#I’m not old but old people deserve to be fashionable too

[shrouded-in-light]

Bring 👏 back 👏 canes 👏

I’m tired of people looking at me with pity when instead I could have the air of a fashionable gentleman from the Victorian era or perhaps a Vaudeville performer

[eddiemunsonw]

Gossip in town

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve love a good gossip. There's some joy in talking about other people's misery to distract from yourself from your own miserable dating life, right? Besides, that's what friends do. Right? 'Cause that's what you are. Friends.

CW/Disclaimer: Uhhhh some s m u t. Other than that just romance, banter, cute shit. Maybe the cute shit deserves a warning too.

Author's note: We love to say that Steve enjoys to gossip, so I figured I'd drabble something out. Turned a little longer than planned!

Words: 4983

“You need to make him stop coming in here, he’s ruining our brand!”

As you heard Romaine, your colleague, complain, a smile plays on your lips. That could only mean one person.

Steve.

Romaine glared at him from behind the table she was folding clothes at and he raised his brow with little interest. His sailor outfit was a stark contrast to the high-end fashion you sold in the store you worked at and you thought it was the funniest thing ever. The first week, Steve had been too embarrassed to even leave the ice cream parlor. By now, he couldn’t give two fucks. And knowing Romaine hated it only made him come by twice as often.

“Y/N, Y/N!”

His impatient calls made you giggle and you revealed yourself from around the corner to put yourself into his field of vision. He gave a nod of recognition and then started to approach you with big steps.

“I’m taking my break,” Romaine announced, in an attempt to keep you from going anywhere. One person always needed to be in the store, and it was just you two that day. Steve knew about this rule by now, so he rolled his eyes, grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the fitting rooms.

“Still technically in the store,” he mumbled, flashing you a grin as he took note that none of the fitting rooms were being used. With one smooth move, he pulled back a curtain, nudged you inside, followed and closed the curtain again behind him. He was a little out of breath, either from excitement or because he fucking jogged to your side of the mall. Must have been a sight for sore eyes.

“You were fucking right,” he hissed, not wasting a second as he spilled the tea. You covered your mouth to prevent a gasp and he pulled your hand away as he nodded. He needed not to tell you what, or who it was about. It had been the main topic of your latest gossip, so it was obvious he was talking about Ben Swimmer, one of his old classmates. Steve rested his palm flat on the wall behind you, kind of locking you into the corner of the fitting room.

“Yes, yes keep that mouth open, cause there’s more.”

His excitement was mixed with disgust, given by his expression. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the wall. You swallowed. Not sure if that had to do with the story at all, as you looked up at him.

“No… What is it?!” you asked impatiently. Steve smirked, loving to keep you on edge, and leaned a little closer because that’s what you do when you gossip.

“He wasn’t just cheating on Tessa with Vivian, but also with Brenda…”

“No…” you whispered, giving him a look of disbelief, mouth in fact still agape. Steve cocked his hip to the other side and nodded several times in a quick motion.

“Oh yes. He came into Scoops with her just now, in broad fucking daylight. And guess who also popped up at the mall?”

“Tessa. Of fucking course.”

Steve nodded.

“Tessa. So they’re sitting there eating their ice cream with two spoons, all gooey and sickeningly adorable if he hadn’t been a dick… when Ben sees Tessa, but she hasn’t seen him yet. So I’m watching, right, and suddenly Ben looks at me and tells me to let him go out the back with Brenda.”

“Oh now he wants to talk to you. Dick.”

Steve clapped his thigh with his free hand and made a gesture.

“Right?! So I said that was against company policy and that I unfortunately couldn’t help him. And then I walked forward and accidentally knocked a chair over,” he grinned as he replayed it in his head, “gathered a bit of attention, so weird,” his eyes widened as he spoke, “Tessa’s attention too. You should’ve seen it. I wish you could’ve seen it.”

His sigh filled the small space as he leaned his head back against the thin wall of the fitting room. He knitted his brows together and dropped his hand from the wall to your shoulder, closing his eyes momentarily as he let his brain catch up with his mouth. He seemed a little lost in thought, with his hand gently massaging your shoulder and his chin tipped up towards the ceiling. He didn’t move his head as he looked down at you and you wondered if he had any idea what he looked like right now. Somehow all the adorable-ness his outfit gave him was taken away and replaced for something else by just that one glance along the bridge of his nose.

“Was she mad?” you asked.

“Oh, she was seething. Shouted all sorts of shit at him. I had a lot of cleaning to do after she threw her milkshake in his face, but it was worth it. According to Ben I’m dead by the way. So now you know who to name as a prime suspect, should I ever disappear.”

“He better not.”

Steve shrugged.

“Would be worth it.”

—

The bell above the door of Family Video clanged as you rushed in. Robin lifted her head but was clearly still counting some tapes in her head as she gave you a vague greeting and immediately focused back on her task at hand. Steve on the other hand, immediately poked his head above an aisle and approached you even before you could reach the counter.

“Jake’s gonna ask Trisha to marry him after graduation.”

You gasped and immediately punched his chest, causing him to “oomph” and giving you a look of disbelief. Before he could ask why you punched him, you gave him the answer.

“I came all the way here to tell you that! How’d you even find out?!”

Steve grinned and grabbed the hand you punched him with as he noticed you were subconsciously rubbing your fingers over your knuckles.

“Overheard Brenda and Kate talk about it here earlier,” he said with a nod towards the romcom aisle.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “for once I thought I would have something good to tell you…”

Your pout deepened as you crossed your arms, shaking off his touch. Steve simply replaced it by putting his hand on top of your folded arms, his fingers walking a path from your elbow towards your wrist.

“You did! I just knew it already,” Steve said with a chuckle. He watched you pout for a little longer as his fingers played with the hair tie on your wrist absentmindedly. You were too focused to keep up the play that you didn’t notice his hesitation.

“Hey, wanna watch a movie tonight?”

Just then, as if on cue, Robin poked her head above the horror aisle.

“Yes!”

Steve glanced backwards and smiled softly at Robin, though as he nodded his expression looked a little off. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek until he saw you nod and released some of the tension he was subconsciously holding.

“Yeah let’s. Which movie?”

Steve shrugged. He hadn’t really thought of that. By now he had watched too many to count and there were only so many times you could watch the same movie in a week. He picked up the hair tie between his fingers and let it snap back on your wrist as he bit back a smile. You glared at him playfully, looking for something you could do in return. For a moment, he watched you in stunned silence as you brought your hand up to his neck, trailing your fingers through until you reached the back and yanked at it. Steve gasped and grabbed your hand, twisting you around until he had both your hands behind your back, his chin tucked into your shoulder.

“Caught you.”

As you relaxed in his arms, his breath tickled your neck. Somehow, neither of you had noticed Robin rounding the aisle and as she stopped in front of you, an impatient huff left her lips.

“Well? What movie, guys?” Steve froze around you for a moment and you slowly felt his grip loosening until he stepped aside to check out some of the movies they had.

“Uh…”

You held onto your own arms, realizing your cheeks were heating up and you took a quick few steps towards the door.

“I’ll let it be a surprise, see you tonight! Your place, I assume?” you asked Steve without looking at him.

“Yeah, sure.”

You left and Steve busied himself browsing through the movies with his fingers without remembering any of them.

“You seemed disappointed when I joined movie night.”

Steve gave her a harmless glare.

“Huh? No I wasn’t.”

Robin gave him an empathic smile.

“If you say so.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh.

“We’re just friends, Rob. It’s not like that.”

—

3 years later

It was a Saturday night and you sat on the couch in Steve’s apartment, where you spent so much time you should honestly start paying rent. Not to mention all the products that you had in his bathroom, and the spare set of clothes in his closet. It was a little much, but your home was cramped, and it had been hard to find a place of your own that you could actually afford.

Steve had found a part time job as a basketball coach and filled the rest of his time either with you, Robin, the kids or his failed dates.

But mostly you.

“Do we really have to watch this romantic piece of bullshit?” Steve groaned, flipping over the tape in his hand. It looked small when he held it, somehow.

“Hey now,” you shushed him, “just because Jillian didn’t let you get into her pants doesn’t mean romance is a no go now. Besides, it’s my day to pick.”

You got up to put the tape in and when you sat back, his arm was already waiting for you. His blunt fingernails teased your shoulder as you settled against him.

“She would’ve let me, I was so sure of it. But after she came back from the bathroom she suddenly acted so fucking weird…” Steve mumbled as he thought back on it.

“Maybe she suddenly got her period?” you opted. That surely was something that could make you want to flee out of nowhere. Steve rolled his eyes.

“So? There are pads and tampons,” Steve sighed. They were yours, or so Steve had said when you had asked why there were pads and tampons in a little basket in his bathroom. So you didn’t have to bring your own all the time, had been his reasoning. It was sweet.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know.” “Or maybe she thought you had a girlfriend you were cheating on,” you offered gently. Steve groaned and leaned his head all the way back on the headrest.

“Robin said the same. But if I had had a female roommate no one would bat an eye, so what’s the big deal you’ve got some of your stuff in here?”

“Well, because you don’t have a roommate, I guess?” you suggested with a shrug. His fingers lay flat on your shoulder now, giving it a light squeeze on occasion as he was thinking.

“Whatever. I don’t want a girl that can’t communicate anyway. Like, remember that whole ordeal with Nigel and Yessica? All that drama when it could’ve been solved if they had just asked each other rather than leaving it up to the town’s gossip?”

“Yeah, well… at least it gives us something to discuss.”

Steve nodded, but it seemed that he already was too lost in his own thoughts.

“I want someone who’s straight forward. Honest but kind. Funny. Warm. Also witty, sarcastic… just someone I can spend all day with without being bored. Where I can fully be myself without worrying about anything,” Steve mumbled.

“They’re out there, Steve, I’m sure of it.”

He glanced at you, face a little too close for comfort.

“What about you, then? When was the last time you dated?”

“Uh… Rick.”

Steve scowled.

“Rick.”

“He was fine.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh please. If you told me he had bodies buried in his garden I’d believe you.”

This time you rolled your eyes, sitting up a little so he had to remove his arm.

“Yeah, of course you would, because you hated him for no fucking reason.”

Steve’s lips thinned a little but he gave you your space. Leaned back a little, though he kept his thigh against yours.

“I had many valid reasons. For one: He sucks.”

You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“That’s an opinion, not a reason. You basically chased him away.”

“For the better! You know I’m right.”

“If it were up to you, none of the guys are a good fit for me.”

Steve watched as you got up from the couch to grab a beer and wordlessly asked for one too. You sat down on the far end of the couch, away from Steve. He took a sip without removing his gaze from you and lifted one leg on the couch so he could turn to face you.

“Because they’re not.”

“So it’s me.”

Steve frowned and shook his head. Somehow he had shifted closer on the couch without you noticing. His knee touched your thigh.

“What? No. It’s all of them.”

“My standards are just too high, I guess.”

Steve shook his head, his hand finding your knee.

“Shut up, they’re not. You deserve someone who actually appreciates you. All of you.”

A silent implication there, considering he knew all about your dating life. After Rick, you hadn’t even bothered. You dated them only to numb the pain of listening to Steve’s date stories. And since for some reason Robin refused to listen to them, you were the designated person to tell.

Thanks, Robin.

“Yeah, well, so do you.”

He gazed into your eyes, his face so much closer than you had anticipated when his finger lifted your chin gently.

“I appreciate all of you,” he said softly. You watched him silently as you connected the dots of his earlier spoken words to his current ones. His thumb caressed your cheek as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re… we’re friends,” you said softly, too scared to trust what his words implied.

“Can’t we be more?” Steve asked, his voice soft as silk.

“Can we?” you whispered.

Steve nodded, his gaze dropping to your lips as he leaned in closer.

“Yeah.”

He cupped your jaw a little stronger as he kissed you, as if he was scared you’d slip from his fingers the moment his lips brushed yours. You leaned forward, his hand resting on his chest. He let out a sweet sound when your fingers happened to brush his nipple and you used that leverage to swing your leg over his lap. His hands found your waist easily as he teared away his lips from yours to explore your neck.

“Ah, Steve,” you whispered, encouraging him to continue. You let your hands roam over his chest until that wasn’t enough and you let them dip under the hem of his shirt. He broke his attack on your neck to look at you hungrily as he lifted his arms above his head to take off his shirt, followed by a hesitant brush of his fingers along yours. With a nod, you gave him the permission to take it off and the look of appreciation at the sight made you feel warm inside. His hands found your waist again as he buried his face in your chest, licking the crevice of your boobs all the way up to your neck.

You felt how hard he was when you shifted your lips and a groan left him.

“Steve… when you said, more, what did you mean?” you asked softly.

Steve leaned back to look at you, eyes searching your face with urgency.

“I— Like, everything? Sorry— Did I… is it too much? Am I too much?” he rambled, a sudden nervosity taking over his system as his hands dropped from your body.

“No! No, Steve, you’re never too much, silly,” you told him quickly, smoothing out the frown in his forehead with your thumb. “I just wanted to make sure this isn’t like a… friends with benefits thing, for you,” you grunted out, cheeks heating up.

Steve let out a relieved sigh and his hands found your waist again, gently digging into your pliant skin.

“I’ve been your friend with benefits for all I can remember. Your kindness, sarcasm, wit, humor, honesty… all of that and more I have benefitted from for the longest time. I just… I’d want, like, to be your boyfriend with benefits. To have it all but to have all of you as well. Want you to be mine, Y/N. Mine only,” he told you sincerely. His eyes slowly turned a little mischievous as your smile relaxed and he moved his hands up to squeeze your boobs as he bit down on his bottom lip with a smile.

“And if that means I also get to, kiss you and stuff, all the better,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“And stuff, huh?” you mumbled affectionately, your thumbs finding his nipples to rub slow circles. Steve’s eyes rolled back and he nodded as he bit back a groan.

“Uh-huh,” he sighed, “god, keep doing that.” A beat. “Please.”

You smirked and rolled your hips slowly against his.

“So polite,” you murmured as your lips found his neck.

“I - ah - would like to say I was raised that way but I guess I’ve just always had it in me,” he said with a chuckle while his hands toyed with the sweatpants resting on your hips still. You laughed softly and hummed in agreement.

“It’s a little too hot for these sweats, don’t you agree?” he asked then, a finger teasing along the waistband.

“Yours too.”

“Can I keep my socks on?”

You leaned back and gave him a glare as he burst out laughing.

“See?! Rick was not fine at all.”

“Shut up. What about Layla with her “call them mommy milkers” spiel?”

Steve bit his lip with a smile.

“That never happened, actually. Tried to make you jealous and failed.”

“You thought that would make me jealous? It just made me reconsider my crush on you.”

“Ouch?”

“Just not big on the whole mommy thing.”

“Yeah, well, me neither.”

Steve kissed your collar bone and let his hands slide down your back to grab two handfuls of your ass. You let out a sweet noise, edging him on.

“Back to point one…”

“Back to Rick with his Star Wars socks during sex…”

He pushed you against him, rolling his hips just in time. Not even Rick with his socks on could ruin this feeling for you. Steve moaned softly into your neck as he found just the right angle for the best amount of friction.

“He came within a minute.”

“Assumed as much. Could tell you were lying your tits off when you said it was somewhere between two and five minutes. As if anyone times that.”

“You said you could last fifteen.”

“Cause I can!”

“So you timed it,” you told him dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed down your sweats, making you get up to take them off so he could do the same.

“I can last as long as you need,” he promised you, “and look, my socks are off.”

“Still wearing too much clothes,” you mumbled as you snapped the waistband of his boxers. Steve laughed and turned you around so your back was facing the couch. His lips traveled down your chest as he unclasped your bra with one hand, not wasting a second to circle his tongue around one of your nipples as his fingers squeezed the other not too gently, eliciting a yelp from you. You yanked at his hair and he laughed breathily around your nipple.

“Like it when you do that,” he admitted. “Nearly had me chub up when you did it that one time.”

He didn’t need to tell you which time. It had been the one and only time you both had let it come a little too close for comfort. At least, too close to keep up the pretense that you weren’t into each other.

“Could tell. Your cheeks turned pink.”

Steve’s lips explored your stomach while his hands squeezed and fondled your curves. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and easily pulled them down while his lips followed the fabric until there was nothing covering your pussy. He barely let you step out of them before he pushed you down on the couch and lifted your legs over his shoulders. He took his sweet time kissing up your thighs, though you could feel through the tremble of his fingers that he was as impatient and nervous as you were. You had been watching him worship your thighs with his eyes closed, but the moment his lips wrapped around your clit he gazed up at you through his lashes.

“Steve…”

He grinned against your skin and slowly licked a stripe along your swollen lips, gathering juices to slicken up your clit with. Your hand was back in his hair before you knew it, his head bobbing as he started to eat you out hungrily. Noisily. Hands digging into the plush of your thighs as he opened them wider for better access. That fucker knew he was good at this.

Your hips bucked up to grind against him in tune with your moans and he strengthened his grip to keep in control of the pace, which he then brutally slowed down. You were about to complain when suddenly he went to town on you at full speed, his nose hitting your clit just right. The grip on his hair was none too gentle and you felt his warm moans vibrating against you. His tongue lapped at you impatiently, eyes focused on your flushed expression. He relished in the feeling of your thighs tightening around his face when you came all over his tongue.

He bullied your clit a little longer, smirking against your thigh before kissing it as you pinched his cheek to stop him. When he got back on his feet, you noticed his boxers had disappeared without you noticing. His cock was hard, the head slick from precome.

Wordlessly, you shifted on the couch and grasped his thighs to pull him close. He cupped your cheek, unable to hold back a moan as you wrapped your lips around the head and sucked none too gently. Soon enough, his hand was holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail despite letting you decide on the pace. You loved taking control. When you looked up as you bobbed your head noisily, he threw his head back with a groan. He needed to look away if he wanted this to last longer than a goddamn minute. You smirked around his cock and picked up the pace, relentlessly taking more and more of his length until your nose brushed the coarse hair above his base.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

He couldn’t help himself, his grip tightened on your hair and you felt him quickly thrust his hips. You let him and absently realized this was the first time you enjoyed the salty taste of his come in the back of your throat. He broke it off halfway, giving your cheek a sweet caress before turning around to grab a condom that he apparently stored in the drawer of the coffee table. You impatiently slapped his ass, making him yelp and accidentally tearing the first condom.

“Menace, that was a perfectly fine condom,” he complained with his back to you, and you could tell he was smiling. You shrugged and leaned forward giving the spot you slapped a kiss instead. And then a nibble.

“Your ass looks biteable, y’know that?” you mumbled, kneading his ass with a longing sigh as you remembered all the times his ass had looked so good in his jeans.

Steve laughed.

“Yeah, well, so does yours.”

