’d do without him! He’ll be around even if I’m not and can help you with anything you might need. Liam, these are my friends I told you were coming for a visit. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.”

The men shook hands. Liam was a shade taller than Sherlock and about 20 pounds heavier. He had an open, friendly face.

I'll tag @calaisreno and @helloliriels and anyone else who sees this. If you'd like to share some of what you've been working on, consider yourself tagged!

#bbc sherlock #canon remix #writing meme #wip #lots of tropes here #i'm excited about these #here's to actually finishing them!

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revolversandlace · 1 year

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Blemished Silk | Chapter Twenty-Four - Sodom? Back to Gomorrah

Chapter Index

Arthur Morgan x f!OC Longfic

Mature Rating - 4.5k Words

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Arthur!POV, Angst, Pining, Canon Divergence, Violence

Summary: Arthur heads back to the estate to deny himself a chance at happiness

Valentine, May 1899

Finally, it seemed that their luck was on the up. As close a call as it was, the bank robbery led to a mighty fine take. Even Bill - the moron - managed to not screw anything up.

One bank robbed, a couple of dead Pinkerton’s and a pocket full of cash. It was almost enough to put a smile on Arthur’s face until he remembered that he had to make another trip to the Downes’ ranch.

The first visit was bad enough, beating some sickly old fool near to death. It didn’t sit right with him and now he’d have to do the same with the widow.

It weren’t all on him though. Damn fools shouldn’t have been borrowing money they ain’t in no position to pay back. Especially borrowing money from the snakey little Strauss. How anyone could even look at that man and trust him was beyond Arthur.

But they all had their parts to play, and debt collecting - whether he liked to admit it or not - was good money for the gang. He supposed he could always rustle up some cash, say they paid it back but he weren’t a numbers man and Strauss would figure it out sooner rather than later. And the last thing Arthur needed was Dutch thinking he’d gone soft.

Arthur was a wanted man after all, and he didn’t get that bounty on his head from playing nice.

So he climbed on the back on Montague, clicking him into a gallop in hopes that whatever Pinkertons were still sniffing around would soon be lost.

As Arthur arrived, riding through the oak trees with the snowy mountains invitingly lying on the horizon, he rode up to the ranch. Mrs Downes and the boy were already outside, meandering around as Arthur pulled his horse to a stop and swung his leg over, dismounting.

The widow looked over her shoulder; her lined skin formed into a frown as she organised some boxes on the cart that she stood over.

‘My husband’s not cold in the ground, and you’ve come back here. Archie.’ She waved her hand dismissing the boy, and she wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I nearly paid off what was owed.’

Arthur shrugged as her son went into the house as their hound greeted Arthur with a sniff on his leg.

‘Your husband knew the rules when he took that money,’ Arthur said, wanting to be done with the exchange and away with the money as quickly as possible. ‘Now I’m real sorry about the way things turned out, but he had a choice. Ain’t my fault about the way the world is.’

‘He didn’t have a choice,’ Mrs Downes retorted as she walked towards her son, who had returned from the house with a luggage case.

Clearly, their debt came with more than just the price of paying the gang back. A knot formed in Arthur’s stomach.

‘He was good and did good,’ she continued moving one thing and the other from their porch to the cart. ‘There wasn’t no choice in that. And you as good as killed him yourself, and don’t kid yourself.’

She turned to look at him, right in the eyes. A very different woman to what he last saw. But Arthur didn’t shrink from her gaze, as much as his conscience told him that she was right. He was here for one thing and one thing only.

‘You had a choice,’ she said, and she may as well have spat on him right there.

‘You speak as if killin’ him were something I cared about,’ Arthur said, his voice low and mean.

‘You ever wonder about eternity? You should.’ She said, turning to collect more belongings from her son.

‘I hope it’s hot and terrible, Mrs Downes, otherwise I’ll feel I’ve been sold a false bill of goods.’

His mouth spoke before his mind thought too hard on the matter. He knew damn well where he was going to end up after all of this, and he deserved every second of it. Well, that was if he believed in those children’s tales. Life weren’t fair and whatever happened after - which he was sure as shit was nothing - weren’t going to be fair either.

And besides, he knew it would wind the widow up enough to get on with getting the rest of the money, as she seemed too suited on giving him some rapture.

‘Now, please…’ he said with an exasperated sigh, as his arm gestured towards the house, ‘get me that money.’

With a tut, she stormed into the house, shaking her head from side to side with her feet heavy on the porch stairs.

