#OOC: Next couple days I plan on addressing my replies

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

🅾

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Pipsqueak (S.R.)

Summary: The only thing shorter than Reader is their patience. Request: Spencer is constantly teasing Reader about her height (like 5 foot). A/N: Spencer is OOC and I don’t care because it’s funny. Couple: Spencer Reid/GenderNeutral!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: There is a piggyback ride, so the Reader does have a semi-specified weight in that way Word Count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST

It was way too early for the coffee pot to be taking as long as it was. Truthfully, I shouldn’t have even been there that early, but I'd managed to wake up before my alarm and decided to try out that thing I always heard about getting a jumpstart on your day. But as I practically lay on the counter, I decided that it was, definitively, bullshit.

I’d only been standing for about 3 minutes and my feet were already killing me. It was my own fault for wearing these shoes, although I’d blame it on someone else. After a quick glance around the office, I made a decision. With the utmost grace and maturity, I hoisted myself up onto the counter of the BAU kitchenette.

I regretted very little about my decision; the blood returned to my feet almost immediately and I let out a casual sigh as I dropped my head back against the cabinets. Maybe the day could be salvaged, I thought.

But I was wrong.

“Why are you sitting up there?” Spencer’s voice sounded as smug as his smile looked. And, of course, both were also ridiculously beautiful.

“I like to be tall,” I answered without making a move to jump down. He’d already caught me; there was no point in trying to hide it now.

He came to join me by the coffee pot, a genuine smile hiding beneath his smirk. “You’re basically the same height as when you’re standing,” he replied, “which is a low bar.”

While trying to maintain the most apathy as I could in the face of a terrible joke made at my expense, I mumbled, “I hate you.”

The smirk on Spencer’s face grew, his body closing in until we were practically touching. We weren’t, though— his flirty teasing never went that far. Not usually, anyway. But that day, something was... different.

“That was a very clever comeback, pipsqueak.”

Spencer Reid was calling for war.

“What did you just call me?” I snapped with an equally incredulous look.

“Hm? What? I didn’t say anything?” He halfway shrugged, casually stepping to the side to try and get to the cabinet behind me. He didn’t address the way I seethed until I raised a hand to slam the cabinet shut. It was then that he laughed, “Can you not hear me from down there?”

I paused to carefully plan my next few moves. I would have to be quick, but I knew I could pull it off. Spencer might be tall, but he was uncoordinated as shit.

“That’s it,” I mumbled, scrambling to bring my knees to the counter. The man beside me had to jump back to avoid getting kicked, and in the rush, he almost missed what was happening.  

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I immediately answered. It was clear from the sarcasm dripping from the two syllables that I was up to something, and his stupid brilliant brain figured it out a couple seconds later.

“No!” He shouted just as I grabbed his favorite mug from top shelf, “Leave her out of this! Mildred was a gift!”

“Mildred is a hostage!” I yelled back. For a very brief second I felt guilty for bringing her into the fray, but it was Spencer who had escalated the situation. Because without any concern for her safety, he wrapped his arms around me lifted me off the counter.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he held me sideways. As if I would have been able to reach the ground, anyway.  

“Release the hostage and surrender,” he ordered through poorly stifled laughter.

“Put me down!”

I wasn’t trying to negotiate. I was out for blood, whether it be his or that of the ceramic octopus; it was up to him. After a minute of struggling and giggling from the way his unfortunately placed hands tickled, I saw hope in the form of Unit Chief Emily Prentiss.

… Who took one look at us before promptly leaving.

“Good morning, you two,” she had the decency to say before she disappeared for good. Traitor.

While I continued to sulk in my horizontal position, Spencer seemed happier than ever. At least, I guessed as much. I couldn’t really see him, but I could hear his arrogant little grin. I wanted to wipe it off right off his gorgeous, annoying face.

“I know where you sleep, Spencer,” I warned. I fear it didn’t come off as scary as I'd intended, because he mostly just laughed.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why do you know that?” His voice had dropped into his lower register, and his volume changed, too. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was going to say next. “Were you planning on joining me?”

“Yep,” I answered before the heat in my face became too obvious, “I was planning on suffocating you with your own pillow.”

But, in an uncharacteristically quick and witty response, Spencer continued to surprise.

“Good to know,” he nonchalantly replied, like he hadn’t practically invited me to sleep with him in the more scandalous meaning of the phrase. “I’ll put out a step ladder so you can make it onto the bed.”

I wanted to answer. I wanted to come up with something equally clever that would make him as flustered as I felt. But when he finally did set me down on the table, I was too dizzy from his words to think.

“I hate you,” was all I could manage.

And with a reassuring pat on the head, Spencer smiled.

“I know you do, pip.”

I didn’t end up joining Spencer in bed. That being said, I did start seeing more of him after that day. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but our relationship had changed after I held Mildred hostage.

After a couple more weeks of flirty quips and not-so-unintentional tickling, Spencer and I ended up joining each other for a date.

Sorry, I misspoke. Spencer and I were tricked into going on a date. The team had sworn they would be joining us, but I always had a suspicion they were full of it. Still, a concert sounded like a fun idea, and Spencer wasn’t the worst person to spend a Saturday with.

The only catch was that it was an outdoor music festival, which essentially meant that the only visual I got were the backs and butts of fellow normies. Spencer was willing to offer his theoretical shoulder for me to sulk on. I say theoretical because my face really just hit the middle of his arm.

“How’s it look up there?” I whined.

He barely looked down at me, but he did shake his head. “Is that why I’m here? To be your eyes?”

“You’re here because you wanted to come,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he muttered with a goofy grin. I wasn’t entirely sure why he had that somewhat smitten look in his eyes until he sneakily whispered, “It could be both, though.”

“What?”

That time he answered my question with a much more obvious sentiment. Removing me from his arm, Spencer got down on one knee with his back to me.

“Get on.”

After I sat with the words for a minute, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Are you serious?” I asked, nervously glancing around at the people in the crowd who clearly couldn’t care less about what was happening. But I did. I hadn’t had that much prolonged physical contact with Spencer since I’d stolen his mug — and that last time it happened, it had advanced our friendship quite a few steps. I just wasn’t sure if he knew what he was asking. At the same time, he'd made it pretty clear he didn’t care about the implications.

“No, I just love being on my knees in the dirt,” he called sarcastically from his position. It was the thing that finally convinced me to move.

“Okay...” I mumbled while I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You do look pretty good on your knees for me, though,” I thought it would be flirtatious enough to stun him for a few seconds, but I had no such luck.

“And I’m still taller than you.”

I never stood a chance. If I hadn’t been hugging him at the time, I might have been more annoyed. But the truth was that in that moment the only thing I cared about was staying this way for as long as possible. Though, with my arms wrapped around his neck, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering the possibility of choking him out.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said instead, resting my chin on the top of his head. I could feel his laughter reverberate through my thighs as he stood up. And despite my stubbornness, I laughed, too. “You’re nothing but a tall, warm, stupid asshole.”

“That’s a lot of adjectives.”

Despite the loud music, I felt calm. It was like my body had fallen into bed after a long day. Like the wind had caught my proverbial sails and I was racing towards something new. I felt a lot of things, but nothing more than the fact that I wanted to stay there, wrapped around him like a content koala on a eucalyptus tree, forever.

Reality, however, was not as poetic as me. It had other plans, and those plans included two drunk guys knocking into an uncoordinated genius with a coworker on his back.

Thankfully, it barely hurt when my head hit the grass, although it was probably because I blacked out. It couldn’t have been for long, though, because when I opened my eyes, Spencer hadn’t even made his way over me yet. Once he did, I had to laugh at the rush of emotions.

“Are you alright?” he asked with significantly less enthusiasm. “Follow my finger.”

I gave a poor attempt to follow his instruction, but it wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to focus on his finger when that look of concern was so damn cute?

“Add cute and clumsy to that list,” I slurred.

“How do you feel?” Spencer returned, completing avoiding my brilliant joke. In my delirium, I decided the only way to solve that issue would be to escalate.

“I feel... like a genius,” I said, not giving him a chance to speak before I started to explain my racing thoughts. “I just realized that— that if we’re both laying down, we’re the same height.”

“What?”

He didn’t get it.

The noise that left my lips was an odd mixture of frustrated and overjoyed. Spencer was still looking at me like my head had actually popped off and rolled away. With a deep sigh, I clapped my hands over his face.

“That means I don’t have to stand on my tippy toes to kiss you!” I yelled, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

“To what?”

Spencer still didn’t get it. I realized then that there would only be one way to ensure he understood what I was saying. So, with my hands still on his face, I pulled him down.

Our lips met with a bit of shock and even more giggles. If he was actually trying to stop me, he was making a very poor show of it. If anything, he actually leaned into the kiss. At least, until I mumbled something into his lips.

“I’m dizzy.”

Pulling back, Spencer looked me over again. He bit down on his bottom lip that I’d just gotten to kiss and shook his head again. “Okay, time to go to the medical tent. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion.”

That time when Spencer picked me up, my arms fell lazily over his shoulders and my head rested against him. Our chests pressed together so that I could feel his heartbeat, and I wondered how he could be so calm even as he carried me.

“Hey Spencer?” I whined, planning on asking him so many things if the words could only come out.

“Yeah, pipsqueak?”

When I heard the nickname again, I realized I didn’t hate it. I realized that it didn’t matter why it felt so natural for him to hold me or why he was smiling despite the two of us being covered in dirt. But I still couldn’t come up with the words at the time, so I settled for the most obvious truth instead.

“Being tall sucks.”

(Tell me what you thought about this piece here!)

[seblaine-rph]

Calling out an M/s rp

Now for my callout posts against @devilskeyhq, warning others of their problematic behavior and educating the admin team so that they can learn to be better admins to their players. Remember while reading this that I have spoken with almost a dozen people about this at this point and they all say the same things, with screenshot evidence to prove it:

First things first, the tea. For those that don't want to read this whole thing, I'll summarize. DevilsKeyHQ is an M/s rp that allows non consensual activity in character and refuses to add a warning that people can see before they apply that lets them know. They were told that they were triggering their players that expected to be in a safe, sane, and consensual group but were subjected to mass rape and their response was to publicly humiliate everyone that had complained and allow their other players to rant about how wrong it was to complain and how upset everyone was to have to alter the group in order to keep everyone safe. 

They bully people with autism both ic and ooc by treating their inquiries and commentary as stupid and using microaggressions to humiliate them and make them feel invalid. 

They're stalking @thedaltonsanctuary because it's a real D/s roleplay that two of their previous players have had since 2017 and there's a real concerning level of paranoia being thrown out in order to slander them; the moment that TDS started to take off, they decided there wasn't room in the tags for two groups and they kicked them out of DK without warning or anything happening other than TDS getting a bunch of apps, and started trying to bully the group and the players completely out of the roleplay community. There are still players in DK that are too afraid to leave right away because they don't want to be stalked, harassed, and bullied because of the fact that they were made to feel uncomfortable and unsafe. Some of them plan on leaving roleplay entirely as soon as it’s safe to leave DK without being noticed or being obvious about not agreeing with the admins. 

