#Summer cooking in New England

[lphaneuf]

This.

Dinner in summer.

[whitefireprincess]

New England Clam Chowder | Cabby Shack

[growingstories]

Pjotr (NEW PICTURES)

This is a story by Jamie, living in a suburban area close to London: Next to where I live is a building that houses construction workers from abroad. Most of the guys I see are from Poland living here to work for a construction company run by a Mr. Johnson. I didn’t really think much of it until Pjotr became my direct neighbor.

Every day, I would see the rough Polish workers in the garden, their tough exterior giving away nothing but their laborious days. Dusty and unshowered, they would gather after work to smoke, drink beer, and chat until late into the night. None of them seemed to be particularly fit, most being slightly overweight. However, their dedication to their work was admirable. During vacations, they would all go back to their families in Poland and return after spending quality time with their loved ones. It was during such Summer vacation period that I bumped into someone unexpected.

As I walked down the street, lost in my own thoughts, I noticed a hot, athletic guy who appeared to be lost. Curiosity got the better of me, and I approached him to offer my help. He was looking for number 13, the house right next to mine. I excitedly told him that I lived next door, and we introduced ourselves. His name was Pjotr, and he mentioned that he was from Poland as the rest of the guys.

Pjotr had recently finished carpenter school and had come to to England pursue his dreams in the construction industry. His charming demeanor instantly struck a chord with me, and before I knew it, I had fallen head over heels in love with him.

After a week of living next to each other, Pjotr and I bumped into each other again. I asked him how he was finding his time in England so far. He confessed that work was tough and after work was a bit monotonous. The other workers would only gather to drink and never did anything particularly interesting. He expressed his struggle in connecting with his rough colleagues, who mostly talked about women and football—topics that didn't interest him much. He was happy to paths crossed have with me, as it meant having someone to talk to outside of work.

Feeling an undeniable connection, the following week, I suggested we grab some food together, and he gladly accepted. During dinner, Pjotr confided in me about his ambition to build his own dream house and start his own construction company by the time he turned 30. I found his drive and determination incredibly inspiring and showered him with praise.

Our dinners together became a regular occurrence, and soon enough, we found ourselves venturing out to clubs, enjoying the vibrant nightlife. It was during one of those late-night walks home, in the midst of a palpable tension, that Pjotr surprised me by pushing me into an alleyway and passionately kissing me. Overwhelmed by desire, I invited him up to my place, and we shared an unforgettable night together. However, we both agreed that our encounters needed to remain discreet due to the nature of our situation. On the streets, we would greet each other as neighbors, and upon entering or leaving my house, we had to ensure that no prying eyes were watching.

As time went on, our relationship deepened, and we spent almost every day together. Pjotr would sneak into my house after dinner with colleagues at 7.30 pm to share a bite with me, have amazing sex and sleep together tight and set his alarm for 4:30 am, ensuring that he made it back to his place before anyone woke up. Our secret meetings, filled with passion and desire, became the highlights of our lives. But as the months passed, I began to notice subtle changes in Pjotr's physique. Love handles appeared on his once athletic frame, accentuating his rugged charm.

At first, it didn't bother me, but gradually, it became apparent that he was gaining weight. He confessed his struggle to me, explaining that his colleagues would cook fatty dinners every night, and the amount of beer they consumed was staggering. Despite his best efforts, the weight seemed to pile on rapidly, and he struggled to find a way out. To support him, I promised to cook lighter meals, but he would often snack on my food, turning my smaller portions into full dinners. Desserts became larger, and his belly started to grow bigger.

Seeing him change physically didn't dampen my attraction to him; in fact, I found his size newfound incredibly appealing. I assured him that he still looked hot, hoping to boost his confidence. In response, he asked if he could my use gym, determined to shed some weight. He embarked on a rigorous workout routine, spending hours at the gym after work.

The results were astonishing. His muscles bulked up, giving him an even more commanding presence. However, the weight he had gained remained, transforming him into an absolute beast of a man. He reveled in his newfound strength, attributing it partly to his size. Pjotr's colleagues, impressed by his determination, offered him lighter duties that didn't involve too much physical exertion, enabling him to indulge his appetite even more.

Over the course of five years, our secret encounters continued, and Pjotr's size grew. He had saved up a considerable amount of money and shared with me his plans to leave England for good. He was eager to return to Poland and live out his dreams of building his dream house and starting his own construction company. He asked if I would join him, sharing his desire to build a life together. His family was accepting of our relationship, and I found myself seriously considering starting a new life in Poland.

In the final months leading up to our departure, Pjotr had become simply obese. However, he appeared more relaxed and content now that his family knew about us. We made the decision to leave England behind and embrace a simpler life in Poland. I knew I could pursue my own career there as well. And so, that's where we find ourselves now—living a peaceful, joy-filled life in Poland I take. care of the love of my life, who spends his days building our dream house and establishing his own successful construction company. The days are busy, and as he constantly moves and works, he has shed some weight along the way. Nevertheless, his insatiable appetite and love for food guarantee that he will never be skinny again. But that's perfectly fine, because to me, he will always be the sexy, confident, and loving man I fell in love with—the who pursued man his ambitions, achieved his dreams, and captured my heart forever.

[justlookfrightened]

Silver Fox

Filling a prompt from @goddess47: Post-comic: Jack finds some gray hairs when he's shaving.

Jack wasn’t even really paying attention when it happened.

He was in the bathroom, getting ready for the blueberry picking excursion Bitty organized each summer, clad in shorts and an old Samwell T-shirt, old sneakers and the calf-high socks Bitty always laughed at.

Bitty was next to him at the vanity, adding a layer of sunscreen to the moisturizer that was part of his daily facial skin care routine.

“You have to moisturize, Jack,” Bitty was insisting. Again. Like every day when they ended up getting ready in the bathroom at the same time.

“What are you worried about?” Jack said. “Bits, you’re 25.”

“And I make my living in front of the public,” Bitty said. “You can’t tell me your mother didn’t tell you about proper skin care. And I might not have lines yet, but now is the time. I shudder to think of my childhood.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, spreading shaving gel over the lower half of his face.

“How much time I spent outside in the summer,” Bitty went on. “Helping MooMaw in the garden, mowing the lawn, hanging out at the lake, even just wandering, staying out of everyone’s way …”

Bitty trailed off.

“And did I ever even wear a hat? No, I did not,” Bitty said, picking up the wide-brimmed straw hat he’d bought just for the occasion from the counter next to him and settling it on his head. “So now I have to be extra careful.”

“See, that’s the difference,” Jack said, pulling the razor up against the grain of his beard. “I make my living on the ice, wearing a helmet, and no one cares what I look like. Maybe you should have thought more about a hockey career, bud.”

“Hush, you,” Bitty said. “We both know that was never in the cards for me.”

Jack hummed noncommittally. Bitty still didn’t realize how good he’d been, but Jack had given up trying to convince him. Three years out of college, Bitty was something of a media personality, with hundreds of thousand of followers on YouTube and more on TikTok, and he’d started doing cooking segments on a local morning show.

“Almost done?” Bitty asked, almost vibrating with excitement. He loved this outing, one that had started with whatever members of the Samwell team were in New England in July the first summer Bitty spent with Jack.

Now there were nearly three dozen people meeting them at the blueberry farm: the Samwell guys, of course, but also several Falconers and their families, plus friends Jack and Bitty (mostly Bitty) had made in Providence.

The little kids would pick a pint or two and head to the playground with their parents; the adults without kids would invariably end up with more than they could use, and Bitty — Bitty would pick gallons on his own, and take any excess from the others. Those berries would turn into jam, into cobblers and crumbles, and into pies. Some would be frozen and kept for winter. Some would become sauce to be served over ice cream. Sometimes it would be served over ice cream that was served over blueberry pie. That was Tater’s favorite dessert.

“Almost,” Jack said, rinsing his face and reaching for a towel.

“Here,” Bitty said, holding out the tube of sunscreen. “I got you a hat too. Wait — you missed a spot.”

Jack leaned close to the mirror to examine the patch of skin in front of his ear that Bitty was pointing to. 

Yeah, there was a little stubble. He reached for the shaving gel again but something silver caught his eye as he turned. What?

“Bits?” Jack said. “Look.”

“Look at what, sweet pea?” Bitty said, barely raising his eyes from his phone, where he was no doubt coordinating last-minute logistics.

“Here,” Jack said, turning that side of his face towards Bitty and pointing. “A gray hair.”

Bitty glanced up and then back down to his phone.

“Yes?” he said. “You just noticed? It’s been there a few weeks at least.”

“No,” Jack said. “I would have noticed.”

“I thought you had,” Bitty said. “I figured you just didn’t care. Like about sunscreen.”

“I don’t,” Jack said, but that wasn’t completely true. “I’m just surprised. I’m only 30.”

Bitty shrugged. 

“Some people start going gray in their 20s,” he said. “When did your folks start going gray?”

“I don’t know about Maman,” Jack mused. “She always colored her hair, as long as I can remember. And Papa still doesn’t have gray hair.”

“Finish shaving,” Bitty said, impatient to get out of the house. 

When Jack picked up the gel again, Bitty said, “And you have to know that your dad colors his hair, too. Haven’t you noticed how sometimes it suddenly looks darker?”

“No?” Jack said, before swiping off the remaining stubble with the razor.

“Take my word for it,” Bitty said. “He does.”

“Do you think I should –”

“Color your hair? Because if you’re worried about one silver strand —”

“I’m not worried,” Jack protested. “But if I got one, I’m going to get more, right?”

“I guess,” Bitty said. “But you wear a helmet to play, right? Your hair doesn’t matter.”

Bitty grinned to show he was kidding.

“Seriously,” he said when Jack grimaced. “I think you’d be very handsome with some graying at the temples. But as long as it’s just one —”

Bitty reached over and Jack felt a quick pinch.

“All gone,” Bitty said. “Now can we go?”

[judes-baeeee]

For some reason my inbox is filled with stuff I’ve already answered and the new stuff disappeared

Ask: day in the life of Bellingham family

As you moved to Spain with Jude you didn’t really get to see your family of his which was really hard since you were all so close, but during the summer break you both decided to fly back to England to see them all again but today was the Bellingham family first. The minute Denise opened the door she hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek causing Jude to smile because he loves how close you are with his mother “God y/n you need to come visit more often”; then came Jobe who always had something witty to say about you and Jude, always commenting on how much taller he is compared to Jude causing you to laugh and Jude getting slightly annoyed “hey Jude aren’t you annoyed that your little brother is taller than you and that you’ve stopped growing”, Then came Mark who also hugged you and started asking about your time in Spain. The day ended with Denise cooking yours and Jude’s favourite food to celebrate you both finally visiting and you both staying the entire week.

[dr-demi-bee]

Should've Noticed You Sooner

It's here! 🎉After some frantic typing and generous sillies, @lastlight-inn's reward for the 200 followers give-away is finished! She requested a literary reward, and dictated my next 8k - choosing to request a brand new oneshot. And I went substantially overboard!

I'm pleased to present: Should've Noticed You Sooner

A Miri x Gale Modern AU College Roommates Romance Friends -> Lovers ~ Modern AU ~ Primalweave ~ Self-indulgent af

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav - NSFW Word Count: 18k ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Summary:

Gale and Miri, international students in America, moved in together for their last year after forging a strong friendship early in their college careers. They've been close for years now, and despite a lot of banter and some generous flirting, they've never really tried to be anything more. Despite both being wildly interested in one another.

One late evening (well, morning, really) the tension finally simmers to a boiling point. ----------------------------Read on A03-----------------------------------

Miri closes her laptop with a heavy sigh. That was enough staring at her notes for one day. She wasn’t going to accomplish anything more at this point. Leaning back in her desk chair, she rakes clawed fingers through her long red hair.

She glances at the clock on her nightstand - 2:30. It would be 8:30 at home - the farm work would already be in motion, her siblings would be sitting down for breakfast. Even after more than two years in the US, Miri’s body still wanted to follow that same routine. Or maybe it was all the night shifts catching up to her.

Either way she should be asleep and cashing in on the fact that it’s a Friday night and she’s off tomorrow. But instead she’d buried herself in biochemistry notes for entirely too long. Miri scrubs a hand over her face as she stands from her desk. She stretches slightly, popping her back with a groan.

With a sigh, she trudges from her room and towards the kitchen. Nights like these she was exceptionally grateful she didn’t have to live in the on-campus international housing. Having her own space - albeit shared with her roommate, Gale- made being something of an irregular sleeper much more tolerable.

It made a handful of other things more difficult... Like staying focused when they were both in the same room.

Gale Dekarios was unreasonably handsome - and it seemed like every year he only became more so.

Miri and Gale had met during international student orientation a few years ago - her from Germany and him from England- and formed a fast friendship sharing classes. It was an easy decision to share rent on an apartment close to campus (that accepted international visas). They had loaded the apartment with thrifted and gifted furniture, and given their similar preferences around cooking and cleaning, generally got along really well as roommates.

This was their third semester living together. Gale had left briefly over the summer to visit his mother, and it had been a bit unsettling to not have him around, if she were honest. The two of them had developed a lot of pleasant routines. Breakfast and coffee before classes or work most days. They took turns making dinner (with Gale insisting on taking more turns, but Miri wasn’t going to argue when he was so good at it.) And most weekends they would do something together or with their other friends.

What she hadn’t expected when they moved in together was how often Gale was up in the middle of the night — either reading or working on some assignment or other. This semester they were both applying to grad school and Gale was already a bit...frantic. Despite more or less having his choice of programs

When Miri flips the switch for the kitchen (which, theoretically was unnecessary given her darkvision) there’s a surprised squawk from where Gale was apparently sitting in the living room. In the dark. Staring at his laptop. Again.

He rubs his sore eyes and turns to look at her, a bit sheepish. She stares back in surprise.

"I haven't kept you up, have I?" Gale asked.

"No," Miri returns with a soft smile and a huffed laugh, "Sorry, I didn't realize you were still out here."

"Ah, it's alright," Gale shook his head. He let out a weary yawn, the bags under his eyes a sign of lack of sleep. "I shouldn’t be - but I had to get this essay out while I had the inspiration."

Gale closes his laptop, stretching his arms and his back. Then rubbing the back of his neck as he sits up straight - clearly stiff from hunching over his computer too long.

"And why are you awake?" He watches her with a curiously. "Unless you're trying to pull an all-nighter like me, you should really be sleeping."

"Just restless," Miri replies as she makes her way into the small kitchen.

"Restless?" Gale's eyebrows raised, but he didn't press further.

Miri could be exceptionally hard to read. Coming into the kitchen well past midnight could mean she’s in a mood or she’s hungry or genuinely just can’t sleep. He knew better than to prod her to say more - he’s just as likely to get a growl in response as a conversation.

And it’s hard to guess which from her expression. Miri’s piercing green eyes paired with the German stare had a way of arresting him. It felt like she could see through to his very soul. But she was also witty and playful in unexpected ways. Not to mention absurdly beautiful.

So if Miri didn't want to talk about it, Gale wouldn't pry.

"Can't get my brain to turn off," Miri replies after a yawn. She covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she does it and Gale has to look pointedly away. The sight of her sharp teeth shouldn’t intrigue him as much as it does. But it’s rare and novel and something about it is a little too exciting.

"Maybe some tea will help ease you," Gale says, rising to his feet to join her in the kitchen. He’s the resident tea-steeper - a self-professed expert. He stretches his arms overhead, revealing the bare skin of his stomach where his top rides up. "Chamomile, perhaps?"

She gives a non-committal hum. Miri glances a bit surreptitiously at him as he stretches before opening the fridge. She’s not especially subtle with those bright eyes though, and Gale notices. He can’t but feel a little pleased at the way her cheeks flush slightly. He tries to act casual, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway, but her attention definitely has a way of stroking his ego.

"Sounds like you have a lot on your mind," Gale says as he watches her rummage around the fridge.

Miri huffs a laugh, stooping to reach for one of her sparkling juices. Gale leans forward to see what she’s doing. And partly to avoid looking at her rear in those shorts. His eyebrows went up when he saw what was in her hand.

"Sparkling juice? At this time of night? Seems a little..." Gale pauses as he tries to think of the right word. "Unhealthy."

"It's juice, Gale." She gives him a skeptical brow raise. "Made of fruit."

"Sure, but it's still high in sugar, even if it is just fruit." He shrugged, his tone a tad judgmental. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s made a less than wise choice about food or drink. Gale personally found the American sweetness of things a bit grating, but Miri seemed to have quite the sweet tooth.

Miri looks at the can in her hand, turning to read the label. "That's not that much sugar," she grouses.

Gale pushed off the doorframe and walked to her side, curious and pre-emptively a bit disapproving. He peers down at her, crossing his arms and raising a brow as she shuts the fridge with her hip.

There’s a sizable height difference between them, but Gale always does his best not to loom over her. Except when she needs someone to reassess her choices.

Gale rolls his eyes and takes the can from her to read the label for himself.

"It probably tastes like the equivalent of a lollipop—" A pause. A glance at the nutritional information. "Oh."

Gale closes his mouth, a little sheepish as he puts the can back into her hand.

“I stand corrected."

"See?" Miri returns, "Juice."

"Fine, you win," Gale admits, though he does roll his eyes again. "Now why are you really drinking this? Unless you have a craving for some orange-flavored bubbles at..." he trails off to glance at the clock on the microwave. "...Nearly 3 am?”

Miri cracks open the can and glances at the clock before giving a slight shrug. "Sounded good."

"You don't seem like the type to be up in the middle of the night, let alone drinking orange juice at 3am." Gale chuckles as he leans against the counter beside her.

He gives her another look - one she’s all too familiar with at this point. Knowingly skeptical. Miri rolls her eyes at his pointed look to the lean muscles of her frame.

"And yet," Miri returns with a playful grin.

"Quite the conundrum," Gale teases back, returning a grin of his own.

Gale has a hard time not staring as she moves idly from the ball of one foot to the other. Her hair's messy and loose, out of it's usual style and braids, and she's wearing an oversized shirt and small pair of shorts for bed. He can’t stop his eyes from glancing at her legs as she moves, watching the muscles of her thighs flex.

“Did you go to the gym this morning?” The question blurts out of him before he can think it through. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to think anything of it as she replies casually.

“Yeah. It was swarming with first years, though... Fooling themselves into thinking they’ll stick to a routine if they start now.”

Gale chuckles at that. The cycle at the gym on campus was like clockwork. The beginning of every semester always had an increase in activity, and by the time the semester ended, there would hardly be anyone going not on a sports team. Save for Miri and her unwavering routine. How anyone could run and lift weights so often was a mystery. He certainly had his own routine, but it paled in comparison to hers. Maybe it was a lythari thing. Or a German thing. Hard to tell.

"Now that I think about it,” Gale muses, his tone a bit teasing, “You look like you could probably deadlift me.”

Despite the humor in his tone, Miri glances at him contemplatively. Oh gods she’s taking it seriously.

"How much do you weigh?"

Gale tilted his head back slightly, a smirk playing at his lips. He has to guess from what he remembers from last he weighed himself at the gym.

"Oh, almost 13 stone. So about... 82 kilos?" He answers, “Plus or minus one or two.”

"Then yes, I can."

Gale's smirk widens at her confidence. But it falters when she seems entirely serious. He pushes off the counter, straightening as he gives her a skeptical brow raise.

"Forgive me if I find that a bit hard to believe," he replies incredulously. "I don't think you could just pick me up like that."

"Picking you up is much easier than deadlifting."

Miri's lips split with a grin and she sets her juice down on the counter. The smirk fades from Gale's lips to be replaced with a slight look of wary surprise. When she doesn’t back down at all from her rather smug expression, Gale huffs a short laugh.

"Well then. By all means," He gestures towards himself with his hands. "Prove it."

"Alright," she returns playfully. As usual, he’s underestimating her. She’d hate thought after moving all that furniture in here he would’ve known by now she’s far from weak. (Though a part of her is convinced Gale used magic to lift his sides).

Miri moves beside him, slowly, allowing him time to reconsider - and when he doesn’t, she wraps her arms around his waist. Then she squeezes and pushes up with her legs, easily hefting him off his feet.

Gale let out a surprised laugh, his eyes wide with shock and his hands shooting up to grip her shoulders as his feet leave the floor. On instinct, he wraps his legs around her torso in a bid to avoid falling. Miri bursts out laughing as he clings on.

"I didn't think you'd hold on like a koala!"

Miri grins and Gale's face flushes a little red. When he glances down at her the position - and the feel of her arms snugly around him- only makes the redness grow worse.

"Of course I'm going to hold on," He retorts, "I don't want to fall. I like my spine not shattered..."

"What, you think I'll drop you?"

"Well I sure as hells am not going to find out," Gale grumbles, though it lacks any bite.

He tightens his legs slightly when she shifts, his hands clutching onto her. Miri watches his expression with a smug smile that broadens into a full grin. At this point he's clinging tight enough she hardly has to work to support his weight.

"Comfortable?"

Gale shoots her a glare as her smug smile grew. He knows she’ll never let this go. Any witty retort dies in his throat at how easily Miri can hold him up. Briefly, the thought flashes through him that he likes her holding him like this. And the red flush of his cheeks spreads up to his ears.

"Shut up..." He mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

"You realize you can just... put your legs down, right? I'm much shorter than you."

Gale glances down, realizing just how easy it would be for him to put his feet back on the ground, but he makes no attempt to do so.

"I don't...uh..." He tries to think of a good reason, but there really wasn't one. Only the fact that simply didn't want to let go yet. Sheepishly, he mumbles "...I like it up here.”

Miri huffs a cheerful laugh, grinning wide enough to show those lupine teeth. "I didn't peg you for the snuggly type."

Gale looks down at her his eyes narrowing playfully and his cheeks red. It's not as though Miri's made an effort to put him down or force him off either. Maybe she’s enjoying this a bit too?

Gale decides to push his luck a bit.

"Oh come on, it's not every day a pretty girl picks you up like you weigh no more than a box of feathers. Can you blame me for wanting to savor the moment?"

"Well, you're not the first to challenge me to lift them," she muses, with a smirk, "But you are the first to cling on like this."

Gale chuckles, still clinging to her letting a smug smile of his own grace his lips.

"Of course no one else has clung on like this," he answers as he rested his chin on her shoulder. He lets his voice drop a bit lower as he adds, "I'm also guessing none of them were as handsome as me."

"Mm. None come to mind," she returns playfully, turning her face to give him a coy smile, "A pretty lady or two, but no dashing gents like you."

"Good," Gale mumbles against her shoulder.

Something about knowing few have ever held her like this - that she thinks him dashing has his heart thumping. He smirks, and his arms wrapping around her shoulders a bit tighter. Emboldened a little further, his fingers cautiously trace the muscles of her shoulders. Almost reverently feeling the strength of her hidden beneath the baggy fabric of her well-worn shirt.

"If I ever do get down,” he murmurs a bit cheekily, “I expect a round of applause for being the only guy with the courage be carried by the muscle lady."

"'The muscle lady'?" Miri repeats a bit incredulously. She barks a laugh.

Gale chuckles along, a cheeky smile on his lips. He lets his fingers continue to trace the muscles in her shoulders, feeling the hard strength they held. Miri tries not to let out a sigh at the feel of it - surprisingly tender and affectionate. Something she’s not had in a long time.