He turned around, condom wrapped and ready, though Steve seemed to hesitate.

“Second thoughts?” you asked, unable to filter your worries.

Steve scoffed and shook his head.

“Of course not, silly. I just— Come on.”

He grabbed your hand to pull you up and started guiding you to the bedroom.

“Want you to be comfortable,” he explained, and if that didn’t make you melt…

He propped up some pillows just perfectly and made sure you were comfortable before he positioned himself above you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss the part of your body that covered the heart that carried so much love for him. His hand slipped between you two, playing with you some more so he was certain you’d feel good once he’d go inside. He kissed you deeply, slowly, really taking his time compared to your first kiss. You both loved kissing. It was one of the many things you had shared complaints about when your dates weren’t into it as much. You had lost count how many times you had mentioned you could kiss for hours, secretly thinking of the other person.

Steve gazed into your eyes as he pushed inside slowly, his breath hitching as the sensations overtook his body. He moved without a rush, relishing being able to watch your expression as he fucked into you. His moans escaped from his lips whenever your lips weren’t against his to silence them. His tongue darted out to lick your ear and a gasp left you as he moved down and bit your neck. Your nails scratched his back as his thrusts became harder, your moans no longer contained by the press of your lips. You wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to fuck deeper. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with yours as droplets found a way into your hairline.

“Y/N… baby, fuck…”

Slow, hard thrusts helped him ride out his orgasm while his hand flicking over your clit got you clenching around his cock until you knocked over the edge. The muscles in his arms were shaking as he kept himself from collapsing on top of you, so you poked his side to make him collapse anyway.

“Oof,” you groaned, followed by a laugh.

“I was trying not to crush you,” Steve mumbled into your neck, humming pleasantly as he inhaled your shampoo.

“Maybe I wanted you to crush me. Needed some pain to know if this was all real.”

“Sure hope it’s real. Never came this hard.”

You snorted.

“It didn’t take fifteen minutes, though,” you told him, even though you had no idea.

“I told you I’d last as long as you needed me and uh, by the way you tried to clench my dick off I think I did just fine,” he responded cockily through a giggle.

“Touché,” you mumbled.

“Mmmm.”

Steve gave you a kiss, slowly, sweetly. He rested his head next to yours, slowly moving his body off of you in favor to pull your leg over his waist as he cuddled you close.

“Would it be too soon to tell you that I love you?” Steve asked, looking at you with what you could only describe as love in his eyes.

“Normally that’s a definite red flag, even you said so,” you said teasingly as you combed your fingers through his damp chest hair. “But if I said I love you too, then that would make two red flags, and two negatives is a positive, right?”

Steve shrugged, a smile spreading on his face.

“I’m sure there’s an argument against that, but I was never good at math anyway.”

“Me neither.”

Steve smiled and put his hand on top of yours.

“I love you.”

You leaned in for a soft kiss.

“I love you too.”

He watched you quietly, content and happy. At least, until a frown formed on his forehead and he cursed softly.

“What is it?”

“I lost the bet.”

You pushed lightly against his chest.

“This better not be one of those movie plots where you pretend to fall in love with someone for a bet and then supposedly actually fall for them and shit,” you tell him with narrowed eyes, although you knew Steve would never do that.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“Nah, Robin bet me that I’d sleep with you the moment we’d confess our feelings to each other, and yes I say each other because she was convinced you liked me too and I did not believe her. So I said bet, because I thought this,” he said as he gestured between you both, “was never gonna happen. So… yeah. Well. No regrets, though, obviously,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

“What did you bet for?”

“Taking her shift every Saturday, even if that means a double shift for me,” Steve groaned, “and you know what she said? She said: ‘It will be for the better, because I know you two. I don’t wanna be around when you fuck like rabbits in the adult section.’ as if we’d ever—”

You gave him a look.

“Okay, she was probably right but still! Ruthless, that one.”

“She’s gonna be soooo smug…” you mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be hell.”

“I’ll just ravish you on a random Tuesday to torment her,” you shrugged and Steve laughed.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you would.”

His hand wandered over your thigh and he smirked slowly.

“Wanna take a shower? There’s a girl who left basically all her toiletries here so I’m sure there’s something you can use.”

“How convenient.”

“Very.”

Steve’s gaze was absolutely smitten, and you were pretty sure your expression matched his perfectly.

FIN

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.

It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

This one isn't as silly as the rest, I hope y'all still like it

Series Masterlist

The bar was bustling with the lively sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and music. It was the kind of place that invited camaraderie, a perfect spot for celebrating the latest success your team had pulled off. You were surrounded by your colleagues, all in high spirits. The project you had all worked tirelessly on had finally paid off, and the sense of accomplishment was almost palpable.

Someone had insisted on buying another round, and before you knew it, shots were being passed around. You weren't normally one to indulge too much, but tonight was an exception. After all the stress and sleepless nights, you deserved to relax a little.

“Cheers to us!” someone shouted, and everyone raised their glasses, laughter rippling through the group.

You smiled, genuinely feeling the warmth of the moment. There was something about the shared joy of victory that made the exhaustion worthwhile. You took a sip of your drink, eyes drifting across the room to see your colleagues—people who had become something like a second family over the months of grueling work.

But then you noticed one of your colleagues.

He looked like someone who’d already had a bit too much, was stumbling his way towards the exit, mumbling something about needing fresh air. His unsteady gait set off alarm bells in your mind, and without a second thought, you set your drink down and quickly followed after him.

“Hey!” you called out, catching up to him just as he pushed open the heavy door to the outside. The cool night air hit your face, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bar. “You okay, man? Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

He waved you off, a lopsided grin on his face. “Nah, I’m fine! Just need… air,” he slurred, his steps veering towards the curb.

You frowned, reaching out to grab his arm gently. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. It’s not safe—”

Suddenly, he pulled away, stumbling further into the road. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The flash of headlights, the blaring horn, his eyes widening in confusion as the truck bore down on him.

Your body moved on instinct. Without thinking, you lunged forward, shoving your colleague out of the way. The last thing you heard was the deafening screech of tires, the rush of adrenaline flooding your veins as the realization hit.

There was no time to move.

The impact came with a force that stole your breath, pain radiating through your body before everything went dark.

The world faded away, the laughter and warmth of the bar replaced by an all-encompassing silence.

You woke up slowly, the world around you blurred and unfamiliar. There was an ache in your body, a heavy sort of weariness that made every small movement a struggle. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, your head pounding as if it was caught between a vice.

The first thing you noticed was the ceiling. It was wooden, beams running across it, the kind of architecture that seemed straight out of a period drama. You frowned, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

Where were you? This wasn’t the hospital—there were no sterile white walls, no beeping monitors. And the bed… It was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and you could feel the scratchy fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, the unfamiliar weight of the clothes you were wearing making you pause. They were heavy, the fabric rough against your skin. You looked down, taking in the sight of the dress you were wearing—long, old-fashioned, and visibly worn. The sleeves were frayed, and the fabric itself looked like it had seen better days, like something out of a historical novel.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The room around you was small, cramped, the furniture sparse and outdated. It was then that you noticed the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. You stood, your legs shaky beneath you, and made your way towards it.

The face staring back at you wasn’t your own.

You swallowed, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you took in the unfamiliar features—the pale skin, the hollow eyes, the face that looked almost gaunt. The realization settled in slowly, the pieces falling into place with a horrible sort of clarity. You knew this face. You knew these clothes, this room, the aching feeling that lingered in your chest.

It was the face of a character from a novel you had read as a teenager. A tragic, doomed villainess—one whose story had always stayed with you, not because of her actions but because of the injustice of it all. She was a character meant to suffer, her only role to push the heroine into her journey. She was used, discarded, her death nothing more than a footnote in the protagonist's story. The villainess with a cruel fate, a pawn in the hands of those more powerful, destined to be cast aside the moment her usefulness ran out.

You felt a chill settle in your bones, your body sinking back onto the edge of the bed as the weight of your new reality hit you. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some fleeting nightmare you could wake up from. You were here—stuck in the body of a character whose life was nothing but misery.

Everything you had worked for—your career, your friendships, the life you had painstakingly built for yourself—was gone. All the late nights, the hard-earned successes, the laughter with friends over drinks—all of it was gone in an instant, replaced by a fate you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

The hopelessness of it all settled in, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. There was no future for this character, no way out. She was meant to suffer, to be used and discarded, and no matter how much you wanted to fight it, to believe that you could change it, a part of you knew the truth.

You were powerless here.

You buried your face in your hands, a shuddering breath escaping your lips. You wanted to cry, to scream, to demand answers. But there was no one here to answer you, no one who would care even if they could. You were alone, in a story that had already decided your fate.

The tragic villainess—the role you were now forced to play.

And you couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of despair.

After coming to terms with your new reality, you made a decision. You couldn’t afford to be a passive character in this story, waiting for the inevitable to crush you. If you were going to live in this world, then you would fight for it, rewrite the narrative, and carve out a future for yourself—even if that meant playing a role that no one expected of you.

The first challenge came at home. The character you possessed had a father—a lazy, indifferent man who spent his days drinking, oblivious to the decay of his household. The family was in debt, the estate falling apart, and the few servants left were more interested in lining their pockets than doing their jobs. You took a deep breath, refusing to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. One step at a time.

You started with the estate. You reviewed the books, fired the corrupt staff who had been bleeding your family dry, and brought in trustworthy people to take their place. It wasn’t easy—there were threats, and more than a few people tried to intimidate you into silence. But you had faced challenges before in your old life, and even in this new one, you weren’t about to be cowed.

Slowly, things began to change. The estate began to recover, the debts lessened, and the people who worked for you started to believe in you. You gained a reputation—first as a shrewd manager, then as someone who could be relied on to get things done. You built relationships, carefully navigating the intricacies of this world’s social dynamics. It wasn’t long before the local nobles started to take notice.

Your father, indifferent and content with his habits, became less of an obstacle as you quietly took over the responsibilities of your household. You made connections, attended social events, and gradually climbed the ranks. It was exhausting, demanding work, but every success fueled your determination.

Then came the opportunity that changed everything. A crisis in the kingdom required volunteers, and you stepped forward—a move that shocked those around you. A woman, much less a former disgraced noble, didn’t typically take on such a role. But you had no intention of following the rules laid out for you. You worked hard, proving your capability on the battlefield, earning respect not only for your strategic mind but also for your courage.

Eventually, you were knighted—a Dame of the kingdom, an honor that would have seemed impossible not long ago. It was followed by an offer to serve as a general. You accepted, knowing that with power came the opportunity to change your fate and secure a future free from the shackles of the tragic story you had once read.

The war that came next was brutal. You spent months on the frontlines, leading your soldiers through grueling battles. The weight of command was heavy; lives depended on you, and the decisions you made could mean the difference between victory and death. But you faced it all with a determination forged from your past life, a refusal to be anything less than victorious. You strategized, fought alongside your troops, and inspired them to fight harder.

In the end, you won. The kingdom's enemies were driven back, and you returned home not as the villainess destined for tragedy but as a war hero. The people cheered as you passed through the streets, and for the first time since you arrived in this world, you felt something other than fear and despair. You had fought, you had survived, and you had won.

The nobles who had once looked down on you were forced to recognize your accomplishments, and the people who once whispered about your family’s disgrace now spoke of your triumphs. You had rewritten the story, taken a character destined for misery and given her a new path—one forged by your own hands.

But even in victory, you knew the dangers of complacency. The story was far from over, and though you had managed to change your fate thus far, there were still challenges ahead. The heroine of the original story had yet to make her appearance, and the narrative that had once doomed you was still a threat.

But for now, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, to take in the sight of the city you had fought to protect. You had climbed higher than anyone had expected, and you were determined not to fall. You had built something new—something that was yours. And you would fight to keep it, no matter what came next.

But along the way, you’d lost something essential. The joy, the ambition, the passion that had once driven you was gone. You’d become cold, hardened by the betrayals you’d faced. Even the people closest to you turned out to be disloyal.

The most painful betrayal was from a soldier you had trusted with your life—someone you had fought beside in war. He had been leaking information to the enemy, and you were forced to execute him with your own hand. His treachery cut deeper than any wound you had suffered in battle.

Your butler, a kind old man who had become something of a father figure to you, noticed the change. He often tried to cheer you up, suggesting suitors and hosting lavish events, but none of it worked. The eligible bachelors and bachelorettes who came your way were only interested in your title and wealth, not you. You became cynical, distrustful, and your butler could only watch in sadness as the vibrant person you once were faded away.

It didn’t help that you had made powerful enemies. The first prince, who you had fought beside during the war, had proposed to you.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was buzzing with the energy of the noble elite, all gathered to witness the unprecedented moment. You stood at the forefront of the room, the golden imperial crest behind you shimmering in the light of hundreds of candles.

The emperor himself had just awarded you the title of Grand Duchess, a feat no woman had ever achieved before. The applause was thunderous, the murmurs of awe and envy swirling through the crowd like a current.

You stood tall, your posture regal, even though the weight of the moment pressed down on you like a heavy crown. You’d worked for years to get here, fighting both on the battlefield and in the political arena, your every victory hard-earned.

It should’ve been a moment of triumph. And yet, the expression on the emperor’s face, tight and thin-lipped, warned you that this celebration wasn’t going to end on a pleasant note.

Sure enough, the moment the formalities ended, the first prince took a step forward. His crimson military uniform was pristine, medals gleaming on his chest, but the shine didn’t reach his eyes. You’d fought beside him during the war, seen his cowardice firsthand, and his presence already had your stomach turning.

He cleared his throat, and the hall fell into silence. The crowd’s attention shifted to him, eyes wide with anticipation. A royal prince proposing to the empire’s new Grand Duchess? It was the kind of spectacle they lived for.

“Grand Duchess,” he began, his voice booming with the kind of arrogance that only a man born into power could possess, “your bravery and accomplishments have brought great honor to this empire. You have achieved more than any woman before you, and it would be my honor to have you by my side.”

You felt your blood run cold. Oh, you knew this was coming. It had been whispered through the halls of the palace since the day you returned from the front lines—the cowardly prince, had been seeking to marry you and elevate his own standing. You’d avoided it until now, but it seemed the time for subtlety was over. He had chosen this moment, in front of the entire nobility, to make his move.

The prince knelt before you, reaching into his pocket to produce a ring—a garish thing, oversized and glittering with a ridiculous number of diamonds. The kind of ring that screamed, look at me, I’m important, but utterly lacked any true beauty. He held it up to you, the crowd around you gasping in unison.

“I ask for your hand in marriage, Grand Duchess,” he declared, his voice filled with artificial charm. “Together, we will rule this empire as the most powerful couple in history.”

You stared down at him, your jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder you didn’t break a tooth. Your mind raced as you felt the weight of every eye in the room on you. They were waiting for you to swoon, to accept, to submit to the prince’s advances like some simpering debutante.

But you? You were no ordinary noblewoman, no pawn in the empire’s political games. You had fought for this title, bled for it, earned it in ways he could never understand. And there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself be reduced to a mere accessory to this man’s weak, cowardly ambition.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at the prince—this spoiled, useless man who thought his status alone could make up for his lack of character—and something inside you snapped.

“Marry you?” you repeated, your voice clear and cold, echoing through the hall. The prince’s smile wavered, and murmurs began to ripple through the audience.

You stepped forward, your voice rising with a sharp edge. “You think I would ever marry someone like you? A man who cowered behind his soldiers in battle, who fled at the first sign of danger? A man who abandoned his comrades, left them to die while he ran to save his own skin?”

The crowd gasped, the sound a collective intake of shock. his face flushed with embarrassment, but you weren’t done.

“I would rather marry a toad,” you continued, your voice dripping with scorn, “than be tied to a man as spineless and pathetic as you.”

The hall fell into a stunned silence. the prince's face went from red to ashen, his hand still frozen in place, holding that absurd ring. He opened his mouth, sputtering, but no words came out. He hadn’t expected this—no one had.

You could feel the weight of the empire’s gaze on you, but it didn’t matter. You were no longer just the Grand Duchess. You were something far more dangerous: a woman who had the power to defy the expectations of an entire empire.

“You would do well,” you said, your voice dropping to a deadly calm, “to remember that I earned this title. Not by birthright. Not by marriage. But by merit. And I’ll be damned if I ever let someone like you take that from me.”

With that, you turned your back on him, the prince still kneeling, humiliated in front of the empire’s most powerful. The nobles around you stood in stunned silence, some daring to whisper amongst themselves, while others watched in awe, as if witnessing a force of nature in human form.

As you walked away from the proposal, your eyes met the emperor’s. His face was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes—a silent acknowledgment that you had just done something no one else would have dared. You had broken the rules of this world, and the repercussions would be felt for years to come.

But you didn’t care. You were done playing their games.

Let them try and tame you. You had made it this far on your own, and you weren’t about to let anyone—least of all a toad in princely clothing—stand in your way.

The day had started like any other—a grey, somber morning draped in the quiet monotony you had come to know. The Grand Duchess’s estate was immaculate, polished to perfection, reflecting the cold and unyielding nature of its owner.

You moved through the day with the same precision as ever, going through endless meetings, signing off on reports, handling political maneuvers with the finesse of a seasoned war general. Yet, beneath it all, the hollowness remained.

Until that afternoon.

A delegation from the Scalding Sands had arrived, their colorful caravans contrasting sharply with the muted grandeur of your estate. You had heard they were coming—a diplomatic mission of sorts—and while you didn’t expect much from it, the formalities had to be observed. It was part of your role now, after all.

You stood at the grand entrance, waiting as the doors swung open to reveal the visiting party. A small group of advisors and servants stepped in first, but then your eyes fell on the young man leading them.

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the most prominent merchant family in the Scalding Sands.

Dressed in vibrant silks, Kalim practically radiated joy. His bright eyes shone with unfiltered excitement, and his smile was wide, carefree, as if he was about to greet an old friend instead of a war-hardened Duchess. His enthusiasm was…disarming, to say the least.

“Grand Duchess!” Kalim called out the moment he spotted you, practically bouncing as he approached. “It’s an honor to finally meet you! Your reputation precedes you—everyone’s been talking about how amazing you are!”

You blinked, taken aback by his unabashed warmth. No one had spoken to you like that in years—so casual, so genuine. Most nobles approached you with caution, fear even, carefully curating their words to avoid upsetting the ice-cold facade you’d been forced to build. But Kalim? He had no such hesitations.

You inclined your head, keeping your tone measured. “Lord Al-Asim, welcome to my estate. I trust your journey was smooth?”

“Oh, it was fantastic! The weather was perfect, and we got to see so many beautiful sights on the way here! Your countryside is amazing—so green! Nothing like back home.” He beamed at you, his energy practically infectious. “I brought some gifts too! We have spices, silks, and a bunch of other stuff from home that I think you’ll love.”