My opinion on the matter is that two people very unfortunately chose to "give themselves a break" from admining their own groups and got to know people in a group that is headed by very toxic admins and a couple of toxic players as well. They were kind enough to try to take care of other people, even though they didn't have to and knew that they were probably going to get kicked out for telling the admins that people weren't comfortable. They were warned by the friends that had been in the group that they were almost definitely going to be either bullied out or immediately removed. The admins didn't like that there was someone else that was more knowledgeable on D/s and they didn't like that there was someone who was looking out for the safety of the whole group instead of putting the admins and their friends first. And the real tipping point was watching another roleplay flourish-- by the same people that had already proven themselves to be more knowledgeable and better at being admins. Now they're trying to slander this group in an attempt to become the only smut group in the tags and it's honestly so very middle school and everything I'm about to go through disgusts me to my core.

Before I begin, I’d like to remind everyone that none of this would have happened if people weren’t triggered by M/s content dominating what was supposed to be a D/s rp without any warning about the content. I’d also like to remind everyone that when this problem was brought to the admin team, it was as easy as accepting that they may have done something wrong and deciding to either end all M/s activity (which some people seemed to not want) or label their main with a warning so that nobody else was triggered by that surprised. If you’re looking for a TLDR on how this should have been handled, that’s it right there. There is no reason at all for any of what I’m about to say to have happened. 

I'll start with the easiest thing to explain; the bullying of people with autism. I'll explain quickly here that people that are neurotypical do not think in the same ways that people who aren't. This causes an uncomfortable rift in communication that when not addressed properly, can become bullying. @disabilityrph is going to be posting a guide very soon on how to spot and avoid bullying people because of their autism, as has definitely happened in this case. So I won’t go into too much detail, but I will give you an example.

EXAMPLE: If you as an admin write out an event post explaining what it going on in the roleplay, there is never an example in which it is okay to passive aggressively dictate the thought that any question given is a stupid question.

HOW THAT WORKS: If someone asks, "Will this be involved?" the proper reply is never going to be, "Why would that be involved? It doesn't make sense that it would be." Just because you find the answer to the question obvious, does not mean that everyone does, especially someone with autism. The proper reply is a simple answer; yes or no, and if you feel like it might be necessary you can add why that is the answer. As an admin, you never want to make any one feel humiliated for asking a question in order to fully understand your group. There is never a stupid question. All questions are valid. You have to remember that not everyone thinks in the same way that you do, some people will have questions that you didn’t consider. Some people will read what you wrote and have questions that you think the answers to are obvious, but clearly they’re not if someone is asking! Nobody should ever get a sarcastic or passive aggressive answer from an admin. 

After speaking with multiple autistic players within the grpc, as well as players within DevilsKey itself, I have been told that this happens a lot. They will ask questions ooc and people will reply as if they are stupid for asking. When they bring up thoughts in character that other people don't agree with, they get treated like they're stupid again. I've been shown screenshots of this happening to people in DevilsKeyHQ with my own eyes. This is a damned shame.

The next topic is the fact that their roleplay is obviously a Master/slave roleplay because of the fact that a large group of people were raped by the NPCs that the admins have created. I saw that there was ooc warning that a punishment was coming, but the simple fact is that nobody would ever expect rape to be involved in a D/s punishment. Nobody would expect anything that left lasting damage, because punishments are not meant to be traumatic in D/s. A punishment is meant to better a person, they should walk away feeling as though they have learned a lesson and worked through anything that they had to feel bad for. If there is any power play that is being used to traumatize people or make them do literally anything at all that is against their will, that is M/s and not D/s. The distinction is important because people use D/s as a means of therapy, to get over their trauma. Someone who was raped, for example, might become a submissive so that they can work through their trauma under the guidance of a Dominant and if that Dominant chose to rape them as a punishment because they weren't fitting their role well enough? That would be abuse, that is not D/s. BDSM holds RACK and the concept of safe, sane, and consensual above all else.

Asking for that distinction to be made clearly is completely within a person's rights here on Tumblr. It's a smart thing to do, and any admin that cared at all about creating a safe space for their group would never do anything like that. They would take their problematic behavior into account and properly label the main Tumblr blog for their roleplay. I read through it, it does not at all sound like the roleplay that I have screenshots of in my inbox. You do not rape someone anally for hours and hours against their will in a roleplay where the words "safe, sane, and consensual" are written on the main. That's just common sense and decency.

The players that were kicked out are not the only ones that I have spoken with and they are not the only ones that were uncomfortable. They're also not the only people that will be leaving the group because of this. 

The sequence of events for how this roleplay came to my attention are as follows:

Two roleplayers were writing with multiple members of DevilsKey and chose to join the group at the request of their friends. They created characters that had family connections to their friends, and wrote their bios with their friends, and their friends had all been in the group for months at that point. This was not a calculated plan, this was an attempt to roleplay in the roleplay community. They joined the ooc discord server before their apps were accepted in order to get a better understanding of the roleplay, but all of the roleplay was hidden and nothing that was shown gave them any indication that it was an M/s rp. These two players brought in original characters and immediately made various connections with other players within the roleplay. They were more active than the admin's own characters, if you ask for my opinion on it. That proves that they were interested in making connections with DevilsKey, they put the effort in to make them.

Then the punishment was warned. I read this warning. Nowhere did it say anything that would in any way warn about the content of the punishments. It is specifically stated that they are focusing on D/s so it should be a normal D/s punishment. Instead, when the plot dropped, a large group of characters were stripped and dragged to cells where they were denied food and tortured for an entire week. These characters were raped and humiliated, abused and broken in ways that defy every covenant of the D/s and BDSM handbook.

From day one, people were triggered. I have screenshots of DMs that go back that far. But the player that was being complained to was also told not to go to the admins for the first few days, because the people who were upset were afraid that the admins would bully them and kick them out for "complaining." Days were spent with these people being triggered by the rape that was being forced in front of their eyes. They stayed in the group for the same reason that anyone stays in an abusive relationship; you can't let go of the "good things." They had spent months in this group, getting to know these players ooc and developing their muses ic. They were attached, especially considering the lack of groups in the tags and the lack of involvement in the grpc.

But enough became enough eventually. When people started to realize that they were triggered and that they were not feeling any better, they weren't sleeping, they didn't want to eat, and the punishment was coming to a close but they were beginning to realize that even though the plot was about to be over, it wasn't over. Their characters all had lasting damage, some just mental but most physical as well. The damage was done. Even if they managed to drag their characters out of the depressing hole they were in, they had to fear this happening again. They didn't sign up for an M/s rp. They didn't sign up for rape. They didn't sign up for trauma. So they hadn't expected it. And nobody gets to decide that a person’s feelings aren’t valid because it took them time to be comfortable having them relayed. 

The player that is suddenly being accused of being "far too close to his Dominant character" went to the admin as a fellow admin. He explained that he had previous admin experience, so he understood their position. He explained that he had real world experience in the D/s community, so he understood what he was talking about based on his own experience and that of the community he spends time in every day, and had a serious concern for the wellbeing of the writers in the group. He told them that he didn't want to start trouble, that he wanted everyone to remain calm and that he didn't want anyone to be anxious. When he got busy and had to table the conversation for real life, he even told the admin that he wasn't silent because of them. He was very gentle. He explained the difference between M/s and D/s and he explained why it is important to properly label groups. He was asked a series of questions that made it look like his concern was being taken seriously, and then it was completely not taken seriously in the group chat.

The reason players had asked one person to go to the admins was because they were too afraid to, they were intimidated and they did not want to deal with any negative blowback they'd get for being upset. The admins proved their concern to be founded when they not only posted about everything that had been said in the ooc, they allowed other players to basically humiliate the people who complained by saying they didn't agree, so nobody could be upset, and in fact they were the ones who were greatly upset and the people who complained should feel guilty about it because now it changes the whole entire plot of the entire group for them and they don't get to finish adding more traumatic plots to the event. One of the admins even joined in to talk about how mad they were that people weren't comfortable enough with them to talk to them? And explained that they had admin issues in the past too, but despite how anyone might be feeling or what makes them most comfortable... it's a slight against the admins and they've been hurt.  

I don't think I need to explain why that is wrong. No admin should allow their players to speak like that in the ooc chat. No admin should air that much dirt in public either; it would have sufficed to say, "After further consideration, we have decided that there might be a few issues with this plot drop and we are here to let you know that it's being dropped. The past still happened, but no further punishments will be doled out and we are considering a new way of dealing with punishment plots in the further." As an admin, it is your job to keep your players safe, and you really dropped the ball there. Not only did you let your players publicly humiliate people, leaving more than one of your players going to bed crying and thinking that they were going to wake up to the entire group hating them and/or their role being removed, but one of the admins added to it themselves and made people feel like now they really couldn't go to the admins. Who would go to someone who does not keep them safe? Who airs their complaints so everyone can boo at them on a public forum? Who shames and guilts them for being anxious? Especially when their concerns weren't really addressed and they were told they were wrong? The plot was ended, but it was made clear that it wasn't because the admins wanted to continue in a way that was safe for all of their players or to find a way to stay in D/s territory and out of M/s non con.

Both players that were removed stepped in the ooc chat to say that it would be better to be mindful of everyone's feelings, and that it wasn't really kind to invalidate all of the people that had complained. It was explained that if things had been properly labeled, this wouldn't have been an issue, because anyone who doesn't want to associate with non consensual activity would avoid it. Many players chimed in to agree with both sentiments.

That situation was taken care of in a poor way, but it was handled and it was ended. The players that were removed were not triggered or affected by M/s material. One of them was upset about the fact that their character was only punished once, in fact, while all of the admin's own characters had been punished three or four times and kept being pulled up to either get hurt or hurt other people. By force. In a D/s rp, let me remind you. But the fact that the players weren't kicked out then proves that this had nothing to do with their removal. It would be pretty shitty if it did, because for an admin to kick someone out for telling them that they had players triggered for days and feeling upset and then turn around and scream and wonder why nobody wants to bring any of their concerns to them is a level of denial I'm not ready to accept myself. Both players continued to plot ooc and they continued to write with multiple people. They were still talking to everyone that had been triggered, keeping tabs on them, making sure they felt alright. The admins were not doing anything to make sure their players were alright, despite knowing that they weren't.

Before they joined DevilsKeyHQ, both players had been talking to several other roleplayers about their previous Tumblr roleplays. They started a sfw au roleplay group a few months ago and had been talking to friends about previous group plots and new ideas to see if they wanted to work together to either bring an old group back to life or start a new one. TheDaltonSanctuary was open years ago and has not changed since it was originally opened, aside from the addition of a second admin. Multiple people from DevilsKeyHQ had been in TDS previously, when it opened the first time. That particular admin has at least 30 groups between discord and Tumblr. The one that their friends chose-- and I have screenshots of this too-- to encourage them to open was TDS. They opened for acceptances on the 18th. They joined DevilsKeyHQ on the 24th. The fact that the admins of DK want to try to say that TDS is in any way a copy of them or a threat to them when they are two entirely different roleplays and TDS was made years and years ago is all the proof that I need that the admins of DK are just petty, immature, and can’t handle not feeling as though they are the only and best option; but of course, there’s plenty of proof of that, in my opinion.