"Well, forgive me, but you are pretty strong," Gale returns, giving her bicep a little squeeze. "And I'm not exactly light, so the fact you hauled me up like I weighed nothing... Pretty impressive, Miss Muscle Lady."

"Pfft. You're not heavy." Miri laughs heartily again, and the sound makes his stomach tighten.

"Hey, I'm not light either," Gale retorts, resting his chin on her shoulder again. He’s growing rather greedy to feel her warm touch. They’ve hugged plenty of times, sat close together before. Nothing quite like this.

He can’t help but notice that if he shifts his weight at all, Miri doesn’t seem phased by it. Strong as an ox...

"I feel like you're underappreciating my weight a little," he continues to tease, still clinging to the contact but trying to diffuse his nerves with humor, "I think I should be getting a bit more credit than just ‘not heavy’."

"You're lighter than I squat." Miri can’t help but tease him back, amused that his weight of all things could be a point of pride like this.

Gale huffs a short breath - momentarily silenced. His eyes widened and his brows furrow as his brain tries to work that out.

"Excuse me? You squat with my weight?"

"More than." She shifts so they're further away from the counter. "Watch-"

Gale's hands and legs tighten cautiously as she moves, his face going white with a mixture of shock and nerves.

"Y-you're not going to... drop me, right?" His voice fills with worry as she moves them towards the middle of the kitchen and away from the support of the counter.

"Hah! No."

Miri’s hands shift to grip him by his thighs, strengthening her hold. Gale only just manages to clamp down a rather undignified noise. The lythari takes a steadying breath and shifts her legs into proper position, then dips low and lifts them back up again.

Gale is almost completely speechless as she does a squat. With him clinging to her. Well. He’s certainly never had anyone do that to him before. His grip around her tightens from both concern and astonishment.

"Holy shit," he breathes. "How much weight can you squat?"

"210."

Gale's jaw drops. Miri appropriately returns the look with a smug grin.

"You can squat two hundred and ten pounds?"

Where the hells does she hide all that strength? She’s barely over five feet tall. He couldn't even begin to imagine...well, no, now he’s definitely imaging it. A bit too vividly. She could absolutely just heft him up and press him against the wall...

Miri laughs a bit smugly. It’s not often she could stun or surprise the magnificent Wizard of Waterdeep. She can’t help but picture how she could leverage her strength to her advantage. Maybe pin him underneath her and-

No, no, no, don’t go there.

"Yeah!" She glances at him with a surreptitious grin. "I should just haul you around the flat, then I wouldn't have to go to the gym."

A small part of Gale's mind wouldn't hate that. To be carried around and lifted by a gorgeous, strong woman? That's almost a dream come true. Especially if it were Miri. He swallows hard as he quickly pushes that thought out of his head.

"That'd be a bit extreme," he replies, trying his best to sound casual as he looks back at her.

"Mm. I guess." Miri looks thoughtful. IT would be nice to not have to go to the on campus gym... "I should get a pull up bar..."

"You could, or maybe just pick me up for your training instead." The offer slips out before he could stop himself, his mouth moving before his brain could register what was happening. Realizing what he'd said, Gale flushes a little pink again, his head bowing to rest his forehead against her shoulder and hide his face.

"You're a bit smart for a dumbbell," Miri teases back, unable to suppress a soft laugh at his reaction. Gale lets out a longsuffering sigh, burying his head further against her shoulder.

"At least make me your kettlebell," He mumbles, though there's an amused tone in his voice.

"How would that work?" Miri returns with a grin. "You're way too big."

"You could hold me by my ankles and swing me around," Gale suggests sarcastically. He tamps down the rather unhelpful thoughts his brain supplies after that. He smirks and suggests something else. "Or I could sit on your back and hold a weight while you do pushups."

Miri laughs heartily, her head tipped back. Gale smiles at the sound of her laughter, amused at his own stupid suggestions and the fact they made her laugh so much. It was often a goal of his to get her to break that stoic front and bring out the goofy streak beneath.

"Or maybe-" he pauses with another idea, a cheeky smile growing on his lips as he moves to wrap his arms more loosely around her neck once more and leaning back slightly "-you could do pull ups with me hanging on like this."

"Not sure they sell pull up bars for at home that could hold both our weight," Miri returns with a smirk, "At least, not that wouldn't violate the lease."

"Damn lease regulations," He returns with a chuckle and a commiserating grin. "They ruin everything."

"I know," she huffs, "The absolute tyranny."

"Utter tyranny," He agrees, shifting slightly as he tried to get more comfortable in his koala position. "Damn landlords have no compassion for those who wish to train their strength by pulling each other up."

Miri grunts slightly as he shifts his weight. She quirks a brow at him. Gale smirks as he adjusts himself, tightening his legs around her waist. She has to ignore the way that damned smirk never fails to make her chest warm.

"Staying are you?"

"What can I say? It's quite comfortable up here," Gale teases, clasping his hands behind her neck. With her unbothered reaction to all of it thus far, he grows increasingly bold. His fingers play idly with the soft strands of her long hair, twirling them between his fingers.

"Needy," Miri returns with a soft smile and playfully disapproving brows. The smile turns a bit mischievous as she continues, "Then at least pull your own weight."

Using her grip beneath his thighs, she pulls him closer so his weight is balanced more over her hips. Caught off guard, Gale makes a high sound of surprise. His legs reflexively lock behind her back and his arms tighten around her neck and shoulders.

With the adjustment she can have a hand free to grab her juice and take a swig.

"H-hey!" Gale protests. His counter point dies on his tongue when he realizes this new position was more comfortable for both of them. Although with the way his groin now pressed against her lower stomach... "You did that on purpose."

"Yeah?" Miri grins and quirks a brow up at him. Gale huffs, a hint of a pout on his lips. How cute... Miri can’t pass up an opportunity like this. To finally have Gale close. Even if it’s a bit awkward. She’s wanted to touch and feel his body for...well, entirely too long.

"Don't gimme that look," Gale grumbles, resting his head against her shoulder again. He’s silent for a moment, his hands shifting to trace idle patterns against the strong muscles of her back. Finally he murmurs softly in her ear - his tone caught somewhere between embarrassment and desire, "So...how long can you carry me for?"

Hearing that tone from Gale just makes her want to press her luck a little further.

"Oh, I dunno," Miri replies sounding playfully thoughtful, "Just standing here, probably a while."

"Oh really?" Gale says, lifting his head to give her a disbelieving look. A slow smirk returns to his lips, before he asks, “How long exactly is a while?"

He quirks a brow in challenge before shifting his upper body, pushing slightly away from her shoulders so some of his weight hangs away from her. Gale’s still holding tight with his legs, so it’s only a small fraction he’s moved - but it’s enough she has to adjust. Miri leans back slightly to counterbalance, tightening her core to hold steady.

“Hard to say. It's not exactly in my usual routine," she quips back with a gsrin.

Gale lets out a chuckle, tightening his grip around her shoulders with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Not? Maybe I should be added to your routine then," he teases.

"I'll be sure to pencil in 'Gale carries' for leg-day."

"Hey! That sounds like I’m the one doing the carrying," he quips back, shifting his weight again to hand even further away. Miri grunts again as he makes it more difficult. "Seems to me like it's more like 'Miri carries Gale'."

"Oh, forgive me, how unclear of me. I'll amend the record," she retorts, playing up her accent. Miri pretends to erase and write with one hand. Gale laughs as she 'writes down' the correction, his smirk growing even as his legs tighten around her waist at the feel of her hand leaving his thigh.

"And here I thought I was the smartass in this house," he teases, keeping up his playful tone while shifting once more in an attempt to push her limits. How long could she really hold him for? How long would she hold him...?

"I thought you didn't want me to drop you?" Miri grits with a grin.

Gale chuckles as he continues to press his luck and push her tolerance. The lilt of his lips is decidedly mischievous.

"What's the matter, worried I'll wear you out?"

Miri snorts. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't know I'd be getting an extra set in at 2:30 in the morning."

"Oh, I'm pretty light for someone your size," Gale teases back with a grin, "Shouldn't be too much of a strain for how strong you are."

"'My size' he says." Miri huffs a laugh, though it’s starting to sound a bit strained.

"I'm not wrong though," he replies, grinning as he continues to shift against her. Doing his best to feel the strength in her body for as long as she’ll let him. "You're only a few inches shorter than me, but you've absolutely got me beat in the muscle department."

"A few? Like 10."

Gale's grin widens.

"I stand corrected then," he replies cheekily, "You're a very short, very strong muscle lady."

Miri’s retort is cut short when Gale deliberately presses his hips against her - absolutely pressing his luck as far as it could go. This can either go very right, or they could pretend it never happened. They’ve flirted plenty before, right?

Miri arches a brow at him, noting his very intentional movement - and the very obvious way it presses his groin against her lower stomach. There’s no way that was an accident. She can feel her cheeks heating. And other things. Gale smirks back at her catching onto his not-so-subtle gesture.

"What can I say?” Gale murmurs with an air of smugness in the lilt of his lips. Despite his hard to suppress desire surging to the forefront in his probably too-tired mind, he can’t quite avoid the urge to mask it with humor. To hide in this usual dance of theirs. “I have a gorgeous, incredibly strong woman holding me up, it's kind of hard not to want to take advantage of the moment."

"Kind of hard, is it?"

Miri fingers grasp a bit more tightly to the meat of his thighs, sharp nails pressing gently into his skin through his shorts. Maybe he’s just joking. Maybe he’s teasing her. But that is not nothing...and neither is the flush of his cheeks. Bright green eyes roam his face curiously, searching.

Gale chuckles at her equally playful response - that she so quickly latched onto his little innuendo. The feel of her hands against him is nothing short of electric, and he’ll use any excuse to keep this going.

"You have a dirty mind," he teases, shifting once more. This time he presses hips pushed against her a little more firmly.

"Yes, I'm sure the fault lies entirely with me," Miri returns sarcastically. She pulls him closer - just a fraction.

"Of course it does," he agrees with an amused grin. "I don't know what you're talking about, I've done nothing wrong here."

Gale shifts once more - adjusting to how she pulls him against her. Decidedly a bit more than half hard now, his breath catches a little as he presses against her stomach a bit more. She feels so warm through that ratty old shirt. The plane of her stomach so firm.

"Mhmm." Miri arches her brow at him again. Two can play this game you absolute tease.

She grasps him more firmly by the thighs and bends forward intentionally, lowering his upper body towards the ground. Gale's smirked fades and his eyes widen at the sudden shift to almost parallel to the ground. He instinctively tightens his arms around her neck to keep himself from dangling, his thighs wrapping around her more firmly.

"F-fucking hells," he breathes.

"Something wrong?" Miri replies with a grin. She shakes slightly with the effort, but manages to hold him steady. Not like he has very far to fall if she did accidentally lose her grip.

Gale's heart hammers in his chest as he tries to remain as calm and collected as possible at the sudden and unexpected angle. Not to mention the way this puts her face rather close to his chest and her chest... He swallows, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his pants.

"Nothing's wrong," he says as casually as he can, his voice faltering slightly.

"Good," Miri says with a smirk.

Tightening her core to keep them steady, she slowly bends further, until Gale's shoulders finally make gentle contact with the floor. He lets out a small sound of surprise as the back of his shoulders finally touch the tile, his legs and upper body nearly vertical. If she weren’t straining Miri would be tempted to laugh at the small jolt of surprise that runs through him.

Gale slowly lowers his head to the floor, his hair a mess of tresses splaying out beneath him and he looks up at her wide-eyed and blushing. It’s rather adorable.

Being held almost upside-down the blood rushes to his face. Miri’s smirk widens into a full grin. Now he’s not just lightheaded from the angle, but also the way she looks at him. It’s almost predatory.

"F-fuck..." he whispers.

She huffs from the exertion. But with his shoulders finally on the ground, some of his weight is taken off her frame. It’s something of a relief to have some of his weight transferred off her waist. She lowers him a bit more so his back is on the ground. She's surprised when he keeps clinging to her.

"I've put you down," she pants, "You can let go."

A part of him wants to - to release his limbs from where they were tightly wrapped around her but...he was enjoying this too much. With an amused but slightly flustered expression, he tightens his legs around her instead.

"Why would I let go when I'm having so much fun?"

"I think I'm done carrying you, koala," Miri returns with a soft huff. His limbs around her keep her stuck in place.

"Oh, come on," Gale replies, a pout in his voice. "Just a few minutes longer? I'm not that heavy."

Miri barks a laugh. He tightens his grip, refusing to let her get away now that they’re in this new position. She has to plant her hands on the floor beside his shoulders to support herself with the way he still hangs on. And she vehemently ignores the little voice in her head pleading for her to just push him the rest of the way to the floor and climb on top. The singing tension in her back is enough to remind her not to.

"Gods, you're as bad as my nieces and nephews," she huffs, then playfully imitates a child's voice, "Five more minutes, Aunt Miri."

It earns her a hearty chuckle from the man-child over staying his welcome in her arms. She can’t tell if the reddening of his cheeks is from the blood flow or from the way he keeps pressing his hips upward.

"Your nieces and nephews have good taste," he quips, "Being carried like a baby in your very strong, very capable arms isn't a bad experience."

"Not quite how I'd hold a baby," she muses breathlessly, "But sure."

"Oh? How would you hold a baby then?" Gale’s eyes narrow playfully as he arches a brow. He shifts his legs middle again, trying to get a little more comfortable. But his efforts only seem to bring their hips closer together. Not that he minds.

"Usually cradled, or on one hip," Miri snorts, "Y'know, how babies are held."

"Am I not good enough to be held as a baby? Is cradling a 22-year-old man too hard for you?"

Gale smirks as he continues to shift his body against her, his legs squeezing around her waist. Miri laughs. She adjusts her arms slightly, trying not to let him pull her down on top of him. Gale grins at the sound of her laughter, his hands clutching tight to her shoulders.

"I'm starting to see more parallels," she teases back. When he shifts his hips again, Miri intentionally squeezes the meat of his thighs, drawing a gasp from him. The quick aversion of his eyes suggests he hopes she didn’t hear it. But he knows better.

“Is that so?” Gale certainly won’t let that go unchallenged. If they’re to dance, he’ll gladly escalate. He shifts his lower body against her, leveraging his legs around her waist to pull her tighter against his hips. “What parallels might those be?"

"Clingy. Needy." Miri smirks. "A bit fussy?"

"Me? Fussy? I beg your pardon," he replies, feigning offense. With another cheeky smirk and wiggle of his hips his presses his significantly less than half hard need against her. Breathless and teasing, he adds, "I prefer the term attention seeking.”

"Same thing," Miri returns shaking her head. She groans slightly, long canines biting at her lip as she strains. "Alright, I think my back is starting to get pretty mad at me."

"Alright, alright," he sigh reluctantly. He tries to ignore the sharp twist in his stomach at the thought that this might just end without anything more happening between them.

Gale unwinds himself from around her, letting go of her shoulders and transferring his weight to the floor. Miri pries his legs off and when she stands upright it’s with a loud groan. She leans back the opposite way with her hands on her lower back.

"Fucking hells," she grumbles before her back pops. Gale sit up and watches her with a soft smirk, wincing at the sound.

"Remind me to never make you angry," he teases, "I don't want to find out what a punch from those muscles would feel like."

“Hah! A good life lesson," she returns with a smirk. Miri rotates her upper body back and forth a few times to loosen the tension in her back.

"I suppose so," he murmurs, eyes lingering on what muscles he could make out in her arms past the sleeves of her oversized shirt. As she shifts the hem of that oversized shirt lifts to show more of those ridiculous little shorts, and those even more ridiculous thighs-

Having felt them supporting him, carrying him all too effortlessly, Gale found it impossible to tear his eyes away. Miri's small and lithe, but every inch of her frame is densely corded with muscle. The quiet intensity of her strength is somehow simultaneously terrifying and incredibly attractive.

She huffs and shakes her arms out before going to retrieve her juice. Gale's eyes can’t help but follow, his gaze lingering. If it were anyone else she would be intimidating. But it’s Miri. And if he’s honest he’s never had such a good friendship - such a good bond with just about anyone.

And yet here he is again, on his ass in their kitchen, just staring. His mind positively buzzing with questions. With images. Again. Is she leaning over the counter like that intentionally? Did that mean anything to her? Miri noticed, she grinned, she liked it...

Maybe he could do more-

What would she do if they finally kissed-

How would she sound if-

Miri leans over the counter, trying to steady the thundering of her heart. She’s grateful for the moment to turn away - to look away from his face. His perfect, smug, bearded face and those plush lips-

Her face is burning hot - though she can’t decide if it’s hotter than the churning in her stomach. Why had she done that? She shouldn’t have picked him up in the first place, let alone all of...that.

Miri takes a long swallow of her juice before scrubbing a hand over her face. This can is just about the same width as-

STOP.

Gale lets out a sigh, as he shakes his head, trying in vain to clear away the myriad images his mind unhelpfully supplies of Miri. Seen and unseen. But when his eyes finally drift back up to her, trailing up the thick, silky length of her wine dark hair they snag on her ears. One long tip exposed as he head tilts to one side.

And it’s pink.

Flushed enough it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Miri only blushes like that for two reasons. She’s either drunk or someone she likes is flirting with her. Both rare, only one definitely not applicable here.

“Miri,” Gale blurts out her name - unable to mask the shock or the enthusiasm in his tone. And when she turns to look at him with an arched brow he realizes with a jolt his mouth has moved before his brain can catch up.

What on Toril is that look for? Miri’s grateful for the can still at her lips when she meets his gaze. There’s something there she’s never seen - his pupils are wide and his cheeks are still flushed, but she can’t put her finger on what that expression is. Whatever it is makes her breath catch.

“What?”

It’s there. Clear as day on her face. As they stare at one another a bit wide-eyed Gale sees that flush across the bridge of her nose and over her cheeks.

She liked it.

Likes him?

Gods damn him, he needs to find out. Just that little dusting of pink is enough to make his ego swell. Gale lifts a knee to prop up one of his arms, and doesn’t fail to notice the way her eyes flicker over the movement and across his chest before they’re back on his face. His lips quirk up slowly into a confident grin.

“Think you’d ever do that again?”

"Careful what you wish for," Miri returns with a laugh, brushing it off.

"Oh, don't worry," He chuckles, that damn confident smirk on his lips. "I'm not afraid of a little manhandling."

"Clearly," Miri retorts from over her can. She looks away briefly as she finishes her juice. That look in his eyes...

Gale nods. That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s standing and swaggering his way to her side.

"In fact, I think I'm in the mood right now," he purrs, his eyes filled with mischief. Delighted at the way that’s enough to bring her eyes snapping back to him.

Miri quirks a brow at him as he approaches. His grin widens when she straightens in response to him moving closer. A thrill runs through them both when he places his hands on her hips.

"A mood?" Miri questions softly, looking up at him.

"Mhmm," he hums, running his hands down her hips in a way that could only be described as possessive. "I’d like to see how much you can handle..."

Gale leans closer, slowly guiding her - always gently and soft enough she could easily break away if she wanted. But she never once breaks eye contact as backs her out of the kitchen and towards the nearest wall.

Miri's brows raise with surprise as he steers her backwards. Her pulse skyrockets at the look in his eyes. That lilt of his lips is nearly wicked.

"Do you?"

"Oh, definitely," he replies with a smirk as he crowds her back against the wall.

Large, warm hands knead a path down her sides and over her hips, before grasping her thighs. It’s almost too easy to lift the lythari off the ground. Miri squeaks with surprise at the sudden move.

"Gotcha," he teases lowly, his grin thoroughly self-satisfied. His fingers knead the plush muscle of her thighs as he holds her up, leaning her back firmly against the wall.

"No escaping now," Gale murmurs firmly.

Miri laughs a bit nervously. Her hands grip onto his shoulders - hesitantly at first, always mindful of her sharp nails - before she squeezes a bit more firmly. Gale chuckles back, positively thrilling at having her pinned where he could do as he liked. His grip on her thighs tightens and he pushes himself against her, their bodies flush.

Tentatively, Miri wraps her legs around his waist. Her cheeks flush a darker pink, and Gale's smirk widens. The feel of her legs over his hips, of her wrapping herself around him, drives him to new heights. Gods above.

"Comfortable?" He asks in a tauntingly cheeky tone.

"Getting there," she returns softly.

"Just getting there?" He echoes with an arched brow. He shifts his body against hers again, his hands on her thighs pulling them apart slightly. Miri gasps. She reflexively tightens her grip around his shoulders. A wicked spike of heat pulses through his stomach at the sound, a raw sort of pride welling up inside him from her reaction. His voice low and sultry, he teases in her ear, "I could make her more than comfortable, if you want...”

Hearing that little sound of surprise and feelin her clutching onto him makes him want to tease her even further. Bold, he presses his hips more firmly against hers and leans his head slightly to breathe a dark murmur in her other ear.

"That little gasp you made was cute," he purrs.

"Cute?" Miri breathes back. Her face gets a bit redder as he presses against her and he chuckles huskily at the sight.

"Yeah, really cute," he repeats. He leans in even closer, his lips just inches from the sensitive skin of her long ear. He practically growls his next words, his tone dripping with the lust he can’t hold back anymore. "I could see myself getting really addicted to that sound."

Gods above, Miri, how did you get here ? And since when is Gale Dekarios this masterful at flustering you to all hells?

"Aren't you greedy?" Miri huffs back. She smirks slightly, but she's red to the tips of her long ears now.

"Definitely," he replies without shame, grinning as her tries to act cheeky despite being flustered. He rolls his hips against hers slowly, making sure to keep his body tight against hers.

Miri bites her lip slightly at the feel of him pressing his excitement against her - hot through the thin fabric of their shorts. Her breath catches.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you trapped like this," he murmurs huskily.

"Oh-" she gasps again.

The sound is extremely satisfying, rushing straight between his legs, and he savors every little reaction from her. His hands knead her thighs, gripping and squeezing reflexively as he pushes himself against her again.

"Do you feel that?" he asks in a low, sultry tone.

"Ah- yes." Her voice sounds reedy even to her own ears. How could she not?

"That's all because of you," he whispers, his voice raw and deep. He groans softly as he continues to press against her, the feeling of her soft, warm body flush against his making him even harder. "You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me, Miri...”

Miri groans softly, the friction teasing her.

"Is this...new?"

His tilts his head and presses his lips tentatively to her neck, kissing at the skin there gently as he continues his agonizingly slow, rhythmic movements against her.

"No," he mutters between kisses, "Definitely not new."

Miri gasps another soft sound, her legs twitching slightly. She tilts her head for him, her long hair shifting out of the way.

"I've thought about this for a long time," he confesses in a low tone, his breaths coming hot and ragged against her neck.

"You have?" Miri questions softly.

“I have. A lot," he replied, his lips leaving a few more kisses along her skin before he continues.

"Every time you show off how strong you are, or when I see your muscles after you finish a workout-" Gale groans quietly against her throat, his hips continuing to press against her with a slow, rhythmic motion. Desperately fighting to maintain control now. "When I hear you growl when you're annoyed-"

His lips continue to tease at her throat, unable to stop himself from nibbling along the skin as he continues to speak. The friction and heat between them just seems to grow more and more.