The boy, meanwhile, brought out yet another case, his eyes far too narrow for Arthur’s liking. He shifted himself on his feet, looking the kid up and down.

‘Either you’ve got a lazy eye or a lack of respect. Which is it, boy?’

‘I ain’t got no lazy eye,’ he said, his scrawny shoulders puffing out as he turned to Arthur, ‘nor respect for the likes of you.’

Arthur would have laughed any other time, but he was growing impatient and his blood was still hot from the robbery not one hour ago.

Gun fights were funny like that. The rush would cling to your veins for hours, even days afterwards.

‘Well, maybe when your mother’s finished mournin’ your father,’ he stepped closer to the boy, his eyes squint and chin jutting as his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, ‘I’ll keep her in black… on your behalf.’

The boy stepped back, growing suddenly sheepish with the brief moment of his balls dropping out of him.

‘You think on that, boy,’ Arthur said with a firm nod, his tongue flicking out the corner out of his mouth like a hungry wolf.

‘Well, maybe you shall sir,’ the kid said, his voice shaking as Arthur was sure he could hear the fear filled heart beat, ‘and maybe other events will transpire.’

Now Arthur did laugh, but in no way was it a kind laugh. It was a dark laugh that bordered on unnatural.

‘You best stick to them books, because mark my words on this - vengeance is an idiot’s game.’

The footsteps returned as Arthur stood back from the son, his eyes only gracing him for a second longer while the widow appeared with a healthy billfold.

‘Ah, Mrs Downes, thank you for punctuality,’ he said, not giving her a moment before he held out his hand as she shoved the money into his palm. ‘It’s next to godliness, isn’t it?’

He licked his thumb, flicking through the notes. The last thing he wanted to do was to return or track them down if they weren’t paying proper.

‘That’s cleanliness,’ she said with tight lips.

‘I’ll have to take your word on that,’ thankfully, the money was all there as he shoved it into his back pocket with a swift nod. ‘Good day.’

And so he left, without another word, throwing himself onto the horse and getting away from that damn ranch as quickly as possible.

He wasn’t ready to return to camp, far from it. The whole interaction with the widow had left a dirty taste in his mouth like sour beer, his mind heavy with regret. The world was simple to Arthur. You take, expect to pay back. Even with all the stealing, he knew his price was at the end of a rope, but he was smart enough to not get caught.

But he wasn’t smart enough to stop making excuses for himself or for the gang. They could have had a cleaner life, a life without being on the run, but they were in far too deep now.

Far too deep in the cheating, the stealing and killing. And he was far too deep in with Amelia. Hell, he cracked a man’s skull open like a glass jar, just in the hopes of some information. He wasn’t even just putting the gang at risk with his schoolboy crush. He was risking everything, risking her.

Another unfair thing in life.

He was a goddamn outlaw. A no good thief and killer, and she was… she was good and kind, with a beautiful elegance and charm, and it was beyond Arthur why she had even turned sweet on him.

But it had to end. He had to put a stop to it all, and it was that simple.

Before he even realised, he was heading down the treeline of the Edwards Estate. The grand manor nestled in the southern countryside against the sun which had started to drop in the sky leaving the whole world orange.

Hitching his horse, he looked around for her golden hair and bright smile. The thought of her face damn near broke him in two.

He wanted to tell her, tell her all of it. All the mistakes, the bad decisions and all the shit he was in with no one but himself to blame. For a fleeting moment, he thought that her kindness would extend to him, that she would forgive him, that maybe she would even help him.

He knew it was foolish, but he hoped just for a second, it could all play out how he wanted even if he didn’t deserve it.

But that weren’t the way. Good people like Mr Downes got sick and beaten by miscreants like him, good horses got shot in the chest because people like him would lead them to their death when they had nothing but blind loyalty. Children begged on the street with dirty frozen feet, and women let men do whatever sadistic shit they wanted for a few dollars.

If life weren’t fair to them, why did Arthur hope for anything better?

He knocked on the door with the side of his fist, almost hiding underneath the brim of his hat.

The door pulled opened slow and heavy, as the tall man with a thick moustache that he recognised as Mr Jameson appeared on the other side.

‘Mr Morgan,’ he said, his words curt as he looked down at him. ‘I don’t believe you were expected today.’

‘Nah, I ain’t…’ Arthur said, clearing his throat, ‘but I was hopin’ to speak to Miss Edwards.’

Mr Jameson held his silence, standing in the doorway with his eyes looking over every part of him.

‘Very well,’ he said eventually as he stepped aside, gesturing Arthur in.