There have been allegations that they stole NPS from DevilsKey, but a quick look at the main proves that to be false. There are no OC NPC characters in TDS. It was also stated in the ooc discord server after they were removed from DK that the admins were upset and angry because one of the players had brought their OC Sterling twin to their own rp. Anyone is allowed to birth a muse and then decide that they like them so much that they want to see them in an au setting. The character that the other player brought to DK was an OC from his own group and he said so multiple times and nobody accused him of stealing from his own group? But the admins believe they own an OC because it was born in their group. 

Their official announcement for why these two were removed stated that they had:

taken an OC from DK to TDS and therefore they needed to be removed in order to "keep DK's plot safe" (but DK is completely unusable for an actual D/s rp)

clearly only joined DK to try to poach players for TDS (though they never once said a word about their rps to anyone, and wouldn't even say which plots were still active, which were groups, or which were 1x1s when talking ooc about what they've written before)

and finally for their "little outburst in the ooc group chat" in which they said that it wasn't kind to invalidate people who had been courageous enough to finally (after days of being unable to) asked for the admins to be informed that they were triggered

It's already been stated that TheDaltonSanctuary and DevilsKeyHQ have two entirely different plots. TDS is a safe environment where there is BDSM info in the ooc server and characters are placed in a sort of rehab and recreational environment that is geared towards mental health, education, and finding and maintaining a healthy claim. DevilsKeyHQ is one of those sex island groups, there have been thousands in the tags where the plot is always the same; people are taken to a sex island and have to live by M/s rules or they'll be punished with penetrative rape via multiple orifices.

With no reason to get rid of the players that knew more than they did, looked out better for their players, and now were thriving in a real D/s group... the admins kicked them out and made stuff up. If they were being removed for asking that the admins consider the safety of their players, it would have happened when it happened. If they were being removed for stealing from DK to put things in TDS, they would have kicked them out back then too-- because it was known that they had TDS for a long time before. They were only kicked out of the group when TDS started to gain traction and one of the admins brought their OC in and one of the players that had applied to TDS before the admins joined DK brought an OC from DK too. So it's clear that jealousy has fueled this entire debacle and it was so easy to solve.

[nymphl]

In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 6 - To resent a General

A/N - Hello, sweethearts! Here’s chapter 6 of ITGB. This chapter has a lemony scene, a bit more detailed then the others in this story xD I hope you like this chapter, it’s one of my fav, even more because it entails a bit of shift in this story and what I’m planning for future chapters xD Anyways, thanks for leaving notes and reblogging. I appreciate your feedback very much. 

Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 7898

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

“THREE… TWO… ONE… THERE YOU GO, LITTLE LORD.”

You smiled as Lux positioned his chubby hands over the piano keys and played the brief song you had just taught him. He was a smart kid and learned fast. Part of you would rather if he did not catch onto things so quickly, as to delay his imminent parting as much as possible.    

“Well done,” you said, before pressing your lips lightly to his forehead. You knew Rae Sloane was watching everything with her attentive eyes as she read a book in the nearby ottoman. “Well done.”

As he continued to play, you let yourself think of Hux’s words. Of his whispered confession last night.

My damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own. 

You remembered you reacted with a loud What? and that you told yourself there was nothing to be surprised about. Brendol Hux would do anything in his power to undermine his own son — flesh, blood… those were notions the previous General did not give a damn about. If he could jeopardize Armitage’s standing, he certainly would.

The very thought made you bit your bottom lip in anger. You did not know which father was worse, if yours — with his prejudice and blatant disregard of women — or Brendol — with his dubious character and… well, you could also say blatant disregard of women and his own flesh and blood.

There were days in which you were grateful for having barely interacted with the man himself. And in most of them, you pitied Hux for having had to put up with him for almost three decades.

Bad character aside, Brendol’s actions posed a problem for both of you. Armitage had the money, he just could not use it until…

You sighed.   

And recalled Rae’s own words to you.

…give him a damned heir…

Well, it seemed now you had no other choice. It was either give him a damned heir or watch him making a deal with Lady Carise — the devil herself. Borrowing money from a banker was completely out of the picture.  

“Mama… Mama!”

You were startled as Lux’s voice reached you. He had placed both of his tiny hands on your face, directing your attention to him. The piano keys — his recent fixation — completely forgotten.

“I am terribly sorry, Little Lord. I am…” You stopped yourself before you could lie. Rae cast a glance at you from her book, eyes narrowed. “Very much distracted today.”

He nodded, but his face hid nothing of his disappointment. You chewed your bottom lip; overcome with guilty, but feeling your mind racing with possibilities all the same. You had to find a way to get you out of this situation — to repay for his… understanding. To name it as kindness would be a bit too much.

The fact is… Hux had a meeting with his investors today — one in which he would be accompanied by Lord Mitaka — and only God could know what their reaction would be as soon as they knew how little profit the Arkanis Brewery would give them in the next few months — it is, if Hux found a way to pay for his debts. You admitted that in such devastating scenario, the was the fastest and safest way to get out of this predicament, without leading him to compromise his candidacy for Prime Minister, would be to accept Lady Carise’s money.  

Nevertheless, you would have no way out if you did not get pregnant soon. Well, needless to say you were trying, but there had to be something else — something faster and precise — that could be done.

With a defeated sigh, you messed his ginger hair. He ran his fingers through his tresses and stared at you with a scowl — to which you did your best to muffle your laughter. He was just too adorable when he was mad!

“Mama! And Lord Hux?”

“What about Lord Hux, Little Lord?” You pressed a lovingly kiss to his cherub cheeks and watched with amusement as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was indeed mad at you. 

Rae Sloane cast a glance at you; one that showed that in spite of her disapproval of Lux’s inappropriate behavior, she was still at least a bit amused with his frustration. 

“The violin, Mama!”

Ah yes…

He had been talking excitedly for a good few minutes — a few days now — about Hux’s violin — you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact Lux had actually seen his uncle playing the instrument. It had been years since you last saw him near it — and you barely heard anything he said.

You sighed.

“I know you want to play violin, but listen to me, I myself don’t know how to play it and I’m not sure Lord Hux has the time to teach you.” 

His face fell.

It was obvious he had developed some sense of… admiration to your husband. He worshiped him — honestly, Lux was a very lonely child and he had the tendency of looking up to anyone who paid him a measly few minutes of attention.

You left the bench and kneeled in front of him, adjusting his clothes and bringing him closer to you by his waistcoat.   

“But I can keep teaching you how to play the piano.”

He smiled. Begrudgingly, but he did.

“Now?”

You were ready to answer the both of you should get ready to have lunch and later — after you got some well needed time to send a message to your contact in The Times — you could teach him a thing or two about the piano, but you were interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door of the drawing room.

Looking up, you were surprised to see your husband crossing the threshold. The boy beamed up as he saw Hux and he quickly left your embrace to run towards his new idol.

You rolled your eyes.

“I want your violin.”

“Lux Dameron!” Rae admonished him; her voice was harsh and hid nothing of her disapproval. “That’s no proper way to ask for anything.”

He lowered his head, ashamed and muttering a small, feeble apology. You could barely hear him saying I’m sorry, Lord Hux.

Armitage, however, did not seem to mind the boy’s lack of etiquette. Blue eyes focused on you — and the intensity of his stare made you shiver; it felt as if he could read your thoughts and what you were planning… or thinking about planning… —, he dismissed Lux’s apology, “I’ll teach you how to play it one of these days.”

Lux looked up at him with adoration in his chestnut eyes. Your husband was doing a hell of good job of turning the boy against you and Rae. Firstly, he promised to teach him how to ride a horse and now… he promised violin lessons.

With a sharp intake of breath, Rae fixed her dark eyes on him, making Lux hide behind Hux’s long legs.

“Really?”

Hux nodded, dismissing Rae’s stare as if it meant nothing. You wondered how many times she terrorized him in his childhood — and how many times she did not act on those stares, if Hux treated it so lightly.  “Now, you must go with Lady Rae and get ready for lunch.”

“Yes!”

He was so excited at the prospect of spending more time with Hux, he paid Rae little to no attention — a fatal mistake if your memory did not fail you; Rae would probably ground him for the entire week and only you knew how terrible Lux’s mood got whenever he was banned from visiting the stables and his beloved friend horses, but at the moment, he did not seem to even remember how devilish Lady Sloane could be.

Accepting her hand, he followed her out of the drawing room humming to a childish song. You were ready to trail after them, when you felt your husband’s hand enclosing around your wrist.

“I never allowed you to leave, Lady Hux.”

A happy sigh left you as he brought your body closer to his and his lips fell upon yours in a slow, seductive kiss. He entangled his fingers in your hair — and if he did not know how to drive you mad with want, you would have scolded him for undoing your perfect hairdo — and angled your head for his better pleasure; his tongue running enticingly over the rim of your lips.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, and then slowly sliding them into his ginger locks — you almost expected him to trap your hands between his, but this time he did not seem to mind a disheveled appearance —, you gladly let him in, stroking your own tongue boldly against his.

He let you go after what seemed a good few minutes and pressed a kiss to your temples. You fought to reign in your breathing as he lowered his forehead to yours.

“I know what you’re thinking…” You wetted your lips nervously. “He isn’t a Dameron and you dislike seeing him being addressed as such.”

There was a minute of silence as you caressed his face.

“No. He isn’t,” he replied as he put some space between the two of you.

A tired sigh left your lips.

You could have pointed out he could never be a Hux — not if he wanted to become Prime Minister in the near future — and that he once hated his family name, but you understood what he meant. After Brendol passed away, the name Hux gained a new face: his — and later on yours —, and with it a new blank chapter; one he was willing to write differently, for the sake of his new family. And Lux is family.

Part of you wondered if the desire to recognize Lux as family came from the desire to right his father’s — and yours too — wrongs. If not for you and Rae, his fate would be… probably worse than Hux’s.   

However, you both knew that if anyone just dreamed about Lux being his nephew and your little brother it would be the end of his aspirations. Your standing in the town would be compromised and no sane King would approve of him as the Head of the Parliament. And that position meant a great deal to Hux.

You walked to him, until you invaded his personal space.

“Would you rather if he were your son?” you whispered against his lips, but as soon as the words were out, you realized how stupid that question was.

He chose silence.

You swallowed.

“How did it go?” you said, trying to change the topic and get some control over the situation. “What did the board say?”

It was all it took for him to break apart. Again.

You pursed your lips, trying not to let his actions get to you so easily. It was obvious he did not like to be further inquired on his meeting with his investors. It must have gone horribly if he was so against talking about it. That… or he did not like to talk about business at all.

Part of you understood where he came from. Most husbands did not talk to their wives about… Well, they simply did not talk. Most wives were there just for the show. Very few of them ran their estates and even fewer understood about business and politics. Even if they were interested in such topics, it was expected of them to shy away from them. Except for the Ton politics, noble ladies… Wealthy families, it is… they did not — should not — waste their precious time with the intricacies of business and income… They just… spent money as if there was no tomorrow and in case they lost it, well… they simply gained it back through marriages.

An accomplished lady knew about dancing, playing the piano, embroidery… but never about income and basic taxation. And the few men who understood the intricacies of the business world, probably came from the lower classes, working class, as Armitage’s family did. Your father, for one, knew nothing of business. He ran his estate with the same regard he showed your mother: which is to say, almost none. When he realized he spent all his wealth on courtesans back in London, he decided to regain it at the gambling table.