"Mmhh-" Miri’s breath leaves her in a sharp exhale when she feels his teeth make contact with her skin. Her stomach feels practically molten under his attentions.

"You have no idea how many dreams I've had about you," he confesses, his voice low and sultry, "About your strong hands all over me, pinning me down..."

"Ah- really?" Miri’s voice is rough and low when she replies.

"I dream about you all the time," he continues in a whisper, his lips moving further down into the crook of her neck, "About all the things I want to do to you-"

"I didn't realize -" Miri pauses with a soft, breathless moan. Her hands squeeze a bit more firmly against his shoulders before one shifts to tangle in his hair. Something to ground herself and prove she didn’t actually fall asleep at her desk. He feels warm and real against her skin... "Like what?"

A satisfied smirk pulls his lips from her skin - the delicious sparks along his scalp as she plays with his hair is the cherry on top of the signs of her enjoyment. His hips continues to move against hers, continuing to tease her with that delicious friction. Gale moves back up to her ear, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"You want me to go into specifics?"

"Yeah," she returns, hooking an arm around his shoulders. Miri tugs softly at his hair with the other hand, eliciting a soft groan that makes her smirk. "Give me a specific example."

"You really want to know that badly?" he teases, nipping at her ear before continuing, absolutely delighting in the soft sound she makes. "Alright, then..."

He leans back just far enough to meet her gaze, feeling the heat sparking between them.

"Remember when we watched that action movie last week?"

"Ugh that movie was terrible."

“Yes, it was. But that's not what I'm talking about," He chuckles lowly, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm referring to when you got frustrated by that rather asinine character being dense."

"What about it?" Miri's brows furrow with confusion. Gale chuckles again at her confusion, amused by her obliviousness.

"You got all annoyed and grumbly. I had to stop for a minute and remember to breathe," he confesses, his voice a low murmur against her ear, "I spent the whole damn night thinking about those little growls you made when you were pissed off."

"My growling?" Miri huffs a soft laugh, incredulous. "That's what you're dreaming about?"

"Yes," he answers simply, his breath hot against her skin, "I’m not sure what it is, but hearing you growl like that just makes me want you more."

Miri's lips tip up with a bemused smile - such a commonplace thing to be excited by. But it quickly turns mischievous. She leans in closer to his ear, making sure her chest is pressed flush against his.

"This growl?" She asks softly. The soft purr of her voice makes his breath hitch. Miri rumbles a low growl of irritation in her chest - just like what he would’ve heard that night. Gale stiffens against her as her growl vibrates through him. A shiver of pure desire runs through him.

"F- fuck," he curses softly, his grip on her thighs tightening on reflex.

"Ooh, it is," she murmurs smugly. Miri’s grin widens and she lets out another lower, more predatory growl.

He lets out a shaky breath, the effects of that low, guttural sound sending a shiver of pleasure straight to his core. Gale shifts against her, the friction between their bodies becoming downright intoxicating. Miri's confidence is bolstered by his response - especially the lack of verbal riposte.

"You know," she murmurs, pulling her fingers through his hair and drawing a soft shiver and another delightful groan from him, "Lythari don't only growl when they're mad."

His eyelids flutter slightly. Gale’s hips continues to grind against her - feeling practically on fire with desire. She seems bent on driving him absolutely mad.

"They don't?" he asks with a low, ragged breath. "What are other reasons they growl?"

"Lots of reasons," she returns, "Dominance, possession, passion, pleasure..." She leans in to press a kiss just below his ear. "Play your cards right and you can even make a lythari purr."

His breath hitches again, his heart racing in his chest. He was already hanging onto her every word, but at that last little tidbit he groans involuntarily, a shiver running through his body.

"Oh, please," he breathes, already delirious from her touch and her tone.

"Sorry, that's the only one I can't do on command," Miri says softly, lips a torturously smug expression showing a hint of those sharp teeth.

"Damn it," he curses under his breath, groaning again as his head involuntarily tilts to the side, giving her more access to his neck. "Why'd you have to say it now? I'll never be able to stop thinking about it."

Miri groans softly when he exposes his neck. She leans in but hesitates - even as Gale lets out a soft sound between whine and groan. She can't let that be first contact. So she pulls back, moving her hand to his face, tilting it towards hers.

"Consider it a goal," she breathes, before tugging him in - finally- for a kiss.

The moment her hand touches his face and tugs him closer, he eagerly follows her lead, practically meeting her halfway. This is what he'd dreamed of, what he'd hoped and longed for, for so long. She is soft and warm and perfect. Having her here in his arms, pressed up against him like this - it’s something out of his best fantasies.

Gods he’s wanted to kiss Miri for longer than he can recall. Maybe always. He responds immediately, his lips moving hungrily against hers, seeking more of her touch, of her taste, of her.

This she's dreamed of. He's good- or maybe she's just wildly out of practice- it's delightful. He’s heat and tenderness and need. Miri moans softly against his lips, tugging his hair softly to keep him close.

Gale groans into the kiss, the sound quickly turning into a quiet, throaty moan as she tugs at his hair. He practically melts beneath her touch, his brain going fuzzy with his desire.

Miri nips his bottom lip gently, drawing a gasp, before licking it with the tip of her tongue. The feeling of her tongue has his knees practically buckling. He returns the favor, his lips seeking hers again, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting every inch of her he could reach. Gale's hands on her thighs grips tighter, the fingers of one hand slowly creeping up and under the hem of her shorts.

Miri whimpers softly, stroking her tongue against his when it comes between her lips. Her legs tighten around his waist and Gale grips at them reflexively. His hands run up the back of her thighs, slipping under her shorts and reaching the soft, sensitive skin of her rear.

His fingers dug into her flesh, firmly gripping her in his hands, pulling her closer against him even as he presses firmly against her. Miri jolts slightly with surprise, breaking their kiss with a gasp. But it melts into delight and she's kissing him again.

It’s all consuming - lips and tongue and teeth moving fiercely - taking, needing, feeling. Exploring one another at long last.

He needs more of her, practically craving her like a drug.

She can’t get enough needs him closer.

Miri tugs at his hair again and he moans. Her other hand trails nails over his back where she can reach - gentle, teasing. His body arches under her touch. He loves it, the little hint of pain and pleasure making him shiver as his hands grips her ass even tighter.

"I want you so badly," he breathes between kisses, his words a ragged gasp against her lips.

"Your room or mine?" Miri breathes back.

"Mine," he answers immediately, his voice a low, urgent murmur against her lips. "I want you in my bed-" He breaks off, one of his hands leaving her shorts to travel her back, his fingers tracing along her spine as he pulls her into him and away from the wall. "I need you in my bed-"

Her back arches at the touch and she shivers. She kisses over his face, and squeezes her legs a little tighter around his waist, locking her ankles together. He groans again, the feeling of being caught so completely by her making his head spin.

"Then let's go," she murmurs.

Her response had him practically growling, his lips moving on instinct against the skin of her face, seeking her mouth again, wanting more of her.

" Gods-, " he gasps. "I'm not sure I can make it down the hall like this-"

"I bet you can," Miri purrs. A huff of a laugh escapes him, a mix of amused and aroused, and he quickly shifts his arms under her body, lifting her up against him.

"You're a hell of a handful, y'know that?" he teased, starting his way toward his bedroom with her wrapped around him.

"What'd you say the other day?" Miri teases, tightening her arms around his neck, "'The best things in life are the most challenging'?"

Gale laughs softly, the sound rough and a little breathless as his body thrums with the desire to have her. At the feel of being so fucking close.

"Are you trying to turn me on even more than you already have?" he asks, turning the corner and striding toward his room.

"Maybe?" She nips at his earlobe.

He groans, the sound low and throaty. Between her teeth against his skin and her legs wraps around him, he is nearly aflame. Gale practically stumbles into his room, throwing the door open. He all but throws her down onto the bed, drawing a surprised shrieking laugh from her. It dies quickly as he climbs on, and she snakes her arms around him when he lays over top of her.

"I would've worn something nicer if I knew I was going to make it to your room," she murmurs with a soft grin.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, his brow raising slightly. "You already look sexy as hell."

He leans forward and nuzzles at her hair, breathing in the scent of her, letting his body press down against hers. He shifts one of his legs between hers, pressing his knee up against her, wanting to feel more of her. Miri groans softly, her head tipping back.

"I'm not going to need anything else," he whispers against her ear.

"But it's pajamas-" she counters, "And not even cute ones."

He chuckles, his lips finding the exposed skin of her throat, pressing tender kisses all the way up.

"As if that matters," he breathes against her skin. With a smirk, his hands move to the hem of her shirt, sliding it up to bare the skin of her stomach. "I'm undressing you anyway."

Miri huffs, but feels some of the anxiety fizzling away with his reassurances. The muscles of her stomach tense and shift beneath the warmth of his hands . Her breath hitches in her throat as he makes his way higher.

His hands trail higher up along the skin of her stomach, his lips peppering her neck with kisses. When he reaches the bottom of her sports bra, his hands pause, his fingers playing with the elastic. He pulls back from her neck to look down at her, a smirk on his lips.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a low, eager murmur.

"Yeah," she answers breathlessly.

Gale smiles that charming grin of his and quickly peels her shirt and bra off, pausing to admire the sight of her, half naked, laid out beneath him on his bed. Gods it’s a dream come true - he fights the urge to pinch himself. His eyes roam over her form, taking in every detail, every freckle, the sharp planes of her body.

Miri shivers under his gaze, her chest moving with shallow breaths. Her flush spreads from her cheeks to her chest. She knows she's fit, sure, but she's self-conscious about being small and a bit flat (hard not to get in one's own head growing up with several very attractive sisters). She can't help but feel nervous to be appraised. At least, by someone she truly wants.

He notices her nerves, the little shiver that runs through her, the way her gaze flickers away under his gaze, and it almost breaks his heart. He can't fathom why she would feel nervous - she’s strong, and lean, and absolutely gorgeous. As he's concerned, Miri is perfect. Better than he had even imagined.

Holding her gaze, Gale leans down to press a kiss to the skin between her breasts. His hands shift to hold her sides as his lips continue to trail lower. It’s almost easy to get lost in her, the constellations on her skin, the smooth warmth of her. Miri’s fingers card through his hair and he lifts his gaze to hers, his lips still pressed to the skin of her stomach.

"You're adorable," he whispers, his voice filled with affection.

"Adorable?" She repeats. Her brows steeple. Not exactly the praise she had been hoping for. A bit...diminutive.

"Adorable, sexy, I would tell you you're beautiful too-” His lips go back to her skin, continuing the trail downwards, blazing a path down her torso. “-but I'm also in the middle of something very important-"

His hands slide down her sides, exploring every inch. Miri barks a laugh at his reply.

"Oh, sorry to interrupt," Miri returns sarcastically.

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm trying to focus here," he protests in mock irritation, his hands still caressing her sides, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips. Gale teases her with a playful expression, his fingers playing with the hem of her shorts. "How am I supposed to tell you how gorgeous you are when I'm trying to get you out of these damn shorts?"

"I thought you liked these?" Miri returns playfully.

"Oh, I do," he admits, "But they're in my way right now." He hooks his fingers into the waist of her shorts, slowly beginning to pull them down over her hips. Those large brown eyes are pleading and dark as he meets her gaze. "I'm more interested in what's under them-"

"So impatient," she returns with a smirk. Miri lifts her hips slightly to help.

"You’re damn right I am.” Gale watches enraptured as her shorts come off. Leaving her in just her underwear. Lying on his bed. Beneath him. And more radiantly beautiful than he ever imagined. His eyes drink her in, hungrily roving over her body, taking in every bit of her, and he groans in delight.

His words are a ragged murmur when he can finally speak. "You're gorgeous- More than- Divine...."

"Seems a bit unfair," Miri returns softly, gesturing towards him. She’s only ever afforded glimpses. The chance to see more - feel more- has her heart pounding and her core starting to ache.

He looks down at himself, realizing he's still fully clothed, and he chuckles.

"I suppose it is," Gale agrees. But he's not in a big rush to fix it, not when he has her like this, beneath him on his bed. Until he imagines her seeing him equally undressed, looking up at him like this-

That’s enough to make his body thrum with anticipation.

"Wanna take it off for me?" he teased, his eyes on hers, a smirk on his lips.

"Hells yeah," Miri replies with a grin. Miri holds her arms out and beckons with her fingers. "C'mere."

Gods- he loves how eager she is. The way she looks at him with those dark, hungry eyes - the sound of her voice as her arms are held out for him. He moves closer, leaning down over her and bracing his hands bracing on either side of her.

"Now what?" Gale asks with a smile, his voice low and playful.

"Now it's my turn," Miri replies with a grin. She wraps her arms around his middle, and with a twist rolls them both over so she's straddling his hips.

"Well," he says, his voice breathless with laughter, "You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"Your impatience is contagious," she returns playfully. "And I've been curious for ages about what you keep hidden under those baggy shirts."

Her hands find their way under his shirt, nimble fingers exploring the planes of his stomach as she works the fabric up. His breath hitches in his throat as her hands make their way under his shirt, her fingers tracing over his skin and making him shiver from her touch.

"You do realize I sleep topless right?" Gale teases, shifting under her touch, moving to help her pull his shirt off. Miri huffs a laugh.

"How would I know that?" She pulls his shirt the rest of the way off and tosses it towards his hamper.

"Fair point-" he admits, watching as the shirt goes flying.

He lays there, shirtless, his chest and stomach bare under her gaze, and suddenly, he feels vulnerable. Gale looks up at her, trying to see the look on her face, trying to figure out what she’s thinking.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, a hint of insecurity creeping into his voice.

"Absolutely ridiculous-" Miri returns, her eyes roaming him with a dark gaze, "That you've been keeping this to yourself." She looks up at him with an accusatory expression. "You're even hotter than I thought, and that's hardly fair."

A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck at her words, but the sight of her gaze roaming his body and the look on her face have his heart racing, his nerves replaced by a rush of heady arousal. He swallows hard, trying to collect his thoughts, his words.

"It- it's not my fault you never asked-" he protests faintly.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just supposed to waltz in, and 'hey Gale, you should take her shirt off'-" Miri blow a soft dismissive sound. She leans in to trail kisses down the side of his neck.

"Ridiculous," she breathes, her kisses moving lower, "Fucking Adonis..."

Gale laughs softly, the sound turning shaky as her lips move across his neck, her kisses sending jolts of electricity down his spine and straight to his groin. He arches slightly beneath her, the feeling of her body against his sending waves of heat through him. His hands move, resting on her hips, his fingers tracing over her bare skin.

"Are you really complaining?" he asks breathlessly as her kisses trail lower.

"Yes," she returns with mock severity. Her tongue flits out to taste his skin as she kisses her way down his chest. Her hands smooth down his sides before she hooks her fingers in the waistband of his shorts.

He can't help but groan in response to her ministrations, the feeling of her hands roaming and her tongue on his skin and her hands roaming over him nearly short-circuiting his brain completely. The sound of her voice calling him 'Adonis' is going to be on repeat in his mind for weeks, he just knows it.

His breath is quick and heavy when he answers her, though the words come out as a ragged gasp.

"Why the hells are you complaining if you think I'm hot?"

He laughs softly underneath her, but his laughter is cut off by a soft gasp as her teeth graze his chest. She alternates between teasing gentle kisses and the occasional sharp nip and it’s driving him mad.

"Because you've been keeping this to yourself," Miri purrs back nipping his chest. "Very selfish."

Gale watches her with half lidded eyes, his mind swimming in sensation, his thoughts filled with nothing but her, her body above his, the feeling of her tongue, her hands.

Miri’s words make his imagination start to run wild(er). He can’t help but picture the many ways she might 'punish' him for being so... selfish. He shifts slightly, his hands moving from her hips to the outsides of her thighs, his fingers playing with the edges of her underwear.

"You want me to make it up to you?" he whispers, his voice low and eager.

Miri looks up at him from where she's licking a path down his sternum with a quizzical expression.

"Make it up to me?" She repeats.

"You said I was being selfish-" he responds, breathing in deeply as she continues her path down his chest, his stomach, the muscles of his abdomen tensing under her lips.

"I should make it up to you-" he repeats, his hands tracing up her legs, his fingers reaching the edges of her underwear.

Miri huffs a soft laugh. "I'm joking, Gale."

Her fingers tug softly at the waistband of his shorts. Gale groans, his hips shifting instinctively underneath her, the feeling of her hands there making him shiver.

He gazes at her, ochre eyes dark and fixed on her face, not even trying to hide how much he wants her right now, not even trying to hide how badly he wants her. Miri can’t suppress the growl that rumbles through her at the sight of him - wanton and flushed beneath her.

"You might be joking-" he says, his voice ragged. "but I'm not-"

"No?" Miri gives him a cheeky, lopsided smile in response, some confusion evident in her tone.

She slides his shorts down and off when he lifts his hips slightly. She takes a moment to admire him - marveling at his tanned skin, his strong physique. He clearly takes care of himself...

And he clearly wants her. Gods, that much is very clear through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. She almost startles herself at the feel of her hungry growl vibrating in her chest.

Gale watches, his breaths quick and heavy, as she looks over his body, admiring him, taking him in. He groans as those bright green eyes rove over him, that familiar flush of embarrassment returning, even as his desire for her just continues to soar higher and higher.

He can feel her eyes on him, there, as he strains against the fabric of his underwear, positively aching in his need for her.

"No," he breathes. "I'm entirely serious-"

That's...oh, that's a lot. Miri can feel her core throbbing at the very idea of it. But she's not even sure the last time she... Gods that's big. How...?

Miri's startled out of her thoughts at his words and looks up. Fuck that expression. Lips a little kiss swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. Absolutely debauched before they’ve even really started.

He groans again at the way she bites her lip as she look at him. He wants to know what those lupine teeth feel like on his lips.

He can practically see the heat building inside her, the way her breath starts to hitch, how her face flushes, the way those sharp pupils round and grow. It only serves to make him want her more.

Months of dreaming and aching for her.

There's a hint of nervousness in his voice when he speaks this time, his words a low, ragged murmur.

"You okay up there, Mir...?"

"Ah- yeah!" She flushes a bit more, embarrassed by her reaction. "Yes, I'm good."

Her fingers trace idle patterns against his hips where she holds him. He laughs softly, the sound breathless.

"You sure...?" Gale asks, watching her, the nervousness still present in his voice. "I didn't break you, did I?"

It's a very real concern, a very real fear. As much as his body aches for her, as much as he wants her, he doesn't want to push her too far, to push her to do something she isn’t comfortable with.

Miri shakes her head with a soft grin. "Not yet, no."

A shudder runs down his spine. Yet. His mind swims once more with the possibilities, the way he wants her and the things he wants to do to her. The thought of how desperately he wants to make her come undone-

His fingers squeeze and flex against her thighs. Gale's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold back, how much longer he'll be able to control himself-

Miri leans forward, running her hands up his sides, and presses a few kisses to his chest. She needs to feel him. All of him. More than she can manage.

He shudders at the feeling of her hands on his skin, the kisses sending sparks down his spine that only increase his already unbearable arousal. Gale feels nearly breathless from the desperate need for her to be bare, the need to feel her skin against his everywhere-

"Can I-" he manages to gasp out, one hand moving to the edge of her underwear.

Miri shivers slightly, the request making her stomach clench with a coiling heat.

"O-okay," she breathes.

He almost stops in surprise as she agrees, her tone shaky and breathless. It’s almost too good to be true. He's careful, almost unsure he heard her correctly, his fingers tracing lightly over the edge of her underwear, hesitating.

"You- are you sure...?" Gale’s voice leaves him in a near reverent whisper. He needs to make sure he's not pushing her too far. Wants to be absolutely certain that she really want this. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

"Yes," Miri nods, more vehemently when she notices his hesitation. She’s not uncertain about him. Not even a little bit. Only of herself. So, softly, she adds, "I want you."

It's a simple three words. A simple admission of want.

And yet they affect him like nothing else.

With that simple phrase, the damn of his restraint breaks.

All of Gale’s need comes rushing free. His arms come around her, pulling her against him and rolling them back over so she’s once more beneath him, his body pressing against hers.

"Gods, I want you too," he breathes, his voice shaking with pure, unbridled need.

The heat in her stomach flares hotter with him above her. Looking at her with those dark, needful eyes. When he steals a heady kiss she moans. But he’s gone all too soon, sitting up and straddling her thighs.

He looks down at her beneath him, his eyes tracing over her body, taking in the sight of her, his body pressed up against hers. He's nearly trembling with his need for her. As if by finally letting it free Gale’s months long need for Miri is consuming him. And he feels ready to drown beneath it.

‘I want you’ echoes on repeat. He’s never felt so insatiable before.

His hands move to her hips, his fingers playing again with the edge of her underwear, wanting to pull them off, wanting to feel her against him bare-

Miri watches him with a dark, heated gaze. Equal parts curious and hungry. Her heart is hammering against her chest with anticipation.

Gale’s hands are trembling as they move to the sides of her underwear, slowly, carefully pulling them down over her hips, down her legs. He groans softly at the sight of her obvious desire.

His eyes are dark as he looks down at her, his eyes following his hands as they continue pulling the fabric away, his breaths coming in quick, shuddering rasps.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispers, as he pulls the garment completely off, tossing it to the floor. Heated gaze takes her in before looking up to lock on hers.

Miri’s breath catches at his reaction. His gaze is so intense it feels almost like a touch, leaving her skin feeling warm and tingling. And when it meets her gaze she feels frozen to the spot. She’s never felt more wanted more seen than under his unbelievably dark and hungry gaze.

He can't look away from her, can't tear his eyes away from the sight of her bare body beneath him, the sensation of her skin against his palms, the feel of her so close. He runs a hand down her side, the touch of his fingers soft and gentle. Reverent.

Miri sighs softly under his touch, her eyelids fluttering softly.

"Can I-" he breathes a ragged whisper, his eyes tracing over her, wanting more, desperate for more, "Can I taste you?"

Her eyes snap back open with surprise at his request. Pupils snapping tight before blowing wide once more. It feels like her whole body throbs with the very idea of it. Picturing it...

"You...want to?" Miri whispers back.

"Oh, gods yes," he replies, his voice shaking. His breath comes in quick puffs, his body practically aching to taste her. He leans in, pressing a trail of kisses down her neck, and shoulders.

She gasps at his answer - that husky, rough tone of his need, how fervently he wants it. Her head tilts back to give him better access and she's squirming slightly beneath him, her hands clutching at his waist.

"I want to taste all of you-" he whispers, his teeth nipping at her skin.

When he bites - oh, she growls.

The sound of her growl, the feeling of her hands on him, the sight of her beneath him, wanting, has his heart racing. He runs his hands over her hips, over her stomach, his fingers tracing over her skin, finding every spot that makes her gasp and shiver, every spot that makes her moan. And all the while, he kisses and nips at her skin, moving down, down, down-

Miri's a chorus of sounds under his attention. Panting with need, gasping and moaning at touch, growling at bites. Her eyes want to close with pleasure, but she can't tear her gaze away from the sight of him practically worshipping her body.

And Gale is. He is worshiping her, with every bite, every kiss, his very goal the sounds she makes as he moves his way down her body, loving the feel of her body shuddering beneath him, the way she gasps and moan.