He walked through into the marble entrance as two of the young maids walked passed with arms of laundry as they looked at him and giggled to each other not as silently as they hoped for.

‘Miss Edwards is in her study. Please follow me,’ Mr Jameson said, his tall stature walking towards the curved staircase and up onto the gallery.

Arthur followed timidly, his footfall unusually uncertain as he felt a pressure in his head.

The man said nothing as he knocked on the thick wooden door as Arthur heard Amelia’s voice from the other side, beckoning him to enter. His stomach flipped at the sound of her sweet voice.

‘Wait here,’ the older man said as Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath as the door closed before him.

He waited a moment, his shoulders tense and his mind reeling.

What are you even doin’, Morgan?

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually the door opened, as Mr Jameson stood before him, his eyes harbouring doubt.

Perhaps he’d already put the pieces together about Arthur, but maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. It wasn’t like he was thinking straight after all.

Arthur gave a terse nod and stepped into Amelia’s office as the door closed softly behind him.

The way she rose from her desk, Arthur could have sworn she was ready to swallow him whole and spit him out. In all his years, he never felt so small, nor so afraid.

The room was dark as the sun had now set with only a few oil lamps simmering and dancing in the corners of the room.

‘Ma’am,’ he managed to muster as he removed his hat and held it, passing the brim through his hands.

‘Mr Morgan,’ she said with a tight smile as she gestured at the chair in front of her desk, ‘I did not expect to see you so soon.’

He could hear her words, calculated and punctuating every last letter. He didn’t expect much else, and probably deserved even less. But all of this was for her. At least that’s what he told himself.

He took the gesture, sitting demurely in the chair, expecting Amelia to be no warmer to him than the northern mountains. Whatever she said to him would at least never be the words that he had already said to himself.

The regret was already eating him alive.

Even in the bitterness that lined her face, he couldn’t help but soften towards her as he dragged his hand through his hair.

‘How… how have you been?’ Arthur said with a slight choke in his throat. Pathetic, he caught himself thinking as her face - although had all the hardness he expected - remained passive.

‘Fine,’ Amelia said, her lips pursed and eyebrows raised expectantly. ‘Drink?’

He nodded meekly as she moved swiftly from behind the desk to the drinks cabinet as he looked to his lap, doubtful that he would find the answers there that he needed.

If only Hosea was here to give me the clip I needed, he thought sarcastically.

Amelia returned, passing him a very generous measure of whiskey as she returned to her seat, taking a large gulp as she folded her hands in front of her face with a distant gaze.

‘Amelia -’

‘Is everything in order?’ Her voice was taut as she barely even looked at him.

He paused for a moment. He knew he had fucked up, fucked up worse than any job that had gone wrong. It was staring him directly in the face, and yet he refused to let this lie. He was a lot of things, but a coward weren’t one of them.

‘I…’ He began looking her up and down. The front of her hair framed her face so perfectly. Everything about her was so perfect and yet there he was, causing her nothing but pain.

‘Shit,’ he sighed as he reached for the glass and swallowed hard and thick, his eyes closed as he drank like a man who had been stuck in the desert for a week.

Wiping his chin, he slammed the glass on the table as Amelia’s shoulders tensed at the noise.

‘Look, Amelia…’

Her lips parted, those precious lips that occupied every other thought he had since that night.

‘Please, just listen.’ He said, his voice stern and hard, and he tried to meet her glare of sheer disregard. ‘This… all of this,’ he gestured broadly with his hand, the whiskey hitting him almost instantly. ‘Hell, I don’t even know where to begin.’

He sighed as he heard her breath draw in.

‘Amelia, everythin’ I’m involved in now… it ain’t right, ain’t proper. It’s a goddamn mess.’

Nothing he said stirred her, a statue of beauty in a cage that he had caused. He’d seen it enough times, the walls that women built. He weren’t that much of a fool.

‘I can’t…’ He said, barely above a whisper as his gaze dropped to the floor.

‘What is it that you “cannot” Mr Morgan? Cannot protect the estate? As far as I was aware, that is exactly what you are employed to do, and nothing more.’

With that, she dropped her hands and looked at him with such venom he was sure even the likes of Abigail would shrink.

He had no words, no excuses. All he knew was that she couldn’t be a part of it, a part of the mess he, Dutch, and everyone else had created for themselves. The running, the hiding, the scheming. The dying.

He tried to resist the ever burning fire, those tempting whispers that sang to him like a morning breeze. To throw it all over the cliff and reach out to her and to tell her he was a sorry, sorry fool.