But you were no trophy wife. You refused to be. You would not back down. Sitting beside him on the setee, you took his hand between yours. Slowly, you traced the gold band on his finger.

“What did they say, Armitage?”

He narrowed his eyes at you; a clear warning. You should tread carefully when looking for answers, pressing him would not do. You rolled your eyes. You were not scared in the least.

“We’re not having this conversation, Lady Hux.”  

You snorted.

“Well then, Lord Hux, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’ll tell Lady Sindian.”

He inhaled sharply at your words.

“Or you’re not having this conversation with me either?”

“Careful, Lady Hux.”

You knew you were playing with fire, but you were not about to back down. Not now. Not ever. You told him you were in this for real — you told him that if he wanted to be Prime Minister, he would need you and you stood by that. If he wanted to get out of this debt, he would have to start trusting you.

If he thought you would not understand about his business, the least he could do is to tell you about how he would approach Lady Sindian. He would have to be smarter than her with his excuses — a simply refusal would not do.

You knew and he knew Lady Carise was dying to get back at your family — at you — for years now. If not having you pressing your father to let you marry Armitage, she probably would be your stepmother now… A Marquise. Having Lord Hux owing her a large sum of money seemed the right way to go. It did not seem to you she would let such matter go that easily. Unless… Unless she had something else in mind to use against the two of you. Something bigger. Something better.

That’s why he would have to be smooth. Lady Carise was not just any woman. Just like you, she did not bow to other men — she did not take no for answer.

You were ready to inquire him further, when you felt him bringing your wrist to his mouth. Your heart quickened as got a brief taste of your skin. A gasp left you as he pulled you to him, forcing you to straddle his hips. His lips quickly found yours in a searing kiss. You knew what he was doing and even though you thoroughly disliked it, you would let him have his secrets.

For now.   

You woke up later with a strong headache.

There was no need to look for Hux’s watch-pocket to know it was late afternoon — he had left you spent, and you slept more than you usually did whenever you took an afternoon nap — and that you had gone by without lunch once more. No wonder your head felt like exploding, yet you felt no hungrier than before. To your surprise, he was still by your side. But, this time, instead of relief, you were disappointed.

You left the comfort of his arms and rolled on your back.

“Ugh… Why is it so clear? And who’s playing Schubert?”

As expected, there was no reply from his part. There was no need to. In spite of Rae’s misgivings about the piano, she was quite proficient at it. She put many of the accomplished ladies of the Ton to shame with her skills — after five years living with you and seeing you practice, she became quite fond of the instrument, even though she would not admit it.

Since the two of you disappeared to your chambers before lunch, you imagined she would take it upon herself to keep Lux busy and out of your hair. By now, you thought the poor boy was probably sleeping in the setee, while Rae played to her heart’s content.

You closed your eyes — as if it could relieve the pain and ease the guilt —, but they quickly snapped open when Armitage moved over you, his nose touching yours and his breath caressing your face.

He kissed you.

Slowly.

Sweetly.

A mere brush of lips.

“You worry too much.”

With a gasp, you let him in, stroking your own tongue against his. He let you dominate it — dominate him —, not caring once more that you had slid your hands between his ginger locks. His fingers traveled the extension of your legs lightly, prying them open, so he could slide between them. He did not stop until he reached your hips, applying the slightest of pressures.

The kiss did not last long. He let go of your lips and moved downwards, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of exposed skin. Your breath grew heavier as he paid thorough attention to your throat at the same time his hands traveled upwards, in a quest for your breasts.

“We’ll be late for dinner.”

He paid little no regard to what you said. And in spite of what you said, you, too, could not care less about your lateness. Even the melancholic sound of the piano downstairs did not deter you from your quest for the astounding heights of pleasure you could reach together. A moan left you as you tried to move your hips, seeking the much-needed friction. He was so hard, and you were… so ready to take him, you moved your hand from his shoulders and tried to reach his cock… Just to have your wrists trapped. You grunted in disappointment, but he merely lowered his head to your chest and pressed light kisses to the undersides of your breasts. Quite but never touching you were you needed most.

“I won’t beg.”

His lips tilted in the shadow of a knowing smirk.

A gasp escaped you as he placed a small kiss over your nipples. First, on the right breast and then the left. He did not take his time to worship them, however. He kept on lowering his kisses, going past your ribcages, your belly, your navel, till he reached your hipbone.

You pressed your lids together, waiting anxiously for what was to come. For a man who did not enjoy small talk, he surely knew how to put his mouth to better uses than to those of meaningless discourse.

Squirming in his hold, you tried to get your hands free — to fist the sheets, to grab onto his hair —, but he did not allow you to. His lips ghosted over the insides of your thighs — it was so light you could barely feel it. You arched your back, lifting your hips — offering yourself to him. He ran the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“Yes! Gods, yes!”

With a smirk, he drew away. His lips glistening with your wetness. You bit your own bottom lip, frustrated beyond measure.

“You won’t have me begging.”  

He ran his lips over your left calf, letting go of your wrists — to which you checked for marks and thanked the old-fashioned use of gloves; the General had a penchant for leaving you marked. With his left hand he held your leg close to his mouth and lazily pumped himself with his right hand.

You inhaled sharply at the sight. It was indeed a feast to the eyes. Armitage knew how to please your every sense — vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch… none was left unattended for too long.

“Touch yourself.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure. It is not to say that in the five years you were apart, you never sought to pleasure yourself — but to have him watching you was completely different. The intensity in his eyes made you warm all over. Your lids fluttered closed as you reached down, tracing your own thighs, approaching your center very slowly… outlining your lips… testing your wetness… quite but not entering yourself, as you knew he wanted.

“Look at me,” he whispered against your calf; his lips were almost on your knees, kissing the underside of it. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

His words had you breathing deeply through your nose.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and then sliding down… to the path of ginger hair leading to his engorged, beautiful shaft… Your mouth watered — you moaned — at the sight of precum oozing from his head.

Under his attentive gaze, you slid one finger inside of you and then a second; the heel of your hand applied a sweet pleasure to your clit. More than once, you thought about closing your eyes — the intensity in his blue orbs too much for you —, but as you lost yourself to the growing pleasure, you realized you could not shift your attention from how he stroked his shaft, timing it to the rhythm of the music. The feel of his lips, inching closer and closer to your center forced you to keep your eyes wide open and focused on him.

As the piece of music reached a crescendo — and you could swear you would never be able to play or listen to Schubert without reliving this very afternoon —, so did his movements — and yours too. Your breath grew heavier, beads of sweat pooled in the valley of your breasts, sliding down your skin. You were close and he knew it.

Armitage lowered himself on the bed and placed one of your legs over his shoulders; your hands were put aside. His heavenly mouth ghosted over your clit, his warm breath making you clench around nothing. This time, the thought of not begging flew off your mind as you uttered a broken please.

With a smug smirk, he took your clit between his lips, sliding two of his fingers inside you. Losing no time, he looked for that sweet spot that would have you singing for him as he worked you towards an earth-shattering orgasm.

As it hit you — just a marvelous, indescribable feeling that had you arching your back off the bed and your eyes filling with unshed tears —, you sought his hair — to keep him in place or to pull him apart; you were so sensitive you thought you could not take any more stimulation —, instead, you felt the fingers of his left hand entwining with yours as he continued to lap at you; allowing you to ride your orgasm fully.

The piece came to a diminuendo and so did the movement of his fingers and his tongue against you, until they completely stopped. A deep, contented sigh left you as you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your legs were trembling; you were so weak you thought that if not for being laid over the mattress you would fall on your knees — exactly like last time when he ate you out against the door of his study. The mere remembrance made your face hot.

With the final notes, he entered you without warning.

Both of you gasped.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth — letting you taste yourself. Part of you expected him to give you a moment to adjust to his size or at least to recuperate from the last orgasm. Instead, he set a punishing rhythm against your hips.

It did not hurt — and even if it did, you learned how to find pleasure in a bit of pain — but you were so sensible, the second wave of pleasure found you without voice. Your nails punctured his flesh as he sought his own release.

He was so worked up, it did not take him long to abandon the timed strokes. His mouth was against your throat, and broken moans and grunts escaped through his opened lips. You brought his hand to your breasts and he kneaded the pearls between his fingers, with his right hand he stroked your clit in a circular movement, to the point you were sobbing.

As your second orgasm came to an end, his own started. He pressed a kiss to your breasts, and you pulled onto his hair till a grimace of pain took over his features — exactly like he enjoyed. He grunted your name; his eyes fell closed as his hips jerked forward one last time.

It felt like ages had gone by as he emptied himself inside you. His lips worshipped the column of your throat and his hand travelled over your thighs in a slow, sensual caress as you both tried to recover.

His breath became normal before yours. He kept on placing small open-mouthed kisses to your glistening skin, whispering words you could not understand — or care less. Your eyes were heavy, and you were so tired all you wanted was to doze off at least a bit. He softened still inside of you, but you were so comfortable in such position, you did not want him to move an inch.

He did not.

“You should get ready.” He captured your lips lightly. You sighed happily. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered against his mouth. You pressed a light kiss to his lips, but he did not kiss you back. Your words had him drawing apart — it was impossible not to be aware that it was all because you addressed him in a novelettish manner.

Armitage slid out of you and sat on his side of the bed.

You bit your bottom lip.

He stared ahead. His mind, however, was distant. You closed your eyes, running your hands over your face, as if it would just erase what you just said; you heavily regretted your form of endearment.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His impossibly blue eyes snapped back to you. He breathed deeply through his nose.

“Think not of it. My mind is just busy.”

His words — so detached — coupled with his facial expression — so perfectly schooled —, made you flinch. You bit your bottom lip, realizing what you did not want to acknowledge before: whenever the two of you made love, his heart was not into it. He enjoyed the physical act to its fullest — he ensured you did too —, but like he said… his mind — and heart — was elsewhere.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sat on the bed, wrapping the sheets wrapped around your body. You seized the moment to introduce a topic you were dying to discuss with him a while ago.

“We should sell the estate in Southampton.”

His answer came quicker than you expected; his voice firm — not loud or authoritative, “Absolutely not.”

Coupled with how still his body went, you quickly understood he did not want to talk further about the topic. It did not mean you would concede defeat so easily, though.

“Please.”

You sought his fingers. He caught your wrist, running his thumb over your palm. He brought it to his lips, bestowing upon your knuckles a small kiss.

Biting your bottom lip, you focused your attention on his face. The slight tilt of his lips indicated he knew what he was doing to you and what exactly were your thoughts concerning it.

You snatched your hand away, focusing on the present issue. You spent a great deal of the afternoon being distracted — fooled — by him. You dismissed it before, letting him have his way with you, but now, you could not avoid the politics and the sensitive topics concerning his imminent bankruptcy.

“Hear me out.”

“My answer is final, Lady Hux.”

The fact that he did not call you by your name indicated he really did not — and would not — want to discuss such topic any further. Your shoulders slumped, but you did not concede defeat. Not so quickly. 

“That’s my house and therefore my decision to make.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. It was obvious he was getting tired of it. Getting tired of your insistence — it was clear he was not in the least inclined to share a few things with you. His business was one of them.