And as he moves lower, Gale groans at the sight of her, his heart rate thundering as his mouth finally reaches her core, and he gently runs his tongue across it-

Miri jolts at the feeling - a sudden punched-out moan leaving her lips.

The sound of her moan filling his ears as her taste coats his tongue sends a wave of heat through him.

He takes his time, starting slow, his tongue gently exploring her sensitive flesh, savoring her taste, listening to the sounds she’s making, his hands moving over her hips, pulling her closer to him.

"Ohhh fuck-"

His eyes look up to watch her face as she curses, feeling the word like a bolt of heat straight to his own core. He continues his ministrations, his tongue running over her wet heat again and again.

Gale works slowly, wanting to thoroughly savor her, wanting to keep going until she can't even form words-

Miri whines - her back arching and her body writhing with the pleasure of it. One hand fists in the sheets, the other moves to his hair, pushing it back out of his face.

When their eyes meet she shivers. He's not just doing it performatively - gods the look in his eyes - he's enjoying it. Wants it. Fucking hells.

The feeling of her hand in his hair and the blissful look in her eyes is driving him insane, his own body aching with need as he continues his attention on her core. Gale loves the way she looks, the sounds she makes, the way she whines, how her body is twitching and writhing beneath his touch.

He responds to her look, his eyes darkened, dilated, practically devouring the way she looks right now. He hums a deep moan against her.

"Ahn gods Gale-"

She can't look away, completely captivated by him. By the raw, unfettered need in his eyes. Gale buries his face a little deeper, grasping her by the hips to hold her against his mouth. He grinds his own neglected, aching need into the bed absently as he savors her.

He flicks his tongue against her swollen bud and she bucks with a sharp gasp.

He shivers at the sound of her gasping his name, the feel of her bucking beneath him, every response from her driving him even more wild.

He loves this. Has maybe never loved anything mor than this. Seeing her like this - his strong, ferocious love completely at his mercy, practically writhing with pleasure.

And the taste of her, gods-

He focuses his attention on that sensitive spot, his tongue moving over it again and again in quick little laps.

Miri makes a stuttering series of high moans, each one spurred by the movement of his tongue. Her back bows and her hips jolt.

Gods how loves these sounds. Her every arch and gasp and twitch. He continues without pause, without slowing, savoring every second of driving her wild with his mouth. His tongue continues its relentless rhythm, his arms moving under her thighs to wrap around and grasp her hips, holding her open and in place against him even as she bucks and writhes beneath him-

Miri's legs start to tremble, toes curling. She's nearly dizzy with the effect of his mouth on her.

"Ah- ah! Gale!" She moans again, her hand in his hair tightening. "That's-! I'm-"

The sound of her practically whining his name, the way her legs are shaking, how she arches and gasps, it's all almost overwhelming, how she sounds, the way she looks right now, the way she’s shivering-

He keeps going, his tongue unrelenting, and one hand moves from her hip, sliding down to gently tease at her entrance.

Miri cries out, high and loud - she's so close.

The sound has his heart stuttering, the knowledge that she’s right on the edge-

He keeps his focus on her delicious little clit, his tongue continuing its relentless attention as he slides one finger into her, gods-

The tension in her core snaps. Her back bows up off the bed, every muscle tremoring and bunching. Miri can hardly catch her breath as she sees stars.

Gale moans a ragged sound in the back of his throat. It's everything he could have ever hoped for, the way she thrashes beneath him, the way she clenches around his finger and he can feel the wave of her climax as it overcomes her. Tasting her ecstasy on his tongue.

He continues his attention for a few more seconds, watching her expression as he works her through it, loving the way she looks as she rides out the wave, his heart hammering in his chest as he does.

Miri feels like boneless liquid as she comes back down. Soft shivers of aftershocks roll through her. One lick too many and she has to tug at Gale's hair to make him stop.

It's a struggle for him to tear himself away, the taste and sounds of her almost too enticing to resist.

But he does, reluctantly. Gale watches her with a satisfied grin as he slowly withdraws his finger, watching her as she shudders with aftershocks. Miri practically glows with pleasure. From him.

Miri lets out a soft groan that devolves into a low growl. She's not sure she's ever climaxed so hard. And he looks so pleased with himself. (And he should. Fuck.)

"Hells," she breathes, throwing one arm over her eyes as her chest heaves, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

He lets out a breathless laugh, his own heart still hammering in his chest. Gale can’t help but preen a bit at her praise. He savors licking his lips, almost mourns wiping her from his beard. His body aches for her.

"Lots of practice," he replies, the tone of his voice still ragged, still needy, "Paying attention to the responses you get from a person..."

He pulls himself up, crawling up her body and leaning over her to nuzzle at her hair. Miri huffs a soft laugh, a witty reply ready, but it dries up on her tongue when he whispers in her ear like sultry silk as he breathes her in, “And a lot of imagination involving a certain someone."

"What...?"

She turns to look at him with surprise. Her hands automatically find their way to his skin, holding him close to her. His breath catches as she touches him, his heart skipping a beat at the feel of her hands, how she holds onto him like she don't want to let go.

His own hands move to her waist, his thumbs tracing gentle little circles on her skin as he resumes nuzzling her hair, his lips at her ear.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've imagined doing to you..." he whispers, his voice low and rough.

Miri groans, feeling the embers of her arousal quickly sparking back to a roaring blaze.

"I had no idea," Miri murmurs back.

The sound of her voice, gods, the way she groans. Miri’s responses make his heart pound a fury against his ribs. He needs to hear more, needs to continue.

Gale hums a low sound, moving in closer still, his voice a low whisper, "How about I tell you some of the things I've thought of...?"

"Are you trying to drive me mad?" Miri returns.

"Oh, absolutely." There's a wicked grin on his face as he replies, his hands moving over her again. Over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. "Imagining all the ways I want to make you scream-"

Miri growls softly. Her own hands roam, exploring chest and stomach, the arches of his hips...

"I wish I'd known sooner," Miri returns with a breathless playfulness, "Could've saved me a few online purchases..."

He shivers at the feel of her hands, groans at her words. The very hint of what she might mean having his heart and mind racing, his tongue licking at his lips as he looks down at her-

"A few?" Gale asks, arching a brow at her. "How many online purchases are we talking, here?"

"Uh-" Miri bites her lip for a moment, "Just a few."

The sight of has his thoughts running away from him. He leans in, nuzzling her neck, letting his voice drop back to a murmur against her skin.

"A few purchases?" Gale repeats, needing to know. "Or a few boxes?"

"I mean, no one delivers things efficiently any more," Miri counters, "I don't think number of boxes is a fair question -"

His breath catches at her reply, his heart drumming in his chest as his imagination goes wild with the possibilities. The things she might have bought to satisfy those thoughts she was having...

His mind is filled with images, imagining her lying in bed, trying out each new acquisition on herself - the sounds she would make, how she would look.

Gale groans softly. He presses a few kisses to her neck, nuzzling her skin while he continues to speak, his voice still low, "And you're telling me you've used and enjoyed every single one of these purchases...?"

"It's silly to buy something and not try it. Not everything-" Miri pauses for a moment. Her cheeks flush a bit more, realizing she's probably said too much. "How did we even get here? I was trying to make a different point-"

Gale can't help the deep chuckle that escapes his lips at how flushed she is.

"And what was this ‘different point’, Miri?" He huffs a soft breath out of his nose with amusement as he presses more kisses to her neck, "Because I think this new topic of discussion is much more interesting."

"That I wouldn't've needed those things if I'd known you were not only willing," Miri breathes, "But quite skilled."

He lifts his head to look down at her, a slightly cheeky smile on his face, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Did you just imply that I'm better than your online purchases?"

"Maybe-"

"Careful, Mir," he says, his voice low and rough as he barely suppresses a shiver of excitement and a smug grin, "Or I might get a bit full of myself and start demanding we demonstrate just how much better I am than all your toys."

Miri groans. "You don't need the ego boost."

He grins down at her, unable to stop himself as his pride swells and smugness practically bubbling out of him.

"Perhaps not," he agrees, still in that low, rough voice, "But I do need something right now-"

"Yeah?" Miri smiles sultrily up at him, one hand finding its way into his hair again. The other slides down to his hip and tugs him forward to press against her.

A soft gasp escapes his lips when their hips press together and he can feel the heat of her against him. Gale leans in closer, covering her body with his and nuzzling against her neck. His hands continue to roam, one grasping at her thigh, the other cupping a breast, his thumb rubbing the tight peak of her nipple.

"There are two very specific things I need right now..." he murmurs between kisses.

"Two?" Miri returns, puzzled. It’s hard to think with the way he explores her - touches so warm and inviting, soft and hard, sweet and amorous. Gods those kisses are like the lines of a litany. She always knew Gale was thorough - in just about everything he does- but this is a whole other level.

"The first," he murmurs, moving his lips to her ear, "Is that I need you. Right here, right now-"

He presses her down against the bed, wanting her to feel his need, the ache of his body drawn out inexorably by her every breath, her every movement.

Miri moans softly and parts her legs further to feel him pressing directly against her core. The room fills with the soft sound of their ragged breaths as they cling to one another.

Gale is positively aching at the feeling. He can’t decide whether he is grateful or vexed by the briefs that still cling to him. Entirely too small, but keeping him from rushing too quickly.

"The second...?"

"The second," he whispers at her ear when he manages to catch his breath, "Is that I need to hear you screaming my name."

Miri moans softly at the feel of him - hot and hard- sliding against her still sensitive flesh. Her breath catches at his whisper. The fabric of his briefs does little to dull the feeling - only adding friction despite the growing wetness of the fabric.

"I'm sure you can earn it," Miri purrs back, tugging softly at his hair.

Miri is trying to drive him insane with raw need, she must be. He aches and throbs for her. All he can do to respond is a low groan, heat rushing through his body at the mere suggestion.

"Challenge accepted," Gale breathes with a cheeky grin.

Miri grins back wolfishly. "Good."

She tugs him in for a kiss, moaning softly at the taste of herself on his lips. He returns the kiss with an fervor to match, the feel of her pressed against him, her hands in his hair, the taste of her... all of it makes his head spin with need and desperation.

Gale presses forward, leaning his weight against her. His hips grind against hers more purposefully, the ache in his body almost overwhelming him.

"Need you, Miri-" he whispers hoarsely between kisses, "Need you so badly-"

"I'm ready for you, Gale," Miri answers softly between kisses. Her fingers trail down to tug at the fabric of his briefs and his breath stutters.

The sound her voice, breathless and panting wrapped around his name fuels the fire burning in him. He needs to hear her scream it - but he doesn't want to rush, he wants to savor this moment. Savor every touch and taste of Miri he can have.

"Are you sure?" Gale’s voice is equal parts concern and barely constrained desire as he asks. "I don't want to rush-"

Miri huffs a soft laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure," she answers earnestly. She hooks one leg over his hips and tugs gently. His hips automatically move forward in response, and he moans at the friction. Then teasingly, she adds, "At this point you're being a tease."

"I'm just trying to be patient-" he gasps.

"And you're very good," Miri murmurs, pressing kisses to his jawline. Every tender kiss makes his heart pound. "But I'm not stopping you."

"I-I just don't want to-" his voice is laced with a soft whine as he responds. It breaks with another soft moan as his hips move against her again. His voice grows more pleading "-don’t want to hurt you."

Miri cups his jaw in one hand, tilting his face to hold her gaze. "You won't."

Her confidence sends a shiver down his spine and his heart aching in his chest. He swallows, his voice still pleading.

"But- but you just came-"

"And I would very much like to do it again."

Miri’s smirk is almost wicked, flashing a hint of those sharp teeth. His heart skips a beat and he groans, his body aching and his control hanging by a thread.

"Miri..." His voice is thick with desire. The sound of her name on his lips is almost a plea, "Miri- if you keep saying things like that-"

"What?" Miri murmurs with a grin, "Will you fuck me?"

Her leg tugs at his hip again, her fingers trailing sharp nails gently down his back. It draws another deep, low groan from him, his hips moving forward against her instinctively, needy and seeking friction. Miri groans appreciatively at the friction as he grinds against her again. Gale buries his face against her neck, his breath ragged.

The sound of her pleading for him, the friction as he grinds against her, the aching need to feel her, for her to feel pleasure-

"M-Miri, I swear to the gods-" his voice is low and shaky.

"Come on, Gale," she whispers, a gentle plea in his ear, "I need you. Please."

Gale’s pushed to the edge, teetering at the point of no control, and he lets out another groan, his voice almost shaking as he speaks. "Miri, I'm trying to hold back-"

"Why?" Miri cups his face between both hands now, forcing him to hold her gaze. "I’ve wanted you for months, Gale. Don’t make us wait a moment more when we both want this. Don't make me beg."

Miri tilts back to kiss him gently on the forehead before pressing hers to his. This tender affection has his heart in his throat. Gale wants nothing more than to give her everything. To please her.

And his body sings a near painful accord as he tries futilely to hold onto the last bit of his self-control. He swallows, and answers in a hoarse murmur, "Because I don't want to hurt you-"

"Gale, please," she returns, stroking his cheeks. "If it hurts I'll tell you."

Miri kisses his nose, his cheeks, his chin. He's so unbelievably sweet and good. And she adores that about him - always has. But gods, he's driving her mad.

"I know my body. I couldn't be much more ready. You have absolutely made sure of that."

"Gods-" he moans, "Miri-"

"Mmm," Miri hums low in approval when he moans her name. She can't hold back the passionate growl that rumbles in her chest. "Yes, Gale."

The sound of that growl goes straight through him, stirring up the fire raging inside him, adding to the maelstrom of need that consumes him. He has to give her what she wants, what she needs-

His hips move forward again, rubbing against her, teasing, his voice rough and strained, "You sure? You promise you'll tell me if it hurts?"

"Yes, gods, Gale, please-"

The way she’s pleading finally breaks his resolve, leaving only the raw need, the desperate ache to have her. Gale frees himself of his briefs in a quick movement, settling over her once more.

His knees shift her legs apart, his body thrumming with need as one hand moving to guide himself to her entrance. Miri moves eagerly at his touch, she threads her fingers into his hair, letting her gaze roam his face. Beauty and devotion both.

He lets out a low, shaky gasp, his head tilting back involuntarily as her fingers weave into his hair. The feeling of her hands against his scalp is sending shudders through him, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of desire and awe.

"A-anything-" he hesitates, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. Their gazes lock.

"I promise, Gale," Miri breathes, her hands clutching tightly to him.

He can't help but shiver at the sound of his name, his body thrumming with anticipation and need. Feeling her breath against his lips, her body pressed against his, her words making his heart skip a beat...

He begins to push into her, slowly, gently, his breath catching in his throat at the feel of her. It’s excruciating and euphoric all at once - hot, slick, tight, perfect.

"You... you feel so... so good," he manages to get out between quickened breaths, his voice tight and rough with the effort of holding himself back.

Miri moans a ragged reply, her head falling back onto the bed. The feel of it is overwhelming - a dull ache that quickly ebbs to pleasure. Fullness well before he's made any progress. The stretch is enough to drive the wind from her.

"Ahn fuck, Gale," Miri moans again.

He moans in response, gripping at the sheets beneath them as he continues. Gale moves slowly, gently, inching deeper and trying to give her time to adjust even as his need burning inside him like a wildfire.

Seeing her like this, the sight of her arching her back and tipping her head back, makes his grip on her hips tighten, his fingers digging into her skin.

Gale tries to hold himself back, to keep from drowning in her completely. He presses a messy kiss to her neck, his teeth nipping at the skin as he sucks and bites at it, wanting to leave his mark on her, wanting to claim her as his own. She growls and sighs with ecstasy. And when her hips finally meet his she moans again.

"Oh gods, Miri, oh gods-"

Miri lets out a breathy whine, her fingers flexing against him. He burns hotter, brighter as he pushes deeper. The pressure and the pleasure build in her like a tidal wave. He buries his face against her neck, breathing ragged, low hoarse moans escaping his lips in ragged gasps.

"Oh gods, Miri, you're so tight-"

"Ah- gods-" Miri's panting as she adjusts. "You're - ahn- fuck- so big-"

The sound of her struggling for breath, speaking in between gasps - the feeling of her so tight and warm around him - Gale feels unmoored at sea, lost in sensation and pleasure. The heat and pressure building in his stomach like a raging inferno as he continues to push deeper. Miri’s eyes roll with a cry and his heart stutters.

"Oh gods, I'm not- I'm not hurting you, am I? You feel so perfect-"

"N-nnnnnghh ah no-"Gods she can barely form words. That gasp and moan is like music to his ears, better than anything he’s ever heard. His heart thunders in his chest, every delicious squeeze like lightning up his spine.

"Are you sure-?”

"Ohhhh ffffuck. Yes, I'm sure-"

His hips move against her again, deeper, just a little bit deeper, a low moan coming up from his throat. His voice is little more than a low, ragged growl as he finally pushes all the way in.

Miri gasps at the stretch - so good but so much. It quickly dissolves into a satisfied moan. The sound breaks into a heated growl. Gale can't help the guttural moan that he lets out as she growls, the sound making his blood run hot.

The feel of her hips against his sends sparks through his body, the pleasure and sensation almost overwhelming. His hands let go of her hips, one of them moving up to grip the back of her neck as he pulls her in for a messy, hungry kiss, desperate to taste every moan and growl and gasp she makes.

"Oh dear gods, Mir-" he gasps out, his voice shaking, "You feel so- good-"

He tightens his grip on her hips, trembling as he holds back, desperate to move, but holding himself back to let her adjust.

Miri can barely think from the sensation - sharp pressure ebbing to delightful fullness. She gasps and whines while for a moment they simply cling to one another and all she can feel is him - Gale surrounding her, filling her. His warmth as he presses tender kisses to her crown as he holds her.The intimacy of this moment is like nothing he's ever felt before. He’s had partners sure. But he’s never wanted anyone quite the way he wants Miri. Never wanted to be with someone so wholly. And when he presses their foreheads together and their eyes meet - he can see it reflected in her gaze.

"Can I- move-?" he gasps out desperately.

She moans again at the way he shifts and presses against her so deep.

"Ah-" Miri gasps again, head tilting back, "Please."

He barely manages to hold back a whine as she gasps out that please. Gale lets out another groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips a bit harder, holding her tight against him.

He lets out a soft hiss of breath before he speaks. "Gods, you feel...perfect, love. You take me so... so well."

"Ah- please-" Miri pants, "Gale-"

"Yes, love?" he gasps out shakily, his fingers digging into her waist. "Is this alright? Does this feel good-"

"Yes! Gale-" Miri moans, "Move please, move," she practically whines. Her hips shift against him desperately.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he slowly, carefully, withdraws, shifting his grip to keep her still. Gale groans low in his throat, before he slowly pushes back in, taking every ounce of effort to keep control. Miri whimpers and whines at the torturously slow pace. Her fingers clutch at the sheets. His head dips, nuzzling his face against her neck. Gale starts to move, slowly at first, still trying to be gentle, still trying to hold back, all the while whispering hoarse, ragged moans against her neck.

He surges in to capture her lips as he rocks slowly against her. His pace increases slightly as her hands tug against his hips. When Miri growls impatiently against his mouth and nips his bottom lip he finally relents. With a whine of his own he picks up his pace.

"Gods, love...," he gasps out, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "You just... Mir, you feel so... so good."

"Hells Gale," she breathes, burning at the thrill that races down her spine and coils in her stomach with every thrust. "You’re incredible-"

Gale’s so vocal, so torturously attentive - and when he makes eye contact, all flushed, dark need, Miri feels like she might melt entirely. She can feel the smoldering embers of her desire roaring like a furnace now.

His hands tighten, as if trying to press her impossibly closer and his lips leaving small, sucking kisses at every bit of skin he can reach. His motions pick up speed, his breaths and moans coming in short gasps and pants. Miri mewls, every time their hips connect sending a bolt of white hot pleasure up her spine.

Miri's legs tremble softly as she rocks her hips against his. Every few strokes they surge together to kiss again. All teeth and desire and sound. Full of their shared delight and hunger. Wet and needy.

His hands move over her body, caressing and touching her, his touches desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her skin. Gale traces the curves and lines of her figure, feeling her muscles, desperate and eager to touch her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers between harsh breaths. “I want you to be mine, Miri...”

Miri's head tips back with a long, reedy moan. Her hands clutch at his arms as she trembles. He watches in fascination, his eyes tracing over the line of her throat, desperate to kiss and taste and bite the skin exposed to him.

“Gods, Miri, the way you sound-” he pants, "You're so responsive," he whispers, his voice low and thick with need, "I can't get enough of you."

She cries out softly, losing herself in his need, his touch, his heat. Miri moans at the snaps of his hips against hers, breathless bolts of lightning arcing up her spine. His touch is hot fire on her skin, his voice like honey in her ears.

"Gale...!"

The sound of his name on her lips makes something shiver and shiver within him. His touch traces paths of fire on her skin, mapping every curves and slopes wanting to know her body as well as his own.

"Say my name again," he whispers against her neck, his voice gruff and raw, "say it again."

"Gale!"

He lets out a low hiss, burying his face into the curve of her neck. Every movement of their hips adds fuel to the fire, every touch and caress and kiss sending sparks and shivers through his body.

"I love how you respond to me," he moans against her skin, "the sounds that you make when I touch you... I need more. I need to hear you moan my name like that again."

Miri hardly feels able to breathe - she can feel the hot tension spooling in her stomach, closer to bursting with every delicious snap of his hips, hitting that perfect spot.

"Ahhhn- Gale please- ah-" The sound of her speech breaking into moans, her voice becoming shaky and fragmented, sends a thrill through him that he can't even put into words. He lets out a low, almost animalistic noise from low in his throat, desperate and pleading.

"Gods, yes, just like that," he whispers, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, "Keep making those sounds for me, Miri. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Gale loses himself in the feel of her - perfect in every way, soft and pliant and hot beneath him. He can’t hold back anymore, and the sounds she’s making only make it clear she feels good.

She's almost dizzy with the frantic pace he sets - and gods it feels so good. Her back arches up into him and she whines before gasping his name again.

He can feel the pleasure building deep within, the need coiling low and tight and hot within his gut. He runs his hands down her body, his touch growing more and more frantic, desperate to bring her to the edge with him, to make her say his name like a prayer, a plea.

She gasps a high cry when he adds that sharp, bright pleasure, fingers playing her like a virtuoso. Her claws dig at his back with only half a mind to be gentle against his skin. Green eyes roll with sensation and she trembles beneath him.

"Gale!"

The feel of her nails against his skin grounds him, the sharp and stinging pain adding to the pleasure, keeping him at that almost delirious edge, riding on the pleasure. He bites at her neck, his teeth pressing hard enough to leave a mark, desperate and rough and hungry, desperate to make her feel everything, all the pleasure and need and heat thrumming inside him.

"Again, Miri, please! I want to hear you say my name again, I want to hear you say it until your voice is hoarse," he gasps against her skin, his voice thick with need.

"Ahn! Gale!" This time it's a sharp cry, a shout. Plea and prayer both. She feels full of molten heat - a bowstring overdrawn and ready to snap. His bite rips a growl from her - one of untempered pleasure. "Gale!"