‘My life ain’t simple. Never has been. And I doubt any time it will be. I just want you to be safe.’

She laughed, not a real one though. A laugh filled with morose, devoid of any humour while she grabbed for her drink.

‘What is going on here, Arthur? Really?’ She gave a small shrug, and she shook her head in disbelief as she averted her gaze. ‘You humiliated me, and you’re talking about my damn safety?’

He couldn’t even look at her. Arthur had known what he’d done. Hell, it’s all he could think about since.

Amelia had made herself vulnerable, had opened up to him and made her intentions known with that look that would be scorched into his mind until the day he died.

‘I know. And I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice low, ‘but this can’t happen, Amelia. I don’t think you know -’

She stood suddenly; her drink swirling as she pointed her finger at him.

‘I don’t think you have any right to come here, to try to tell me what is or what isn’t. What to think and feel and that all of this is your fucking decision!’

Her voice rose to a shatter level as all her calmness dissolved. He almost crumbled to dust on the spot.

Every part of him felt so ashamed. You left her there. He thought to himself; she had made her feelings as clear and as plain as day and yet he walked from her like she was as important as a hay bale.

He had done this to her, and there was no turning away from it.

‘Amelia, it ain’t like that!’ He couldn’t help it but he was angry, angry with himself as he stood too, reaching his hand towards her as she stepped back, her eyes rolling with a resounding nod of her head.

‘Then what is it like? You knew what you were doing, and you said nothing. What was the plan, Arthur? Toy with me until it suited you and then drop me like it meant nothing? That I meant nothing?’

She sucked at her bottom lip, a wistful smile appearing on her face as she took another gulp. He could see the moisture in her eyes, like morning dew on the garden roses.

He wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her. To tell her everything. The lies, the gang, how he was a wanted man in god knows how states with a bounty so large you could retire on it.

‘I just need you to understand, Amelia -’

‘It’s Miss Edwards. And the only thing I need to understand is whether you are fit enough to ensure the security of this property,’ she said with all the rancour he deserved as her drinking glass crashed onto the desk. ‘If you are not able to do that, I will hire someone more becoming.’

The withering look she gave him told her all he needed to know. Whatever excuse, any reason he could give her, would be nothing that could placate her. And he doubted he deserved anything else.

She turned her back to him as Arthur sighed. He weren’t one for picking battles he was going to lose.

‘Ma’am,’ he said, placing his hat back onto his head as she barely acknowledged his presence.

He turned, making his way to the door, gripping the knob and turned it with a heavy heart.

‘I thought…’ he heard her say those soft words, that voice so decent, so genteel. ‘I thought there was something between us.’

He felt his hand tighten around the golden doorknob, so much so he was convinced he would tear it off. His heart thrummed in his chest as he looked over his shoulder towards her.

Just kiss her, you damn old fool.

Arthur’s mind stopped, all sense gone, all warnings aside and all good reason had left his body like a loose thread singed over the campfire.

He stomped over to her, grabbing her by the elbow turning her to face him as his other hand slunk around her waist.

She looked away from him, almost pushing away from him as she refused to meet his gaze.

Bang.

They both jumped as they looked toward the window, and then there was another. That unmistakable sound. The sound of gunfire.

The flash of orange strobed through the air as the sound echoed outside as Arthur saw Amelia’s face run pale, her entire body tensing in his arms as she turned to look up at him.

At that moment, two things happened. Before he had time to blink, his gun was in his hand and she ran for the door. Sprinting from the office, Amelia ran as the distant sound of her heels clipped down the stairs.

‘Amelia!’ He roared, as he willed his feet to move. Somehow they obeyed him, as all of him felt numb and on fire at the same time. He followed her as the yells and distant screams filled his ears.

If there was one thing all those damn skirts and corsets was good for was that she had barely made it to the front door before Arthur had nearly thrown himself down the staircase to catch up with her.

‘Get inside!’ He yelled, as she threw open the door with both hands, her back arching as she threw all of her weight into it.

‘Goddammit woman!’ Arthur cried, as he just managed to grab her shoulder on the front porch, the gunfight continuing somewhere ahead of them.

‘Unhand me or give me a damn gun!’ she yelled, her face changing to an expression he had never seen her wear, but one he knew all too well.

‘Amelia, get upstairs and lock the door,’ he tried to say calmly, looking between her and the sounds behind him.

‘This is my estate!’ She tried to shrug his hand off, but he wasn’t letting her go anywhere other than back into the house.