And honestly, he was not wrong. Actually, he was — but not legally speaking. According to British law, you were his property to do as he pleased and talking or not about business as his decision to make. Selling your house was his decision to make — not yours.

How you hated being a woman most of times!

“Armitage.”

“(Y/N)”.

You rolled your eyes. He was going to make this hard for you — he could be very difficult when he wanted to. Displeased, you watched as he rose from the bed and slipped inside his robe. Shoulders down, your mind raced with possible arguments as you waited for him to go fetch his cigar and a glass of brandy.

It was needless to ask for him to pour some for yourself. As you were trying to conceive, anything alcoholic was out of the picture. And yet, you could feel your mouth watering at the mere thought of the amber liquid running down your throat.

After a few minutes went by, it became strikingly obvious he chose not to return to the bedroom. You slipped inside your robe, already sure he would admonish you for leaving the bed — the family’s physician had recommended for you to lie down after the two of you engaged in sexual relations; according to him, it would increase the chances of fertilization. Rae had rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but you were not one to disobey doctor’s orders that easily when there was so much at stake.

However…

This was an entirely different situation.

You were no expert when it came to finances, but after managing your father’s estate for five years, it was crystal clear the situation at the brewery was quite complicated — and it was you putting it mildly. He needed money — a large sum of it — and although a pregnancy and an heir would solve the problem easier than making a deal with Lady Carise, you were not so naïve as to think you would get pregnant that quick.

For that, you would have to count on luck and that was not something either could afford right now. That’s why you should convince him to sell your summer manor. That was the fastest way to solve the money problem without recurring to Lady Carise and her… less than adequate intentions towards your husband.

The mere thought of the woman made your entire body shudder.

You did not trust the her. You never did. Not even when she was to marry your father and become your stepmother. Something about her smelled fishy. And, God, it was in no way jealousy.

There was just something about her… that simply did not sit well with you.

And when your guts told you to stay away from something or someone... You would rather pay attention to it.   

You dismissed such thoughts as you tightened the knot at your waist and ran your fingers through your messed hair — in case you met a servant in your way. Nevertheless, there was no need to go that far, for he was in the anteroom. Back turned to you, he exhaled the smoke, before bringing the cigar back to his lips.

Carefully, you approached him, encircling your arms around his waist. He stilled in your embrace but did not move away from you. With a relieved sigh, you tightened your hold and leaned your forehead against his back.

For a moment, all you could hear was the cadenced beating of his heart. It was calm and so very comforting. He placed his cigar in the cinder-box and entwined his hand with yours. It did not take him long to turn around in your embrace and face you.

“We’re not selling the Southampton manor, (Y/N).”

You could have asked why, but you were too tired for that. Suddenly, all you wanted as to get some sleep and forget that disastrous afternoon — dinner be damned. Aside the fact he could tell you he had a monetary problem — more likely he did not have a choice to begin with — it was obvious he did not want you having a part in solving it.

“I refuse to be the kind of husband that relies on his wife’s heritage to solve his problems.”

You snorted, ready to pretend you did not hear that. Or ready to ask him how it could be so different to borrow Lady Carise’s money, but not yours. After five years living only with Rae Sloane — a remarkably independent woman — and Lux — and a few servants, of course, but they would not meddle in how you decided to run the house or your life — it was easy to forget how men behaved and how societal expectations weighed heavily on their shoulders. Truth is, Rae taught how much free a woman can be making her own decisions and you were not ready to give up on that.

Instead, you settled on, “I don’t want that heritage. It has brought me nothing but pain.” You realized your mistake as soon as he broke away from you, but now… Now you could not back down. You looked at him, at his impossibly blue eyes as you continued, “The happiest moments I have in that house are related to Lux.” And Rae, of course. But that was a given. Honestly, even if there were happier memories from the house, it was not something you could so selfishly hold onto in times of need. And this very situation configured as such, in your opinion. You just had to make Hux see that.

He nodded…

…and you breathed slowly…

…relieved…

He was finally seeing things your way.

“The manor in Southampton is not to be sold. That’s final.” 

Oh, dear God!

With that, he brought the cigar back to his lips, his eyes focused on the quickly darkening sky outside. “Now, go get ready. I’ll wait you downstairs.”

Seething with anger, you bit your bottom lip, but decided not to give him the answer you desperately wanted. He was right, you should get ready. You should leave his presence and stay alone for a while, least you wanted to end up killing him.

“Like this, Mama?”

You pressed a small kiss to Lux’s forehead and nodded. You were a bit distracted, but more focused on him than that morning.

“Yes, exactly like this, Little Lord.” A small smile blossomed on your lips as you ran your fingers through his ginger hair. He was very enthusiastic about you having dinner with him and later keeping him company as he played the piano. You dismissed his tutoress, giving her an earlier respite.

Part of you — the childish part — was dying to know how Hux reacted to your absence. Even though the Lady of the House could indulge in the luxury of having breakfast in her chambers, dinner was an entirely different story. And part of you — the part that was trying to behave like the grown woman you were — just wanted some peace and the opportunity to sort your thoughts.

Spending some time with Lux gave you exactly what you were looking for. Not to mention, you felt bad for neglecting him during a great deal of the last few days.

“Promise me that if you ever get married, you will listen to your partner.”

He stopped playing and removed his chubby hands from the keys. He looked at you with a confused face, as if he had no idea what you were talking about — and how could he? Lux was just four — sometimes it was easy to forget. 

“Never mind.” You placed both of his hands back on the keys and instructed, “Keep going, you’re doing great!”

Lux beamed up at your words — a genuine smile curving his lips and highlighting his dimples. You felt tempted to pinch his cheeks, but you knew he would get mad at you. And he was doing so well, you did not want to distract him right now.

“Rae is no fun,” he commented when he got bored of the melody you were teaching him.

You smiled once more.

Yes.

He was right.

Rae is no fun.

“Adults are no fun,” you commented, placing both hands on the piano and inventing another melody just so he could copy you and thus you could extend your time together — even though it was way past his bedtime.

“No! You are fun, Mama!” His vehemence made you laugh a little.

“Lord Hux would probably say I’m no adult at all.”

And with your recent behavior, you could say he was right. And as soon as he knew what you did, he would be even sure of it. You bit your bottom lip, expecting him to chew you alive next day when he read the newspaper tomorrow morning.

No.

You did the right thing.

If he was not willing to see things your way, you just had to force him to. You had done it before, and it worked. There was no way it would not work now.

“You should not speak for myself.”

Both you and Lux looked up to see the figure of your husband leaning against the threshold. He unfolded his arms and approached you in a few, firm strides.

“Lord Hux!” Lux exclaimed, shifting on his seat. He moved closer to you, giving space for Armitage to sit beside him.

“Lord Hux,” you acknowledged his presence with pursed lips. Not keen on talking to him in front of a small child — you still resented him for his behavior earlier —, you moved your fingers over the keys.

He seemed to think of it as an offer, for he, too, accompanied you in the music. After years of watching him playing his violin, you almost forgot how proficient he was at playing the piano.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your fingers from the keys and rose to your feet. Still playing, Armitage looked at you with could almost pass as a surprised expression. You knew better.

“Let’s go, Lux,” you said, outstretching your hand. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But Mama—

“Lux!” You did not let him finish his plea. At some point, you knew you would give in. “Come.”

“But I don’t wanna go,” he pleaded again, his intense chestnut eyes shining with unshed tears. He looked at Armitage, trying to get him on his side.

You sighed. 

“Leave him be,” Hux said in an even tone, even if firmly. “I’ll get him to bed later.”

“No.”

If he was not willing to share things with you, you would not share your authority over Lux. Besides your unwillingness to do as your husband said, it was very late, and Lux was tired. If he was irritated at the mere possibility of going to bed, it was because it was way past his time to sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, Lux climbed down the seat and walked to you, not taking your hand, but not completely dismissing it either. As soon as you opened the door, you spotted the governess walking down the corridor.

She stopped as she saw you and subconsciously adjusted her clothes. If you were not so mad at Hux, you would probably have smiled at her gesture.

“May I help you, Your Ladyship?”

You shook your head, but your husband was behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he forced you to step back to his arms. His hand over yours prevented you from breaking apart.

“Take Lux to his room.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, offering Lux a hand. The boy quickly took it, casting a final glance at both of you. “Come, Lord Lux.”

As the two of them disappeared in the dim lighted corridor, you stepped away from Hux’s embrace.

“If you kindly excuse me.”

Before you could even leave the room, he had closed the door and pressed you against it. You inhaled sharply but refused to look at him over your shoulder.   

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His imperative tone made you snap. You shifted in his embrace and raised your chin, “Why should I talk to you when you don’t show the same consideration to me?”

He did not reply, not immediately. With the back of his hand, he traced your jawline and with his thumb he traced your bottom lip.

“I hate you.”

“I thought we were past that,” he replied lowering his face to yours. As soon as you felt his breath so close to your mouth, you turned your face away from him, letting his lips brush your cheeks.

“We have never been past that.” You moved from under his arms and put some distance between the two of you. He was ready to follow you when you said, “Don’t touch me without my permission.”

He stopped immediately, his hands falling to his sides.

You looked away, your eyes full of unshed tears.

“I thought we were on talking terms now, but it seems I was mistaken.” You drew in a sharp breath. Pressing your fingers firmly against the fabric of your dress, you raised your chin again, “A word of advice, Lord Hux, if you want to convince the King to appoint you as Prime Minister—

His snort made you stop momentarily. However, there were a few things to be said, and be damned his unwillingness to hear them. 

“If you want to be Prime Minister,” you repeated; your eyes narrowed at him. “You should start talking to your wife. Your opponents will constantly do their best to put us against each other and I can’t simply take your side every time if I don’t know what’s going on through your head.”

He approached in purposeful strides. He forced you to release the fabric of your dress and placed both of your hands on his shoulders.

“They will undoubtedly do that,” he said, running his thumb over your cheeks. “And for your and Lux’s sake, you should be ready to turn on me if the time comes.”

You furrowed your brows.

What was he talking about?

“A word of advice, Lady Hux.” He mimicked you, running his thumb over your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it. “Perhaps you should watch whom you make alliances with. Perhaps siding with His Highness won’t bring the expected results.”

Your eyed widened.

“It’s treason.”

He broke apart.

“It’s only treason if I get caught.”

You followed him, your mouth agape. That was a dangerous game — this one he was playing. When you reached him, you put your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Armitage, hear me out, if you get caught—” You shook your head and lowered your voice. “No. When you get caught, you’ll be hanged.”

He kissed the inside of your hand.

“That’s why you’ll have to make them believe you knew nothing.”

You shook your head.

He was not listening to you.

He was not fucking listening to you.

“There was no meeting this morning with the board, right? You met with the Prince.”

He shrugged.

“The Kings is dying.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” you retorted. “Your personal interests should not interfere with those of the Crown. Listen, I know you want to become Prime Minister, but betraying your King will nev—

He snorted.

…and pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your throat to his lips.

“You don’t fool me, Lady Hux.” He brought his lips to yours. “You pretend your loyalty lies with the King, but I know you want this as much as I do.”

“Yes.” You replied breathless. “I want it, but I am being reasonable here while you are not. You’re loyal to no one, but yourself!”