His breath hitches at the sound of his name, at the feel of her voice saying his name, the way the words fall from her lips in gasps and moans and pleas. He feels like he's drowning in her, in the heat and in the pleasure, barely holding on to his control.

"Like that, gods, just like that," he growls, his voice thick with heat, raw with the need to make her feel good, to give her more, more and more and more.

Miri's voice is ragged with harsh breaths as she pleads with him. She's unbearably close. So near to that precipice, feeling almost all liquid in his arms as his touch renders her to pure sensation.

His mind is a haze of sensations, of the feel of her, of the sound of her voice and the way she calls out his name, how she makes him feel wanted and needed and like the most important person in the world. His own control is almost slipping, almost reaching his own edge, and he can only hold on tighter, pull her closer, his touch becoming almost frantic as he tries to bring her as much pleasure as he can.

"Say my name, love, gods- say my name again," he begs, his voice strained and tight with the effort to hold himself back.

That touch - delicious and demanding - wrings pleasure from her very bones. Miri gasps out a moan like a howl, her spine arching. As her body starts to tremble and writhe she cries out his name.

There's a feeling like sparks blazing over his skin at the sound of her cry, the raw pleasure in her voice, her body arching and writhing beneath him, and then, before he can think, before he can even catch his breath, he lets himself slip over the edge, riding the wave of pleasure that washes over him in overwhelming spikes. He buries his face into the curve of her neck, his name on her lips the sweetest sound he's ever heard.

She clutches him to her as they float in that nebulous space between dream and reality together. Her head tips back with heaving breaths and soft shivers. She mumbles out soft phrases, praise and adoration, bleary and love drunk.

Gale clings to her, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in deep as he tries to come down from that overwhelming wave. Her words, spoken in that soft, dreamy, and love-drunk tone, wash over him like a soothing balm.

He presses a soft, almost lazy kiss to the skin of her neck, too sated and relaxed to do anything else. Her hair is tousled and messy where he ran his hands through it, her neck and shoulders bearing the red marks and indents of his mouth and teeth, and her eyes are still hazy and almost delirious with pleasure. He runs a hand over her jaw, tracing it with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and soft.

Miri grins back at him, blinking slowly. His own hair is disheveled, down from it’s usual half bun and sticking to him with the sweat of his efforts. But he’s never looked more beautiful.

“Takes one to know one,” she murmurs back with a smirk. Gale snorts and shoves lightly at her.

They laugh together, still a tangled heap of limbs. When they settle, their gazes meet again. Soft, soothing touches exchanged slowly. Uncaring for the time or the mess or the world outside.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Miri muses softly. Her smile is nothing short of radiant, full of a soft affection Gale’s only ever dreamed of until now. And he matches it with one of his own.

“We should have yes,” he returns, “But I am more than happy to make up for lost time.”

Gale pulls her closer, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him to a chorus of giggles.

“So am I,” Miri agrees softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “And then some.”

[wardenparker]

At First Sight

Alan McMichael x female Reader

Rating: G for General Audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Alcohol, flirting, period manners, fluff, scheming family members, undesirable dance partners. Summary: Alan's sister Eunice is finally engaged and their mother is throwing a grand ball to celebrate. It is the last place that he wants to be...until he meets a young lady who wants to be there just as little as he does. Notes: It's been so, so very long since I wrote anything solo. Please be kind -- all errors are my own, and this is definitely not beta read. It's just a little piece inspired by my downtime at work and countless rewatches of Crimson Peak. Alan deserves some happiness, so I wanted to give him a bit. If there's interest I'll try to write more for these two, but I'll understand entirely if there's not. Thank you so so very much for reading! Dedicated to @julesonrecord for her tireless patience in putting up with me babbling about this character and how he deserved better. And to @ruflirtingwithme for always letting me keep Wade in my pocket wherever I go. There's a bit of him in this as well, for sure.

Despite the tailoring of his tuxedo, the familiar weight of the costume, and the well-traveled ballroom he finds himself standing in, Alan McMichael shifts uncomfortably. He’s lost weight this past year, worry and injury taking their toll, and the tailor assured him that it could barely be seen but took his jacket and the waist of his trousers in anyway. He isn’t as fit as he once was. He isn’t as strong. Not since he followed Edith up that mountain in England, only to bring her back down again to dual hospitalizations and true exhaustion. The doctors at the sanatorium don’t allow him to visit anymore .They say it causes episodes of hysteria. 

So now they must live inside their own heads separately, and his mother has taken that as meaning it is time to push him to move on. “It’s for the best.” His mother had said. But Alan couldn’t be sure. Still, he was forced to resume his everyday life, and now it has been a full year since that fateful trip to Crimson Peak. 

Eunice’s engagement has been a blessing to distract Mrs. McMichael. Her ploy to whisk her daughter off to New York City in the early summer had paid odd and now Eunice is engaged to the son of some banker who claimed to have an ancestor lead the charge at the Battle of Cowpens. They were all, Mrs. McMicheals told everyone in earshot, quite proud.

Now it was Alan’s turn to once again have marriage prospects pushed on him, and he stood in the ballroom ready to receive guests alongside his father with a false smile and a belly full of dread.

* * * * * *

“I thought you didn’t like Mrs. McMichaels?” The question hands in the air as you finish getting ready for the ball this evening. Spending the Christmas holiday in Buffalo with your aunt and uncle had been your brother’s idea – trying to see that you were taken care of without directly saying that having you in his house would be a burden. So you had reluctantly agreed, giving most of your staff the better part of three weeks off and taking only your maid with you to Buffalo. 

It’s not that I dislike her entirely, dear heart,” your aunt Joan insists. “I adore her soirees.”

“How foolish of me.” It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes but your maid recognizes the expression and smiles privately. “I ought to have known. You and Uncle Christian will want to stay until daybreak, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” Aunt Joan quips, appraising herself in her vanity mirror. “Her cook makes the most divine fruit crepes.”

You could point out that her usual overt piety discourages desire and gluttony, but at near seventy years of age, your great-aunt has earned a little indulgence from life. Instead you hum a non-committal agreement and pick up your gloves., “Then it will be well worth staying until breakfast,” you encourage, offering her a smile instead. 

“Indeed.” She seems most pleased at the prospect and shoes your maids away with finality. “Your dance card must be full tonight, child,” she warns with an alarming hint of mischief in her voice. “If we want you engaged before the worst of winter snows threaten to keep us all at home.”

* * * * * *

The McMichael’s ballroom shimmers with candlelight and each guest who is announced at the door is another jewel in the crown of the evening. Mrs. McMichaels flits about like a bird with a rare and precious seed, showing it off to everyone around her, and the guests who have eagerly arrived first bask in the shared glow of witnessing such good fortune. Fortunately, very certainly it is a fortunate thing, your Aunt Joan and Uncle Christian do not believe in arriving early to parties. They believe in leaving their home at the time the party is listed as beginning in order to appear both desirably busy and aloof, which means that your trio is squarely in the second half of arrivals to the McMichael house this evening. Even if it is only by a measure of twenty or thirty minutes, the less time you must spend with eligible men being foisted upon you, the better. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Christian Tate,” are announced along with your name, and Aunt Joan practically shoves your out in front of them to make sure you’re seen. Not that anyone would have noticed you otherwise, so perhaps it’s wise. The peacock colored gown you chose shimmers softly in the gaslight, but the ballrooms of Buffalo do not have the large, expansive windows and glass doors that you are accustomed to in Newport. It is all mahogany and walnut paneling here, and all the ladies but you – in their pinks and creams and honey yellows – knew better. You will be lost in wainscotted corners in your deep blue, green, and purple hues. Though perhaps it is for the best. This is not your society anyway. You have no intention of ending your time in Buffalo engaged no matter what Aunt Joan might intend.

The two gentlemen at the center of the ballroom could not be anymore obviously father and son, but where the father jokes and jovially signs dance cards at praise of his skills in the country dances, the son seems dour and aloof. His pinched smile does not precisely forbid conversation but it certainly does not encourage it, and he all but sighs in resignation when your Uncle Christian seems happy to see him.

“My wife’s great-niece,” you hear him saying, just before you are shuttled forward again. “Visiting from Newport for the holidays.”

“A pleasure,” the man intones, though you cannot think he means it.

“Is it?” You offer your hand only because your aunt clears her throat so pointedly. But it is at this point that the skyscraper with blonde hair you are being introduced to chuckles. The sound is broken but warm, and you are not so displeased with being here that you miss the way his blue eyes sparkle like aquamarine in the flickering light. 

“Perhaps,” he muses, catching the dance card dangling from your wrist before you can take your hand back. “Perhaps you are the first young lady to arrive tonight not to simper and curtsy over the supposed honor of being my mother’s guest. And perhaps I can recognize a fellow soul was was strong-armed into attending.” He looks tired, the heaviness of it hanging deep in his handsome features. Because yes, he is handsome. Intriguingly and admirably so. But that isn’t what is drawing you in to him like a rope tied into your ribcage that tugs you forward whenever he speaks. It’s something else. “Perhaps we will be allies tonight, you and I.”

“Allies?” You watch his hand as he claims both waltzes on your dance card, the first gentleman to do so and claiming what are arguably the most intimate of dances. “How terribly Napoleonic of you,” you droll in response.

He laughs again, a little more deeply, and shrugs his shoulders. “I would avoid the elder Mr. Davies if I were you,” he advises, clearly demonstrating his intent as that very ally he has claimed to be. “His wife passed last spring leaving him with three young children. He has become so desperate for a wife that he is inclined to propose to almost any new young lady he meets.”

“How very concerning for the young ladies.” You murmur back, glancing over at the man being subtly pointed out to you. He is squirrelish and balding, all the hair on his head seeming to have fallen to the bushy mustache adorning his upper lip. “Is there anyone else I ought to be wary of?”

“Oh, a dozen at least.” The mischief returns to this man-shaped mountain’s eyes and he offers you his arm. “It is well worth discussing. Perhaps over punch?”

“Mr. McMichael, I think you are using me as an excuse to abandon the receiving line.” You hum in amusement, not really able to say you blame him for such a thing. Or that you mind.

“Perhaps.” His grin has a shade of mischief and guilt to it. “But perhaps you are using me to avoid the attention of other guests who might bore, annoy, or otherwise rankle you, or even step on your shoes. Which I’m sure are quite beautiful and not to be defiled. This arrangement seems better for us both, don’t you think? I can promise you with surety that it has been more than a decade since I trod on a lady’s slipper at a ball.”

“I had intended to feign lightheadedness from the crowded ballroom halfway through the night,” you confess with a sly expression all your own. “Perhaps I still will. Or perhaps this mischief will prove diversion enough all on its own.”

* * * * * *

There have been many dances in your life that have made you terribly glad for the barrier of gloves between you and the man leading. Whether it was their manners that were unsuitable, the sweat of their palms, or some unsavory odor lingering around them like a drought-stricken pond, there seemed always to be some partners with whom dancing was as undesirable as an overturned stagecoach. 

Tonight you fear it might be you. 

Dr. McMichael — Alan, he has insisted that you call him Alan — is a divine dancer. The grandeur of his stature does nothing to inhibit his grace and as he twirls you both about the ballroom you have the oddest sensation of floating that has ever been. But as if grace and poise were not enough, the man has a damning and wicked sense of humour as well. It has taken only the smallest encouragement from you to earn you scathing reviews of the other partygoers from you. The descriptions have you nearly in hysterics in his arms, but worse yet is the way that he smiles. It is a sly and puckish expression that makes his eyes light and sparkle in the candlelight, and every time he aims it at you, you can feel yourself sweat in the most unbecoming and unladylike way. 

Moist palms or a damp dress back do not make for a desirable partner, and all you can do is hope desperately that your gloves and corset are providing ample barrier so that he has no idea how deeply those smiles and jokes and bright eyes are affecting you. 

“I must sound deeply cynical,” he comments after a pause. He has just told you the story of the two Misses Shrewsbury and their positively ghastly attempt at conning the attendants of a seance he attended in Albany some years ago. “I am not. Or at least I do not mean to be.”

“Is it society that you disapprove of? Or faith?” Neither question is a judgment on your part, but you tilt your head to him conspiratorially as you dance. “I have found myself weary of both in the past, that is why I ask.”

“It is neither,” Alan admits, though he does so with a wistful sigh. “I think perhaps I yearn for times past when I reveled in dancing and philosophical pursuits. When the contents of conversation at a dinner party provided fascination for days afterward.” Subtly, so that you can feel it but it is not seen to the plain-eyes observer, he shrugs. “Life soldiers on, I suppose.”

“It does.” You cannot dispute that, and you would not try. You know the trudging on of time as well as any other touched by tragedy. “May I ask what changed? Or is that impertinent?”

“It is not impertinent.” He casts his eye around the room then back down at you. “But I am afraid it is not polite, either. I would not shock you so, to tell it all. I will only say that I lost my dear friend very recently.”

“Then I am very sorry to hear it, but I have every belief in your humanity. Your taste for society, your faith, and your fascinations will return.” The look on his face says he wonders how you can be so sure, and you half-smile. The hint of sadness in your eyes keeps it from becoming full. “Take the word of an orphan of two beloved parents, Dr. McMichael. You will come back to life again after the loss of your friend. It may simply take time.”

“Alan,” he presses softly, reminding you of his insistence. “And I am sorry to hear of your sadness, as well. But it seems that perhaps God or the ghosts of our past have seen fit to introduce us tonight. Whichever it is that you believe in.”

“Whichever it is, I welcome their intervention.” It seems to you at this point that he does not care much for spiritualism or ghosts of any kind, so you will not speak your mind on that topic. As for God? His guidance has not been the one you sought in many years. No, tonight you will not give credence to any of it, if only to keep the mood light and perhaps make Alan laugh again. “I think, however, that I shall ascribe it entirely to my great-uncle. As he was the one to see us introduced.”

“So he was.” As the song ends, Alan bows quite deeply in deference to his admirable partner. “I believe I shall have to thank him for it.”

* * * * * *

“Why don’t I know the girl your son has been doting on all night?” Mrs. McMichael is behind her fan to her husband from the edge of the dance floor, inspecting the dancing and overseeing the needs of all her guests. Her guests. Which is why she is so perturbed not to be able to identify this young woman immediately. “Who is her family? She must be with one of your business associates, yes?”

“Let Alan flirt.” Edwin McMichael waves one hand dismissively, not even looking in his only son’s direction. “It’s good for him. He’s been too dour for too long.”

“I don’t care if he flirts.” Ellen ruffles, her lips pursed and ready for an argument. “So long as he flirts with the correct young ladies.”

“How do you know she is not correct?”

“Because I do not know who she is or who she came with.”

“She is Christian Tate’s great-niece.”

Ellen’s nose wrinkles. “The orphan?”

“The orphan with an eight million dollar inheritance and a palatial cottage in Newport in her name.” Mr. McMichael raises one eyebrow as he peers down at his wife, knowing precisely the sort of affect this news will have on his wife. After all, she married him for his fortune — why should Alan not marry a fortune as well? “Let Alan flirt. It makes him smile.”

* * *

He finds you again later, outside of the ballroom when you’ve wandered away to breath air that hasn’t come from the mouths of five other people first and doesn’t smell distinctly of stale cigars and brandy. He finds you when you are slumped, unladylike, in the window seat of his father’s library gazing out the window at the snow as it drifts lazily down from the pitch-black sky. 

“I thought you’d run away on me.” His voice is light but the undercurrent of worry, or else embedded sadness, is there if you listen. Like a weariness that had taken hold in him sometime since the loss of his friend that he had not been able to shake. Rather than apologizing for it or paying it any mind, Alan simply holds out one of the delicate cups of mulled wine that he brought with him when he went in search of you. “I’m very glad to see that isn’t the case.”

“I had to make myself scarce from the quadrille,” you admit, having the good sense to look at least a little sheepish about it. “That Mr. Davies…the one you warned me about? He caught sight of the fact that I had been left out of the dance before and attached himself to me.” Though the conversation could not be considered so terrible to be characterized as harrowing or torturous or anything as dramatic as all that, you still had not enjoyed his overbearing presence and unfortunate lack of manners. “I’m afraid that I feigned a headache to excuse myself.”

He laughs. Truly and thoroughly, and from his belly. Alan McMichael laughs so entirely that you bury your face in one hand after you accept the offered drink from his hand and you sigh audibly. “I’m sorry…” he chuckles, gasping for a dramatic sigh when he can catch his breath. “ It’s just that you’re so terribly apologetic and sweet about it. No one would be cross with you for avoiding an impertinent man old enough to be your father.”

“I see you have not met my Aunt Joan.” With a dutiful but resigned sigh, you stand from your place of respite and sip the rather delicious drink that he has brought you. At precisely 4:02 in the morning it is both horrifyingly too late for such a drink and far too terribly early – a dichotomy that delights you. “She has done her best to see me partnered with every single man here tonight. It is only my ill luck that I encountered the only desirable partner so early in the night. To dance together a third time would expose us both to comment.”

“So?” Alan sips his own wine and gazes down at you curiously, wondering whether or not you actually give a damn about all of this convention and these rules that seem to have been mutually agreed upon by the same people who determined what food is served at each course at formal suppers. That is – someone very long ago and far away that no one can remember any longer. “I’d like to dance with you again. And you just said that you’d like to dance with me. So who gives a damn if someone talks about it?”

“Won’t your mother be cross with you?” He had said something earlier about his mother wanting him to dance with just every young lady at the ball tonight. And you know for certain that he has not just as you have not danced with every single man. 

“My mother is routinely cross with me.” He admits, enjoying a laugh at the truth of it. “I try not to let it disappointment me too much.”

It is all you can do to consider him – broad shoulders stretching that jacket of his and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, the tilt of his smile and the invitation of his outstretched hand – before you are sighing in a rather dramatic show of resignation that barely shields the actual delight written on your face. “Very well,” you acquiesce, taking his hand and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Let us be the object of idle gossip tomorrow. Let tongues wag. I will be gone in a week anyhow and that will be the end of it. For tonight, at least, we shall have a bit of fun.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

Alan Tags: @nrthernsong @inept-the-magnificent @trulybetty @justcallmebirdie @jefferson-in-the-tardis @thesluttylittleknee @munsonownsmyass @laurfilijames @hudson-bay-girl @ruflirtingwithme @rhoorl @scorpio-marionette @absurdthirst

My Masterlist!

[bridenore]

HD longer fics recs : 125k to 150k words

Here are a few recs for fics ranging between 125k and 150k words. 

You can see my recs for fics that have more than 200k here and between 150k and 200k here.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound [149k]

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion [131k]

Draco Malfoy wouldn’t go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can’t control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered [139k]

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship [135k]

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

Except Head Auror Potter is everywhere — in Draco’s chair, at his door, in his dreams. All six feet of motorbike-riding, combat-boot-wearing, sex-hair-sporting Saviour of the World packed into one unfairly fetching uniform. Potter won’t leave Draco the bloody hell alone, won’t let him breathe, let him forget, let him sleep.

Because no matter how fast Draco Malfoy runs, Harry Potter is always hot on his heels.

Eight Days A Week by @romaine2424 [121k]

This is foremost a love story and second it’s about those growing up years. Becoming adults with adult lives and adult decisions.

Yes, Harry’s a Trainee-Auror and Draco’s a Healer-in-Training after the war. Yes, Harry eventually moves into 12 Grimmauld Place. And, yes, attraction happens between Harry and Draco and they fall in love, but then there’s more. Draco is now free from Voldemort, free from fear of going to Azkaban, free from his Father’s beliefs, and free to be the person, the witch, the woman she always felt she should be. And for Harry, it’s time to lose the shackles of his childhood and discover who he really is and what’s truly important in life. This story begins one year or so after the Battle at Hogwarts and follows their relationship faithfully for two years. The final chapter will take place later in their lives.

This is a positive transition story without body dysphoria, but will contain moments where prejudice and slights arise. This story is categorized as M/F.

25 Holiday Scenes for Eight Days a Week by @romaine2424 [16k]

Eight Days a Week continues with 25 Holiday Scenes. As of now, they are all family oriented. If that changes, I’ll update the ratings! We begin where we left off in the Main Story (before the epilogue), which is a few weeks after Libby’s surgery. They were married in the summer, and Prim, their daughter was born in September.

Every New Beginning by @fencer-x​ [140k]

“You curl your lip and wrinkle your nose and sneer and call me Saviour, yet you only seek my help at the eleventh hour. That’s what’s fucked up, Malfoy.” || Draco Malfoy is dead, and Harry is absolutely totally fine with that.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry.

When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook.

Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena [128k]

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Harry. Hiding out with Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Taking Chances by @gracerene09​  [135k]

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

That Which Divides Us by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [126k]

Three years after what would have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, the war between the forces of light and Voldemort’s minions grinds on. But even within the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix there are vast disagreements over what is good for ‘the Chosen One’ and his volatile relationship with Draco Malfoy has many on edge. Sometimes even the best intentions can reap disaster.

This Ain’t the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424  [131k]

In 2020, Hit Wizard Harry is starting to enjoy his life. He’s divorced, and no longer Head Auror. His biggest project these days is trying to remodel 12 Grimmauld Place for him and the kids.

Draco Malfoy is recovering from his wife’s death. But is happy with his Ministry position as Temporary Head of the Department of Intoxicating Substances, and with his son who he adores.

This all changes quickly when Minister Shacklebolt decides not to run for another term. The assumption is that ‘all is well’ in the British Magical world, and that Hermione Granger-Weasley will easily be voted in as the next Minister for Magic. However, Draco knows better. He knows she has a strong competitor who is wooing those who live in Knockturn. And if he wins, the Ministry, and all that has been accomplished the previous twenty odd years, will be destroyed.

To have a Home by Aulophobia [126k]

Not quite a decade after the war, Draco Malfoy was happy with his quiet little Muggle life in Oxford. He had a small group of friends from the university he’d attended, and colleagues from the law firm where he worked as a solicitor. He played folk music on his violin around the city. And he volunteered to provide legal services getting mostly idiot teenagers out of trouble with the law. His life was full. He had no contact with the magical world, and all was the way he liked it. And the feeling of emptiness in his chest, the feeling some part of him was missing, was at least better than the alternative. Or at least it was until the last few months when he kept getting called down to the police station to get Harry Potter out of trouble. Indecent exposure and possession was one thing, but the latest charge was for murder. OR Harry and Draco find each other again after the war in Oxford, a completely non-magical city. Together they solve the mystery of the city which hates all wizards but them.

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym [131k]

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum.

As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too.

Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[ottawacharge]

Jessie Fleming interview: Adapting to the Thorns, her Chelsea exit and pushing for environmental change

Jessy Parker Humphreys, Wednesday, July 24th

Ask Jessie Fleming what topics interest her about the environment and she will start reeling them off.

“Urban planning, the power of funghi, regenerative agriculture, Dan Barber…”

Barber is an American chef who advocates for farm-to-table cooking, in case you are not as looped into the environmental ethics of food as Fleming.

“I started taking courses on environmental science for fun at university and I got down this rabbit hole,” she explains. Fleming ended up minoring in the subject at university in Los Angeles and has been committed to raising awareness about issues with our environment ever since.

This latest pledge comes off the back of her choice to donate the carbon cost of her long-haul flight to the 2023 Women’s World Cup in Australia and New Zealand as part of a 47-player initiative through Common Goal, a charitable movement launched by Spain international Juan Mata six years ago.