As he rattled off the list of things he brought, you found yourself…listening. Actually listening, instead of mechanically going through the motions. There was something about his unfiltered excitement that was strangely comforting. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to you like this, without calculation or hidden motives.

“I appreciate the thought,” you replied, a small flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “I’ll have the servants take care of the gifts. Please, come inside.”

He entered the estate like a burst of sunlight, his presence immediately brightening the space. As the servants guided his entourage to their rooms, you walked alongside him, pointing out some of the estate’s features. Kalim seemed utterly fascinated by everything.

“Wow, this place is incredible!” Kalim exclaimed as they passed through the gallery. His eyes wandered over the portraits lining the walls, the tapestries depicting your family’s history. “It’s so different from back home. You must be so proud to live here.”

Pride? You hadn’t felt pride in anything for a long time. Your estate, your title—it was all just the result of relentless hard work, the endless climb to the top. But you had never stopped to admire it. To feel pride in what you’d built.

Still, you nodded, keeping your face composed. “It serves its purpose.”

Kalim gave you a curious glance. “You know, it sounds like you’re talking about a sword instead of your home.”

A sword. That’s what your life had been, hadn’t it? A weapon, sharp and unyielding, forged in battle, cutting down every obstacle in its path. But now, with Kalim’s innocent comment, you wondered—was that all it was?

Before you could respond, Kalim suddenly paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking the gardens. The view was breathtaking, the autumn leaves casting the scene in warm, golden hues.

“Hey, look!” Kalim pointed excitedly. “Your garden! It’s so beautiful this time of year. Do you ever just sit out there and enjoy it?”

You blinked again. Enjoy it? The idea seemed foreign, almost absurd. But then, looking at Kalim’s wide, hopeful eyes, you found yourself saying, “No… I don’t.”

Kalim turned to you, that same sunny grin never leaving his face. “You should! I mean, you’ve worked so hard, right? You deserve to enjoy the little things too.”

His words caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy anything.

But then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a faint smile tugged at your lips. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.

The maids and butlers who had been quietly observing from the corners of the room nearly gasped. One of them—your head butler, who had served you since the day you first took over your family’s estate—actually dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“D-Duchess…!” one of the younger maids whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “She’s smiling…”

You caught sight of the butler’s reaction and, for a moment, you almost laughed. It was such a strange sight—your stoic, stern staff, so moved by something as simple as a smile.

Kalim noticed it too, tilting his head curiously. “Why’s everyone so emotional?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping before you could stop it. “I suppose they’re not used to seeing me… enjoy myself.”

Kalim’s grin widened, his eyes practically sparkling. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to change that! It’s about time you had some fun, right?”

You didn’t answer right away, but for the first time in years, something inside you—something long buried under layers of responsibility, grief, and betrayal—began to stir.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps it was time for you to remember what it felt like to live again.

The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, filled with nobles and dignitaries who moved gracefully across the floor, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft music from the orchestra.

You stood at the edge of the room, as you always did during these events, keeping a careful distance from the festivities. These gatherings were necessary, of course—an unavoidable part of your role—but that didn’t mean you enjoyed them.

You took a sip of the champagne in your hand, your eyes scanning the room with practiced detachment. As always, you were observing—watching the faces, reading the subtle exchanges of power and influence happening between the guests.

The weight of your title hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the responsibilities you bore. Even here, surrounded by laughter and music, you felt that familiar distance, the wall you had built around yourself growing ever higher.

It wasn’t until you noticed the flash of bright colors weaving through the crowd that your attention shifted. Kalim Al-Asim, as vibrant as ever, was making his way through the ballroom, greeting guests with his usual exuberance.

His silks shimmered in the soft candlelight, his wide grin impossible to miss. He moved with an ease that most nobles envied, free from the stifling formality that seemed to bind everyone else.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes found yours. His face lit up with recognition, and without hesitation, he started toward you.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he reached your side. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Isn’t this ball amazing? The music, the lights, the people—it’s all so lively!”

You gave him a polite nod, your usual reserved expression in place. “It’s certainly… lively.”

Kalim laughed, clearly not picking up on your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re always so serious! You should join in the fun, you know! This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

Before you could respond, he held out his hand to you, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “Dance with me!”

The request caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, shaking your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t dance.”

Kalim tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Come on! You can’t say no to a party like this! Everyone’s having such a good time—you should too.”

You opened your mouth to refuse again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no expectation, no hidden motive—just the same infectious joy he carried with him everywhere he went. And for a moment, you hesitated, feeling something stir inside you. When was the last time you’d allowed yourself to have fun? To do something as simple as dance?

Still, old habits were hard to break. “I’m not exactly one for dancing,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

But Kalim wasn’t deterred. “That’s okay! You don’t have to be good at it—you just have to enjoy it!” He took your hand, his grip warm and inviting. “Please? Just one dance?”

There was something so sincere in his request, so full of hope, that you found yourself nodding before you could think better of it.

Kalim’s face lit up with delight, and without wasting a moment, he led you out onto the dance floor. The room seemed to blur around you as he took your hand in his, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. His movements were far from graceful, but they were full of life, and you couldn’t help but be swept along by his energy.

At first, you were stiff, your posture as rigid as ever, but Kalim’s enthusiasm was contagious. He spun you around with such glee that you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising even to yourself. Kalim grinned at you, clearly thrilled that he had coaxed a smile from you.

“See? You’re already having fun!” he said brightly.

And he was right. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you weren’t thinking about the politics of the room, the weight of your title, or the endless responsibilities waiting for you. For this brief moment, you were just… dancing. Letting go. Enjoying yourself.

As the music swelled, Kalim twirled you again, his laughter mixing with the sounds of the ballroom. The two of you were out of step with the rest of the dancers, your movements more playful than elegant, but you didn’t care. Neither did Kalim. He didn’t care about appearances or expectations—he just wanted you to be happy, and for this one dance, you let him succeed.

Around you, the other guests had begun to notice. Whispers passed between them, astonished gazes following your every move. The Grand Duchess—stoic, untouchable—laughing and dancing with such abandon was something no one had ever expected to see. Your knights, stationed at the edge of the ballroom, exchanged incredulous glances, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

“She’s dancing…” one of them murmured, barely audible. “And she’s smiling.”

Your head butler, who had been hovering nearby as always, watched with misty eyes. “This… this is a day for the history books,” he whispered, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

You could feel their eyes on you, the shock rippling through the room, but for once, you didn’t care. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be free, to laugh, to dance, to let go of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

As the song came to an end, Kalim pulled you into one final twirl, his grin as wide as ever. When the music stopped, you found yourself breathless but… lighter. For the first time in years, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joy.

Kalim beamed at you, clearly proud of himself. “See? I told you it’d be fun!”

You shook your head, unable to stop the small smile that lingered on your lips. “You are… impossible, Kalim.”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”

As you returned to your spot at the edge of the room, the music starting up again for the next dance, you realized that something had changed. Kalim had reminded you of something you had long forgotten—that it was okay to enjoy yourself. That even someone like you, burdened with the weight of leadership, could allow herself a moment of happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself more moments like this.

The night after the ball had been long and arduous, and you were ready to retreat into the sanctuary of your chambers. The walls of your estate, which had once felt like a fortress, now felt suffocating as you tried to quiet the noise in your mind.

The forced smiles, the veiled threats, the insidious whispers among the nobility—they were all routine by now, but they weighed heavier tonight.

As you reached for the door to your private quarters, a sharp knock echoed through the hallway. One of your servants stepped forward, their face pale, eyes lowered in deference.

"The Emperor has summoned you, Grand Duchess."

Your fingers froze on the door handle. The Emperor? At this hour?

Though dread prickled at your skin, you squared your shoulders and strode down the hall toward the imperial throne room. The Emperor wasn’t one for idle conversation; this was bound to be more than a simple debrief after the ball.

The grand doors to the throne room loomed before you, and with a nod from the guards, they creaked open to reveal the Emperor seated on his throne. He was draped in the finest clothes, his presence radiating authority, but there was something sharper in his gaze tonight. The first prince, stood off to the side, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind his princely facade.

You stepped into the room, head held high. You wouldn’t show weakness, not here. Not in front of them.

"Your Majesty," you greeted, voice steady.

The Emperor wasted no time. “Grand Duchess, tonight’s events have caused quite a stir.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hard as stone. “Your rejection of the First Prince in such a public manner has… complicated things.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You clenched your fists but remained silent, waiting for him to reveal his true intention.

He sighed, a sound heavy with pretense. “The nobility is divided, and the Empire cannot afford instability. You have two choices before you.”

Your eyes flickered towards the first prince, who was barely containing his glee. You already knew what was coming.

“Marry the first prince and strengthen your position within the royal family.” The Emperor's voice was calm, deliberate. “Or, if that does not suit you…” He paused for effect, his gaze hardening as if daring you to defy him. “Marry Kalim Al-Asim and solidify our diplomatic alliance with the Scalding Sands.”

The room felt as though it had tilted. You knew this was coming, yet hearing the words spoken aloud felt like a slap across the face. “And if I refuse both?” you asked, voice colder than ice.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will have no choice but to imprison you for defying royal decree.” He leaned back into his throne, fingers tapping on the armrest. “You’ve served this empire well, but even you are not above the law.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, fury bubbling just beneath your skin. You, who had rebuilt "your" family’s estate, who had served the empire with every drop of blood and sweat you had to give—this was your reward? An ultimatum. Marry a prince who disgusted you, or chain yourself to Kalim, someone who was the antithesis of everything you had become.

You felt your lips curl into a grim smile. “So those are my choices. A cowardly prince or shackling Kalim to someone like me—a shell of a person who’s long forgotten how to live.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Kalim, who had been standing nearby, watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His face was still lit with that ever-present smile, though softer now, and he didn’t seem rattled in the slightest by the gravity of the situation. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind.”

You turned to him, incredulous. What?

Kalim laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head, his tone still as carefree as ever. “I’d be happy if it’s you. Really. Out of anyone in this empire, I’d rather be with someone strong and capable like you than some stranger who doesn’t even care.” His eyes were warm, completely sincere. There wasn’t a trace of fear or doubt in his words. “Plus, you’re pretty amazing! You’ve done so much for your estate, your people... I think you’re really cool!”

For a moment, just a brief moment, your raging heart stilled.

Kalim had no idea what kind of burden this marriage would be for him. You weren’t the person you once were. The years had hardened you, chipped away at the softness, leaving only the cold, sharp edges behind. Yet here he was, smiling, accepting the situation with an ease that made you wonder how he could be so unaffected.

You swallowed hard, your anger at the Emperor still simmering, but Kalim’s words had softened the blow. This wasn’t about him. He wasn’t the one forcing you into this corner. If anything, he was as much a pawn as you were.

But that didn’t mean you would accept this quietly.

You turned back to the Emperor, the cold fire in your eyes unmistakable. “Very well,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom. “I’ll marry Kalim if that is what you demand.” You took a step forward, your gaze piercing through the Emperor. “But rest assured, Your Majesty, this humiliation will not go unanswered. I may be bound by your decree, but you will regret underestimating me.”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but unimpressed. “Is that a threat, Grand Duchess?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “A promise.”

With that, you turned on your heel, your decision made. Kalim followed you without hesitation, his steps light and unburdened.

And as you left the imperial throne room, you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kalim was smiling still, bright and carefree, as if nothing had changed.

Maybe—just maybe—you would survive this ordeal with a little less bitterness than you’d expected.

But the Emperor? He wouldn’t escape unscathed. You would make sure of that.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of your manor, casting a warm, golden light across the room as you stood in the foyer. Kalim’s people from the Scalding Sands were preparing to depart, their vibrant, colorful robes a stark contrast to the colder tones of your estate.

You watched as they bustled about, gathering their things, saying their goodbyes, and it was a strange feeling—this sudden departure of the warmth they had brought with them.

Kalim was chatting excitedly with his entourage, gesturing wildly as he recounted some tale or another. His boundless energy had not dulled, despite the situation. You wondered how someone could remain so cheerful even in the face of such an uncertain future.

One of the senior members of Kalim’s delegation approached you, bowing deeply. “Grand Duchess, we are honored by your hospitality and your graciousness in this… unexpected engagement.” He glanced at Kalim with a fond, yet slightly exasperated look. “But our duties call us back to the Scalding Sands. We regret we cannot stay longer.”

You nodded, your expression softening slightly. “You are always welcome to stay in my manor for as long as you like. Consider it an apology for the empire’s… difficult circumstances.” The words didn’t come easily, but you meant them. You hadn’t missed how awkward the situation was for them—dragged into imperial politics without much say in the matter.

The advisor looked touched, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he bowed even deeper. “Your kindness is greatly appreciated, Grand Duchess. But, alas, we must return. We have duties to fulfill back home. Our people rely on us.”

You nodded in understanding, casting a glance at Kalim, who was still busy waving goodbye to his people. “I understand. Do what you must.”

The group finished their farewells and began filing out of the estate, leaving only one person behind—Jamil, Kalim’s loyal aide, who stood with his arms crossed, looking as calm and composed as ever.

Kalim turned to you with his usual bright smile, waving at his departing entourage. “Looks like it’s just us now!”

“And Jamil,” you added dryly.

Jamil gave a polite nod. “Of course, Grand Duchess. I will remain at Kalim’s side as always.”

You offered Jamil a brief nod before turning your attention back to Kalim. “I hope the manor is to your liking. It will likely feel different without your people around.”

Kalim beamed, completely unfazed. “Are you kidding? This place is amazing! Plus, I’ve made some new friends already.”

You raised an eyebrow. “New friends?”

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a trio of your staff—two maids and your head butler—rushed into the room, their arms filled with notepads. They hovered around Kalim, their expressions a mix of admiration and excitement.

“Lord Al-Asim,” one of the maids began eagerly, “could you tell us again how you made the Grand Duchess laugh yesterday? We’d like to take notes.”

Kalim’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Oh, sure! So, I was just talking about how much I love riding on magic carpets and how one time, I almost flew straight into a flock of flamingos. You should’ve seen the feathers everywhere!” He burst into laughter, and the staff furiously scribbled in their notepads.

You stood there, blinking, utterly dumbfounded. You knew Kalim had a way of getting people to like him, but this? This was something else. You caught sight of your head butler, who was listening intently, nodding along as if Kalim were revealing some great secret to unlocking your happiness.

Kalim, noticing your expression, turned toward you with a huge grin. “See? I told you! They’re really interested in learning how to make you smile more!”

You couldn’t help it—a soft laugh escaped your lips. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Your estate, so accustomed to the stoic and rigid demeanor you carried, was now filled with your maids and butlers eagerly taking tips from a young merchant heir about how to bring joy into your life.

Your head butler gasped at the sound of your laugh, immediately dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. “The Grand Duchess… she laughed again!” His voice quivered with emotion, and the younger maid next to him looked ready to burst into tears as well.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself. You laughed—genuinely, fully, for the first time in what felt like years. The absurdity of it all, the sight of your normally stone-faced butler shedding tears of joy over something so simple, was too much.

Kalim, of course, laughed along with you, completely at ease. “See? It’s not so hard!”

You shook your head, still chuckling as you looked at him. “You’re impossible, Kalim.”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Hey, as long as you’re smiling, I’m doing something right!”

You glanced over at your butler, who was now openly weeping into his handkerchief. “Please, calm down. You’re making a scene.”

But the butler only waved a hand dramatically, unable to compose himself. “It is… a joy to witness such a thing, Grand Duchess. A joy I never thought I would see in my lifetime.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile lingered on your lips. “Honestly…”

Kalim, still grinning from ear to ear, looked at you with a warmth that, for just a moment, eased the tension that had been building in your chest since the engagement was announced. Though the situation was far from ideal, and though you still had plans to make the Emperor regret his actions, Kalim’s presence—his boundless energy and optimism—was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds that had surrounded you for so long.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

<hr>

The bustling market was alive with the sights and sounds of your people going about their day—vendors calling out their wares, children running between the stalls, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filling the air. It had been years since you last visited the market like this, blending in with the common folk, and you were struck by how much had changed since you were younger. The town had grown, thriving under your rule, and though you were always kept informed of the state of your territory, seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether.

Beside you, Kalim was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes sparkled as he took in the vibrant displays of food, crafts, and goods, his smile as wide as ever. “Wow! This place is amazing! Look at all these stalls!” He dashed ahead, marveling at the colorful array of goods, his enthusiasm as infectious as ever.

You couldn’t help but smile at his energy, though you maintained your usual composed demeanor. “This market is one of the oldest in the region. It’s a center of trade, and many of the local families have been running their stalls for generations.”

Kalim turned to you, eyes bright with admiration. “Your people look so happy! I knew you were an amazing ruler, but seeing this with my own eyes? It’s incredible! You’ve built something really special here.”

There was a warmth in his words that caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in thought. You had always worked hard for your people, but you rarely took the time to reflect on how much you had accomplished. Hearing it from someone like Kalim—someone who was so honest and open in his praise—made it feel different, more personal.

He suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you toward a food stall where a vendor was grilling skewers of seasoned meat. “Hey, we’ve gotta try some of this!” Kalim exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “It smells so good!”

The vendor, a stout older man with a friendly smile, bowed as he recognized you. “Grand Duchess! It is an honor to serve you today. Would you like to try one of our specialties?”

You nodded, taking in the scent of the sizzling food. “I’ll have two, please.”

The vendor handed you two skewers, and you turned to Kalim, offering him one. “Here, try this.”

Without a second thought, Kalim leaned in and took a bite right from the skewer you were holding, grinning up at you as he chewed. “Mmm! This is delicious!” His face lit up in delight, and he barely waited to swallow before he added, “You have to try some too!”

Before you could react, Kalim held his own skewer up to you, expecting you to do the same. The casualness of the gesture—the ease with which he shared his food—made you pause. It had been so long since anyone had treated you like this, without the usual formality or hesitation. Almost on instinct, you leaned in and took a small bite.

The flavor was rich, the spices perfectly balanced, but it wasn’t the food that had your attention. No, it was the way Kalim was watching you, his expression full of warmth and joy, as if this simple moment meant the world to him.

Your face warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you realized you were blushing.

Behind you, you heard a sharp intake of breath from one of your knights, who had been quietly trailing after you. “Did… did the Grand Duchess just blush?” one of them whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with astonishment.

Another knight, equally stunned, gasped. “She did! I saw it! She actually blushed!”

You turned to glare at your knights, trying to regain your composure. “Enough,” you said sharply, though your flustered tone betrayed you. “Focus on your duties.”

But your knights were having none of it. One of them, a young woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, exchanged glances with her comrades before whispering, “Did you see how casual she was with him? They’re feeding each other like a couple!”