Placing both hands on his shoulders, you tried to force him to break apart. His hand wrapped around your neck, applying the slightest of pressures to your windpipe.

“Yes… You’re right. I’m loyal only to myself.” He kissed the corner of your lips. “But what about you, Lady Hux? Where your loyalty lies?”

“With—

“Think carefully about your answer.” Your answer had his fingers tightening around your throat — not to the point of hurting you.  

You wetted your lips.

“With the Crown, obviously.”

“Why?”

He pried his fingers open a little bit, allowing you to draw in a breath and reply — you were not so sure he would not like to hear it, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You bit your bottom lip, relieved that he seemed pleased with your answer. You thought about going on differently about it, but you knew he was talking hypothetically — just in case he was caught in his own game, something he did not plan on happening.

“Exactly, Lady Hux.” He kissed your throat softly. Next, his lips were upon yours in a brief — so very sweet — kiss. After it was over, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“You shouldn’t have to ask it. You know my loyalty lies with you. Because I lo—” You closed your eyes and drew in a breath. It was time you were honest, not only with him, but with yourself. “Because without you I can’t get what I want.”

“And what do you want, Lady Hux?”

Looking into his eyes, you replied, “Power.”

You loved Hux — you really did —, but you also loved the many possibilities a relationship with him represented. Knowing that he coveted — and could possibly be chosen — the position of Prime Minister opened a lot of those possibilities for you. You knew that without him, you would never reach a position of power — at least, not one like this.

“I want power.”

This time, his lips fell upon yours passionately. His hands slithered to your waist as he brought your body closer to his. You gasped, giving him the chance to slide his tongue over yours and deepen the kiss. He walked you back, till you met with the piano bench. He made you sit down, kneeling before you.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew in a sharp breath. He kissed your throat, his hand slithering under your dress to caress your thighs. You watched in awe as he removed your shoes and then your stockings. You knew that as soon as he touched your undergarments, he would find them dripping wet.

“Tell me what you want, Lady Hux.”

You allowed him to remove the offending article of clothing that kept his glorious fingers from you. Arching your back, you offered more of yourself to him.

“You. I want you.”

He removed his lips from your throat and shook his head. His fingers — oh, so close — stopped their caress over your sensible, burning skin. 

That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

You drew in a breath…

…and wetted your lips.

“I want power.”

It was all it took to have his fingers caressing you in the way he knew you needed it and to have his lips falling upon yours in an overpowering kiss.

“And you shall have it. Power suits you.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I’m still working on my stories. I hope you forgive me for taking so much time between updates. 

[the-colony-roleplay]

The storm starts to dissipate by Monday, January 31st.

The howling winds slow, the white caps soften and begin to recede back into the navy masses of an ocean grown tired of its lengthy growling. The dark clouds overhead have lightened, like they are considering letting up and moving on but have yet to commit to doing so. Rain still falls, but it’s lost its menace for the time being and though the grounds are still soaked, some merchants and trainers venture out under rubber hoods to assess the damage.

By the first day of February, the skies have cleared, and the lockdown is officially lifted. Down at the docks, ships are finally able to set sail to collect resources and make other deliveries, now nearly a week behind schedule. The people of Colony 22 look to the horizon with grumbling stomachs, hoping to see new ships on course this direction, bringing fresh offerings from the trade agreement to help out their depleting shelves.

Hunting chores and fishing do resume, but the Hub remains closed as Merchants take a day to make any necessary repairs and sort through stocks that may have been drowned during the storm. Training also remains cancelled, as the grounds try to recover from the flooding.

The morning of Thursday, February 3rd, the Hub reopens and the training is officially back up and running. This is the day the package arrives.

A ship has docked at the shores of Belvedere Island and a couple of water logged Marine Merchants lug several large wooden crates up the front steps of Colony 22. ‘FRAGILE’ is stamped across each of them in imposing red letters.  The Marines bring the crates directly to the Chancellor’s office, to be delivered into his hands only, as per their direct orders. They apologize profusely for the delay; they’d been docked up near the Southern coast of Wales, their last delivery point, unable to take to the water again while the storm had raged on.

Accompanying the crates is a letter, addressed to Chancellor Dervilia, which is pulled from inside the Merchant’s jacket and is the last thing passed Quinn’s way before they take their leave.

The envelope is a little damp, and the slightly thicker drafting stock paper folded in clean lines. The letter simply reads:

Chancellor Dervilia,

Enclosed in this shipment is a specimen that has been engineered in the labs of Colony 1. It has proven to have significant effect on the faculty of the Infection abilities, however it remains temporary, and its side effects are currently too substantial to be of immediate use. We have now distributed this sample to other research labs across the Colony system to expedite progress.

Please put your best scientific personnel on this immediately for further research. The constitution of new veins and varieties of this specimen by way of research and testing is encouraged, and any resulting conclusive progress made should be reported immediately back to you, and then to Reformist Headquarters, respectively.

It is IMPERATIVE that information regarding this specimen be STRICTLY PROHIBITED to NWRF personnel ONLY, exception made only for non-NWRF lab and research specialists. However, all parties must be instructed to keep the existence of this specimen and all research surrounding it STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL, and any breach of this NWRF mandated privacy must be reported to Headquarters immediately and face further government investigation.

Thank you for your cooperation and commitment to the Mandate,

Regards,

NWRF Headquarters

Though the information is reasonably restricted, this delivery sounds like good news to the NWRF aligned. Perhaps a cure is within their reach.

However, it takes less than 24 hours for the truth to become obvious.

In the labs, researchers and technicians have been testing the contaminated flour tied to the spread of the Colony-wide parasite for several weeks. Though they have not come up with any conclusive answers, they know the nature and base structure of it well. It only takes a couple preliminary observational tests, and a peek through a microscope, for it to become obvious that this is the source of such a parasite. This man-made compound has been engineered to manifest the way it does, meaning that just as some anti-NWRF had already feared, the ‘contaminated shipment’ of flour had been no accident. It had been a full scale experiment.

What is most worrying, however, from a Reformist perspective, isn’t the execution of the experiment itself (though some who remember the severity of their own illness may staunchly disagree), but the fact that it’d all been done under the intentional ignorance of the Colony Reformist Reps—even the Chancellor himself had been left in the dark. What does this kind of revelation say about their reigning government? Is this a betrayal of trust for the NWRF Reps or simply necessary means to conduct testing vital to the future of mankind?

As the discovery spreads in shocked whispers and moments of uneasy disquiet throughout the labs, the forthcoming becomes nauseatingly obvious: someone will need to inform the Chancellor, and quickly. But who will carry such a burden, and how should it be handled? And more particularly... how will Quinn react to such news?

Once these decisions are made and the Chancellor is informed, Quinn will in turn be faced with his own quagmire—will he personally inform the rest of the NWRF Reps and agents about this matter? Will he hold a meeting, or pass on the responsibility to his subordinates? Will he confront the NWRF HQ about this betrayal and demand answers, or will he decide to keep his mouth shut? Where do the Colony 22 Reformists go from here?

A/N:

Hey team!!

So, this ~tantalizing~ new plot drop is sort of like a secretive prologue to part three of our Fever State event! But what makes this plot drop so unique from our previous one is that this is largely an OOC reveal. That is to say, we’re letting you, the muns, in on some pieces of the story to which 80% of the characters will remain totally oblivious for now. 

However, this is a vital stage of what will come in the next stages of Fever State, and as you can see, directly affects the NWRF characters, (especially the Reps & Elite NWRF) as well as any and all Scientists, Lab Researchers & Techs, etc—even those not specifically aligned with the NWRF.

While plotting and brainstorming the details of the unfolding of these incidents and spreading of information should begin in the NWRF OOC starting now, and will be soon seen hitting the dash in various forms, it is ABSOLUTELY VITAL THAT NO NON-NWRF CHARACTERS (WITH THE EXCEPTION ONLY OF LAB RESEARCHES & TECHS) ARE PERMITTED TO KNOW THIS INFORMATION UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. That is to say, that you may NOT plot to reveal or leak this info to ANY characters outside of the group stated above, even if you have NWRF characters with close relationships with Non-NWRF characters. This is strictly because the future of this plot that Lottie and I have been formulating for the past year, relies on this element remaining under wraps for the time being, but we definitely wanted to give the NWRF characters some interesting new elements to work with!  

We highly encourage applicable muns to use this information once their character(s) find out about it, and explore this development in plots with other NWRF, as well as in internal narration, while keeping this huge secret. Keep in mind too, that NWRF characters of various ranks will find out in different ways and at different times—Lab personnel would be first in the know, then most likely the official Reps & Quinn etc. Non-Elite NWRF, who are not directly involved, would likely not know immediately and would have to find out some other way, if at all. (e.g. Felix is NWRF aligned, but he is not of any kind of Elite status, and therefore has no immediate right to the knowledge. His father, however, would be informed relatively swiftly, but is something this confidential the kind of thing he’d tell his petty, self-absorbed and immature son? Probably not.) This kind of plotting should be taken to the NWRF OOC to be immediately accessible to all muns with whom it directly relates.

In the meantime, however, Non-NWRF characters are seeing the end of the storm, and can be focusing on the lift of the lockdown, outdoor resource chores going back to normal, training being back in rotation, Merchants repairing and reopening the Hub, the Catch and Stables being accessible again, and the lingering affects of the flooding of the grounds.

The verse timeline will move forward to the first week of February, but as this is not an event, you have the regular amount of vague flexibility. However, please use the specific dates listed in the post above as official canon reference points, and plan your threads and plots accordingly. Your plots should not extend past the 5th or 6th of February, until the next timeline update.

Other things to think about is that Game season is coming up again, at the end of Feb/beginning of March, so training will likely intensify in the coming weeks. Is your character looking forward to off season being over, or dreading it? We may also have some chore-related changes and plots in the near future for you, which will be a bit of new content for y’all to gnaw on, and chore rotations will be updated on the main this weekend as well.

Finally, with regards to the NWRF skeles, as you know, that task got backburnered with the loss of my grandfather, but once this plot element is safely underway, I hope to start gradually working on this again with Lottie in the coming weeks!

Alright kidlets, you know the drill! If you have any questions or concerns or wonderments, please bring them to the main blog! Preferable the ask box, so we can reply publicly and help out others who may have similar questions!

Love you all so darn much and happy Evil Scheming and Drama-ing!

xxColMods

[thesoftdumbass]

Wild Blooms

FDR Foster X Reader (This Means War)

I Gift Thee Chris and Karl || @goingknowherewastaken Birthday Challenge, Flower Shop AU

Word Count: 3.2K

Characters: Franklin “FDR” Foster, Alexus (OC), Nana, Tuck, the kid with a bucket on his head from the movie.

Warnings: I think like one cuss word?

Summary: When FDR’s florist moves away, he is forced to find another person to buy flowers for dinner on Saturday nights at Nana’s. Luckily he found you.

A/N: Hey, you guys! I wrote this fic for Katie’s birthday challenge! Sorry it’s a day late, but i’m suck at finishing things on time. I hope you had a fun day and that you like this fic!