Fleming left Women’s Super League (WSL) champions Chelsea in January, going from a league in England where players travel to games by train or coach to one where they can fly thousands of miles across the country every weekend, such is the geographical spread of the 14 teams.

“It’s something I think about a lot,” she says. “As players, we have a responsibility to draw attention to those problems and suggest ways leagues and governing bodies can adjust the format of tournaments or the schedule of leagues to help reduce those footprints.

“We’re all hypocritical in a way, so we need to at least do something.”

There was a feeling around Fleming’s mid-season departure from Chelsea that she had never quite lived up to her potential. Arriving in summer 2020 fresh out of the U.S. college game at UCLA, her stock was very high, having originally made her senior debut for Canada aged only 15.

Yet she never nailed down a starting spot, despite featuring 111 times across four seasons and being trusted by manager Emma Hayes to start crucial matches such as the 2022-23 Champions League semi-final second leg against Barcelona at Camp Nou.

“I loved my time at Chelsea, loved the league, loved England. I just wanted to be in a place where I was consistently playing in the same position and playing more consistent minutes.”

Fleming has certainly got that with Portland, where she has started 13 of their 15 matches so far this season, but the return to the U.S. has been an adjustment. Portland had their worst start to an NWSL season, failing to win any of their first four games and consequently sacking manager Mike Norris. A six-game winning run followed, but with only one victory in the past four league fixtures, it is clear they are still finding their feet as a team.

Those ups and downs are a unique experience for Fleming, who lost only one more league match in three-and-a-half years with Chelsea than she has in six months in Portland.

“It’s definitely a different challenge,” she says. “Physically, it’s more intense (in the NWSL). More transitional, lots of athletic players. But you’re starting to see the effect of European coaches in the league. There are more teams trying to play possession-based, thoughtful football. I’ve never seen anything like how competitive the NWSL is, especially when you look at the teams at the top of the table who had poor seasons last year. That’s not something you would ever see in the WSL.

“The start of the season was especially difficult for us, because we had so many new players. We spent so little time together before the first game — that was a challenge I’d never experienced before. I think we’re feeling the effects of the ebb and flow of the season right now. You have to be so tuned-in mentally for every game, every week. If you do go through a low spell, you have to find ways to turn it around quickly, because getting a few wins will push you up the table.”

The NWSL season is about to be paused for the Olympics, which begin in France at the end of this month, where Fleming will be hoping to help Canada’s women retain the title they won at the previous Games in Japan three years ago. Paris 2024 will be her third Olympics and Canada have won medals at her previous two, taking bronze in Brazil in 2016, but a disappointing World Cup campaign, where they exited at the group stage after one win and two goals (one of them an own-goal) in the three games, has put a dampener on expectations.

“I struggled with penalties a bit at university, so it’s definitely not something I’ve always felt able to do,” she says. “I feel like for that coolness, I have to turn to my team-mates and our environment. I feel very supported and backed up with the national team and that helped me massively during that tournament.”

This time out, she’ll be in a new role as captain. Anyone who has watched Fleming play will know she is not the most vocal on the pitch, but she feels she can bring something different to the role.

“I’m definitely on the quieter side, but I’m learning there are so many different ways to lead,” Fleming says. “I don’t love speaking in front of a loud group of people and I feel like I thrive a bit more when I’m one-on-one with players. I would say I’m a bit of a football brain. I love watching the game, I love talking about tactics, and I’m always interested in how to improve, both as an individual and as a team.

“For me, it’s about letting my passion for football shine through and trying to bring others with me in that.”

[turneradora]

NEW ABOUT RIVALS 💯💯💯💯

New article in the Harper's Bazaar UK, October Issue, to promote "Rivals"!

Amazing photoshoot !

Here is the article of the Harper's Bazaar Uk magazine !!

Thanks to Emma Jones for the written transcription ! 🙏👍🌺

Harpers Bazaar - October 2024

BEST OF ENEMIES

Bazaar recreates the fictional county of Rutshire to meet the cast of Rivals, a new TV adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s racy 1980s blockbuster

As Jilly Cooper’s Rivals leaps rambunctiously to our screens, we meet the cast of the saucy new show

It’s 1986 and, high over the Atlantic, a London-bound Concorde is about to break the sound barrier. Most passengers continue smoking, flicking through magazines and ordering martinis, while the rattling WC door indicates that two are currently joining the mile-high club. Moments later, an unruffled, glamorous couple emerge triumphantly from the loo and the tannoy announces that supersonic speed has been reached: everyone whoops; glasses are clinked; and the thumping chorus of ‘You might as well face it/you’re addicted to love’ is amped up. This is the opening scene of Rivals, the much-anticipated new television adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s bestselling novel, and it’s so unsubtle that, even alone in a dark screening bunker below the streets of Soho, it makes me splutter with laughter. It is also irresistible.

The 1988 book is a classic of the Cooper canon and part of the Rutshire Chronicles, a series based in a fictional Cotswolds county that follows the lives and loves of the affluent elite – an area the team behind its new, and first, on-screen adaptation are well-versed in bringing to life. Produced by A Very English Scandal ’s Dominic Treadwell-Collins and written by Laura Wade, who was behind The Riot Club, Disney+’s eight-part drama is also executivelyproduced by both Cooper and her literary agent Felicity Blunt. It is largely faithful to the novel but, as that has 700 pages and 79 characters listed by name and personality trait in an A-Z at the front, the show necessarily homes in on the central plot lines.

The two main protagonists are Rupert Campbell-Black (played by Alex Hassell), a former Olympic-gold show jumper turned Conservative MP (and, incidentally, the ‘best-looking man in England’); and Declan O’Hara (Aidan Turner), an Irish broadcasting star who leaves the BBC to move to Rutshire with his actress wife Maud and children Taggie, Caitlin and Patrick. Declan’s new employer, Corinium Television, is run by David Tennant’s vile Lord Tony Baddingham and his sidekick Cameron Cook, an American producer he has lured over from New York, depicted by the US native Nafessa Williams. They are joined by a large supporting cast that includes Danny Dyer and Emily Atack.

The titular rivalries are many and varied, primarily centred on the struggle to win the local TV franchise; simultaneously, characters lock horns over love, money, class, pets, politics and property, while presenting chat shows, throwing parties and playing nude tennis. The resulting viewing experience is both a period drama that seems set on another planet and a series exploring themes that still resonate today.

Cooper – who, at 87, is still in full ownership of her signature cloud of coiffed hair, inimitable charisma and a hundred-mile-an hour conversation – loved working on the project. ‘It’s terribly exciting,’ she tells me, with an amazed shake of the head. ‘Other books of mine have been televised and it was awful – but with this, we took casting very seriously and I can’t fault any of them.’

During a break on Bazaar ’s shoot, Turner tells me how Cooper gave a cocktail party for the cast in her garden, and what a ball they all had filming in the West Country last summer. (The latter is clear: he’s delighted to see his co-stars, including the mongrel Pontie, who plays Gertrude, the O’Hara family dog, and some of her canine colleagues brought along for a day in front of the camera.)

The series appealed to the Poldark star immediately. ‘I thought the scripts were really, really funny – line-wise, I have some crackers,’ he says. Turner’s Declan is a big-hearted if self involved journalist, wrestling to reconcile his bosses’ desire to monetise his charm, his own dream of writing a Yeats documentary and the need to bread-win for his profligate family. Although this push and pull between being commercial and creative, between the professional and the personal, plays out in a larger-than-life fashion, it still somehow feels familiar to a modern viewer. ‘That’s the sign of really good television, isn’t it, when it holds the mirror up to our present,’ says the actor. ‘What have we thrown in the trash? What still needs to change?’

The ways in which prejudices have evolved in the past 40 years are thrown into quite harsh relief in the show. Casting a Black actress to play Cameron Cook, the damaged but resilient hot-shot American producer, gives the series an opportunity to delicately include a glimpse of the regularity of what we’d now recognise as racist micro aggressions. Equally, Cameron’s strength is joyful to witness. ‘Such a spicy, smart character – especially a Black woman, who can carry her own and get her way in the male-dominated world of that time – I wanted to sink my teeth into that,’ Williams says. ‘I also love the glamour: the red lip, the red nails.’ (The cast have embraced the scarlet-stiletto emoji – a replica of the original image on the classic book cover – as their unofficial series motif when posting on social media.)

The changing dynamics between men and women are portrayed with a light touch. Victoria Smurfit read Cooper as a teenager, and has now adored playing Declan’s wife Maud O’Hara – an insecure, attentionseeking former actress, the kind of mother who arrives at her son’s New Year’s Eve 21st-birthday party in the Cotswolds on a camel. ‘There are aspects of Rivals that make you think, “Oh my Lord, can you believe they got away with this back then?”’ the Irish actress says. ‘But in the show, it’s delivered in such a clear, fun, gentle, appalled way that a 2024 audience can digest it very easily.’ When I suggest the series has made more of the women and ensured they have three dimensions, perhaps to modernise the story a little, she makes a good point: that Cooper’s male characters – be it the rakish Rupert Campbell-Black or the angelic Lysander Hawkley of The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous – may seem the most famous because it was mostly women reading the books, and the author had designed her heroes – or antiheroes – to be ‘their perfect man’. ‘But look closely, and the women are not less than the men,’ she says. ‘Essentially, every character wants something they don’t have – usually love and safety – whether from their partners, animals or colleagues. Women in this world are entering the era of “having it all” and are learning to be open about what they want – and, by the same token, we are starting to see a softer side to the men.’

This is embodied perfectly in Bella Maclean’s Taggie O’Hara, the delightful, very dyslexic cook and daughter of Declan and Maud: on screen, she has slightly more twinkle in her eye than in the book – a good decision, as otherwise Taggie could be seen as almost too virtuous to be true to a modern audience. ‘But it’s so nice playing someone with a really strong backbone – it slightly rubs off on you,’ says the actress, who appeared in the latest Sex Education series and has just shone as the lead at the National Theatre’s London Tide. ‘Among all the silliness, the shoulder pads and mad hairdos, there’s always an undercurrent of something thought-provoking,’ she says of the show that could prove to be her career’s turning point. ‘There’s a love story that blossoms out of something really unpleasant. There’s light and shade.’

But the figure with perhaps the most chiaroscuro is Rupert Campbell-Black, Cooper’s number-one character, into whose shoes Alex Hassell is amazed to be stepping. Hassell is a seasoned RSC actor, with turns in The Miniaturist and His Dark Materials, whose theatre company The Factory counts Mark Rylance and Emma Thompson among its patrons. ‘I’m also from Essex, with dark features,’ he points out wryly, in reference to the white-blond locks and blue eyes of his new alter-ego, both of which are oft-alluded to in the books, and about which many young women dreamed in the 1980s and 90s. (Cooper was initially appalled.) ‘Rupert exudes privilege and confidence, so I had to learn a loucheness. It was helpful that everyone was told to treat me as if I was extremely attractive,’ he continues, laughing. ‘When you walk into a room of supporting artists who’ve been briefed to fall over themselves looking at you, smouldering becomes a lot easier. They imbued me with a certain power.’

In the Rivals prequel Riders, there are some pretty unpalatable aspects of Rupert’s personality – particularly the way he treats women and animals – that haven’t aged well. ‘We never explicitly had this conversation, but for my portrayal of Rupert, we’ve kept some parts of that history and taken out others. In our version, there’s a loneliness to him: he is a shit, but he has a kindness.’

However, there are two elements of Cooper’s storytelling to which the show stays steadfastly loyal: the abundance of sex and wordplay. Rupert’s dialogue is riddled with quips – some very clever, some very… Eighties. Hassell’s favourite is delivered just as Rupert is getting down to it, and involves a pun that combines Tories and the clitoris. ‘It was a hard sell,’ he says, laughing.

His character and storyline – which takes Rupert on, dare I say, a journey – are key to the show’s charm, pace, plot and sociopolitical signposting. What would Hassell like viewers to make of the series? ‘I hope people enjoy it, have conversations about the knottier topics it raises, and maybe have sex later,’ he says. ‘I say that jokingly, but – and maybe this is high hopes – perhaps for people who don’t talk to one another that much, as the series goes on, watching it with someone else might allow certain things to come to light.’

Cooper is delighted by this possibility. ‘Well, we’re philanthropists, aren’t we? I keep reading that the birth rate is going down like mad. Putting Rivals on the telly may help,’ she says, with the enthusiasm of a writer who has long had one foot in showbusiness: in her forties, she appeared in her capacity as a celebrity columnist on the BBC game show What’s My Line, and wrote a sitcom about a four-girl flat-share with Joanna Lumley in the lead role.

Revisiting the world she created – and partially lived in herself – 40 years ago has been bittersweet: it made her miss the era (‘it was much more naughty’), but also her late husband (‘there’s a lot of darling Leo and his jokes in the book’). Indeed, what today’s viewers may not clock is the real people Cooper drew on to shape several fictional figures, namely the ‘glamorous aristocratic types who were floating about when I, middle-class Jilly, moved to the country in ’82’. Rupert Campbell-Black, for example, is a patchwork of Andrew Parker Bowles, the late Earl of Suffolk and the fashion designer Rupert Lycett-Green. Her ‘beloved’ Taggie is entirely made up, but the scruffy Lizzie Vereker – a novelist whose husband cheats on her – is, she admits, based on herself: ‘She is nicer than me, though. I love her – that’s terribly narcissistic to say, but I do.’

Like her conversation, Cooper herself still rattles along at a good clip – last year, she released a bonkbuster about football inevitably titled Tackle!; this May, the King presented her with a damehood for services to charity and literature, and she’ll be tapping away at her typewriter on various secret projects right up to the very moment she is dragged out of rural Gloucestershire to the premiere of Rivals.

To all these endeavours, Dame Jilly continues to bring the same philosophies she always has: a disregard for snobbery (like many great minds, she rereads Proust and loves Helen Fielding) and a straightforward goal of contributing to the gaiety of the nation. ‘Maybe one day I’ll write something serious,’ she says. ‘But, at the moment, there’s some terrible sadness and loneliness, isn’t there? So, more than ever, and more than anything, I’d like to cheer people up.’

‘Rivals’ is released on Disney+ in October.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Yandere British empire England x motherly nation reader. After meeting her via catching her in the act of playing with chibi America he decided 'Yep, that's my wife' since she has his ideal traits of a woman (beautiful, motherly, ladylike and timid). But since he's an empire and has his hands full, he knows he doesn't have time to court her properly. So he resorted to manipulation and social pressure. First he used chibi America and made him get attached to her to the point where she's barely able to leave their house, and then proposes a union between them in front of his monarchy, her monarchy, and lil' America. Who all proceed to encourage her to say yes due to all the benefits, despite really not wanting to because she's uncomfortable with the Brit. Since he has made his infatuation known through bold and uncomforting means but being nice and afraid of what he'll do if she rejects him. Just let it all slide and pretended to be flattered, because she's a bit of a pushover.

I finally finished this one. I hope you enjoy! Sorry for the long wait!

The summer sun hits your skin, giving it a shimmery glow. The gentle breeze plays with your long, flowing hair. That's when you felt the tiny prying eyes on you once again.

You place down the book you were reading.

“I know you’re there, dear. You can come out. It’s okay.”

You knew you had stumbled upon an emerging country since there was no way a toddler like him could roam around on his own like he is. Not to mention that he was carrying with him a large Mastiff dog on his shoulders.

Since little America was lonely, you devoted much free time to the lonely child. He didn’t have his father figure around often due to being on the battlefield, being on the seas, or finding some new place to plunder. Said figure wanted you & so did little America who was always left to his own devices.

You never really did get to know America fully before he started to bring you over to the home that he England, Canada, & occasionally France (after he’s forced him to grovel at his feet when he’s lost another battle to him). It wasn’t long before you found yourself as the main caretaker. You made his meals, taught him how to cook, how to sew, [insert one of your talents here] , & other basic home ec skills.

“Y/N! Y/N! How does this one look? I made it for you! You should try it!” America excitedly bounds over to you with a sloppily made but made with tons of love put into the apple pie.

You were outside tending to the flowers when the hyper young boy raced to you to show off his creation. You’re amused by his intelligence and adaptability.

“Good job, Alfred. You’re resilient & will make a fine country one day.” You pat him on the head, admiring the fact that the entire kitchen wasn’t set ablaze.

“[Country Name]?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to marry Britain?”

It felt as though someone had punched you in the guts.

“I ….. What in the world had prompted that question?” Bewildered, concluding that England was in little America’s ear again about being married and having a merger of your governments.

“Britain, he complains about being lonely a lot. And wanting to have someone. And you’re a nice nation who’s good with lots of stuff. You could fix his problem. You’re also really nice to me and my twin brother Canada when he’s over. You make the best pastries and breakfasts! When Britain is here he lo-”

“NO! America….No, we’re good friends…. And thats enough.” Weary of more conversation about pressuring nuptials onto you. You try to divert his attention to something else.

You pick him up and swing him around to change the subject abruptly.

“Anyways have you ever had a chance to find that secret meadow? I heard it has species of flowers we haven’t been able to document yet!”

“Oh so you’re scared.”

Ice freezes over your entire body, and you come to a complete stop. You hated how he was right. You hated how the truth within you was always so see-through. However, that didn’t mean that you weren’t determined to keep up the facade that all of the inquiries, pressure, & prodding didn’t eat away at your nerves.

“No….no. I’m just good on my own America. I don’t need to be married to Britain to be ‘happy’

& ‘fulfilled’. I’m alright”

You wished that Britain wasn’t so sneaky about putting ideas into people’s ears because when he did said thing it spread like wildfire.

‘Damn him! Why does that man have to be so pushy? And to use a child to try to convince me?!?! Real gentleman like.’

“But isn’t that a thing that all women want? A dashing gentleman like him. I mean he’s cool and stuff, especially when he uses his sword.”

America absently mindedly shoved his hand into the apple pie while he contemplated your saccharine, tense, and complicated relationship.

“Britain is just….”

America’s blues are on you 100%. The innocent and intent hues on you made you uneasy. As if whatever you said would have a counterargument to it later….

“He’s just being a guy. After all its not like nations need to be married. It purley is just a thing humans do. After all they don’t have everlasting life like we do.”

You boop his nose and relish in his cute giggle. You hoped your explanation would be enough to quell further questions.

“But even with everlasting life. That doesn’t mean that the heart ceases to yearn.” His voice came from behind.

‘Oh fuck. Can he not?’

“Holy butter! Can you not sneak up on me like that?” Not liking the fact that he invaded your personal bubble. You attempted to step away from him only for him to use his wiry & toned arm snached you to his chest. You squeak & begin to tremble a little. Looking into his verdant eyes it made you even more nervous.

“Can you not deny my marriage proposals?” He says half playfully, half seriously.

“Ha. Ha. You’re funny Britian.” You once again attempt to move away but he manages to keep you close to him.

“Yeah, [country name], why do you? Britain is an Empire and he could keep you safe if there was ever another nation who’d attack you.”

It felt as if ice had been poured all over you. You didn’t know how to maneuver out of it. You knew to some degree he was right, but that didn’t make him any less scary. However, you knew better than to anger a superpower like him unless you wanted to be at the business end of his sword.

“I know that having a strong specimen like myself, showing interest in someone weak….” His eyes take a few moments to drink in every inch of you like a shot of bourbon.

“But extremely beautiful….” He utilized his hand to force your chin upwards. You weren’t going to look away when he talked.

“[Country Name] you need to consider not only your safety but that of your own people. It’s not like you can fight & others have been eager to conquer lovely figures such as yourself…..” His glowering look scared the hell out of you. All you could really do in response was set little America down & run for it.

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

America visited your little cottage multiple times before you finally decided to open the door.

“Yes, America?”

“[Country Name]!” He jumped at your legs as if they were a life buoy ring. “[Country Name]!” He stated again and nuzzled himself into your form.

“America, what are you doing here???”

“[Country name] ! Y/N ! Y/N! Please! PLEASE! Come back to the house. Britain isn’t there & I’m lonely and I need you! You’re kinda like my mom and I don’t want to lose you! I can’t lose you!” He begins to cry profusely.

“America….” You put a gentle hand on his head to comfort him.

“[Country name] please… come back the monsters at the house are scary too…”

“Okay…. I’ll come over, but …Just for this afternoon.” You tried not to let your heart shatter at the fact that he was crying so much that the skirt of your dress began to have a small puddle on it.

“Yay! Mama [country name] is coming over!” He says while batting tears away with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mama? Amer-” The blues that look up at you filled to the bring with another round of tears and stars. You weren’t prepared to deal with the incoming flood that was building in the overflowing dam. So, you decided not to complete your sentence.

“Come on, let’s go! I want to eat [your country’s famous dish] I’m starving! And I don’t remember how to make pancakes, and I almost burned down the kitchen.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, mama [country name] !” He eagerly yanks at your dress to follow along.

“Hang on, America, I must lock up before I leave.” You were able to escape his tiny grip for just a few moments. You wandered through your home's walls taking in all its simplistic features… the paintings you made and were given to you, sewing projects that were strewn around.

As you began to close all of your windows, a feeling of dread hit you. You really wanted to tell America no. Your mind, heart, and spirit debated whether it was really a good idea to go over to Briaitna's home even if he wasn't there. His domain held power and all of the advantages to convince you to merge with his empire. It was already strange that he was calling you “mama”. Just as you were about to change your mind, a glass shattered somewhere within your home.

“Oh no! America!” You rushed towards the sound. He’s accidentally broken the swan that was given to you by another country.

“Mama [Country name], there you are! What’s taking you so long? Closing windows and locking your back door? Also, I accidentally cut myself.”

He showed you some of the shards of glass that had pierced his hand. Blood was now rapidly flowing from it.

“America! What were you thinking?!?! Hang on, let me go get my medical supplies so I can help you.” You rummage through your home….unable to find what you need.

“No….no….no….no….no…..NO….”

“We have some at my place, but can we hurry [country name], please? I’m beginning to feel lightheaded…..” Intentionally not using ‘mama’ or ‘Britian’ just to ease your anxieties about coming back to your golden cage.

“Okay, okay, sweetie. Just hang tight.” you rushed to him, scooped him up, and raced for the trap that had awaited you.

Once there you carefully removed the shard of glass from his palm & bandaged him.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks, mama [country name].” He gives you a hug and kisses on the cheek.

“But, I’m starving. Why don’t we make food together? I feel like fish and chips.” He bounced up and down excitedly. He was happy you were finally at your real home.

“Alright, I’ll peel the potatoes, and you can help dry them and get the flour for the fish.”

From there, the day slipped into the night, and the man that made you tremble still wasn’t back. Fine with you. You were exhausted from assisting the small boy with cleaning up the burn marks on the walls, food that had been turned into coal, and broken utensils. While the sun began to sink below the horizon, little America wrote his updates about you and sent them off on a carrier pigeon.

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

The crisp paper was unrolled within the notorious green pirates' hands. He was giddy to see America’s progress in hindering you from being free from your inevitable union. His eyes absorbed every word and his smile became like that of a Cheshire cat painting his face.

‘I’m teaching that kid well. He’s learning how to manipulate and use his waterworks. Sweet Y/N is vulnerable to that like an eroding rock.’