‘I know, but please, Amelia, I’m beggin’ you,’ he pleaded as she blinked at the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks.

Gritting her teeth, she looked between him and the sounds deep in the grounds. She nodded slowly as he ferried her back towards the entrance.

‘Now listen, Amelia. Don’t open that damn door.’ Arthur said forcefully, his mind regressing to its natural state. The state of a killer.

In less than a flash, the sound of a gun burst through the air around them and all time seemed to slow.

Arthur turned and saw a man, his gun raised as the darkness shadowed him.

‘Arthur!’ He heard Amelia cry, but she sounded so far away. He saw her blue eyes in the low light, wide and terrified.

He aimed and pulled the trigger at the man, an action so simple, yet it had seemed to take hours. The man fell, a single bullet straight through the brain and the blood blew through the air.

He heard Amelia scream; her dress once cream and unblemished, now painted with the splatter of crimson.

‘Get inside!’ He yelled at her again.

Against every instinct that told him to chase after her, he turned towards the stables, moving as quickly as he could in a crouch as he heard the door bolt satisfactorily behind him. And then he saw a familiar face.

‘Arthur ain’t it?’ The man said, the stable master with his hair falling over his eyes and his shirt half done up.

Arthur nodded, his knuckles turning white around the wooden grip of the pistol.

‘All the women inside? Thought I heard a scream?’

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The fight carried on; the bullets flying and sounding like corn in a hot pan.

‘I think so,’ Arthur said, his gaze steady.

‘Best get shooting then,’ the man said as he turned and Arthur followed.

They ran towards the sounds as Talako, or whatever his name was, pointed with his pistol at the half wall before them.

‘Any idea where they’re coming from?’ Arthur said, ducking his head, trying to make sense of the shit show he had run into.

‘Nah,’ the man said, ‘they’re swarming us though.’

Arthur peeped his head over the brick, praying the darkness would shield him for the brief seconds he needed.

Horses stamped and neighed, but he couldn’t see any. Bastards must have come in by foot, least it made for a slower moving target.

He aimed his gun, cocking the hammer and shot, hoping it wasn’t one of the staff.

‘I’m on you,’ Arthur said, turning to the man. ‘I ain’t got no clue who’s who.’

Talako looked at him with a twisted mouth. Hesitantly, he nodded.

‘I’ll scout, you shoot.’ He said, balancing himself on his haunches.

And so they fought on, Talako peering over, instructing which o’clock the robbers were at as Arthur took aim and laid them to waste.

The night was growing more humid as sweat dripped from underneath his hat and into his eyes. It was a dark night with a covered moon, and Arthur could barely see his hand in front of him. Luckily, the metallic glisten of gunfire was all he needed to keep his aim true.

They moved forward when they could, but neither of the men were in the mood to take any risks.

Eventually, they found their way near Mr Jameson, who covered them whilst they reloaded their empty pistols.

He was a good fighter. Even the stable master was competent, so thankfully before long the bullets ceased and the men could breathe.

Arthur’s chest heaved with the life that was coursing through his veins as they looked around at the bodies on the floor.

They certainly weren’t Raiders and didn’t look like O’Driscolls, neither.

‘Check the bodies,’ Mr Jameson instructed them as a few of the other staff made their way out of cover. ‘Anyone injured?’

Arthur looked around and, aside from the shaken faces and panting, everything still seemed attached to where it should be.

A few headshakes and a nod of gratification from Mr Jameson who seemed content that all heads were accounted for, Arthur got to checking the bodies.

No cards, no insignia, rings, nothing. Even the label of their clothes had been cut from the seams. Whoever they were, they made a clear effort to cover who they were.

After rummaging through every pocket he could find, Arthur shook his head.

‘Ain’t nothing here,’ he sighed. ‘Only thing is these damn guns.’

Mr Jameson breathed through his nose heavily as Arthur walked around, collecting the firearms off of the ground.

‘They’re good guns, don’t waste ‘em,’ Arthur said, handing them over to Mr Jameson as he took a smoke out of his pocket, lighting a match off of the bottom of his boots.

‘You got the bodies?’ Arthur said, filling his aching lungs with smoke.

Mr Jameson nodded, turning the safety guard on each of the weapons.

‘Good. I’ll go check on the women,’ Arthur said, puffing on his cigarette and walking as quickly as his legs would allow him back towards the house and back towards Amelia.

#blemished silk #the amelia edwards series #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #fanfic #slow burn #longfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x female oc

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