Another knight, eyes wide with excitement, chimed in. “I can’t believe this! The Grand Duchess… flustered by her fiancé? It’s like we’re in a romance novel!”

You shot them another look, but Kalim, completely oblivious to the whispers and side glances, just laughed, offering you more of his skewer. “Here, have some more! You look like you liked it!”

Your heart raced at the simple, kind gesture, and though you wanted to maintain your icy composure, something about Kalim’s sincerity made it impossible to stay guarded. You took another bite, feeling your face grow even warmer as your knights barely contained their squeals of excitement.

One of the senior knights, trying to remain composed but failing miserably, muttered, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Lord Al-Asim is working miracles.”

“I know!” another knight whispered excitedly. “We should take notes! Maybe we can keep her in a good mood if we learn from him.”

The absurdity of it all—the idea of your battle-hardened knights taking pointers from Kalim on how to make you smile—was too much. You couldn’t help it; a soft, genuine laugh escaped your lips.

You sighed, shaking your head as Kalim smiled up at you, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused. “You really are impossible, Kalim.”

Kalim grinned, completely at ease. “Hey, as long as you’re happy, I’m doing something right!”

For the first time in a long while, surrounded by the people you’d worked so hard to protect and with Kalim at your side, you felt a genuine lightness in your heart. Maybe this wasn’t the life you had planned, but for now, in this moment, it didn’t seem so bad.

From the moment Kalim Al-Asim first stepped into your estate, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. It wasn’t something you said or did—if anything, you were composed, graceful, carrying yourself with the kind of authority that made people hesitate before speaking to you.

No, it was something deeper, something in the way your shoulders were always so tense, the way your eyes seemed to hold a kind of tiredness that went beyond just physical exhaustion.

Kalim wasn’t blind to his own shortcomings. He wasn’t the smartest guy—he knew that. He’d been told as much more times than he could count. People often saw him as naive, too happy-go-lucky for the responsibilities placed on his shoulders.

That’s what Jamil was for, after all, to cover for his inadequacies and ensure that things went smoothly. Kalim didn’t mind. He trusted Jamil more than anyone, and he knew his limits.

But when he met you, something shifted inside him.

At first, it was just awe. You were the Grand Duchess, after all—the person everyone talked about. A ruler who had risen to power not by birthright but through sheer will and skill.

You had this aura of strength around you, like a shield. But Kalim could see the cracks in that armor, the way the weight of your responsibilities was crushing you, little by little. And it hurt to see.

He’d expected you to be cold, maybe even harsh, like so many nobles who carried the weight of authority. But when you greeted him, your voice wasn’t harsh—it was gentle. There was pressure behind it, sure, but you didn’t snap at him or dismiss his excitement, even though he knew people often found him a bit too much.

Instead, you listened to him. You smiled—a small, almost invisible one—but it was there, and it lit something inside him. A flutter he didn’t quite know how to describe.

It was when you smiled for him for the first time that he really felt it. That small, faint curve of your lips after he’d gotten a little too excited about something as simple as a window view of your garden. The flutter in his chest was unfamiliar, but he didn’t dislike it. No, in fact, it felt… nice. Special.

Kalim couldn’t help but want to make you smile again.

He’d seen so many people forced into roles that didn’t let them be happy, and he hated that you seemed to be one of them. You were strong, yeah, but you were suffering, too. And that was something Kalim couldn’t stand. So, from that moment on, he made it a personal goal to lighten the weight on your shoulders, even if just a little.

He didn’t have Jamil’s cleverness, didn’t understand the nuances of the political games you were constantly playing, but maybe—just maybe—he could give you something simple. A reminder that life wasn’t just about duty and responsibility, that there could be joy, too. If anyone deserved to smile more, it was you.

And when you did, that tiny flutter in his chest bloomed into something more. He didn’t have the words for it, but whatever it was, it made him even more determined to stick by your side.

Because in the end, Kalim Al-Asim wasn’t the smartest, but he knew one thing for sure: he liked making you happy. And if he could do that, even in the smallest ways, then maybe that was enough.

The wedding had been a grand affair—briefly mentioned in conversations, a formality that had swept through the palace in a whirlwind of silks, flowers, and the astonished murmurs of nobles. Now, life had settled into its new rhythm. The days moved forward, filled with work and the familiar weight of duty, yet something had shifted. Something brighter.

You sat at your desk, papers spread out in front of you, quill in hand. The room was quiet, save for the soft scratching of pen on parchment. But then, a familiar burst of energy entered the room.

Kalim.

He bounded over to you, practically glowing with life, as always. His smile was wide, his eyes gleaming as he plopped down beside you, legs crossed, hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

“Hey, what’re you working on? Anything exciting? You should take a break—you’ve been at it for hours!” His words bubbled up, his excitement palpable.

You glanced up from your work, unable to suppress the smallest of smiles. Kalim had that effect—an infectious lightness that made everything around him feel… easier. As he leaned closer to peer at your papers, you felt the warmth of his presence, the joy that radiated from him in every small movement.

And then, it hit you.

The past few months, since you had arrived in this world, had been the best you could remember. Despite everything—despite the weight of your responsibilities, the confusion of your new life—there had been him. Kalim, always there with his endless enthusiasm, his unwavering kindness. He was the reason those months had been so full of life, so unexpectedly joyful.

Without thinking, you reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him down onto your lap. His laughter bubbled up in surprise as you tugged him into your space, but before he could say anything, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a moment, the world stilled. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and you could feel the surprised smile lingering there, slowly deepening as he kissed you back, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

When you pulled back, his eyes sparkled, his grin wider than ever.

“Well, that was unexpected!” he laughed, his cheeks flushed. “I should interrupt your work more often!”

The chaos hit you the moment you opened the door.

Papers were scattered everywhere, an overturned chair lay dramatically in the corner, and somehow, somehow, Kalim had managed to knock over an entire shelf of books, which now covered the floor in what could only be described as a literary avalanche.

In the center of it all was Kalim himself, spinning wildly in circles as he tried to catch a parrot—yes, a parrot—that was squawking and flapping around the room like it had a personal vendetta against order.

"Oh! You're back!" Kalim shouted, not missing a beat as he stumbled over a pile of papers, arms flailing as the parrot swooped low above his head. "You wouldn’t believe it—Jamil said not to bring the bird in, but I thought, 'Hey, it’ll liven things up!' And now it’s really livening things up!"

The parrot screeched in agreement, swooping low again as Kalim tried (and failed) to dodge it, knocking into another pile of books in the process.

You just stood there, blinking, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what you were seeing. Your instinct—your usual instinct—would have been to explode, to demand why Kalim had brought a parrot into your office and created a scene worthy of a disaster movie.

But then Kalim turned toward you, still laughing despite the madness, his eyes bright with excitement and joy. He looked so happy, so full of life, and that grin—oh, that ridiculous, infectious grin—just melted away any irritation you might’ve felt.

You sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, but completely smitten.

"Why did you bring a parrot in here, Kalim?" you asked, not really expecting a logical answer.

"I thought it could help!" he said earnestly, ducking again as the parrot flapped by. "You know, for moral support! But I think it’s mad about the crackers I gave it—they weren’t the fancy ones."

Despite yourself, you snorted a laugh. Fancy crackers for a parrot. Of course.

Shaking your head, you rolled up your sleeves and waded into the chaos. "Alright," you said with a sigh, "how do we calm this thing down?"

"I knew you'd help!" Kalim beamed, his grin wider than ever as he accidentally knocked over another stack of books while trying to reach for the bird. "You’re the best!"

And just like that, any frustration you might’ve felt disappeared. It was impossible to stay mad when Kalim was around, when he looked at you like that, his smile brighter than the chaos surrounding you.

Sure, you should’ve been irritated—you definitely should’ve scolded him—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not when you liked seeing him happy like this.

The parrot screeched again, now perched on top of the chandelier, and you looked at Kalim, who was already planning his next attempt to capture it, enthusiasm never wavering.

"Alright," you muttered with a smirk, "let’s catch a parrot."

Because really, with Kalim, how could you say no?

The council chamber was as dull as ever. Endless discussions, arguments over treaties and trade, and the first prince droning on with his overinflated sense of importance. Once, you would have gritted your teeth and endured it, forcing yourself to care because you had to—because that was what duty demanded.

But now, with Kalim beside you, the air felt lighter. His presence added a quiet warmth, even in this room filled with scheming nobles and stifling protocol.

You caught Kalim sneaking glances at you, barely containing his grin, and he leaned in, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we snuck out? I saw this really nice restaurant on the way.”

You smothered a laugh, turning your gaze downward. You’d never dreamed you could feel such joy during these dreary meetings, but here you were, caught in this bubble with him, like the two of you were the only people in the room. His happiness became your own, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The first prince’s voice faltered, his expression darkening as he noticed the soft smile you were trying to hide. Anger sparked in his eyes, a sharp glint of resentment as he realized his plans to manipulate you had come to nothing. He looked at you and Kalim as if he were staring at an infuriating puzzle—one that needed to be destroyed.

That night, after a grueling day of meetings, you made your way to your chambers. The hallways were quiet, and the familiar comforts of your estate filled you with calm, but something felt off. Shadows stretched where they shouldn’t, moving unnaturally, as if they had a life of their own. Your instincts kicked in, and you quickened your pace.

You reached your shared bedroom, a flicker of movement catching your eye. There, in the corner, figures clad in dark robes converged around Kalim. His eyes widened, but before he could react, you lunged forward, fury blazing in your veins.

You fought them off with nothing but raw strength and sheer will, each blow desperate and ferocious. They struck at you, blades glinting, and you felt pain slice across your skin, but you refused to yield, refusing to let them get anywhere near him.

At last, the final attacker crumpled to the floor. You staggered, blood staining your clothes, the pain seeping into every limb, but Kalim’s arms were already there, catching you before you could fall.

His expression was uncharacteristically serious, his cheerful demeanor replaced by something sharp, regal—a reminder that he was no mere boy in love but the heir of a powerful family.

The doctor arrived, working quickly, and once you were settled in bed, Kalim took a seat beside you. His gaze was steady, intense, and for the first time, you saw the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the silent authority he usually kept hidden beneath layers of laughter and joy.

“Why did you fight them alone?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t have to—”

You shook your head, a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Because no one hurts you. Not while I’m here.”

His hand stilled, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “I didn’t have to stay, you know.” His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of a decision made long ago. “I’m not tied to this empire. My family’s influence is vast; we don’t need anyone’s approval. But I stayed… because I like being here with you. Because I…” His voice faltered, but his gaze held yours. “Because I love you.”

Kalim’s hand clasped yours, his fingers warm and steady. “The Scalding Sands will manage without this empire. And this place… it doesn’t deserve you. Not when it has hurt you like this.” His voice grew colder, a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Let it fall apart, for all I care. I’m done watching it drain the life out of you.”

For a long moment, you lay there, absorbing the enormity of his words. A world without the burden of duty, free from the endless cycles of treachery and expectation. And Kalim beside you, offering not just escape, but freedom, and a life filled with joy.

A soft laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I don’t care if the empire crashes and burns,” you murmured, your hand tightening around his. “I don’t care about any of it. I just want you.”

Kalim’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a promise of a new beginning. It was a moment that felt like the closing of one life and the opening of another, a vow sealed with warmth and certainty.

You both pulled back, breathless but smiling, a new, shared future blooming between you. And when you finally closed your eyes, your hand still in his, you knew you’d face whatever came next together, no matter where it led.

The final ball was as grand as ever, the ballroom filled with nobles dressed in the finest silks and jewels, their laughter and chatter a thin veil over the ever-present tension in the room.

You entered with Kalim by your side, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you like armor. The empire had always been a battlefield for you, but tonight… tonight, you were walking away from it all.

At the far end of the ballroom, the Emperor sat on his gilded throne, the golden imperial crest looming behind him. His eyes scanned the room lazily, but you could see the calculation in his gaze. Beside him stood the First Prince, his eyes narrowing at you the moment you entered. His jaw clenched, the flicker of rage barely contained beneath the surface.

You weren’t here to dance, though. No, tonight was about setting yourself free.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the center of the ballroom, Kalim’s presence a comforting warmth beside you. The chatter died down almost instantly, and all eyes turned toward you. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—what was the Grand Duchess planning now?

You gave them no time to speculate.

“Your Majesty,” you called out, your voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs. “I stand before you one last time to say this: I will no longer serve this Empire.”

The room fell into stunned silence, gasps echoing off the walls. The Emperor’s eyes darkened, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne tightly, but you didn’t stop.

“Your empire,” you continued, your voice rising, “is built on the backs of people far better than you. You are a rotten king. You speak of honor and glory, but all you do is send others to die for your own ambition. I bled for this empire, fought your wars, won your battles, and for what? So you could sit on your throne, pretending to be a ruler when you’re nothing but a coward hiding behind false titles?”

The nobles gasped again, their shock palpable. No one had ever spoken to the Emperor like this.

“And you,” you snapped, turning toward the First Prince, your eyes blazing. “You—who ordered the assassination of my husband because I rejected you—are even worse. A spineless coward with nothing to back your ego. You hide behind your father’s power, hoping that killing the man I love will somehow make me regret not choosing you. But I could never love someone as weak as you. You are pathetic.”

His face turned an ugly shade of red, his hand twitching toward the sword at his side, but you weren’t afraid. You had seen what he was capable of—nothing.

The Emperor finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You dare insult your emperor, the man who gave you your title?”

“I earned my title,” you snapped, stepping forward. “I didn’t need your permission or your favor to become who I am. You gave me nothing that I didn’t take for myself. And I’ll tell you this—I will never fight another war for someone as revolting as you.”

The Emperor’s mask of indifference cracked, his eyes blazing with fury, but behind it, you could see the desperation. He needed you. The Empire needed you. They couldn’t afford to lose you.

He leaned forward, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What do you want? Wealth? Power? I’ll give you anything. Just don’t walk away.”

You almost laughed at the irony of it—this man who had always acted like you were disposable, now begging you to stay.

But you didn’t need his power. You didn’t need his wealth. You glanced at Kalim, who stood beside you with that same warmth, that same unshakable love in his eyes. And in that moment, you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Kalim is enough,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I don’t need anything from you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, not sparing the Emperor or his pathetic son another glance. Kalim followed without question, his hand finding yours as you walked out of the ballroom, your loyal knights, butler, and maids falling in step behind you.

You could hear the stunned whispers of the nobles behind you, their shock hanging in the air like a tangible thing, but you didn’t care. You had walked away from the Empire, from its corruption, from its endless, soul-sucking games.

And now? Now, you were free.

As the cool night air hit your face, Kalim squeezed your hand, his bright smile lighting up the darkness. “So,” he said, his voice filled with excitement, “where should we go first on our adventure?”

You laughed softly, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

And with that, you ran. Away from the Empire, away from the pain of your past, toward a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were truly happy.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

[missydior]

cinnamon girl ౨ৎ (part i)

notes: charles leclerc x singer!reader, smau, secret relationship, launching, engagement. requested, fc: madison beer.

part ii: here.

a/n: my first smau on this blog, not so sure about it but i had fun making it <3

liked by honeymoon, franciscagomes and 555,116 others

yourusername: “there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live.” cinnamon girl is out now. i had so so much fun producing this song, love from me to you all <3

6,325 comments

user1: will be listening to this song on repeat for the rest of the year now

user2: literally obsessed 🫶🏼

friendusername: you deserve the world

yourusername: i <3 you

user3: can’t wait for your lover era one day, the songs will be lushhh

user4: girl, y/n already produces perfect music & lyricism without a man in her life, she’s doing just fine on her own

3,698 likes

newsofy/n: in a recent interview following the release of her new single ‘cinnamon girl’, y/n said “I am always inspired by those around me […] the support of my friends, family are the foundations of my work, every lyric and song is so personal to me – from experiences or those so dear to my heart…”

913 comments

user1: she is such a sweetheart, we must protect her.

user2: did anybody else notice that smile when the interviewer asked if she has any romantic ‘muses’ or inspiration?

user3: you’re taking it out of context, i’m pretty certain y/n is still as single as all of us </3

user2: ouch true, but you never know

user4: oh to be the muse of one of yourusername’s songs

liked by friendusername and 7,171 others

f1gossip: the monaco grand prix annually attracts all kinds of faces from the glitz & glamour, this year including the music industry’s sweetheart yourusername who had claimed she wanted to “return” to the place she has always adored, in person.

1,311 comments

user1: I wonder who she’s supporting 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user2: probably charles leclerc, like every single girl who breathes.

user1: be quiet, I wouldn’t blame her anyway

user3: she looks like an angelll, paddock princess here she comes

user4: omg, didn’t she mention once in an interview that her father’s a lover of f1 too?

user5: I think I saw some old pics of her when she was like five with him at the belgian grand prix

user1: my two favourite people ever have MET EACH OTHER? crying inside currently

user2: they would make the most iconic couple

user3: girl bffr, they have just met

user2: let me be delulu, okay?

user4: no he has heart eyes

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc and 591,132 others

yourusername: monaco, you were a blessing this weekend and i can’t wait to see you again soon, je t’aime <3

5,139 comments

user1: please, please, please come next year too, the paddock needs your fashion sense

user2: not charles lurking in the likes haha

user3: she’s got him interesteddd

user4: y/n and f1 was honestly the collab i never knew that i needed

user5: soon? what other business do you have in monaco?

liked by friendusername and 5,396 others

f1gossip: in a recent interview, when asked, charles leclerc revealed that he has listened to yourusername’s recent single ‘cinnamon girl’: “i’ve heard it a few times on the radio or shuffle, i think whoever is on the receiving end of her love songs now or in the future will be a lucky man, for sure.”

1,111 comments

user1: he’s definitely in love

user2: they’ve literally met once

user1: okay? i’ve never met him and i’m in love with him. anyway, we don’t know what they do away from the cameras and stuff

user3: he knows something we don’t.

user4: y/n’s friends are alwaysss on the gossip and i love it, they probably tell her all about it lol

liked by friendusername, pierregasly and 539,333 others

yourusername: from a secret admirer xoxo

5,692 comments

franciscagomes: finally?

yourusername: don’t pretend this is the first time

user1: y/n what does this meannnn?

user2: do you finally have some chance in your love life?

user3: that sounds so backhanded help

user4: whoever they are, i hope they treat you well y/n <3 our angel

౨ৎ

part ii: here.

[sad-not-glad]

Just some ramblings

I love getting to see Bucky post recovery in fics. Getting the happy slow life he deserves, pretty little housewife (you) and a tiny chubby-cheeked baby. White picket fence, holidays, Barnses family reunions, because we all know Bucky would adore that. Welcoming a cat and another one of his mini-me’s, maybe two.