I managed to convince Y/N to stay until you get back in a couple of months. I intentionally got injured so she’d be obliged to stay with me longer. I’ll introduce the idea of the ball to her soon. Anyways bring me back a cool souvenir.

-America

Britain allowed himself to drift off into his thoughts. [Country Name] had driven him insane since the day he laid eyes on her. Though blatant social subjugation, he wanted to keep you intact. From the day that his fiery green fae eyes rested upon your gentle figure, he knew he wanted to claim you. You managed both America and Canada with ease. You were insanely beautiful & patient, all of the things he sought in a woman.

Arthur bit down intensely on his black glove. He wanted you in his arms so badly. Sooner rather than later. He didn’t want to fight you. He did consider your feelings, however, his desire to have you would never allow him to release you. One way or the other you were going to be married to him. He picks up his quill to begin the next phase.

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

“Mama! [Country Name] ! Mama [Country Name] ! I need help! I can’t find my shirt!”

America is going to depend on you for everything: cooking, cleaning, sewing + repairing his clothes, etc. He is essentially a toddler with superpowers that he tends to hide from you. So his being able to pick up a bison and being able to stop a carriage with his foot is not a thing he showcases. He pretends that he’s weak as hell. He will also intentionally injure himself to make you extend your stay and dote on him. Lil’ Alfred was so incredibly dedicated to the bit that he purposefully got himself sick. This was done to buy England more time while he was away expanding his empire. You’d been cast into the role of ‘mother’ without your consent. Both knew how to take advantage of your caring nature and naivete.

“Oh, America, what am I going to do with you?” You placed another cool towel on his head as you checked his vitals. Worry has consumed you. He’d been ill for the past 3 weeks, and everything was touch-and-go. You’d sent off another carrier pigeon to ask for assistance. You could not leave the poor little boy unattended for long & you had too much integrity & fear of what might happen to him otherwise. You only had yourself to talk to these days & your journal that you kept.

“Hopefully he’s not back soon.” You utter under your breath. You grabbed your quill and began to write.

I tremble every time I hear a nurse, doctor, or maid at the door. I dread hearing his commanding voice ring out from the foyer. That makes my anxiety increase.

Your palms become clammy and you put down your quill to steady yourself. Your mind wanders to the letters yours and his dignitaries had begun to bring up inquiries about becoming merged with him.

‘It will be great’ They always imply.

‘Life will be easy and sublime.’ Your boss wrote to you in one of your letters.

“Ms. [Country Name] Come look at this dress, isn’t it great?! Won’t you want to use it?” A maid came in your room.

It was an over-the-top lacy number that essentially was a wedding dress.

You shook your head ferociously at the dress.

“No, thank you.”

You wanted to toss the dress into the deepest depths of the ocean along with the persistent pesty pirate.

Since most have caught onto your trepidations whenever England is mentioned. Your boss omits that one detail from the mandatory ball invitation your King also required you to attend. Your hands began to involuntarily shake at the fine print on the parchment.

“No, I have such a bad feeling about this.”

A tear rolled down your cheek. Something within your soul told you that this was a setup. But what could you do? What choice did you have? You donned the opulent (favorite color) dress that the letter had arrived with.

“Breathe, Y/N breathe.” You had to try and find your peace so you could fulfill your duties even if they did involve that terrifying British man.

“It’s just a standing government get together. It’s fine.” As you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your outside didn’t reflect your inner turmoil.

“Mama!” Little America rushes towards you. He immediately gloms onto your legs.

“Hey Alfred.” You pat him on the head.

“Come on mama! We’re going to be late for the party.” His tiny hands begin to showcase the strength to drag you to the carriage that was waiting for you.

“Feeling better today?” Shocked at the way he’s able to manuver you through the grand home.

“Yes, I’m just excited! I get to go to a party! I’ve always wanted to go to a big fancy party!”

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

The gravel hitting the carriage wheels only managed to fry your nerves more. Your life felt as fragmented just like the millions of tiny rocks. You’d struggled to keep lil’ America alive; he’d been sick & injured so often ….he cried for you profusely even when you’d only left his room for a few minutes. He refused to be left alone with the maids for long as well. Nothing but your full attention would satisfy the young nation. Your hands mindlessly fiddled with the silk on your (favorite color) ballgown. The smooth & almost water-like fabric helped ease your nerves some but there was still a voice at the back of your head that told you, you were headed for an emerald-eyed pirates trap.

“Mama! We’re almost there! Aren’t you excited?” He excitedly grips your arm.

“Sort of. Alfred. Sort of.” Your eyes quickly maneuvered from his excited sparkly blues down to the velvet floor of the carriage. You just wanted to return to your home & be alone for a while.

Once your carriage pulled up to the pristine castle, which stood against the backdrop of the American countryside, your heart dropped into your stomach. You couldn’t even be distracted by the beautiful high green hills and wildflowers.

“We’re here! We’re here! Come on, mama this is going to be fun!” He bounces up and down, shaking the entire carriage. It shook up all of the nervous butterflies in your stomach, transforming them into bees.

“Alright, Alfred. Alright, but you’re a representative of your nation. Even if you’re young, you must behave properly.” You take his hand to prevent him from simply bursting like a firework.

As the two of you wandered up the stairs with the other guests, dignitaries, & other members of your and England’s monarchy, your stomach began to tighten more. Seeing some of the members of the British royal court immediately put your nerves on edge.

The bees in your stomach changed, this time into angry wasps that pierced your stomach lining. Your heart began to sink into one of the seas that Britain controlled.

‘No….no…’ you accidentally grip lil America’s hand tighter than you should have.

“Mama? Are you alright?”

“ Yes, I’m just a little tired and homesick. I simply want to get this ball over with.” Came your honest response.

“I’ve heard that whatever they’re going to announce might actually make you happy mama.”

‘I doubt that.’

As the guards greeted you & showed you to the grand ballroom where everyone was beginning to take their assigned seat…. There you saw him.

You bit down on your bottom lip causing some blood to dribble into your mouth.

The feared Great British Empire was sitting next to your empty assigned seat. Your pace slowed & almost came to a halt. America reclaimed oblivious to your hesitation & dragged you along like a pet who didn’t want to be taken to the vet.

‘I wish I were mortal right now. I could die like how I wanted to right now.’ As you made it to your seat Britain swiftly got up & pulled out your chair. You sit and give him a curt ‘hello’ avoiding his hungry green eyes.

“Is that any way to greet your future husband?”

Your head snaps over to combatively meet his gaze.

“Delusional and daft. I’d never say yes.” Fight mode through your entire body kicked in. All of the angry wasps in the pit of your belly moved faster revving up to attack a target.

Britain took a hold of your chin sharply. There was a mixture of anger and amusement swirled on his face.

“Aw, the soon-to-be wedded are having a lovers quarrel.” You heard some of the people in the high courts giggle about your interaction.

“Oh, she’s lovely. She’d make a great Queen of England.”

Other whispers of similar wedded bliss seemed to be the top points of the gossip. The words poured from their mouths …creating a tornado inside of you mixed with all of your emotions.

The attack-ready wasps had been sucked into the raging winds extinguishing any fight you may have had and replacing it with fear. The devious smirk that Arthur flashed at you made the hair on your neck stand on high. Goosebumps littered your skin.

“Then maybe your boss can speak some sense into you.” He releases your chin as if on cue. Horns and trumpets beckon everyone's attention to the center of the ballroom, where your boss and his arrive together. Your nerves are still fried, and you begin to have an out-of-body experience.

“I’m pleased to have all of you here! To announce the engagement of [country name] & the Great British Empire!” Thunderous cheers beat down your eardrums. Your worst fear were becoming realized.

‘Oh shit….no…no….no….no… nooo’ Your grip on your seat tightened. You were hoping that you were having some twisted lucid dream of sorts but you weren’t.

“Y/N Arthur, why don’t the two of you share advance to start the night?”

‘Is me dropping dead an option right now?’

It felt as if your legs turned to jelly and frostbite had overtaken your feet.

Arthur yanks you to your feet despite your hesitations. You were on autopilot now & Arthur had no issue taking control.

“Oh look everyone, my poor little love is so overwhelmed with shock she’s like a doll.”

The crowd laughs at his quip. The they began to chant

“Merger! Merger! Merger! Between [Country Name] & the Great British Empire! Merger! Merger! Merger! Great British Empire & [ Country Name] !”

The crowd's chants signaled to you that you’d already lost. There was no real reason to fight. Arthur could tell that you were beginning to accept your sealed fate. He squeezed your hand before he snaked it around your waist. He wanted to be closer to you.

A ballad began to play. Arthur took hold of both of your hands. He guided your through the dance. Your feet followed his flow. Even though you were living a nightmare just like a lucid dream….. You had no other choice but to dutifully follow.

You did your best not to look at his triumphant eyes.

“She’s bashful, how adorable.”

“Aweeeee, she’s so shy.”

“One strong, dashing gentleman paired with a demure lady. A match made in heaven.”

These comments hit your head like a flurry of stones. A few tears escaped your eyelids. Arthur dipped you down and inched towards your face. He kissed your tears away and drank them away like a sweet wine. He trails his way down your soft skin to your lips.

His kiss will be drawn out, taking all of your air and attention. Your wet (eye color) orbs will interlock with his verdant eyes.

“You’re mine [country name], and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

[ms-moonlight-inn]

🗓️🗓️Tag Game Wednesday🗓️🗓️

thanks for the tag @energievie , @mybrainismelted , @jrooc

name: Cyn

age: too damn old to be playing in the kiddie pool that the kids keep wanting to push me into

location (globally): northern new england, USA

location (physically):  on the couch

favourite Food to Eat: raised in a house where food equaled love, the answer to this question is, "yes."

favourite food to cook: I've been doing a lot of sourdough baking lately, but I got sick + my starter ended up dying because I forgot to put it in the fridge. So no more bread until I either purchase a new starter or make a new one from scratch. 😭

will you be attending @too-schoolforcool’s ☀️ Kitchen Shenanigans🍴with Cherry on the 6th july? Maybe. Summer plans are always weird.

what’s your zodiac: 🐂♉ Taurus, cuz I'm full of shit.

will you be attending @heymacy’s ☀️ Astrology 101: More Than Just Your Sun Sign ☀️ lecture on the 13th july? Also maybe. I want to.

(check @gallavich-fic-club’s lesson plan for details here)

now let predictive text complete each sentence for you after the 💭

my age is 💭  just a little bit more than the same thing but I think I have to be able to get my own food 😔🥝 (the clarity here is superb)

my favourite animal is 💭  a good day to recover from the eclipse 🤠😄 (It's the Emojis that kill me , my predictive text includes emojis lol)

i love to cook 💭  and then I can get a drink from you 😉😁 (whoa, getting a little spicy there, aren't we?)

i love to eat 💭 and eat my sweet dreamscapes (🤷🏻‍♀️)

i have a lot of ideas about 💭  the other two (If you put the last three answers together, it kind of tells you a strange story of obsession. 😬)

i have no clue 💭 what I was talking about 😔 (every. damn. day.)

my dream career is 💭 good for me to be in the mood for (🤷🏻‍♀️)

my favourite character on shameless 💭 the one that I have to go with my friend for brunch (what?!)

debbie gallagher is 💭  the best friend of my husband (😂🤣)

carl gallagher is 💭  the best way to get to the bathroom 😄🪥 (the fucking emojis!)

mandy milkovich is 💭 not 🚭🚫 and I have a question for her

mickey milkovich is 💭  the only one (Fuck, finally!)

ian gallagher is 💭 going to have the best day for you for your birthday. (Aw, sweet ums.)

to me ian and mickey are 💭 literally at the house now.

gallavich means 💭  that you are not going anywhere else. (True, I'm trapped by Gallavich.)

i wish anyone who reads this to 💭 the bathroom 🪥

***

No-pressure tags:

@heymacy @blue-disco-lights @deedala @spookygingerr @lingy910y @transmurderbug @thisdivorce @too-schoolforcool @doshiart @guinguin1984 @francesrose3 @bawlbrayker @thepupperino @rayrayor @deathclassic @ian-galagher @krysmiss @sweetbee78 @notherenewjersey @gillyp

[forasecondtherewedwon]

my Masters of the Air masterlist

RATED T

coming in clear When Buck uses his bunk to hide the new radio, Bucky offers him a different place to sleep. Bucky x Gale | 1k | sharing a bed daring tales of heroism The fact that Crosby slept through D-Day just means Rosie gets to celebrate twice. Rosie x Crosby | 1k | celebratory kissing eggs in heaven Curious, the body, what it’d absorb and what it would not. Was Gale’s still his, or only as much as that powdered breakfast was still eggs? Gale x Bucky | 1k | emotional hurt/comfort

how to cook the loch ness monster If there’d been one, why not two? It was a big sky. Such a big, big sky, and Crosby clamped his eyes shut and listened hard to hear another plane, or one man breathing inside it, or little bubbles of air bobbing in a snow globe. Or, Bubbles' plane lands after Rosenthal's. Crosby x Bubbles | 2k | hurt/comfort my how they fly Bucky, Curt, and Buck wait out the fog. 1k | stolen moments stop-motion poetry the irony of loneliness / is we all feel it / at the same time - Rupi Kaur 1k | grief/mourning trading paper dolls Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan. Bucky x Gale | 8k | feelings realization

RATED M

hanging clothes They’d let the night grow late around them, cozy by the fire, and then she’d said goodnight, and then she’d reached for him, and then she’d reached for him again. Crosby x Sandra | 1k | voyeurism

RATED E

dear john The Regensburg-Schweinfurt mission changes John. What Gale can't say aloud, he puts in the letters he writes to John in his head. Gale x Bucky | 2k | love letters little fix Gale dabbed on extra cologne in preparation for the many, many hours he knew he'd be spending in the cockpit. Once in Algeria, the heat reinvigorates the scent, and John notices. Gale kinda likes that he does. Gale x Bucky | 2k | plane sex seven degrees east It's 1996. Soundgarden's on the radio, Charles and Diana are headed for divorce, and seven American PhD candidates are studying literature at the University of Thorpe Abbotts in Norfolk, England. Between taking Prof. Harding's summer class and obsessing over their favourite authors, the boys will kick asses when they must, and fall in love if they can. multiple ships | 35k | '90s AU

so I smile and say The night he and Sandra sit by the fire, Crosby almost cheats on Jean. It takes the voice of a departed friend in his head to help Crosby understand why he felt so close to Sandra, and which feelings really need to be resolved. Crosby x Bubbles | 2k | masturbation

[thelarriefics]

STRANGERS TO LOVERS FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics that have Harry and Louis barely knowing one another before intimacy. (Part I)

📖 Let Your Heart Be Light by @cyantific (77k)

Louis Tomlinson, a self-proclaimed holiday-hater, loses his job two weeks before Christmas. Broke and desperate to see his family back home in England, he takes the only job left at the mall as one of Santa’s helpers. Harry is an unconventional mall Santa, the youngest one they’ve had in years, but with as much holiday spirit as any other seasoned Saint Nick. He’s determined to un-Grinch the new guy in Santa’s Village if it takes until Christmas, then he finds out the devastating reason Louis has lost his Christmas cheer. Will Harry be just the thing Louis needs to help him get his sparkle back?

Featuring Liam as the manager at Santa's Village, Niall as an easy-going Irish elf and Harry's best friend, grumpy Grinch Louis and his best friend Zayn and one matchmaking Mrs. Claus.

📖 where the tide takes you, i will follow by @pinkcords (53k)

There’s no way around his departure, their inevitable fate. Harry will leave and he will return to London and when he sits in his new flat, wherever it might be, he will think of this summer and the warmth the sun brought him and the way it felt to be loved. He will compare all his future relationships to Louis and when they fall short, he will be disappointed. Harry knows this.

Or, Louis lives in Gloucester and Harry tries to find a way to stay.

📖 You're The Christmas Wonder, That Makes Me A Believer by @lousluv91 (44k)

There were two things that every person in Louis Tomlinson's life knew for sure.

First, he was a perfectionist. A hard-working person, a caretaker who took his responsibilities seriously and often appeared to be kind of intimidating. Though those he trusted also knew his very soft and loving side.

The other thing they all knew was that Louis hated Christmas.

or the one where Louis is a grinch and Harry teaches him to love Christmas. Maybe Louis falls in love with more than just the holidays.

📖 Purring In My Lap (The Kitty Fic) by @yoursolosong (40k)

Louis and Harry are two strangers who find an abandoned kitten at the same time and argue over who's going to keep it. Begrudgingly, they decide to co- parent because they're both stubborn and don't trust the other to take proper care of the kitty.

📖 now you're in my life (I can't get you off my mind) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (32k)

In reality, it’s a little different. Because as much as Harry loves the concept of dating, the reality sucks.

📖 Ding-Dong! Daybreak by @thinlinez (28k)

All it took was a flat bike tire, confusing usernames, pumpkin flavored biscuits, a chaotically supportive dog and food deliveries at daybreak for Omega Louis to fall hard.

📖 Sweet as Honey by @teamlouis2023 (21k)

Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.

📖 I Just Want To Start a Flame in your Heart by @peachbootylouis (21k)

Harry’s impending album release meant promo season was in full swing. While at an industry party with his manager, a harp player catches his eye and Harry is instantly bewitched.

📖 Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by @insightfulinsomniac (20k)

When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep?

It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine.

Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

📖 lucky me, lucky you by @sun-lt (17k)

He wants to let Louis have that—have him, on his knees, easy and good and willing—badly.

📖 Be Mine? by @softfonds (11k)

Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it. But a sign Zayn brings manages to turn his night around in more ways than he hoped for.

📖 i need something, so tell me something new by @alwaysxlarrie (10k)

Louis goes on vacation to New York City to enjoy the good weather and good food - he even has a list of restaurants he wants to eat at. Much to his delight, his first restaurant stop includes a gorgeous curly boy and his nosy but supportive best friend. Maybe he'll get more than what he came here for.

📖 Wait by the Light of the Moon by @jaerie (5k)

Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.

📖 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by @pocketsunshineharry (5k)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

📖 Perfect, For Now by @parmahamlarrie (4k)

Moving to a new city is always hard, being away from home, finding your new community - none of it is easy. Dealing with all of this while being touch deprived is even more difficult.

That is where omega Harry Styles finds himself a few months into his move to Brighton.

Then a mysterious alpha's scent enters his life, and he finds that he can't stay away.

📖 Unplant by @hellolovers13 (4k)

Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

📖 She is Beauty, We are World Class by @exquisitelycloseted (3k)

A 70's London AU where Louis loses himself, and Harry finds him before he gets lost.

📖 Netflix Original by @allwaswell16 (1k)

Harry's hot neighbor overhears that he doesn't have Netflix.

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 2 - Friend or Foe

You're inspired to continue your investigation after work. Just what will you discover on the streets of Nueva York?

Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.

Word count - 7659

If you don't want spoilers, don't look at the 'contains' bit below.

Contains : Descriptions of violence and mild amount of blood.

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Enjoy! xx

Pt 1

The last of the sunlight hangs over the western horizon of Nueva York by the time you get home to your small apartment. You have only been there for two minutes when your phone buzzes.

A vibrant smile spreads across your face when you realise it’s Mike. He did as he said he would, he must be keen - or just a decent person.

First, you save the number under a new contact called Michael and then reply.

You watch happily as the little dots in the speech bubble at the bottom of your phone screen bounce up and down as Mike replies.

Butterflies come alive in your stomach as you read his reply, the urge to squeal in delight is almost too strong to hold back. Another buzz of your phone brings you back down to earth, keen to read his next message.

You smile at his reply. He’s so sweet and seems invested in the story you’re about to tell. You enjoy his little emojis in his texts; underneath that anxious and retiring exterior is someone who considers themselves as rather animated and you find it cute.

His last text surprises you. He wants to help you? You could hug yourself with excitement. If he’s not into you, then you’re the Queen of England.

You give him a time to meet up at the subway station you last saw him at and put your phone down to go change your clothes.

In your simple jeans, t-shirt and woollen cardigan, you toss a quick and simple microwavable meal in the microwave and wait for a couple of minutes for it to cook. Butterflies still flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing the handsome man again.

As your meal continues to spin slowly in the microwave, you look out of a window and notice just how quickly it gets dark now that summer has been over for a few weeks. There’s another good reason to have Michael with you; someone to keep you safe, just in case there are any mad lunatics wandering around.

Your microwave beeps, signalling that your meal has been warmed up which snaps you out of your daydream. Tentatively, you take your meal out, trying to avoid burning your delicate fingers.

Exercising marvellous restraint, you eat your food in a controlled manner, not bolting it down and racing out of the door, especially when you get a text from him to say that he’s on his way.

After eating, you brush your teeth, then slip your boots on and leave, heading straight for the subway.

The regular lighting in Las Sombras has now been switched off, replaced by a moodier theme. LED bulbs that sit on top of the fake candles in the candelabras are dimmed, darkening the look and feel of the nightclub which is due to open very soon.

Lyla hooks up a music device to the sound system and selects a playlist matching the theme.

Coming from the private rooms of the nightclub, a towering man ducks under the door frame as he walks through, his expression serious, looking as though he is in deep thought.

The female business owner looks at him as she restocks shelves with freshly cleaned glasses. “Are you heading out now?”

“Yep,” he responds as he zips his leather jacket up over his cream, long-sleeved shirt, the colour complimenting his beautiful tan-coloured skin.

“You got that picture of Miles I sent you?” she continues, a couple of glasses clink together as she places two more onto the shelf.

“Yes, I have. He just better not have gone too far, otherwise it’ll be like searching for a needle in a haystack,” he grumbles as he idly looks at his phone.

“You’ll get him,” Lyla replies with confidence before turning to face him and lean against the bar. “You always get them. Anyway, I’ll be here, ready for Miles when you get back.”

A small, almost undetectable smile teases across his lips. “Thanks - hey, sorry if I was shitty with you earlier.”

The woman gives a dismissive shrug which is followed by a cheeky wink. “You’re always shitty, but it’s fine. It’s your love language, I get it.”

And just like that, any minuscule trace of a smile vanishes in an instant. “Lyla…” his tone of mild annoyance is met with an impish giggle.

“Relax! I don’t fancy you anyway… gross,” she chortles before picking up a cloth to clean the bar. “Go on, get hunting…”

“Fine, see you later,” the moody man makes his way outside, the chilly night air rushes through his silky, dark-brown locks.

A couple of minutes later the alley beside the nightclub erupts with the sound of the thunderous engine of a Harley Davidson motorcycle as he starts it. The single light on the front illuminates the narrow space as he slowly rolls the modified bike forwards.

Due to his impressive height, all other Harleys were too small for him - a much higher frame needed to be built, just for him. His chopper is his pride and joy, its loud sound of rolling thunder stokes the glowing hot coals in his dark soul.

After pushing his booted left foot down to change the gear into first, he twists the right handle forward and guides the roaring vehicle out of the alleyway, the noise of the engine reverberating between the buildings.

As he rides, he tries to put himself in Miles’ shoes. It’ll be highly likely that he’s scared, confused and hungry, so he’s bound to make things more difficult for him by lurking in the shadows and being quiet.

The leather-clad man rides slowly down several nearly deserted streets. His red eyes peer keenly into each secluded nook as his bike rumbles along down every street, but there’s nothing.