This is my first time writing FDR, and I’ve only seen the movie like once, so I hope it’s not too OOC for ya! So without further adieu, let’s get into it!

masterlist 

The shop is relatively empty for a Saturday afternoon, but you don’t mind much. You bob your head to the music playing over the loudspeakers as you gather some freesia blossoms to add to a bouquet that’s being prepared for a client’s order. The only other people inside your corner flower shop is a couple looking for flowers for their wedding reception, browsing through a book of your arrangements.

You check on the couple, Tom and Jess, you remember as you’re walking away, to make sure they don’t need anything from you before going back to your task. You’re just wrapping up a group of flowers a few minutes later when you hear the bell above the door chime with a new customer arriving.

“Just a minute,” you call out and receive a “no rush” in return. The bouquet you were finishing up now in the cooler and waiting to be picked up, you make your way back out into the main area of the shop. The buckets that line the shelves are full of beautiful blooms and you take a moment to appreciate their scents on your way to where you heard the man’s voice come from.

“Hi, welcome to Wild Blooms. Can I help you with anything today,” you ask in your pleasant customer voice.

The customer is looking at a bucket of pink carnations with mild interest but turns around at your voice. When he turns his eyes to you, the bright blue blue color stuns you for a moment, his light brown hair falling onto his forehead. Breaking out of your trance, you await his response.

“I’m just looking for some flowers to take to dinner,” he replies, his voice smooth as honey.

“I can help with that. Would you like a custom bunch, a vase, or there are pre-made bouquets that you can choose from,” you offer.

“I may get a pre-made one for today.”

You nod and lead him back to the glass-front cooler where you keep the already made arrangements, some of them made just this morning. “This is what we have for right now. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“I just want it to be special, can you recommend something?” The man looks at you for your opinion, and he brushes a piece of blond hair from his forehead.

“Well, roses are usually safe. Or if you want something different, this one is pretty special,” you say, pointing out a particular arrangement. It’s beautiful, anemones and blue ranunculus interspersed with Alister roses and sprigs of greenery. He smiles brightly at the colorful flowers.

“These are beautiful! I’ll take them.”

“Alright, I’ll get these and check you out. Come with me,” you nod toward the counter in the back where the register sits, already grabbing the flowers from the cooler and heading in that direction. You pull some brown paper from a roll on the wall and wrap the bouquet neatly, tying red twine across the stems when you were done and ringing the man up. When he’s done paying, you give a large smile to the attractive man. “All done here, I hope you enjoy them…” you trail off, hoping to get his name.

“FDR. It’s nice to meet you…Y/N.” He trails off, looking to your name tag. “Thank you for the flowers, she’s gonna love them,” he smiles, looking down at the arrangement sitting on the counter.

Your face falls at the realization, but you cover it quickly with a smile. Of course a man as handsome as him isn’t single. You pick up the flowers, handing them to him. “Have a nice day,” you wave before getting back to work.

For weeks, almost like clockwork, FDR would come into the shop on late Saturday afternoons and buy a bouquet, leaving with a flirty comment and a parting wink, so you’re not expecting it when the man shows up on a Friday. You’ve just removed yourself from the storage room with a new shipment of flowers, your hands full of bright sunflowers when you see him. He’s making his way to the back of the store, to the cash register stand.

“FDR,” you say with slight confusion in your tone. He turns around at the mention of his name and smiles when he sees you, his bright blue eyes lighting up. “Y/N, hey!”

“You’re a little early,” you say lightly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know that the man you have a slight crush on would be in today, so you’re just wearing jeans and a tank top with your hair up in a messy bun. FDR thinks you look good though, running an appreciative eye down your figure as you’re distracted, sitting down the container of flowers you were previously holding.

“Yeah, I am. I am here to pick out a bouquet but I have to go into work tomorrow, so I thought I’d come in today and have them delivered. As long as that’s okay,” he trails off. You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, and that is confirmation enough for him. “I really wanna do something special this time. Do you think you’re up for helping me put together an arrangement?”

“Of course,” you exclaim, and FDR chuckles at the way your whole face lights up at all the possibilities. “Where would you like to start?”

“I wanted something a little different, maybe something I haven’t gotten. I was looking at those last time I was here.” FDR points to the corner filled with peonies, the large blooms having caught his eye before. The two of you walk over, where FDR cups one of the peach blooms softly in one hand.

“You like these? I just got this batch in yesterday.”

“They’re gorgeous,” FDR says and you get to work. He tells you that he has something big in mind, so you pick out some blooms on the larger side.

With the peach peonies in your work bucket, you make rounds around the shop picking out complimentary blossoms, the container full of orange, white, and bright pink roses respectively, baby’s breath, begonias, and small tufts of yarrow.

You bring FDR to a workstation and he sits down the bucket that he had insisted on carrying as it was filled up. You take a break, grabbing two cold water bottles from the fridge and handing one to him. You sit on a bench for a few minutes, looking around.

“You know I opened this shop almost two years ago,” you say in reminiscence, distracted by the memory of receiving your first customer.

FDR turns his head to look at you from where he’s sitting beside you. “Really? I didn’t know you owned this place,” he hums.

“Yep,” you say, popping the p. “My mom loves flowers. Our house was surrounded by them growing up and I would always look up the names so I could remember them later. I guess that stuck with me, flowers are my passion now. I like making people happy too, seeing a smile on someone’s face as they receive a bouquet, that’s why I make my own deliveries sometimes.”

FDR watches as you talk and look back, the smile on your face coming easily to you as his own lips stretch into a matching grin. The overwhelming urge to kiss you comes to him, and not since the first time he’s met you. As soon as he saw the enthusiasm that you approach your work with, FDR was hooked and knew that he wanted to know more about you. Thinking back on it, Franklin Foster is so happy that his old florist moved away.

His attention is drawn back to you when the sound of your laugh reaches his ears, fingers snapping in front of his nose. It’s a sound that he hasn’t heard nearly enough, and the corners of his mouth turn up instantly.

“You still with me,” you ask through giggles.

“Always,” he chuckles.

“Let’s get to work, you goof.” You sit down your water bottle and turn to the table, looking through the bucket of flowers and deciding on a game plan. “You said you wanted them in a vase, right?” He agrees and you help him pick one out from the shelf along the wall before getting to work.

Two sets of hands work quicker than one, and soon enough you’re finishing up, wrapping a pretty pink ribbon around the vase to be delivered tomorrow. You try to get the bow just right, absolutely /not/ trying to stall. When you’re done, FDR will leave and you’ll be left alone with your work and a skipping heartbeat just like many times before. As you’re adjusting one of the rose blossoms, making sure that it’s turned right, you feel more than see someone coming up behind you.

“Perfect,” a low voice murmurs next to your ear and you smile. Lifting your head from examining the arrangement, you turn your head to meet your gaze with FDR, a soft expression in his eyes.

You smile and giggle softly, looking back at the vase. “Yes, well, I can’t take all the credit. You did help.”

“Right, the flowers,” he clears his throat, “yeah, they look amazing.” A crease forms between your brows as you try to figure out what he means by that, but he’s talking before you can think too much about it. “Can these be here at seven o’clock tomorrow night,” he asks, handing you a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, and your voice comes out less than enthused, so you put on your customer service smile to try and make up for it. FDR looks at you with scrutiny, recognizing the look on your face.

“You don’t have to do that, put on a fake expression. You can be you around me, I hope you know that, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows draw upwards in surprise that he noticed, but you soothe your face back down to normal. You clear your throat and speak, your voice coming out quieter than you expected. “Thank you, FDR. You too,” and you mean it, a small smile lifting your mouth. He leaves not long after that, promising to speak to you soon.

The next day you’re going through some papers in your office when one of your delivery people Alexus sticks her head in the open doorway. “Hey boss, I’m about to head out for my evening run. Is this everything,” she asks, gesturing to the line of flowers waiting to be loaded into the van. You look over them, nodding your head and then stopping when your eyes land on the peony bouquet that you and FDR put together the night before.

“Yeah Lex, I’ll take this one though. Let me help you load these up.” You help Alexus with the flowers and make sure the vase is secure in the car before checking yourself over. You may not even see FDR, but your minimal makeup, casual white and black striped dress, and flats look passable with your hair down in waves. It’s better to be prepared, right? You check the address slip that’s attached to a vase and get ready to head to the house outside of town.

When you pull up to the address, you think that it’s not what you were expecting. The farmhouse and the surrounding land is beautiful, but you were surprised by the number of vehicles parked outside. There must be an event going on inside, you think to yourself.

You pick the vase up and carry it carefully to the front door lest it break, and make sure to pocket the address and billing information so the person on the receiving end doesn’t see it. There’s a card attached that you hadn’t seen before, FDR must have written it while you weren’t paying attention. You ring the doorbell by the front door and hear the chimes sound throughout the large house. While you wait, your curiosity gets the better of you and you peek down at the card that reads

Happy birthday Nana, you’re a Saint for putting up with me for all these years.

You barely have time to process this new information when the door opens in front of you and you bring your lips into a shy smile. You come to face an elderly woman, her white hair tucked back into an elegant updo, a dress and heels adding to the air of sophistication. She looks to you and her red lips pull into a bright grin when she spots the flowers in your hands.

“Oh my, such lovely flowers,” she says excitedly in a British accent. “Are these from my Franklin?”

“Franklin,” you mutter confusedly, tilting your head, and before you can open your mouth again to ask who that is, you hear your name being called and you turn around.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you would be here,” FDR says as he walks closer to you, having just arrived.

“I told you that I make deliveries sometimes,” you say sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder.

You glance uneasily back to the front door that’s still open and FDR smacks himself on the forehead, walking over and embracing the woman, who is still standing there.

“Nana, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my Nana. This woman raised me, and I can’t thank her enough.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m guessing these are for you,” you say with a genuine smile this time.

Nana accepts the flowers readily and pulls them up to her face to smell, taking the time to appreciate their beauty.

“Thank you for bringing these,” FDR puts a hand on your back and leans a little closer to you as Nana is otherwise occupied, though she doesn’t miss the exchange.

“Of course,” you reply, suddenly bashful.

“We are having a little celebration out back, would you like to stay for the party? You can keep Franklin company,” Nana speaks up.

FDR groans inwardly at her meddling, but he still smiles when you look to him for reassurance. “That sounds nice.”

The two of you follow Nana inside, your shoulders brushing as she leads you through the impressive house to a fenced-in area of the backyard.

“Look what this sweet girl brought me,” she announces to anyone listening and you hear back a few praises on the arrangement.

“Thank you, Nana, but FDR helped me,” you didn’t want to take all the credit for the flowers.

“Oh please, all I did was point out one flower. You matched the rest and put them together beautifully,” he replies affectionately. You bite your lip at the compliment.

After a few minutes of chatting between the two of you, you are interrupted by a loud voice nearby speaking in a British accent. “Look who finally showed up,” is heard before a shorter man comes over to FDR and wraps him in a warm, albeit rough hug.

“Collins had me come in today, I told you that yesterday.”

“Yes, well, you failed to mention that you would be bringing a date to Nana’s birthday.” The man turns to you, putting out a hand for you to shake and you do. You can’t help but notice that FDR doesn’t correct him about you being his date. “My name is Tuck, I’m his brother,” he says with a thumb pointed towards your companion.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Tuck. So I’m guessing you could tell me a bunch of embarrassing stories about Franklin,” you say, putting a teasing emphasis on his real name. FDR groans, and is that a blush painting his cheeks? You giggle at this.