But what about after that? His oldest’s graduation, his youngest’s? I want Bucky who struggles to watch his babies move out, I want Bucky who is devastated to watch them leave but even happier to see them thrive. What about when he becomes a granddad?

So here is old man Bucky becoming a granddad after getting the domestic bliss he deserves.

It’s his birthday. What number, Bucky didn’t know, he stopped keeping track too long ago. Far more important was the roudy group of his grown children, scattered around the living room with their partners and childhood friends, extended family and the like. It’s been nothing short of perfect, great food and nice weather with all his favorite people shoved into one house.

All except for one, that is.

‘Little’ Eliana, the youngest of the bunch and the only girl. Even though she’s a happy and healthy 25 years old, she was still doted on by all the men, brothers and Bucky alike. She was the princess, the baby, the littlest duck in the row- despite being married for 3 years already. So it really shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was to him, but Bucky still saw a grinning little girl with dirty hands when he looked at her. Eliana arrived with husband in tow fashionably late, her present tucked away to the back to the pile amidst the chaos of being greeted. Bucky, being the birthday Dad, got the first and longest hug naturally. One that he savored, tucking his little girl into his arms and holding her close. He still couldn’t believe where life had taken him, finding his soulmate and settling down. Getting to watch his outstanding children grow and prosper in ways he never imagined, everything he never believed he deserved. But it was his anyways, and he had no idea just how much more amazing his life was about to become.

Every year Bucky insisted he didn’t need any gifts. He was the happiest he could imagine with just his family, all safe and sound in the same house. Yet every year, he got to unwrap a mounting pile of presents that just keep getting better. So far he got a new watch from his son, which was amazing. Something he had been really needing too. A cat tree from the other son, two new mugs, the softest blanket he had even felt. Slowly the pile went from huge, to decent, until there was only one left. Eliana’s, a tiny little black box topped with a cute golden ribbon. She always had adored her father’s arm, hours of her childhood spent marveling at the metal. Now the fascination presented itself in his gift wrapping, or the black wedding band on her finger. A mimic of the engraving he had done when he married you.

She passes it over with a nervous smile, immediately curling back into her husband’s side. Bucky took the gift with a grin and a thank you, settling back and carefully peeling away the paper. You’re watching over his shoulder when he opens the lid, tossing it to the side and revealing the contents within. A little folded square of fabric. He pulled it out, confusion clear on his face as he turned it over. He unfolded it, taking a second to process just what he was looking at.

A tiny baby onesie, and written across the front was ‘I’m not spoiled, my Granddad just loves me”. He blinked, turning it over in his hands and re-reading the words, then reading them again. You had already put together the dots, leaping from your spot next to him with a surprised shriek. For Bucky, it was taking a while to really set in, eyes locked on the little outfit in his hands.

His daughter was…pregnant?

He was going to be a grandfather?

…He’s going to be a grandfather!

The tears are falling before the poor man even realizes he’s crying. Because after everything he had done, all the pain and suffering caused, Bucky was lucky enough to now be a grandfather. He looked up when legs appearing in his blurry vision, and there she was. The girl he had read stories to every night, kissed her boo-boos and held her hand. The girl who he raised into a wonderful young woman, smiling at him with giddy excitement. Excitement over having a child of her own, creating her own family to love and cherish. His chest was practically bursting with emotions, all of them pouring out with his tears and laughter as he stood to sweep her in his arms again.

And needless to say, the onesie spoke the truth. If you think this man spoiled his children, it’s a whole other ball game with his grandkids. His wallet is their atm, stealing them away for weekends with Pop-Pop, giving them memories to cherish forever. He cries holding his first granddaughter after she’s born. He cries when the second and third come, and he’s inconsolable when your eldest son reveals the name of his own firstborn. Andrew Bucky Barnes, the fifth grandchild he gets to welcome.

Pop-pop who picks up his kiddos early from school just because he missed them

Pop-pop who never misses a thing. Holidays, birthdays, graduations.

Pop-pop who always has the best stories, the warmest hugs, and the fluffiest pet cat.

Pop-pop who all his grand-babies adore just as much as he adores them.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eleanor Parker (Scaramouche, The Sound of Music)— Eulogized as a ravishing beauty whose looks were merely ornamental to her craft, feast your eyes on Eleanor Parker. Listen! I know you're thinking of the Baroness in Sound of Music and saying NO I won't protect the woman who tried to steal him from Maria but forget about that (like you personally wouldn't shoot your shot with Plummer)! The trailer for Scaramouche describes her character Lenore as "The glamourous queen of the nightlife of Paris. A flame-haired wildcat" and this is a woman who was able to pull off that role, and you get the vibe she was like that irl too. There's a story about her changing hair colors that never fails to make me laugh. Take note of her stunning eyes! Her amazing legs! And to see her in motion is to make note of the aura about her, she has an amazing presence. Fall in love with Eleanor Parker today, and make your vote count!

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 3 of the tournament. (yes I know it says round 2 in the poll. sometimes I post these when I’m sleepy.) All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eleanor Parker:

“When I’m spotted somewhere, it means that my characterizations haven’t covered up Eleanor Parker the person. I prefer it the other way around.” So shy she was actively nervous about winning awards in person, her personal life remains mostly behind the scenes. But on screen? she was a force majeure. It's a shame the role most people remember her in is the Baroness in The Sound of Music, but then again, it did make Christopher Plummer reminisce upon her passing “I was sure she was enchanted and would live forever.”

Listen we all know Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews had insane chemistry but the Baroness deserves some love too! She has such a glamorous presence but not in a hard way

She will be known as the fabulous baroness in TSOM, but she was so much more than that. Just as comfortable in westerns or melodrama, the scheming other woman, and the beauty that wins the heart of every man in town.

Audrey Hepburn propaganda:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

64.media.tumblr.com

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

[mrscolinbridgerton96]

There is something that I want to take the time to address to you all.

Despite me calling out the toxic behavior of a big handful of Lukola shippers, I know that not everyone who ships Nicola and Luke together exude problematic energy on a daily basis. I personally don’t ship them romantically, but I will admit that there is chemistry between them- it’s undeniable.

If their relationship evolves and one day becomes something more than just friendship, that’s great. If they don’t go down that route and decide to just remain friends, that’s great too- some people should really take that possibility into consideration instead of just obsessing over something that may not even happen and overstep several boundaries in the process.

They both seem like really good people and they deserve better than that.

One more thing before I go.. there’s a saying that may seem a bit “old fashioned” to some people- but I’m a millennial so I’m gonna say it anyways: you get what you give. The energy that you give out is what will be given right back to you. If you are disrespectful towards someone, you will get that disrespect thrown right back at you.

With that being said, if you respect my opinion (even though it differs from your own).. I’ll respect your opinion in return.

Just thought I’d share this with y’all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey there, hi there, ho there! It’s your friendly neighborhood tailor! Pleasure to meet you Fellow! I’m quite the seamstress, and I always love to have people to practice styles on! I have, here with me, an entire wardrobe for you and your little brother there! I’ve got winter coats, summer shorts, formal wear for any kind of stuffy event, and a line of loungewear for any kind of casual affair! Hehehehehe. These are a little more experimental outfits, but a charismatic, distinguished gentleman such as yourself would be able to pull it off seamlessly, I’m sure. *Pushes the enormous mountain of clothing to Fellow to try on* Don’t worry about any cost, I just want you to be ready for any occasion. Everyone deserves to look and feel their best. Clothes make the man and all that. I…sincerely hope you and Gidel find something out there worth doing. Take these around for a spin and see how they work. I’ll make any adjustments necessary.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The dressing room curtain wasn't red nor velvet, but pushing them aside felt like the opening night to a grand show anyway. Fellow and Gidel stepped out, dressed in brand new outfits--similar in construction to the originals, without the holes or the mismatched fabrics. They had been trying on various threads provided by the town's local tailor for the last few hours--and, at the end of the day, this was what felt most comfortable to the duo.

A full-length mirror had been propped up against the wall, allowing them to inspect their figures in full dress. Gidel twirled and twirled until he got dizzy and had to take a seat. Fellow adjusted his lapels many times over, admiring the look and feel of brand new fabrics and buttons.

"Hmph. Not bad. Not bad at all," he said to his smug reflection.

"You're both so handsome," the tailor gushed. "The clothes suit you well."

"You sure we can have all of this for free? No strings attached?" Fellow asked warily.

His eyes darted to wheeled rack that displayed many more items. He almost breathed a sigh of relief to see it still there. Not a figment of his imagination, not a reward to be yanked away at a moment's notice. Something tangible and real.

"Yes, really! I'd appreciate it if you took them off of my hands. They're some of the season's old fashions--they've been hard to move--and some experimental pieces I made in my off-time that don't have mass appeal. It'd be a waste to not let them be worn and shown off." They chuckled to themselves. "Besides, free advertising for the shop, am I right?"

His eyes lit up, mouth breaking out into a smile that showed all of his teeth. "Hot dog! Didja hear that, Giddie? We’re set!”

The two scrambled to gather their new things. Left uncollected for too long, and they feared the clothes would vanish.

The tailor peered into their changing stall and, upon spotting their old discarded outfits strewn on the floor, tutted. They bent, retrieving them.

“You forgot to pick up your…”

They stopped.

The dark green trousers they had picked up bore large diamond shapes along one pant leg, a design most unusual. Textiles with red, green, and golden patterns pilled in the diamond holes, sealed in place with neat, tight lines of stitching. Saddle, passing back and forth—the sign of hand, not machine, stitch.

There’s talent here, they realized. Untapped potential.

The tailor cleared their throat.

“Excuse me, but have you ever considered taking up the needle and thread for a career…? If so, I might just have the apprenticeship for you.”

[allthedamnlove]

AQUAMARINE: RAFE CAMERON X SOFIA FANFICTION: CHAPTER 1

Wordcount: 4k words

Prologue

Radio for this chapter:

18 MONTHS AGO

Sofia's POV

I, Sofia Ramirez, never really thought that in my twenty years of life would end up as a bartender in a fuck all country club where I hear gringos talk about stuff that doesn't even matter at the end of the day. Every time I go near a table to get their finished “whiskey neat” “Old fashioned.” cocktail glasses with fingerprints imprinted as if they were on a crime scene, I have invented a guessing game of “What are these greasy old white men talking about?”

I have a set of permutations and combinations: 

How much will this deal pull through?

Man, crazy that those Pogues own that land; we should get a lawyer to annex the shit out of it.

My wife has been slacking, man. Not fucking me good anymore or worse, says, “I’m not in the mood.”

God, I need a drink. Or a cigarette

If it was women, it would go like 

Ohhh! I really want that new Van Cleef, but Daddy ended up buying that Cartier bracelet for me.

Ugh, bestie!!! I wanted that new Rhode smoothie, but there are no fuckass cute cafes, even on the Kook side.

I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me (this is valid, and they probably deserve to run men through a tar road)

Girl, I need a drink.

First world problems, lemme tell you.

You might ask, what about me then?

Well, I wait tables around here, as you probably would have known. I also bartend if the boss asks me to. And I clean the floor and the tables and sometimes take care of the register.

At this point, I am running this bar like the Navy, but nobody wants to talk about it.

Is the pay worth it? Nope, absolute-fucking-not. I work for nearly nine hours a day and get paid only two and a half dollars per hour. I don’t get extra sick days except for the allotted 12 days a week, and half of the tips go to the owner officially….wink. And I smell like yeast every day after my shift.

Yay. I am so happy.

 Bullshit.

At least I get to see mid to okayish-looking white men. Occasionally, other races, but hey, who am I fooling here? Most of the people frequenting here have zero percent of melanin. 

It was a slow day at the pristine country club, with its tall false ceilings and fancy glass upholstery and lighting, a huge white marble counter encircling the veranda with shell white and pastel green chairs and tables fit snugly on the granite floor which I clean every day that I see my own reflection. 

Which I am doing right now. 

My feet were gliding on the slippery wet floor as I saw myself scrubbing the white tile which was stained with “your finest Bloody Mary please!”  the blood-red stain laughing in my face. I am tired and exasperated and I need a drink. That I didn’t make with my own hands. I looked up as the summer breeze made my stray hairs encounter my eyes; my vision blessed with one of the most picturesque sunsets I have ever witnessed after settling in Outer Banks. The golden Sun was muted orange now, glistening as the white tufts of clouds were colored inside by the marine blue sky. For a moment then, everything felt right.

“SOFIA, GO DOWNSTAIRS TO THE INVENTORY AND GET ME A BOTTLE OF THAT OLD RUM”

Spoke too soon. 

I turned towards the source of the source and there he was, my boss.

Benjamin Alexander Portridge. Long name. I know. Everyone around the town calls him Mr. Portridge. But all of us working in the bar called him Benny Bitch behind his back. He is the textbook definition of a schmooze. Five feet tall, unnaturally thin with his pinstripe pants and suit and an eerie gold pin with a bear engraved on it resting on his breast pocket that he wears every day like a magician at a circus, if you are a Kook with some cha-ching on your purse he would snag, grab and treat you like you are his next wife or something. He would “warmly” welcome you with a “Good evening, gentleman. How can I help you?” with him trailing over them like a hawk. Then he would sweet-talk them, talking about “da birds and da bees” and switch over like a chameleon; slowly collecting all the dirty laundry of Kooks who smile and make small talk with him. 

It's too bad he doesn’t air it out to us. He just zooms around and pierces you with his look while you’re pouring drinks and most importantly when we collect money, his snake eyes follow the line of money. And he screams out orders when no one is around. 

I wobbled and carefully stood on the floor, slowly placing the “Don’t Walk, Slippery Floor” sign, I saw a fuzz of blonde walking right into the area, her hot pink headphones bobbing along with her strawberry blonde bob, navy blue skirt swaying as she strutted with no care. I can hear Ayesha Erotica blasting through her phone.

“MISSY, DON’T WALK INTO THE WET FLOOR”

“WHAT, SOF, WAIT, OH-”

Her right foot dramatically went up in the air while she scrambled to keep her weight steady for a hot minute, failed miserably, and fell with a soft yet powerful THUD.

“OW!” she let out a small yelp as she was rubbing her bruised hands on her uniform, her butt still planted on the wet floor. I slowly walked near her, careful not to fall flat on my ass, helping her stand steady and taking her near to the bar counter. 

“Sofia, girl why didn’t you tell me you were cleaning? Oh, my ass, my ass.”

I threw my head back, exasperated. I literally put up a sign that wrote “SLIPPERY FLOOR” in black, bold letters” in front of her eyes. And I told her exactly that.

“Missy, look in front of you, there is a sign called ‘WET FLOOR’”

“Fine. I heard Benny Bitch call for something, that’s why I came back from my cig break” she said in her airy voice, dusting off any ashes from her white polo uniform. Lia “Missy” Robinson is a character, alright. A loud, boisterous, chain smoker, changes her hair color based on the weather (this is true, she even explained her mechanism once on a break) and is a “proud Gemini” because “Gemini’s are crucified everywhere and I, for one, think that’s bullshit” (her words, not mine), Missy was the first person I met when I came to work here in the fine establishment (I am baring my molars when I am saying this, by the way) of Pelican Bay Country Club (I mean who even names a club like that?) two months ago at Outer Banks. Benny told me that I needed a mentor when I started out and he “appointed” Missy, (whatever that’s supposed to mean) and all she did was, flick her cigarette on the floor and said 

“Olives may be stale but those idiots don’t know that so don’t hesitate to give them that. If anyone comes at you for making the drink wrong, just put extra tequila on it. If a fight happens, see if they start to punch each other and if you see blood, then call Benny. And if you want to smoke, there’s a basement room right next to the inventory. Finally, welcome to hell. And I like the bangs. Keep it.” she motioned towards my hair.

She’s cool and doesn’t take shit from anyone which I like since sometimes my shy self can get flustered whenever some customers get a bit unsavory and try saying, “I CAN NOT BELIEVE WE ARE LETTING POGUES TO MAKE US DRINKS, YOU ARE SHIT AT EVERYTHING YOU DO” 

“No, he asked me to get rum from downstairs.”

“Well damn, I fell on my ass for nothing then. It’s fine, I’ll go get it for you. I came all the way from sexting my neighbor for this, might as well make myself useful.”

Oh, I forgot to tell you, Missy is synonymous with Too Much Information. 

Even though I really don’t want to go to the basement for the tenth time today, I am a bit unsure about letting a “butt-hurt” Missy get hurt again or worse, get her hands cut by dropping the bottle.

“Are you sure, Missy? I don’t mind”

“Positive”

“Ok, then….but take the one from the top shelf. Otherwise, I’ll be the one staying late having another “mixologist” revision.”

She struggled to get up from the barstool so I helped her up again and she ambled her way to the basement; leaving me alone with only Jeremy on the bar. He works with me on the counter during my shifts, we are not friends or even acquaintances but we just wave at each other and relay messages to each other during work.

That’s the definition of a colleague. And I just realized that. 

It’s not that I don’t want to be alone with him, it’s just that it gets so awkward when we are alone in between shifts or when cleaning the place. He doesn’t know anything about me and I don’t know anything about him except the fact that he owns a pet tarantula named “Gary” from some crocodile hunter in “Animal Planet” (he mentioned it to me when an old Kook spotted a spider outside the club and screamed, “OH MY GOD, THERE ARE BLOOD SUCKING HEATHENS HERE!!! I AM NEVER COMING BACK TO THIS CLUB.”)

And it’s way too overdue to ask him about his life and vice versa. So we just work in silence or I blast my headphones high to avoid the tension. There’s no such thing as comfortable silence when you’re with people. 

Begrudgingly, I passed by the uniformly arranged chairs and made my way to the lockers located way inside, past the attached kitchen which serves “elevated bar food” in the evenings. As I went inside the stuffy room resembling the gym locker room minus the stench with its seafoam green walls, I saw my other “colleagues” and janitors standing in pairs of two to four, gossiping and applying light makeup to their faces. Their heads swiveled towards me as I came in, everyone collectively saying “Hi, Sofia” and then going on with their lives. After chirping in a squeaky “Hello!” back, I reached my locker, its rusty blue door littered with photos of all the people I hold close to my heart: a family photo of my mamá and papá standing in front of a cathedral in Mexico; that was them on their wedding day; an old photo of my abuelas posing with my thirteen-year-old self wearing a baby pink tutu and a polaroid of my two hermanas Isabella and Alejandra and my brother Theo smiling at the camera holding our cat, Mishmish. I smiled looking at their pure laughs spilling from the photo and opened my locker, taking out my face wash and towel from my cherry-red handbag.

I gave up a lot for them. It doesn’t mean it stopped hurting when I stopped dreaming but the fact that I am able to help my ma put food on the table or at least try to lessen her burden is more than enough for me. All I can do is get through every day, hoping that I can stop surviving and start living. 