“You have no idea, love. There was this one time, in Bangladesh-” Tuck starts but is cut off by FDR interrupting him.

“Let’s not do this right now, Tuck. Another topic please, any other topic?” You smirk at how flustered this confident charmer has become.

Tuck laughs before turning the conversation. “So how did you meet Frank?”

You tilt your head to look up at him with a smile, thinking to the first time you met him. “I’m a florist, I own a flower shop in town. FDR came in one day, clueless about what to buy, so I helped him. He’s come in every Saturday since. I actually brought an arrangement here today.”

“Oh you’re the cute florist he’s always going on about. It was getting annoying, but I can’t say I blame him.”

You hear a strangled sort of noise and look beside you to where it seems to have come from. “You okay,” you question, concerned but still amused.

“I’m fine.”

Tuck leaves after this, going off to sit with his wife and son, leaving you to your own devices, promising to tell you all of Franklin’s terrible and funny stories. You plan to take him up on it.

FDR walks with you over to an empty table that’s been set up, and you sit down, him following. He looks at you, a shy smile on his face. “I’m sorry about my family. They can be a little much, at times.” FDR shakes his head affectionately.

You laugh, looking over at him with a smile. “I like them, they’re fun.”

He shrugs, watching a little boy run by with a bucket over his head. A laugh escapes his lips at the boy’s antics. “Yeah, sometimes.”

After a little while, dinner is served and you sit with FDR, chatting about your lives, learning more about each other. “So Nana raised you?”

“Yeah, yeah she did. What that woman must have went through, I was a bit of a troublemaker growing up.”

“I don’t know, I think you grew up pretty well,” you say with a faux thoughtful smile, teasing. FDR rolls his eyes good-naturedly and you giggle. “No, but really. It’s great of you to get her flowers every week, that’s so sweet. Not many people do that lately. I make my living off of people trying to make up for mistakes, and the occasional wedding. But not you.” You duck your head as you realize that you’ve been talking for too long. You shrug, “I don’t know, I think you’re pretty special.”

FDR reaches a hand out to touch your cheek, his thumb running over your cheekbone, and as you lift your head up, your eyes are met with his brilliant blue ones.

“I think you’re pretty special, too.” You feel your cheeks flush and lean into his touch, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but… can I see you sometime, outside of Wild Blooms?”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head happily. “Of course you can.”

“Good,” FDR nods. “How about dinner tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at your place?” The hopeful look in his eyes makes you melt inside, and suddenly you can’t wait for tomorrow night.

Feeling brave, you lean forward quickly and confidently, placing your lips on his cheek and lingering before pulling away slowly. The goofy grin that takes over FDR’s face makes your expression match, his happiness infectious.

From across the yard, Nana stands with Tuck, watching the two of you with fondness. “I think Y/N is good for him,” Nana observes.

“Yeah, she is,” Tuck nods, and then laughs. “Now we’ve just got to break it to her what he does for a living.”

Permanent Tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718

Chris Pine Character Tags: @musikat18 @auduna-druitt @garnet-redtailedhero @bookcaseninja

If you’d like to be mentioned in any future fics, you can add your URL to my tag list HERE 

[clockworkrotten]

{OOC PSA}

Alright. I honestly wasn’t going to be made to feel like I have to justify myself to the entire LazyTown fandom, but apparently, this whole thing with Talon has blown up out of proportion, because I’m being generally ostracised by almost the entire fandom for something that I haven’t even explained my full side of. I’d like to make it clear that I’m not making this post to slander any one person in particular, nor to tell anybody to think negatively of Talon, nor to ask for unblocks/etc, because if you’ve already pushed me away, sent me hate, or gossiped bad things about me over something you haven’t even asked me about, then I don’t want you to unblock me. Stay mad. I’m writing this for no other purpose than to get this off my chest, and to clear my name, because I’ve been penned as some toxic, abusive person, and that is not even remotely close to the ‘me’ you think I am, and I’m not going to be publicly slandered over something you’re not even fully informed about. If you still hate me after this, that’s your problem, but I’m going to, at least, explain my side, and tell you why I’ve mutually cut ties with Talon, and why I reacted the way I did during our separation. Explanation below the cut.

I’ve known Talon...probably since I first started this blog. We never really had anything bad to say about one another. In fact, we usually defended each other when the hate would roll in. When Stefan passed away, we became closer, and started talking more frequently. Eventually, Talon admitted he had a crush on me, over Twitter. It was mutual, and a few days later, we entered a relationship, together. Everything was going great. I felt comfortable with him. One thing I’d always laughed & joked about, even before entering a relationship with Talon, was that I don’t do well around kids, and that I would never want to raise one. I always made some funny (yet true) comment about preferring to raise dogs or hamsters, etc, and to that, Talon agreed. However, that changed, one day, when I mentioned in general conversation (yet again) that I just couldn’t raise a child happily. He offhandedly told me that he wanted a child (with laughing emojis, etc, etc), and of course, I was pretty shocked, because we’d always just been mutually (or so I thought) more inclined to be crazy pet people as opposed to family makers. I questioned him (I honestly thought he was joking, at first), and he just kept replying with “lol”, etc, with more laughing emojis. I continued to question him, and it didn’t really seem like it was something he was willing to discuss, or even acknowledge, until I eventually just asked him, outright, to have a conversation about it. I asked him why he hadn’t told me from the start of our relationship that he was planning to have a kid, and he kept avoiding the answer with phrases like “I don’t know”. I asked him where this left us as a couple. I got the same response. “I don’t know”. I got the general feeling he wasn’t even really thinking about it or taking it seriously, but I thought that, maybe, it was just the way he talked, since he’d never been one for long, detailed replies. I went to bed, and the next day, he apologised to me for not telling me from the start that he wanted a kid (he said he didn’t know how to tell me without damaging the chances of our relationship), which I accepted. He also told me that he’d changed his mind, that he no longer wanted a child after listening to me re-explain the reasons why I didn’t want one (my mental illnesses, too much responsibility, money, etc, etc), and since relating to it/realising he was in the same situation, that he probably couldn’t handle a child, either. He had, in his words, told me that he had “no intentions of letting me go”, and for once, seemed to give a genuine, thought-out answer. I thought it was unusual that he could suddenly change his mind about such a big life decision like having a baby, so I made him promise that he wasn’t just masking his desire for a child for my sake, and that he genuinely had realised parenting was a bad idea for him personally, to which he promised. Something just seemed a little bit off and immature about the whole situation (him not being honest with me about what he wanted, him being suddenly able to change life plans he’d told me he’d had since he was a child), but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I felt like the ordeal did bring us closer, in the end, because we established a ‘openness and honesty’ kind of rule. I moved on from that situation. We continued on as normal for a little while, and I was starting to develop deeper feelings for Talon, which I expressed. We never said the ‘L’ word because I don’t think either of us were quite there, but I was definitely catching deeper feelings for him, which he told me he was also feeling. We were getting pretty close. A day later, completely out of the blue, I woke up to see I’d received a message (hours before) that started a conversation before we’d even greeted one another. It simply said something along the lines of ‘hey, I think I jumped the gun a bit, I’m not emotionally stable enough to be in a relationship, I understand if you don’t want to be friends after this” (emoji heart). I was taken aback. He’d literally never, ever implied that to me, before that moment. He’d always expressed how great we were together. Can you see why I was hurt? I felt betrayed & like I had been taken for some kind of idiot. Previous to our relationship, Talon had always publicly expressed (mostly over Facebook) that he was lonely & wanted a relationship really badly. That is why I felt like I’d been used. Given how things turned out, I genuinely feel like he probably didn’t even want ‘me’, at all, and that he probably just wanted somebody to like him romantically. That was the only explanation I could rationally come to for him to have lied to me about wanting a child (if he was serious about the relationship, he would have been upfront), and for him to just randomly exit the relationship after we’d literally been expressing the previous days how so mutually happy we were that we’d found one another. I don’t think he ever had a crush on ‘me’. I think he was happy to be validated by someone entering in to a relationship with him. I felt like my emotions had been played with, because the break up was honestly just so spontaneous and out of character for how we’d previously been together just days before it. He probably realised he wasn’t attracted to me, and that he was actually just attracted to the idea of me. Maybe, that’s not true. I don’t know, but that’s my thoughts on it. I would have accepted that he’d realised he just didn’t like me romantically, had he not told me just days before that he was feeling a deep connection with me. I felt like I’d been treated like somebody’s fling. I had already felt like he wasn’t taking the baby situation seriously (but had moved on from it), but the spontaneity of the breakup honestly just proved to me that he wasn’t taking any aspect of the relationship seriously, at all. I’d sent Christmas gifts abroad to him, and given that he hadn’t even received them at the point of our breakup, and given that I was understandably hurt by the sudden abandonment (which didn’t seem to come from a particularly sorry place, nor carried out in a mature manner), I told him to give the gifts to his next fling. I didn’t expect a reply from him, but I didn’t expect him to react the way he did, either. I had a reason to be upset. He made me feel like he was genuinely getting attached to me, only to just up & leave for a reason that seemed to come completely out of nowhere. If he had genuinely felt like the pressure of a relationship was too much for him, then why had be been telling me how happy he was in ours? The way he sent me the breakup message felt too casual. I really don’t feel like I’d been taken seriously, at all. He blocked me almost immediately after I replied to his message. Of course, I was going to feel like he’d just taken me for a ride. That being said, I expressed to my close friends, explicitly, that I did not mind if they remained in contact with Talon, and that I just personally didn’t want to contact him, any more, because I felt like my emotions had been toyed with. I still continued to indirectly defend him when he received anon hate (people would reblog it on my dash), saying that he was always a good friend to people & a decent roleplayer, and that people really shouldn’t be sending anon hate to him, because I knew that he wasn’t any of the things he was being accused of being (useless, hated, etc), etc, etc, and that I just felt like he had treated me, in our personal situation, unfairly. I’ve been linked to posts on Talon’s blog where he’s made passive aggressive posts, clearly directed at me, like “who the FUCK needs relationships, seriously, what a waste of time”, and also “Lies have been spread about me”, etc, as though I was the one who did HIM wrong, and as though I’d been telling people things about him that weren’t true, which I haven’t; ask anyone if I’ve told them anything about him that I haven’t typed out in this post. I’m no longer defending him after being made aware of those posts. He’s clearly got some kind of grudge against me for reacting negatively to being randomly thrown away, even though he told me in the breakup message, “I understand if you don’t want to be friends any more” or whatever the line was. Clearly, he doesn’t understand the weight of how he made things, and I don’t know what he’s been saying about me for people to directly address the situation & call me toxic/abusive, or if it’s even Talon, himself, sending those anons (it may not be, he may be completely innocent), but I’m still receiving hate, and I’m still having people who were supposed to be my friends and RP partners BLOCK me over my personal decision to not be buddy-buddy with Talon, and I’m just not here to be publicly slandered over any of this absolute fucking mess. So, there. That’s what happened, this is my candid opinion on the matter, and it’s all out there, now. I’ve said my piece. Think what you will of me. My conscience is clear.