My introspections got cut off as my ears caught onto two waiters gossiping in the common washroom, my eyes closed and hands automatically washing off the suds of my face as I half-heartedly listened to them. 

“No way he is back”

“Yes way, Tammy told me that she saw Rafe Cameron at Tannyhill when she was walking Mrs. Daisy’s dog”

Oh, I have heard of him. 

Rafe Cameron. 

I vaguely remember his dad’s name coming up on the news some time ago or maybe my dad told me about him sometimes passing in a random conversation. The notorious Kook Prince. Never seen him though. I only know of him through other’s opinions of him and safe to say, that nobody likes him. Not from what I heard anyway. 

“Oh, but his dad is dead and he and his family disappeared off the face of the Earth and now he’s back…after two months…that’s suspicious as fuck”

“You know him, that cokehead must have done something. Too bad, looks hot as fuck but truly a wasted potential”

I wanted to eavesdrop more but then stopped myself. I have a shift in ten minutes and I hate inserting myself in other people’s business and plus I don’t want to hear Katya talk about her periods as she stopped talking about drama altogether. Who knows, maybe I’ll see this infamous guy one day and see for myself if he’s “fuckable or not” (again, not my words)

Oh, if only I knew. 

*****************

The club was packed tonight in spite of its spacious open space floor; a sea of beiges, pastel shades, and tan pants flooded my senses; my eyes and feet dizzy from the dim lighting and my feet haphazardly dancing on the granite, palms barely holding onto the huge wooden plates containing a plethora of drinks and poisons of all sorts: you name it, I have it my hand and I’ll probably drop it on some Kook’s head if I don’t get a break. 

Such is the life of an underpaid bartender. God, I need to go home. 

Exhaustion pushed me as I slowly went inside my safe space, on the other side of the counter. I mean, it’ll still hurt but I don’t have to look like a circus elephant running on a ball when I am just pouring drinks and manning the counter. Jeremy came barrelling towards me, sweat and all silently screaming, “You take care here, I’ll go serve the drinks”

I gotta hand it to him, no matter the awkward glances. He’s running this place like Benny is going to give him the keys to the bar next Saturday. And I respect him for that. Everybody calls him a weirdo but he’s always been reliable to the T. Helping me with the accounts, serving customers at lightning speed and sometimes he stays until I leave my shift which I always felt was sweet. Or maybe it’s creepy and I still don’t know how to take cues from strangers. But all I said was a small, “Okay!”

So here I am, serving the nth Long Island Teas to a throng of women adorning body-con dresses chatting up about the next big party happening in the Bahamas and how they should totally look up all the restaurants in the cruise. The back of my hand swept across my sweaty forehead, a pristine fake smile plastered on my face, and deftly moved my shaker as I made another Cosmo for another customer. My hands were gangly, ready to give out but I kept saying “Just 30 mins more, just 30 mins” like a mantra as I broke the ice from the icebox into a perfect rectangular cube, dropped it on the sherry glass and swiftly poured the drink from my shaker and twisting an orange peel on the rim of the glass, my hands shaky as I gave the drink to the lone woman scrolling Instagram chirping, “One Cosmo Ready”

As she graced me with a polite smile, I recognized that the bar rush slowed down; leaving with only a bunch of people standing around. My lungs caved in peace, and finally some rest. 

Or so I thought. 

You know the infamous trope where your eyes meet someone, you know that they are going to change your life forever, well I felt that was an anomaly, maybe it’s true but I feel that’s just attraction you know, or infatuation, but life-changing?

I don’t thi-

I didn't meet the love of my life in some grand fashion, like dancing in the rain or dropping my books onto his feet or the classic colliding on each other’s shoulders. I met him as I was dying my hands on a dish towel, hearing a loud call from a distance screaming, “RAFE CAMERON IS BACK BABY”

I turned around and there he was in his six-foot glory, the man I knew from whispers. 

Rafe Cameron. 

He walked over languidly, with Topper Thorton hand’s resting on his bicep like a loose branch; his arms and entire body swinging as he welcomed his supposed friend with loud, rumbling cheers. Topper was clearly inebriated or the folks say, pissed as hell.

But the first thing my eyes caught on about Rafe Cameron was his eyes. 

They were eerily blue. 

No, not just blue.

They were Aquamarine. 

The pair walked over my direction, to the counter, Rafe sporting a small smile as his unsteady feet went back and forth, his mouth mumbling nonsense as he stopped right in front of my eyeline. Now that I can see him in all his entirety under the blinding warm lights, my brain conjured so many miniscule details about this perfect stranger like the small mole on the back of his left palm, the million freckles that littered his face, short blonde buzzcut ending just inches from his nape, broad shoulders sporting a navy blue and white checkered shirt, grey linen pants with those black Oxford’s; the smell of cigarettes and fresh mint gum on his breath, fingers drumming up on the marble counter in a non-uniform staccato; aquamarine eyes holding a tornado of emotions that I can’t even grasp. And that damn head tilt he graced me as he said to me, 

“Hi, can I get an old-fashioned?”

Fuck, Naya was right. He looks gorgeous. 

“Coming right up” Now that I think about it, I didn’t even recognize that my voice reached that high when I squeaked that response.

He just smiled at me, nodding in understanding. I tried to be nonchalant, not making eye contact as my body mechanically reached up to the whiskey cabinet behind me. As I tipped over to reach the Jack Daniels Bottle, I could physically sense his eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My stance faltered, hands more shaky than usual as I gripped the glass bottle with all my strength, moving right back to my initial position. I can mix an old-fashioned in my sleep at this point, but for some reason, I was not feeling my mojo today. Instead, my feelings were having an out-of-body experience of being…shy for no reason. As I bent down the counter to get the muddle, I heard him say, 

“I have never seen you around here before, you new here?”

I shot right back up, muddle in my left hand and my heart in my other. 

“Umm...depends on how you define new. I started working here around two months ago.” I replied, trying not to meet his eyes. 

“Oh ok, then you are new here. I haven’t been here for three months so yeah, that’s why I didn’t recognize you….Miss?”

He was nearly crowding the counter now, hands on the marble and his face fairly near mine. His eyes wandered to my chest and I was going to have a heart attack at that very moment. Then I realized what he was doing. 

He was looking for my name badge. The badge I forgot to wear today. 

Shit.

“Sofia” 

“Well, Sofia, I am sure that you know my name…” 

Of course. The cokehead, fuckup, nepo-baby of Outer Banks. Bad News. But I didn't tell him that. I just played along with him.

“Oh, I mean I have heard about you but I don’t know for sure if that’s what your name is…I don’t wanna presume, you know”

He was full-on smirking now, “No, no, tell me what you think my name is, I don’t mind being misnamed” 

I tilted my head a bit, putting my fingers on my face, feigning deep thought, “Is it…Ralph, or Rocky or I don’t know, Ryan?”

His mouth went agape and his hands clutched his chest laughing, “Nope, I think you know my name, and by the way, do I even look like my name would be Ryan? God, that would be a disgrace” 

“Sorry, Mr. Rafe. I thought you looked like a Ryan. My deepest, most sincere apologies for the wrong assumptions” I was measuring the bitters now and pouring it into the drink. 

“Hmm…apology half accepted ‘cuz I’ll see if I wanna grant you my full apology after I judge your drink” 

I let out a breathy chuckle as I broke the ice, again, gently stirring the drink, “We’ll see” 

His attention was centered on me now, his focus zeroing on my hands and the way they twisted the single lemon peel around and twirled it on the rim of his glass. I was trembling inside, hoping to God that he wouldn’t catch my countenance stumbling and falling under his gaze. With steady hands and a frenzy heart, I gave the whiskey glass to the blue-eyed man, his hands feathered over my fingers as he took it from me. My hands felt a zap as if I touched lightning with my fingertips. His fingers were not baby-soft like most Kooks since their palms have never touched anything that makes them sweat or even work. His fingers were slightly calloused, my hands feeling the slight ridges of skin peeling off just from a moment of touch.

Fuck, why am I hyper-ventilating. 

This feeling is so unlike my usual range of emotions about Kooks from passivity to anger to slight envy about their riches, shiny gold watches, and their airiness about life that comes with money. And he is the wealthiest of them all. It’s not like my heart is beating like I need to marry this guy tomorrow rather like a wave of curiosity and a lick of infatuation encasing like no other. 

The side of his mouth turned to a slight smicker as he downed the first gulp of my drink, faking a deep thought for a minute as he replied, “Not bad, Ms.Sofia. Not bad at all.”

I was trying to look busy, looking at the blank screen of the bar computer and clicking any buttons as I said, “Told you. Now, can you apologize? Mister Rafe…”

“Cameron. And I do apologize Miss Sofia…?”

I still don’t remember why I said that whacky reply as I looked straight up at stuttered, “Cameron”

Now why did I say that? He was full-on smiling now, clutching the glass in his hands as he said, “Sofia Cameron, sounds like I should have known before ‘cuz you have my last name too.”

I was fumbling so badly, “NO, NO. It’s Ramirez. I’m Sofia Ramirez”

He was slowly shaking his head as he extended his hand to me, “Ok then, Sofia Ramirez. I take your apology in full payment. Shake on it?”

I looked around from side to side, hoping that Benny Bitch wasn’t near me as my hands snaked onto his for a firm handshake, feeling his rough yet delicate hands on mine. Fuck, I need to calm down. 

I was crashing out as I chucked, “You know this is bullshit right. What are we even doing right now?”  

“I don’t know, I thought I was trying to chat up the new bartender of the country club.”

“Well, you should stop 'cause my shift ends in like” I glanced at my imaginary wristwatch as I said, “Now. It’s nice to meet Rafe but I gotta clock out. Hope you have a good night…drinking.” 

He turned around while sitting on the barstool, raising his glass in response, “I will, Miss Sofia. Good night”

As I rushed towards the small outdoor from the counter with my satchel in clutch and my battered white Keds hot on the floor, I could feel Rafe’s eyes hovering over me, gazing at every movement I made, every breath I took. I felt pink with all this attention on me. 

I practically sprinted my way to the main reception as I went up to Maria, the receptionist; signed my name on the register, and reached my beat-down cherry-red Pontiac, Betty. I shut the car door so fast, that my stray hair went flying up to my eyes. God, this is the second time this happened today. 

The car roared to life, as I put my feet on the gas; the radio blasting a random tune. I cranked it up high, not really ready to ruminate over everything that just materialized minutes ago. I heard a pop song playing on the FM, not knowing what specific song it was 

“A very humble apology to talk mid-song but I just wanted the very good evening to all the lovely Outer Banks listeners, this is Bianca Richardson from XOXO FM 207.34. On this fine Wednesday night, I wanna call all the Swifties to sing along to this fine-ass tune so enjoy listening to Gorgeous by my favorite, Taylor Swift”

I hate the cruel play of time. 

“Ocean blue eyes 

Looking in mine

I feel like I might 

Sink and drown and die”

As the song went with only the late July breeze keeping me company, I was naively unaware that my life completely changed that night. As I caught a glimpse of the coastline beside the straight road through the side view mirror, my mind lingered on the color of the waves crashing on the beach. 

They were as blue as his eyes.

***************

Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

HEYYO, Long time no see!!! I am so sorry for the very late update. Life kicked me several times so I needed a long nap. Well here we are, with the first official chapter of the fic. Please please let me know how's the chap cuz I want to improve my writing as much as I can.

By the way, l wanna switch pov's and see what works best but for this one, I chose Sofia's pov. AGAIN LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO SO APPRECIATED, but seriously every time you guys say anything I genuinely feel fireworks in my heart, thank u for your support.

This is just the beginning, you guys are in for a LONG RIDE. I am taking an hour every day for this fic so I'll be trying to update the next chapter as soon as possible even though I am very tight with college and life.

Byeee. Love youuu :)))))))))))

Please lemme know if you wanna be on the tag list.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

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@taestrwbrry

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Jane, Medical Technician

Part 4

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

“I still don’t see why I have to do this,” Simms of the Galley whined, sponge in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.

“Well let’s see,” Huhuma crossed her arms, “you came in here on the first day of the mission with a completely avoidable injury, made us waste precious time and medical supplies, and then somehow thought it’d be a good idea to vandalize my sick bay.”

At her desk, Jane smirked but continued filling out forms. It’d been several months since the Noah had launched, and like clockwork, Simms was there cleaning once a week, every week.

“So unless you want to explain to the Captain exactly why you’re here during your off hours,” the doctor continued, “get back to work.”

It’s been kind of hilarious, in Jane’s opinion, watching all three feet of Simms wielding a broom that had at least half a foot on him, but even she had to admit that the little gray man was putting the effort in. Either he really did feel remorse for his actions, or much more likely, sincerely did not want Captain Skitch to find out what he’d done. Either way, Jane was happy someone else was doing the cleaning.

Simms grumbled something about primate descendant species, then got back to scrubbing.

“Uh huh, and when you’re done there you can wash the test tubes,” Huhuma said, walking back to her office. She winked at Jane as she passed and the human’s heart did a funny little number as the door closed behind her. It took an embarrassingly long moment before Jane could refocus on her files again.

Nothing else had really happened since that night with the Scrib’s dinner and subsequent ‘morning after’, but Jane wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for that, or just disappointed. She’d admitted to herself that yeah, she had a crush on her boss, much to the relief and amusement of her newfound friends Liz and Marrin. Liz’s mandatory therapy session has since devolved into ‘girl talk’ between the three of them, and sometimes Coco, Liz’s Sprygan lab partner.

Totally humiliating, Jane thought, too many people have seen me break down like we’re back in high school.

Jane figured work would be a good way to clear her head, that and watching Simms struggle to reach higher shelves.

After a few minutes of trying to use an old fashioned mop on the walls, the Galley gave up.

“Do you have anything I can use to get up higher? A stool or something?” He asked, defeated. Jane decided to take pity on him.

“Yeah, there’s a little step stool in the supply locker, I’ll get it.”

Jane punched in the code, and the door opened. She handed the small alien the stool.

“Thanks. Weird that the one who tackled me to the floor is actually the nice one,” Simms joked.

“Hey, Huhuma’s nice, really, she just saves it for people who deserve it.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. She’s always nice to you,�� Simms threw her an odd look. “If I’d known you two were mates, I’d have never tried to make jokes that first shift.”

Jane started, taking a second to respond.

“What? No, no, we’re not ‘mates’, we’re… friends, and coworkers, and she’s my boss.”

Smooth.

“Oh really?” Simms turned back to the wall and kept scrubbing. “On my planet, when somebody looks at you the way you both look at each other, it’s pretty obvious what happens behind closed doors.”

“Well thanks, I guess, but if I wanted the opinion of a little gray vandal, I would’ve asked,” Jane said, turning her back on him to continue typing.

“Well, all I’m gonna say is, if you two aren’t together, better get on it soon if you want to be,” Simms droned on, as if only half thinking about what he was saying. “When this ‘experiment’ comes to an end soon it’ll be too late.”

Something in the Galley’s tone made Jane turn back around, her brow furrowing and her eyes squinting at the alien.

“What do you mean ‘soon’? The ship’s only been out for three months,” she asked.

“What?” Simms’s big black eyes widened just a fraction, but it was enough that Jane noticed. “I just… I just mean, it only lasts a year right? That’s not a lot of time for you humans, right?” His eyes twitched and he looked away, scrubbing harder.

Jane wanted to press further, but concluded that he’d just turn it into something stupid to try to get out of cleaning. She did, however, admit that the Galley was right. A year wasn’t a lot of time, and a quarter of it was already spent.

If she really wanted to do something, she’d have to make a decision about what that’d be soon.

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

Jane decided to eat lunch in the mess hall for once, giving Doctor Huhuma total control of the med bay. The doctor would be performing a relatively major procedure on one of the crew soon, and had to plan it with the nurse staff. Jane wouldn’t be assisting unless something unexpected happened. It didn’t make sense to tie up the hands of both the ship’s primary doctors for a whole cycle, in case of emergencies.

So there she was, taking her Vending Machine ramen and looking for a place to sit. Jane hadn’t eaten in the mess hall for weeks, usually opting to dine with the Doctor and the other Indoprimes. Looking for a place to sit, she saw Liz and her Sprygan friend Coco sitting at a table, along with another human, she thought his name was Thomas. She headed that way.

“Hey guys, mind if I sit?” she asked.

“Oh, hey hon!” Liz said brightly, “yeah, pull up a chair.”

“Hey there doc,” Thomas waved. “Heard you watched me sleep for a couple days, thanks for that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jane snapped her fingers, “nasty sunburn you had there, almost forgot about that. You doing alright? How’s Odis?”

“We’re both good, thanks for asking. His cast should be off in a few more days.”

There came a muffled beep from under the table. Thomas looked down.

“Yeah, it’s the nice doctor lady, the one who fixed me,” Thomas said quietly, then turned back up. “Roomba says thanks for patching me up. Little guy was worried about me for a while there apparently.”

“That’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jane said, putting a hand to her chest, “and I need you to know I’d both kill and die for Roomba’s sake.”

Another muffled beep.

“He said he’ll remember the sentiment.”

“Where’s Coco?” she asked Liz.

“Oh, they’re writing a report back to Spryga. Apparently their rapid growth spurt was actionable cause to boost cocoa production on their home planet. Turns out the whole species is just… malnourished isn’t the right word, but anyway, gluten stimulates growth for them so they’re looking into it more.”

“Weird they didn’t know that,” Thomas said through a mouthful of sandwich.

“What can you do, they’re not a predator or prey species, their entire evolutionary development is a passive experience,” Liz shrugged. “They’re just now taking a more direct approach to handling predators on their planet.”

“You know, I almost did a thesis paper on botanical lifeforms in the academy,” Jane said, “it was between that and evolutionary symmetry across planetary systems. I went with the latter.”

“Good choice,” Thomas said. “That’s a way more popular topic right now anyway. Nothing against the Sprygans,” he added, looking at Liz. She just raised an eyebrow at him and kept eating.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, idle brainless chatter filling the space between bites. It wasn’t until Thomas asked the question that Jane even thought of that incident again.

“Either of you guys notice anything weird on the ship?” the engineer asked. “Like stuff going missing or people acting strange?”

“What a blatantly loaded question,” Liz said, raising her eyebrows. “Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”

Thomas just looked at them in turn.

“Yeah, actually,” Jane said, more to Liz’s surprise, and her own, than Thomas’s, “a couple of, uhh, laser scalpels went missing a while ago. I thought I had messed up inventory, but they’re not in med bay. I’ve turned everything over twice looking for them, they’re not there.”

“I overheard my boss this morning saying he’d lost a bag of tools and spare parts somewhere,” Thomas continued, “but it’s not just that. Maintenance has been getting reports of weird breakdowns and other mishaps for weeks. I didn’t notice until now because the weird ones are never assigned to me.”

“Okay, hold on, stop,” Liz waved her hands, “what are we talking about here, some ship wide conspiracy to make our jobs harder? What? Do you hear yourselves?”

Jane was more confused than anything. Sabotage on the ship? Seriously? In what universe did that make sense? They were on an experimental mission for intergalactic cooperation.

Who’d try to screw that up? Jane thought. She took another bite, more to buy herself time to think of what to say than actual hunger.

“Look, all I’m saying is, something weird is going on here on this ship,” Thomas whispered, looking around at the other tables with all those different species. “Have either of you talked to Danny?”

“Who?” Jane asked.

“Chief Ducane, Danny, the head of security,” he explained.

“Right! That’s right, he’s the one who carried Liz here to med bay after her accident. No, not since then. Why?”

“Because somebody searched his office while the door was jammed open.”

Liz turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, while Jane herself simply looked dumbfounded.

“The hell are you talking about?” Liz questioned, dropping her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Yeah, I was with him when it happened,” Thomas explained. “We were looking into something, and when he got back to his office someone had been in there.”

“Jesus,” Jane exclaimed. That really put the incident with Simms in perspective for her.

“Why are you telling us any of this?” she asked. “Chief Ducane had to have told you to keep that to yourself, right?”

Another muffled beep. Jane looked under the table to see the tiny service drone peeking its head out of Thomas’s work bag. It had what looked like a modded data pad.

“Roomba said that is correct,” Thomas explained, “though clearly not in so many words.”

“And?” Liz stared at him.

“I… had to tell somebody,” Thomas said sheepishly, “it was eating me alive, and I figured if anyone was safe to tell, it’d be the humans. We have the most to lose if the mission goes sideways. We built the ship, it launched from Earth orbit, the new Warp core was what put us in such good graces with the GAIL in the first place. If something derails the mission, then we Terrans are going to look the worst because of it.”

Jane didn’t know what to say to that. An hour ago her biggest problem was that she might stay perpetually single. Now it looked like their jobs in their entirety were in danger, maybe worse.

The three talked a while longer, exchanging comm-link communication codes, and unwittingly eyeballing the other crew in the mess hall for any odd behavior. Intelligence agents they were not. Jane thought the crew was watching them as well, but that could have just been because they hadn’t seen three humans together before.

Jane Shaw wished she’d had a lighter meal. She left the mess hall with her stomach in knots.

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

“Jane, respond please!”

The comm-link on Jane’s hip blipped as Huhuma’s voice came out of it. She pulled it off her belt and clicked the button.

“What’s up, Doc? Need something?” She clicked off, waiting for a response.

“We need you in the surgery suite, one of the nurses accidentally spilled anesthetic gel on themselves and I need you to substitute immediately.”

Another odd accident, huh? Jane thought suspiciously, silently cursing Thomas for making her paranoid.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Jane took off at a brisk pace down the hall to the lift, trying her hair up as she went.

She scrubbed down in the sanitation room and got her scrubs and PPE on, then made her way into the surgical suite. The nurse staff were half around the patient, who was mostly obscured by the sheet save for an exposed patch of blue skin with a sizable hole in it, the other half around Nurse Waas, a four armed Zilont, who was slumped over in the corner. The anesthetic had semi paralyzed the gas bladders they used for muscles, so until they regained feelings in their limbs again they were out of commission.

“Good, you’re here,” Huhuma said while her hands were inside the open body cavity, “I’ve mostly got this under control, but things got a little hectic in here so I thought it’d be better to call you.”

“It’s no problem doctor,” Jane brushed it off, “what do you need me to do?”

“They’re going to take Waas out of here and get him on a bed in recovery, so I need you to take over for the three of them while I finish up. Hand me those clips.”

Jane came around to the operating side and set the clips in Doctor Huhuma’s hand. She didn’t even mind the purple blood too much.

“There’s a little bleed somewhere in his bowels,” Huhuma explained, “he got shaken around when Waas collapsed and I think I nicked something. This was just supposed to be a quick obstruction removal until everything went wrong.”

“Everything is gonna be fine Huhuma,” Jane said calmly, “we got this. What else do you need?”

That was how they worked. Doctor Huhuma operated, making adjustments and stopped the bleeding, while Jane handled everything else and watched the beautiful work her counterpart did. To her it was like poetry in purple bloody motion. Every move precise, every action calculated. Jane remembered the last surgery she performed, where her patient was basically awake as she cut into his throat. Compared to that, this was like watching an artist in her studio, calmly going painting a masterpiece. Jane hadn’t seen Huhuma operate yet, and she had to say, it was impressive. As she was closing him up, Jane doubted he’d even have a scar, the Doctor’s stitch work was flawless.

Coming out of the surgical suite, the nurse staff took the patient to recovery, and the Doctors hung back to sanitize and get back into normal clothes.

“Good work today,” Huhuma said, washing her hands. “You really came through for me.”

“My pleasure, Doc,” Jane said, lathering up her arms with the soap. “Happy to help.”

“I didn’t know what I was going to do when that gel tube burst out the back. Poor Waas, never saw it coming. Had to have been a faulty seal on the stuff, just bad luck that it happened while I had someone open on the table.”

Jane looked at her for a second, thinking quickly. Bad luck? Maybe. Another possible sabotage? She didn’t want to think about it.

“You know,” Huhuma continued, “you humans never disappoint. Always seem to come through for others in the end. You especially, Jane. This is the second time you being there has saved a patient. I really, really appreciate that about you.”

Huhuma bumped her shoulder into Jane’s, and all thoughts of a saboteur flew out the air lock. Suddenly she was very aware that it was just the two of them in the decontamination room, and that Huhuma’s tail was flicking against the back of her legs.

“Well you know,” Jane said slowly, “it’s my job too. Be there to make sure everything works, fix people up.”

Huhuma smiled and dried her hands and fur off before putting her hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“Still though, we should do something special. Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some kind of… reward, right?” Huhuma left her hand on Jane’s shoulder and moment longer before grinning and walked towards the door. It opened with a hiss, and as she stood there, the good doctor looked back.

“See you tomorrow, Doctor Shaw.”

And then the door closed.

And then Jane’s legs buckled and she slumped against the sink.

What the hell what the hell what the actual fuck does that mean? Is this work place harassment? Do I care? Am I into it?

Apparently!

Of the many problems aboard the Noah, Jane decided to try to focus on just hers for the time being.

[kkarmiic]

# BROTHERS WITH AN FEMININE PRESENTING M!READER

F!Reader DNI!

🫐 ‘CONTENT AND WARNINGS

\\ synopsis: how the brothers would react to an MC who presents fem

‘+ genre: fluff

*# warnings: reader wears skirts, lower level demons referenced to say negative things about your clothing style.

#’ LUCIFER

He was aware you were a guy from your files, however what he wasn’t aware of was your style:

When you arrived, to say he was taken aback would be an understatement.

He understood the photo of you on file was old but he didn’t think it was THAT old.

You looked so… different?

However he didn’t let his feelings show, simply introducing himself and continuing with his regular business.

To his credit, (or discredit), he did become a little extra on checking your gender and pronouns with you. ‘Just incase.’ But you understood it was because of the way you looked.

He really does like the way you dress though, he thinks it suits you perfectly, and if you two date he’d let it be known.

He’d sprinkle in little compliments here and there. “That skirt really brings out the colour of your eyes.”

He’d also get reminded of you when running errands, and would come back with a bag of clothes he did not intend on buying.

He may not be a frivolous spender, but he does certainly like spoiling you.

If you ask to do his makeup and hair, I’m sorry, but he would not let you do that, he likes his refined masculine look a bit TOO much.

If you were dating, he would let you, but guarantee there will be no pictures and he will not be leaving the room with it on, that will be your secret and your secret only.

If anyone said anything negative about the way you dressed, or just looked in general, he would guarantee they’re unable to utter another word.

It’s part of his job, not only as a friend/partner, but to Lord Diavolo, to make sure that you stay comfortable and safe in the devildom, and he will NOT. Be having some lower level demon talk you out of wearing something you love.

#’ MAMMON

I think while at first, he would make some comments about it, he’d end up loving it.

He’s greedy, and not only just for money, but for your time and affection too.

Secretly loves it when you sit on his lap wearing a skirt, no matter what he’s doing.

Or when you give him a whole fashion show of new clothes you brought.

He will pretend he doesn’t like it, but he definitely does.

He doesn’t really… have a lot of money.

But hey, his gambling addiction also stretches to arcades, so atleast you’re winning a stuffed toy out of it??

He likes peppering your face in kisses, letting you know how truly gorgeous you look.

He would take so many photos of you, just out and about doing things (with prior consent ofcourse), he just wants to see your face when you’re busy.

If any demon says anything mean to you about your fashion style, he would go off on them.

“That’s MY human you’re talkin’ about!” Before literally ripping them apart.

#' LEVIATHAN

Is super blushy around you, even when you first met.

He admires your confidence and your style, even though he doesn't dress that way, he can understand why you do.

Won't say much about it, not because he isn't affected by it, but because he can't without stuttering and tripping over his words.

If you cosplay one of his favourite characters?

Instant. Marriage.

He's always taking photos of you.

Basically has a whole album just dedicated to you.

If you ask to do his makeup?

He will be neutral, that is until you sit on his lap to do it.

Especially if you're wearing a skirt while doing so.

He just stops responding.

He doesn't believe he deserves you, you're too perfect.

You’ll probably need to reassure him that you love him.

Hates when people compliment you, you’re HIS normie. Especially when it’s on an outfit he brought for you or that you specifically wore for him.

And if a lower level demon talks down on you and the way you dress? He won’t have that.

Demon form Levi!

Not only will he chew them out, he will also ruin their physical body.

#' SATAN

He knows a decent bit about humans, and he understands that self expression is often shown through clothes and style.

He’s decently unbothered, although is curious as to why you chose to dress like that, how it makes you feel, when you discovered your fashion sense etc.

Once you tell him, he’s gonna be the most respectful guy about it, nodding and going ‘mhm’ at every sentence during your explanation.

He is pretty interested in your fashion actually.

I also HC this man knows how to sew, so if you get a hole in your favourite skirt or sweater please come to him, he will sew it right up and make it as good as new.

Little comments here and there that completely flatter you, talking about how the material of the skirt is really nice, how you look so pretty in it.

He will also find books with a feminine guy as the love interest or main character to read to you, he HUNTS for them.

And if he reads them on his own? He pretends he’s the love interest to the feminine guy who he’s pretending is you.

But if anyone says anything mean?

Well he isn’t the avatar of wrath for nothing.

He will ruin their physical form, he won’t let anyone treat you that way. Stupid lower level demons.

#' ASMODEUS

He absolutely adores the way you dress, even from the moment he met you.

As a sort of feminine guy himself, he knows exactly what would suit you, and exactly where to get the clothes.

Shopping dates!

Will bring you around to all of his favourite stores, letting you pick out anything you want.

He will also pick out a few items he feels will look good on you.

"Mc! Mc! Try on this skirt!"

Makes you do a whole fashion show for him in the changing rooms.

"Twirl! I like that~"

Posts you and what you wear all the time.

Definitely takes the best photos of you! Your Instagram is gonna be incredible after he's done!

Asks to do your makeup/hair

Matching outfits!!

If you try and do his makeup and hair, he will love it, commenting on how nice it feels, laughing when you run brushes over his skin.

When it comes to someone saying something negative about the way you dress or the way you look, ohohoh.

He will tear them to pieces, psychologically.

"You're really speaking when wearing that jacket? It's so hideous!"

Will scoff at them and ignore them if they speak to him after.

He's your number-one supporter!

#' BEELZEBUB

Not bothered about the way you dress, definitely leans more to positive than negative, but relatively in the middle.

He thinks it’s fun how you two are the opposites in dress style.

Takes you out to nice dinner dates and will always compliment you on your outfit.

He doesn’t really understand what would look good with the rest of your outfits and what wouldn’t, and so he goes to Asmodeus for help on gifts.

Ends up coming back with a necklace with a food charm on it, he can’t keep away from food related items, it’s sweet.

If you want to go to those cutesy cafes with him, just say so, because he’d go no questions asked.

“Ooh! This treat looks good… so does that!”

“Beel, just order the whole menu.”

“Good idea.”

If you want to go to the gym with him?

Buff feminine men… mouth watering from him.

He won’t stop staring, would definitely say something like “I want to eat you” BUT NOT IN THE.. YK WAY..

He means it like you look good.

He’s like a guard dog basically and so if anyone said anything mean about your fashion, or just you in general.

Well, he’s having demon for dinner!

#' BELPHEGOR

I honestly don’t think he’d care about how you dress, not in a rude way, but as a ‘it’s not a big thing to him.’

You’d look pretty in PJS and bed hair, it doesn’t matter to him, aslong as you let him rest on you.

Speaking of resting on you, if you wore one of those itchy sweaters, he WILL complain.

“Y/N… How do you even wear this?”

He will complain until you take it off.

He definitely didn’t have any problems with misgendering you or being confused on your gender at the start, after all, at first he only heard your voice, not how you dressed.

He loves you, and will try and make up for what he did to you, he’s scared that you don’t forgive you.

That includes getting you things when you’re out, skirts or sweaters, he just wants you to forgive him. And even though you do, he doesn’t completely believe that.

If you want to do his makeup and hair, he will grumble about it, but will ultimately let you, but don’t expect him to stay awake during it all, he will just fall asleep so do it before he rolls over!

If a lower demon says anything negative about you, he will go insane.

Uses up all his energy to tear them apart (physically)

The brothers wouldn’t stop him, they know they can’t anyway, he would be SO angry, seeing your sad face at their comments.

They won’t be saying anything anymore, they can’t anyway.

POSTED BY: APOLLO

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 1

WC: 2,6k

Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Meeting, Fluff, Protectiveness, Discussion About Being Transgender, Transphobia  (warning for that if someone's sensitive to it), not from swiss tho he's supportive!!!

Swiss has been travelling for a while. He finally gets to a place he can rest in and meets an unique individual. He's immediately enamored.

Notes: comm for @jazz-bazz, first part of our au! ty bex <3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

He’s been sweating his ass off for three days before something resembling civilization has finally come along. He’s half dead, his chick is half dead, and all he wants is to get a pint of cold beer and a damn bed.

The town—barely big enough to be called such—is obviously sparsely populated. Swiss doubts it’s even inhabited at first, but the closer he gets the more signs of life he’s noticing and the hope in him grows. He leans down to pat his chick’s neck and sighs at the puff of dust coming off of her.

“Soon, girlie. I’m gonna give ya a good brush, you deserve it.” The mare nickers and the pair continue their slow walk toward the town. It doesn’t take that long for them to make their way into the shadow casted by the town’s buildings. It smells like cow’s shit, but the people obviously have more water and food than they really need, which means there is a chance Swiss and his horse will get some. If not given freely, he’ll take it, but he is tired and he hopes their visit in that place will go smoothly.

Swiss doesn’t see any heads peeking out of doors or windows to look at him, neither threateningly nor curiously, as he looks around searching for any sign that would indicate where he can find a bar. He really needs a beer.

His knees crack when he jumps down from his mare. The ground is dry and a cloud of dust arises as his boots touch it. He finds something that could be a spot for travelers’ horses and as he leaves his chick there he hopes nobody will shoot her off if he was mistaken. It’s a solid roof over a spot covered in a thick layer of straw, with buckets full of fresh looking water hanging off of wooden beams and cubes of hay under them. Inviting enough.

Swiss pulled the reins over the mare’s neck and pulled the bit out of her mouth before tying her to one of the beams by the water. He hopes she won't be too picky. “Drink, girlie, I’ll be back soon.”

He pats her on the ass on his way and walks away, heading into the adjoining building. The batwing doors’ hinges squeal loudly as Swiss walks into what indeed is a saloon. It’s nearly empty, only two men are sitting in a corner and talking quietly over drinks. Swiss scans the space and even though it’s empty, it seems nice. The men from the corner don’t acknowledge his presence, but he doesn’t crave attention this time, so it is fine by him. It’s a bit colder there than outside and he already feels some relief.

Swiss goes straight to the bar and just as he’s sitting down on one of the squeaky stools the barmaid walks out from behind a dark brown curtain hanging between the shelves. A gorgeous, tall wo…man? They are a very pretty man, if that's the case. He shrugs, though, it’s none of his business.

They are wearing a long, light green dress—a little old fashioned in style, but it’s a good piece. Little dirty-white apron covers the dress from their waist down to where their knees are under the skirt. The dress doesn’t have sleeves, only straps digging into their shoulders and going down to create a laced neckline that makes their tits look very compelling. Their hair is long and wavy, a beautiful shade of dark amber flowing down their back and over their shoulders.

Their eyes, though…oh, their eyes are what makes Swiss’ belly swoop and his mouth go even drier than it already was. Big—adorned by thick and long lashes—and in the color of the healthiest, most fresh, summer grass ever. Swiss haven’t seen grass as green in years.

“Anything to drink for you?” They ask, picking up a rag to wipe the bar. More to busy themself than because it’s dirty. If anything it’s dusted over from unuse. 

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?” Swiss winks, his head tilted to the side. He knows he most definitely looks like a creep, but he can’t stop staring.

“Oh, me? Uhm–thank you?” they stutter as blush creeps up their cheeks, coloring them a light rosy pink. Gorgeous. “What…what about that drink?”

“Get me a pint of some good ole beer, sweetheart. Pretty please.” 

“Mhm,” they nod, obviously flustered, and turn to disappear behind the curtain again. Swiss sighs—he really is exhausted—as he rests his chin on his fist, his other hand scratching at his stubble. Well, more like a beard, he didn’t have much time or opportunities to take care of it, so it’s a bit unkept now.

Soon enough the bar…person returns with Swiss’ beer and hands it to him with a light smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he mutters, nodding, before pressing his lips against the chilly mug and tipping it back. He moans at the refreshing feeling washing over him the moment beer pours into his mouth.

“Is it that good?” the person chuckles, leaning against the wall with their hands crossed over their chest. Their beautiful, full chest and it’s–Swiss shakes his head. He ain’t seen no tits in ages but he isn’t an animal, damnit.

“Nah,” he snorts before taking another gulp. “It’s piss, but I’ve been dry as a desert, sweetheart.”

The person curls their lips into a little amused smile and turns, grabbing the rag and starting to wipe the bar again. Swiss tries to not be obvious in his staring—looking from under the rim of his hat. The stranger is so captivating, he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta ask–” Swiss starts after clearing his throat, but gets cut off. The other probably expected it to go that way.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve encountered in a long time,” they say with a smirk and Swiss bows his head, grinning. “Phrase your question as nicely and there’s a chance I won’t take out the revolver from under the bar and shoot your hat off.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He recoils dramatically, raising his arms defensively. “You’re too pretty for me to offend, don’t ya worry.”

“So?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The question lands, but no offense shows on the person’s face. Swiss continues. “Cause if you’re a boy, then you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot—and if you’re a girl, then…well, then you’re the prettiest one of those.”

“I’m a woman, kind sir,” she laughs, fully this time, and the melodic sound of it goest through Swiss’ ears right to his heart, “you haven’t proven yourself worthy of permission to call me a girl. Yet.”

“Understood. I'd love to try and prove my worth.” He winks and lifts the mug nodding, as if in a toast. “You’re a gorgeous woman, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I do understand the confusion, though, even my own body didn’t get the memo.” She sighs, fidgeting with her hands and worrying her lip between her teeth. Swiss gets a sudden urge to gently pull it free, lest she breaks the skin and paints her mouth with blood, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, they’ve just met. Swiss doesn’t know what possessed him.

“Huh, that’s so…” He mumbles, staring holes into the already rugged wood of the countertop. With the corner of his eye he sees the barmaid pull up a chair on the other side of the bar and sit on it, right before him.

“Unnatural?” she finishes for him, but her guess of his thoughts couldn’t be falser.

“No, I wanted to say it makes you unique. It’s amazing,” Swiss says—confident—looking up at her again. She is so much closer now and so many more details of her beauty are visible to the man, and if she’d let him he’d count all the golden freckles adorning her face a hundred times over.

“Oh…” she whispers. Swiss doesn’t count her freckles, but he does follow the path of a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Well, uhm, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel amazing most of the time.”

“That must be tough,” he replies, wondering. “Is it like…like you don’t feel right in your body? Like it’s not yours?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she has no idea why she’s suddenly spilling her innermost thoughts to a stranger she has met not even half an hour prior. There is something about him, though, that makes her feel safe and maybe carries a chance of finally being understood. Even if just a bit. “And sometimes I just feel…wrong all around.”

Swiss hums in acknowledgement and leans down to his mug, swallowing down a few gulps. Once his mouth is unoccupied again, he asks, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Mountain,” the barmaid says, “but I prefer just Mounty.”

Swiss snorts at that, but immediately regrets it upon seeing Mounty’s brows furrow in confusion and her eyes fill with a tiny bit of hurt. “Sorry, sweetheart, I ain’t laughing at you! My horse’s name is Monty, that’s why!”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she relaxes and chuckles, too, a bit embarrassed by her immediate defensiveness. “Yeah, that is funny.”

“Nice to meet you, Mounty.”

“Won’t you give me your name?” the barmaid’s eyelashes flutter and Swiss wouldn’t be able to refuse or lie to her even if he wanted to.

“Swiss, sweetheart,” he says, lifting up the mug again. “My name’s Swiss.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Swiss,” Mounty replies, her face lighting up with a soft smile, and if Swiss was standing it would make his knees buckle. Still, his insides warm up and twist and he’s never felt like that; so stupid and…vulnerable.

Swiss feels himself blush and he quickly hides behind his mug.

“Would you–” Mounty is about to ask him something, but a squeak of the doors and heavy steps interrupt her.

“Afternoon!” a stranger calls out, walking into the saloon as if it was his own ground. Swiss looks up at the barmaid and sees her tense up—her lips turn into a thin line and her brows furrow. She knows the man and she isn't fond of him in the slightest.

Swiss doesn’t like that look on her.

“Afternoon, sir,” Mounty mutters, standing up. The man doesn’t reply, just walks over and sits down by the bar next to Swiss. He is alert after Mounty’s reaction, one of his hands close to his gun.

“Get me some whiskey, girl,” the stranger grumbles, spitting the last word out like it burns his tongue, like an insult. Swiss realizes it is supposed to be one and the knot inside him tightens, this time with something resembling anger. How can someone treat such a gorgeous, brilliant and kind creature without utmost respect?

“Hey, she ain’t your girl,” Swiss hisses as Mounty disappears to get the man’s drink. He won’t sit there and pretend he is okay with what is happening right next to him. “Bark orders at your wife like that. If you even have one, it don’t seem like you’ve got a lot to offer.”

“Why do you care?” the stranger scoffs, “he’s a freak.”

One second Swiss is sitting relaxed, sipping on his beer, and then in the next he’s up with his back straight, looming over the other man and staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“I suggest you either apologize to her when she gets back,” he growls, reaching behind himself, to his revolver, “or get out now so neither of us have to see your ugly face any more. Or else…”

“Or else what!? Ya one of them, too, hm?” the man—clearly an idiot—snarls, craning his neck to look up at Swiss, pretending to be brave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no balls on you.”

“Oh, I’ve got enough balls, asshole,” Swiss laughs and that seems to hit. He pulls his revolver out from behind his belt, twists it on his finger and watches the other man hesitate about his next words. “You wanna lose yours?”

The man scoffs as if there wasn’t fear in his eyes. He’s a coward and he storms out accordingly, because it’s unlikely he knows better than to actually challenge Swiss. He doubts he knows who he was.

Just as the man disappears outside, Mounty returns with a glass of whiskey intended for him. There’s no smile on her face and her rather neutral expression turns to confusion as she sees only Swiss by the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he realized he left something at home.” Swiss shrugs, returning to his stool.

“And what would that be?”

“Respect for women,” he says with a smirk and Mounty returns it, knowing and thankful. She sits again and looks at the glass in her hand before pressing it against her lips and cringing as she tips it back to drink. “Not a fan?”

“Not at all,” she coughs and Swiss chuckles. She is adorable. “All I drink is tea.”

“Tea is good,” he says and looks into his mug—there was still some beer left. He lifts it again and silence falls for a moment.

“You really are nice to talk to,” Mounty speaks after a while. “I get called a freak and other names all the time, usually the moment I come into someone’s view. It’s nice to be treated normally, have my feelings acknowledged…and be protected. You know?”

“I can only imagine.” Swiss smiles at her fondly. It must be hard living like that. Trying to live right by yourself and offending others by simply existing, just because they are too thick-skulled. If he could, he'd sit on that creaky chair every damn day and chase off every single man who'd as much as look at Mounty wrong.

It’s quiet again, Swiss finishing up his beer and Mounty drinking her whiskey—frowning at every single sip. They have just met, but the silence is comfortable. It feels like not only did they know each other for ages, but that they have a…special connection, of a kind.

Swiss snorts at his own thoughts. He’s stupid for them, for thinking this is anything more than…than what, exactly?

“A’ight, sweetheart,” he sighs after a moment, breaking the dead silence. “I should get going, find somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ve got beds,” Mounty perks up, immediately shying away as she realizes she might’ve been a bit too enthusiastic, “if you want…”

“I’d love a bed, but I don’t have much money,” the man shrugs. He’d rip anyone off without any remorse, but not her. He’s never gotten a soft spot for someone as fast as he did for her. “And I’d rather get a place for my horse than myself.”

“And if it’d all be on the house?”

“What, like me so much already you don’t want me to leave?” Swiss laughs, winking.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mounty scoffs, but her own wink says something else. “You’re clearly exhausted, who would I be if I let you go back on the road without a proper rest?”

“Will you at least accept my help in here and in the stables as a payment?”

“I can consider it,” she mumbles, smiling softly as she stares at Swiss through her lashes.

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, sweetheart.”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Is the Alphabet still going on? If so can I please get I, J, K, L and N with Paulie?? I’m sooooo starved for content for this man!!

Paulie my beloved~

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Paulie leans towards some old-fashioned mindsets as far as your relationship goes. Getting married at some point in the near future feels like a given to him. As soon as he's developed a romantic interest in you, it'll only take him a few months to propose. He won't take no for an answer when he does. Any attempt to reject him will be misinterpreted as you just being shy or playing hard to get. He's eager to be a good husband and provider for you and loves the idea of being able to come home to his darling at the end of a long day.

While he does like the idea of potentially having children with you, he's too shy to bring it up. It'll be up to you if you guys have any.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Paulie gets horribly jealous very easily. He doesn't want anyone to so much as looking at you. Ideally, he wants to keep you locked away in his home, only letting you out when he's with you. It's a toss up if he'll be more mad at you or the other person that's making him jealous. So long as you don't do a single thing that could be interpreted as reciprocating the other person's "advances", Paulie will just focus on getting rid of them. He makes it quick, usually just punching their lights out and flinging them away using his ropes.

If he thinks that you were even a little bit into it, he'll go quiet and stare at you with the scariest expression. The other person is still getting their ass beat, but now you're in trouble, too. He'll drag you back home while being eerily silent, but once you're behind closed doors, he's in your face and yelling at you for being a "harlot" amongst other far worse things. Then he'll restrain you with ropes and leave you alone in your shared room until he's calmed down enough to talk.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In public, he always has a hand on you while scrutinizing everyone around you. Other people see him as being an overprotective but well meaning boyfriend.

In private, he's much more affectionate. He can't get enough of you. He's always finding an excuse to be touching you, though he prefers anything where he's holding you from behind. The reason for this is because he gets more flustered when he can see your face. He enjoys helping you out in any way that he can, but he also wants you to dote on him in return.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

His behavior before you get together does nothing to tip you off. He's constantly flustered and blushing whenever you're around. You can definitely tell that he has a crush, but you have no idea how deep that goes. He initially tries to get you interested in him by giving you little gifts or offering his services to fix anything of yours that's broken.

The more that you indulge him, the more bold he gets. You might come home and find him fixing the hinges on your bathroom door even though you never gave him permission to come over. Or let him in. The gifts also start getting more grand and expensive (much to the frustration of his debt collectors). At this point, he already considers you two to be in a relationship and will casually refer to you as his significant other.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

While he would never physically hurt you, he can lash out verbally if you do something to upset him. If you really push him, he'll tie you up with ropes and leave you alone in a dark room for hours until he's calmed down and you've "learned your lesson". If you got any rope burns during this, he would get this guilty look on his face and silently clean and bandage the wounds. He doesn't apologize, though, because he believes that you ultimately deserved it.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Oh Wow

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake sees you for the first time and his life is never the same again.

Warnings: Allusion to smut, kinda (not w/reader). Cursing. Mention of alcohol.

Notes: Flashback part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can definitely be read alone. 

Words: 1900

Jake watched you through the mass of people. Every move you made. The shape of your lips as you spoke to other patrons. The uncertainty in your choices as you attempted to fill orders. He’d never seen you before, but wherever you came from, you sure as hell weren’t a bartender. You clearly had little idea of what you were doing, but the smile on your face hiding the hint of nerves was charming enough to distract anyone. Whether approaching you for alcohol or a moment of your attention, people suddenly found themselves incredibly patient. He noticed you adding a bit too much whiskey to an Old Fashioned that made the man asking for it nearly choke, and so much syrup to a cocktail that the drinker would undoubtedly get a sugar rush, but the receivers of both grinned through the mistakes, winked at you, and eventually came back for more. 

You were something else; that was undeniable. And whatever power you had over everyone extended to Jake the moment he laid eyes on you. It floated over and wrapped itself around him in a neatly tied little bow that he had zero intention of undoing. It kept him tethered to his spot, allowing him to have a clear view of you and forcing him to leave his friends in the back of his mind. They gave him questioning looks, but he didn’t care. He’d never before yearned and craved as instantly as he did when he saw you. 

"This is the first time I've ever witnessed you giving all of your attention to a woman who hasn't even bothered to notice you yet,” Rooster said, coming up beside him. "It's interesting. Refreshing.” He took a sip of his beer, obnoxiously smacking his lips as he savored the amber liquid. "A nice change of pace, you know?"

Teasing was inevitable. As the night carried on Jake had heard his teammates’ snickers gather in frequency—something he wasn’t known for letting them get away with, especially after such an exhausting workday, but his sour mood flipped after stepping into the bar and he easily let it all go. 

Rooster kept speaking, but Jake only found it to be an irritating buzz in his ear that was unsuccessful in getting him to tear his gaze away from the woman before him. "Do you know much about her?"

Rooster playfully scoffed at the interruption. "She's only been working here a few nights. Penny hired her last week,” he informed Jake. "She's new in town. Real sweet thing."

You suddenly laughed, head thrown back in unrestrained joy, and Jake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat. His peripherals saw Rooster’s head make a quick turn as if he knew how that melodic sound would affect him. How it would impact his pulse, the blood rushing through his veins, adding a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

The other pilot blew out a breath. “Well shit, man. Did you already pick out your future kids' names?"

"Shut up."

"China patterns?"

"Leave me alone."

Rooster’s lips pressed together in a hum. He didn’t show any indication of doing as Jake demanded, so Jake figured he’d use him as long as he might still be useful.

“What’s her name?” Jake asked. He hadn't realized how badly he needed your name; how desperate he was for it. Might have begged for it if Rooster wouldn’t give it over.

“You’ve got children and a china pattern and you don’t even know her name? A bit backwards, don’t you think?”

Jake finally tore his eyes away from you just to shoot Rooster the glare he deserved. “I’m never saving your life again.”

“Well, if that’s going to be your attitude then you can just ask her yourself.” He raised a dark brow in challenge. Rooster knew, just as Jake did, that he’d never looked at a woman the way he looked at you. That changed the game. Caused his confidence to stutter. 

But he managed to calmly, evenly say, "Fine. I will.”

And he would…eventually.

—-

Approaching you wasn’t one of the simpler tasks Jake had faced in his life but he mustered the will nonetheless, taking step after step until he was directly in front of you. Only two feet of cherry wood bartop kept you out of arms reach, and goddamn, did he wish it wasn't there so he could reach out, touch you, feel you. 

It had grown late without him noticing. The crowd had died down and you immediately took note of him, looking up to meet his stunned stare. If he thought you were beautiful from afar, up close…up close you were otherworldly, and Jake was thankful he hadn’t attempted to speak because there was no way he would have been able to keep from choking on his first word. 

“Hi,” you said, smiling wide, your eyes bright. His heart clenched. “What can I get you?”

“Uh…” Right. He was supposed to want something. Well, he did want something, but not to drink. “Just a beer. Please.”

He hadn’t realized your shoulders were so tense, high up to your ears until they relaxed. Your chest deflated. “Oh, thank god.”

“Long night?”

"You could say so." You reached below the bar to grab a glass, asked him his preference, and began to fill it before continuing. “Don’t tell anyone,” you said, “but I’m not very good at this.”

The honesty was wildly endearing. He couldn’t help but grin and shake his head as the apparent ease of speaking with you settled a blanket of comfort over him. Leaning forward and resting his forearms across the bar, he said, “Nah, don’t worry Honey, you’re doing fine.”

You placed the glass in front of him, curiosity swirling in your gaze. “You’ve been watching me?”

Then Jake’s spine immediately straightened like someone had shoved a wooden board up the back of his shirt. The nerves he thought he’d freed made themselves known once again. He cleared his throat to buy time in searching for an excuse to have been staring at you all night, but you saved him from having to find one.

“I’m just teasing,” you chuckled. “And don’t worry about your future drinks. I plan to do a lot of practicing, so I’ll be a pro in no time. I promise.”

Jake released his held breath. Fuck, he liked you. He liked you and it took next to nothing to have him falling into an emotional well he wouldn’t so simply climb his way out of. 

He extended his hand your way. “I’m Jake,” he started, “Seresin.”

Your palm slid against his. Soft. So damn soft. He held onto you for as long as he could, and you didn’t seem in any hurry to pull away, but eventually you did with a blush spreading over your cheeks. You gave him your name. It was perfect; beautiful. Everything about you was so, so beautiful. 

“So you're Jake Seresin,” you said, unraveling the thread of tension. “Well, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“You know me?”

“Of you,” you confirmed. “I’ve heard a bit from Penny’s nephew and one or two of the other bartenders.”

Jake internally groaned. Rooster and past flings were not where he wanted you gathering your information. Of anyone—anyone—in the state of California to speak on his behalf, they were not likely to do so highly. Rooster was, well…Rooster, and those other bartenders were participants in a past experience that, while a truly unique time, Jake had tried to put far behind him after upsetting them by denying their offer for a repeat performance. 

With a sigh, he said, “Whatever they told you, it’s all lies.”

“Is that right?” you asked, crossing your arms. “So you’re not one of the best pilots this country has to offer?”

Alright, that one he didn’t expect. Maybe he’d be buying his friend a few of your signature questionable drinks in the near future. 

“And you’re not a good kisser?”

Oh, God. His eyelids pinched briefly. That required more of an explanation. “Um…ok so—” Your fingers pressed to your lips to conceal a giggle and all embarrassment sloughed away from Jake’s body. A grin took its place. You were a damn angel for taking information like that and making light of it to alleviate any discomfort. "I take it back. You’ve been talking to the most honest people you’ll ever come by.”

You laughed again and you really had to stop doing that because it was pulling him apart piece by piece and turning him into a mass of mush on the floor. 

“I hope the same can be said for you,” you smirked. “If I ever look bad or something, be sure to let me know.”

“Honey, you’ve never looked bad a day in your life. I guarantee it.”

It was out of his mouth so quickly. The amusement in your eyes fell to something deeper as the curve of your lips settled into a gentle part, a perfect space slightly separating them; enough for his tongue to slip between if he ever had the chance to kiss you. Eyes connected, boring into one another and once again surfacing that lovely tension. 

He could stay there for ages if he wasn’t so concerned with what was passing through your mind. But he’d never know, because with a few rapid flutters of your eyelids and a sift of your fingers through your hair, that tension—those tight threads weaving throughout his stomach and chest—snapped. 

Your tongue darted out to dampen your lips. “Let me ask you something, Jake Seresin.”

“Anything.”

You leaned over the bar a bit and he did the same; drawn forward by your magnetic pull. 

Looking away from him, you swallowed as if weighing the words you planned to give him. Then your eyes flitted up to his. “Do you come here as often as your teammates?”

Whatever you had debated speaking aloud no longer mattered because what came out of those pillowy lips was so much better than anything he had mentally prepared himself for. Let me ask you something, Jake Seresin…are you normally this forward? This aggressive? This cocky that you could pathetically flirt with a woman like me? But no, you were asking him what he did, how he spent his time, maybe, just maybe, hoping he’d spend more of it in your presence. 

“Would you like me to come here often?” he asked. No playfulness behind the question, but a genuine need to hear your agreement. Just an inkling that you wanted him around as much as he wanted to be around you. 

“I would.” You gave a nod. “If I’m honest, Jake, I'd like to have someone—a friend.”

A friend. A friend he could be. I’d be anything for you, he found himself thinking before he could absorb how needy that made him sound. But he was needy. He wanted more. He’d always want more. The little you’d given him since he approached you was like tossing crumbs to a starving man. 

“Then, Honey,” Jake said, his lips peeled back in a broad grin, “you’ve got yourself a friend.”

And one day, maybe it would be more. 

 ----

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