In the final street the rider has in mind before widening his search, he spots sudden movement retreating into an alley as he turns down the new road. The corners of his lips tug into a slight smile. Gotcha…

After stopping directly in front of the narrow passageway the figure darted into, the six-foot-nine-inch man shuts off the engine, plummeting the street into total silence. Then, he dismounts before facing into nothing but darkness. “I know you’re in there,” he calls out as he slides his phone from his pocket. A bright blueish-white light pierces the pure black before him as he slowly walks forward, his boots making a gentle thud with each gradual step.

A faint shuffling sound tells him that whoever it is has moved further into the alleyway.

“I just want to talk,” he continues as he moves his phone about to shine light somewhere else down the narrow passageway.

Finally, the torch illuminates a tall but slim young man, huddled up against the wall, dressed in a red, puffy jacket and jeans. He shies away from the light, squirming slightly as if to try to get away.

The man lowers his torch from the kid’s face and crouches down next to him. “Name?” he asks stiffly.

Uncurling slightly, the terrified boy looks up at the stranger, unsure whether he can trust him or not. “M- Miles Morales, sir,” he stutters with nervousness and uncertainty.

Despite finding the boy, his expression does not change. “Miles, huh? I’m Miguel. How long have you been hiding away like this?” he continues to ask, his tone making his questions sound more like an interrogation.

Miles gulps as his eyes try to focus on the dark figure in front of him, the light of his torch making it hard for him to see even though it isn’t pointed directly at him. “About a week?” he offers tentatively.

“Hmm…” the leather-clad man hums in a deep voice as he thinks. “I want you to come with me,” he continues as his hand reaches out, grasping the smooth material of Miles’ puffy jacket and pulling him up rather abruptly, causing him to yelp.

“Yo! Wait!” he grips onto the stranger and tries to slip out of his clutches. “Where are you taking me?” With a grip as resolute as the stranger’s, Miles struggles to break free. He feels the towering man lean in closer, the red tint to his eyes faintly detected, even in the dark.

“Your new home.”

The young man gulps again, unable to judge by the sound of his voice whether that is a good thing or not. He could tell the man holding him is strong, but not just through his grip; the stranger exuded strength, feeling like an aura - a dangerous one.

As he is pulled unwillingly towards the bike, he watches the stranger in a terrified silence slide out his phone and text somebody, before stuffing it back in his pocket.

“Get on the bike, don't even think of getting away, I will catch you.”

That, Miles did not doubt. If what he senses is anything to go by, he doesn’t seem like someone to be trifled with. Feeling as though his body is operating on autopilot, he mounts the back of the bike before the stranger joins him. The streetlights above only now show the sheer size of his captor. Fingers clench around the edges of his seat as he stares nervously into the back of the still faceless stranger.

Without any warning, the bike roars into life, the rolling thunder returning with a ferocious vengeance, making Miles flinch in his madly vibrating seat.

Wasting no time, the stranger swipes the kickstand with his foot, making it click into place and twists the throttle, making the red and black beast of a motorcycle roll off down the street…

After walking down several streets, you and Michael talk as you check each secluded nook and cranny for anything that might aid your investigation. So far, you have found absolutely nothing. However the evening is not a total loss; you and your new friend have so much in common and he is a total delight to be around.

As you continue your walk, a cold shiver runs down your spine - perhaps you should have brought a coat with you…

Michael looks down at you as he walks by your side. “Are you cold, Y/N?”

Your arms wrap around yourself as you smile at your walking companion. “I’m fine, but I should probably call the search off soon before I turn into an icicle,” you joke and Michael chuckles, amused by your humour.

His arm snakes around yours, making your smile widen and a blush to spread across your cheeks. “I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers to you softly as your brain starts to turn into mush.

You don’t know what it is, but he has an undeniable, irresistible affect on you. His charm makes your heart all aflutter and your knees weak.

After rounding a corner, you recognise the street you are now in, the loud music of Las Sombras thumping in the distance. You feel Michael stop walking as you stroll past the entrance of what looks like an old abandoned three-storey townhouse. His eyes wander over the lack of boards crossing the open door frame. “You think you might find something in there?”

You, too, look at the opening, considering Michael’s suggestion. “It’s possible the culprit could be hiding in there…” you take a step over the threshold and look back at him as he watches you. “Are you coming?”

A faint smile spreads across his face, looking pleased that he has suggested something that could aid your investigation.

Reaching out, you take his hand and lead him inside…

At first glance, the ground floor offers nothing new to your search. No signs of recent life, not even a dead rat to spot amongst the piles of trash littering the creaking floorboards.

“Hmm… nothing so far,” you say as you turn back towards the stairs to check out the upper levels, but Michael stops you with a pleading-like expression on his face.

Gently, his hands trace up and down your arms, his fingertips roaming over the bumps of your woollen cardigan. “We can check upstairs in a minute,” he murmurs softly to you. “I know this is a little sudden, but I just want to tell you that I believe we share such a close connection.”

The corners of your mouth tug into a nervous smile. How he’s touching you, how he’s looking at you, it’s as if he’s about to kiss you… Your gaze roams over his features, committing every detail to memory.

The gentle breeze that flows through the broken windows and smashed-in doorway disturbs his poker-straight, long, black hair; how his blue eyes sparkle and his handsome lips curl into an irresistible, charming smile.

“Forgive me if this is too soon…” he starts to lead you backwards until he presses you against a wall, sporting several gaping holes in the plasterboard panels. “I just can’t resist telling you how beautiful you are,” he leans in towards you, making your breath falter. “So, young…” his fingers brush against your cheek, “so soft.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic?” you giggle slightly, if not feeling a little taken aback.

A smirk flits across his face. “I have my moments. Especially with someone as special as you.” The fingers against your cheek move to brush some loose hair from your face as his eyes lock onto yours. “I think I would like to kiss you,” he whispers suggestively.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tilt your head up to look at him properly. “I think I would like that very much…” you reply, suddenly feeling incredibly brave and flirty.

“Hmmm…” he hums in delight as he leans even closer, his lips brush against yours, teasing you.

You feel his hand remain in your hair, keeping it free from your face as his tempting mouth hovers over yours.

“Close your eyes, pretty girl. I want you to enjoy everything this moment has to offer…” His whisper calms your beating heart slightly, his soothing tone offers you comforting guidance.

Michael tenderly presses his lips against yours, making you melt and relax. Your eyelids flutter shut, as you return his kiss.

Air from his nose brushes against your cheek as your intimate moment deepens. This day can’t possibly end on a higher note. You have never met a more handsome man and you find out he is very much into you too.

His lips break the kiss, moving along your jawline, pressing against your skin tenderly along the way to your neck. A soft moan escapes from you, his talented mouth sending shivers down your spine, awakening your core.

Michael’s kisses now reach your sensitive neck as his hands pull you closer, his need for you becoming more apparent. “You sound beautiful, my dear…” he murmurs against your skin. “So responsive…” he plants another kiss. “So sweet…” he breathes in deeply. “You smell… divine…”

You feel his lips press more firmly against your neck as he groans with urgent need. The sensation takes your breath away, never has a man kissed you like this, you can practically feel his desire emanating from him as he delivers an even stronger kiss.

“Mmm… Michael…” you mumble softly as though you’re in a dreamlike state, lost to the pleasure he���s treating you to.

Soon, you feel his teeth graze your skin, taking the heat up a notch, making you gasp as you clutch his clothing. You don’t know how much more you can take without feeling tempted to have him ravage you there and then. Your mind begins to wonder how easily you’ll be heard from outside the building if Michael decides to take it further.

A sharp, scratching sensation burns across your neck, making your jaw drop, and not in a good way. “Ahh - Michael, too much…” you mutter with a wince, but your words do not stop him.

A deep groan fills the air as his jaw tightens, digging his teeth further into you. Your mouth opens wider to scream, but you hear no sound. For a brief moment your senses are dulled until Michael releases the tension in his jaw slightly. Your hand rises from his clothing, up to the side of his face where you expect to feel soft, smooth skin and silky black hair. Instead, you feel uneven, bumpy skin, making your eyes snap open wide. “What the-” turning your head a little, your gaze lands on someone not looking even remotely like Michael. Those handsome features, replaced with the appearance of some kind of humanoid beast. His soft, smooth and youthful skin, now mottled and burned; the sparkling blue eyes, shifted to an intense, angry-red.

Tinnitus fills your ears as adrenaline pumps wildly around your body, pushing that sickening feeling away for a moment.

To add to the confusion of what’s happening, you hear heavy, hasty footsteps on the wooden flooring before something close to an oversized bat-wing extends between you and whatever that thing is. It violently shunts the beast backwards, crashing him into the wall behind him and withdraws, revealing what you consider a towering giant.

Silence falls in the house for just a moment as you take several hasty deep breaths, desperately trying not to be sick.

Clumps of plaster from the wall tumble to the floor as movement stirs deep within it. Long, spindly fingers grip the edges of the gaping hole as the creature starts to heave itself out.

The newcomer unexpectedly grips your wrist and tugs you behind him.

“Ahh… Miguel… Of all the days you could have turned up, why did it have to be today?” a dark, raspy voice hisses through his jagged, bloody jaws as he emerges from the wall, staggering slightly. “I was just about to have a meal of a lifetime.” Similar but damaged-looking wings sprout from behind the beast’s back in a slow but threatening manner.

A million questions and feelings rush through your mind as you try to process what’s just happened. Where did Michael go? Or is that beast Michael? Who’s Miguel? The guy who stopped that thing from biting you? He was biting you, right? Like a vampire… Vampires are real?! What in the fucking hell is going on?!

A large, protective hand hovers in front of you, gesturing for you to move back. “Leave. Find my bike and wait for me,” a dark voice orders you, coming from the giant in front.

Despite feeling utterly terrified, you cannot tear your eyes away from the drama unfolding inside the abandoned building, and to top it all off, you start to feel something hot, trickling down your neck…

“You’re not biting anyone else, Morbius,” the man - who you presume is Miguel - now speaks to the creature.

A deep chuckle reverberates from the man Miguel called Morbius. “You can’t protect everyone, Miguel,” he pauses as he takes a step closer to the both of you, causing Miguel to check behind himself again.

“You’re still here! Get out!” he barks at you before his large wings flare rapidly out of thin air, spreading wide and sweeping you clean off your feet, making you land in an ungraceful heap where the front door should be.

Nothing can be said or done to take you out of your stunned state, your heart is in your mouth as your limbs refuse to move.

Without wasting any more time, Miguel runs - no, shifts? Streaks? Whatever - he rushes forward at a supernatural speed, crashing into Morbius. Wings from both men splay and clash together before the taller of the two shunts the other into another wall, creating an even bigger hole than the last.

The whole house shakes and creaks as Morbius bounces back with a heavy retaliation, delivering a sickening punch to Miguel’s jaw, generating a crunch that unpleasantly twists your stomach. Whirling mist and vast, flapping wings fills the room, as the mere image of these two beasts blur at superhuman speed, brawling like nothing else you have ever seen on this earth. Their red eyes glow, claws protrude from their fingertips as fangs extend in this skirmish from hell.

If they are vampires, you begin to ask yourself how does one vampire kill another? Should you fashion some kind of wooden stake to give to your rescuer? You look around the piles of trash surrounding you. Nothing but plastic bags, broken bottles, empty cans and discarded takeout boxes. Clearly someone has been squatting here at some point, but had no wood to use, or had to face a vampire…

Another loud crash brings your attention back to the situation unravelling before you. Morbius is wrenched up from the floor in Miguel’s grip, hanging limply and looking slightly dazed. Your rescuer’s eyes roam over you before narrowing with annoyance, his fist raised, waiting to strike. “Por dios, don’t you listen?!” he growls before spreading his wings wide open. The impressively sized appendages beat downwards suddenly, lifting them both up, crashing through the ceiling and disappearing from view.

Grunts, bangs, thundering footsteps and smashing glass are all sounds that travel from the floor above as the scrap continues, but considering the way Morbius looked before being taken upstairs, you suspect the fight isn’t going to last much longer.

Before you get to your feet, a deafening crash shakes the building once more as something smashes into the floorboards on the ground floor.

Collapsed in a motionless heap is Morbius’ body, hidden from view by his damaged wings curling around him. Clouds of dust swirl in the air before settling in a new spot on the now uneven flooring.

Miguel drops down through the hole and lands in front of you, stowing his bat-like wings away. “I thought I told you to get out and find my bike outside…” he growls darkly at you, looking less than impressed.

(artwork courtesy of @smileyrhi717)

“Vampires… y-you’re… vampires are real?” you splutter as your hand pinches your arm to test if you’re dreaming.

A tired sigh leaves Miguel’s lips. “Right -, you’re still stuck on the vampire bit… I’ll give you a second…” he grumbles as you finally take in his features.

The first thing you are drawn to is his eyes. Despite glowing with a hot, red colour, they look sad and troubled, while the rest of his expression is currently a picture of irritation and quite possibly contempt.

His cheekbones… In fact his whole facial structure is simply beautiful- no…you’re not falling for that again.

After a brief moment, you finally re-discover your voice. “Can you please explain to me what the hell just happened?” you ask, sounding stressed, your voice in a slightly higher pitch than normal. That is when you notice the adrenaline coursing through your veins diminishing, and your entire body begins to shake after realising you have quite possibly just escaped death.

Miguel opens his mouth to speak, but a deep groan comes from the heap that is Morbius, making him glance back at his foe; the movement exposing a red, spider-shaped tattoo on his neck to you.

“Shit,” he hisses before looking back at you. “No time…”

Before you even know it, he’s gripping your arm and pulling you out of the building.

“He- he’s not dead?” you stutter as you pass over the threshold.

“Move now, ask questions later.”

“But-“

“Vamos!” (Let's go!)

The both of you hear claws scratching on the wooden floorboards inside as you guess Morbius has woken up and is on the move again.

Miguel’s tight grip around your arm pulls you harder, making you hurry down the steps onto the street. That’s when your gaze lands on a concerned-looking Miles, sitting on the back of a motorbike.

“Dude, what happened in there- woah!”

Your rescuer grabs the kid too and yanks him off his vehicle. “No time to start the bike, just run!”

The sound of rushed scrabbling is heard now at the entrance to the building, before a pair of menacing, glowing red eyes pierce the darkness within making your blood run cold in fright and panic.

You feel Miguel push you forward. “Go! That way!” he points to Las Sombras and for once you don’t stop to ask questions. Instinctively, you take Miles’ arm and pull him with you, as you both break into a run. Giving a final glance backwards, you and Miles notice your rescuer hanging back to hold off Morbius.

“That’s him! He attacked me!” the young man gasps in shock as he pulls at your arm.

The pair of vampires begin their second brawl, but this time, out in the street, which is empty - thankfully. Vicious claws slash at Miguel’s jacket, ripping and tearing through the black leather.

Grabbing Morbius’ arms, your rescuer pulls him close and drives a hard knee into his foe’s stomach. The beast choked out a guttural wretch. 

As you run, you see a familiar woman step out of the nightclub. She turns towards you both as she hears running footsteps before spotting the drama behind you. She beckons at you. “Get in! Go, go, go!” she holds the door open and ushers you inside before following close behind you.

Your already fried senses are now overwhelmed by the loud, thumping music and countless people talking, laughing and dancing all at once. You just about notice Lyla rush behind the bar and crouch down, hastily searching for something.

Leaning over, you see she has pulled up a loose floorboard and taken out a crossbow.

You double-take.

Watching in awe, you observe Lyla load something like a silver bolt into it and hoists herself back over the bar before opening the front doors again.

The brave woman focuses on Morbius, aiming the weapon at him, her finger hovering over the trigger.

During their scuffle, Miguel catches a glimpse of his business partner standing at the doors of Las Sombras, hoping to take a shot. This could end things if she hits him just right. Nearly everything they have been worrying about would be over - if her aim is true…

Morbius has been weak for nearly two centuries. Miguel should have finished him off when he had the chance. If he knew the things he knows now, he would have put an end to the beast swiftly all those years ago, with no hesitation.

Powerful wings thrash, lifting them both into the air. Morbius’ fists beat at Miguel in a furious fashion in an attempt to break free, forcing his opponent to hold him at arm's length.

Irritation rises within the beast, frustration that his lacking strength is impeding his fight. He curses the fact Miguel intervened at the time he did. You smelled and tasted so sweet, so appetising, you would have helped him regain some energy and he would have stood a far better chance now.

Lyla watches the two vampires suspended in the cold evening air. She hesitates, her finger hovering over the trigger pulls away slightly. Miguel may have managed to hold Morbius still, but if she fires now, she risks hitting her business partner.

“Now, Lyla! What are you waiting for?!” he shouts impatiently, as he dodges a kick from his opponent, before raising a fist and striking him back, popping Morbius’ jaw out of place with another painful sounding crunch.

“I can’t! I could hit you!”

Morbius turns his hairless head to look behind him, his red eyes widening as his gaze lands on Miguel’s partner, particularly what she has in her hands. Instantly, he wriggles frantically in his foe’s grasp; lashing out furiously, scratching, punching and kicking.

Miguel tuts; he has to make a tricky call. Keeping hold of Morbius means he can’t get away, but he risks his own safety if Lyla misses her target. If he breaks away and drops his foe to the ground, then he risks losing him, putting innocents in danger if he escapes…

He grits his teeth with the rising pressure to make a decision. His wings beat harder, taking them even higher. Drawing Morbius close, he growls into his ear. “You will be stopped.”

With all his might, he throws his enemy down to the ground, separating the both of them. The old, weak vampire collides with terra-firma, knocking the wind out of him.

“Now!” Miguel yells at Lyla with urgency once more - it won’t take long for Morbius to get back up again, even in his weakened state.

With a keen eye, Lyla followed her target to the ground before wrapping her finger back around the trigger. And with her partner’s word, she releases the bolt, letting it soar through the air.

Using his vampiric speed, Morbius raises his wing to protect himself. Screams sounding like a wounded animal ring out in the street as the silver projectile lodges into the forearm of his bat-like appendage. The sound of sizzling accompanies Morbius’ pained yells as the shiny metal burns whatever part of a vampire it touches.

“Shit!” Lyla curses with frustration. She hit him, but not in a more effective place.

Swooping down to his business partner, Miguel’s wings return to their normal state. “It’s bought us time at least. Get inside,” he barks as he starts to usher Lyla through the door.

Before entering Las Sombras, he takes one last look at Morbius, but to his disappointment, he sees the remnants of black mist. No doubt his enemy has fled to go lick his wounds…

You watch with your mouth agape as Miguel returns to the nightclub, then your gaze snaps to Lyla. “He is your business partner?” you speak loudly, to compete with the blaring music.

The vampire looks between you and Lyla, his jaw now dropping slightly. “Don’t tell me, you’re the damn Daily Bugle journalist…” he hisses with annoyance as he rests his hands on his narrow hips. His once neat and tidy appearance now reduced to looking dishevelled and ripped to shreds.

It’s as if a huge mallet has struck you on the head. Surprises keep coming like they’re on a constant conveyor belt, dishing them out one by one.

It’s all starting to make sense. Lyla’s business partner does most of the night work at the bar because he’s busy sleeping during the day. However, the fact that vampires are indeed real alone is enough to make your head spin.

“But he’s a va-” Miguel’s hand shoots out and covers your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“Wanna shout that out a little louder, hmm?” he growls threateningly as his eyes dart to the people in the club.

You have had enough of being touched this evening and you slap his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me!” you snarl.

“Maybe we should get them both to the shelter, Miguel? Before we get unwanted attention?” Lyla offers to try and quell the rising tension in the small group.

Your gaze falls onto a shell-shocked Miles, the kid who has been missing, but before you get to say or do anything, Miguel begins to usher you and the young man behind the bar, while Lyla follows.

The thudding music is far less intense in the private rooms behind the bar, giving your pounding head a break. As you’re led by Miguel through a narrow corridor, you notice him turning his head to look at you occasionally, making you feel uneasy.

“What?” you ask, your tone sounding sharper than you intended.

His eyes flit away from you after your challenge, he clears his throat. “Nothing…” he grumbles but you know that’s a lie.

You’re taken to a dead end of a corridor, facing a bookcase, full of files for the business. Before you ask what is going on, Miguel grabs the edge of the large structure, swinging it open, he reveals a secret passage leading downstairs.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, unable to mask your surprise and rising suspicion.

Miguel rests a heavy hand on your shoulder, before directing you down the flight of stairs. “A place where you will get your answers…” he explains gruffly.

The hidden passage is dimly lit, you watch your step as you hear the others behind you. Your mind runs wild with what you could possibly find down there, you sincerely hope your doom isn’t it.

Eventually the passage opens up into an abandoned subway station that has been partitioned and equipped with furniture. Sofas are arranged in a communal social-like area, surrounding a coffee table. Slightly tattered and frayed rugs are strewn around on the old tiled floors.

Your jaw drops in shock as you see other people down there, young people. Counting them up quickly, you realise they are the five other missing kids around the city. “Oh my God…” you mutter. At least they’re not dead...

The others filter in behind as Miguel levels with you, his intense, ruby gaze roaming over you. Lyla, on the other hand, gently takes Miles’ arm and leads him to the other kids.

“Fire away… I’m sure you have a million-and-one questions.”

He is right, you do indeed have countless questions burning in your noisy mind. Your first thought was to ask about Michael, but the missing kids and young adults are your current focus. “Why haven’t you returned them home?” you ask in a way without sounding like he has abducted them.

Those sad eyes of his lower to the ground as he sighs. “Wish I could…” he begins with a hopeless shrug. “But… they’re like me now. Imagine being Miles, returning home, explaining he’s been turned to his parents. Not an easy conversation to have, is it?” his gaze rises back up to you. “It also keeps the rest of us safe. Humans… get antsy if they begin dealing with things they don’t understand. They feel threatened, they spread misinformation and they attack,” he answers, carrying a hint of venom in his voice.

“But Lyla knows-”

“And I trust her with my life,” he retorts, as his eyes darts to his business partner momentarily before looking back at you.

“So, what? You just keep these kids here?” you ask, gesturing to the surrounding area.

Miguel shrugs. “Yes. It’s safe for them here. They have access to everything they need, food, a roof over their head, safety and counselling,” his last word makes you tilt your head in a questioning manner.

“Counselling?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow slightly. “Their whole world has changed. Their plans for the future are now non-existent. You think anyone can just take that and move on like that’s nothing?” His words suddenly feel like a punch to the gut, making your eyes widen as you realise what those kids like Miles have gone through. You feel sick at the thought of what that beast did to you, and remembering what Miguel said back in the house, you’re led to believe that that thing is responsible for what happened to the missing people.

“Michael… he-”

“Had you hook, line and sinker,” Miguel finishes your sentence, putting words in your mouth. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you would shoot him an indignant glare. He isn’t wrong though. Michael did have you fooled.

“H-how?” you stammer as you hold back the feeling of embarrassment and sorrow over the loss of something you thought was real. “How did he make himself look different?”

The moody vampire considers your question for a moment, his expression softening just a touch as he witnesses your struggle. “He will have used some of his power to change how people perceive him,” he answers as he pulls up a chair and motions for you to sit. “Long black hair, pale, blue eyes?” he asks as he, too, takes a seat on another chair he drags towards you.

You have no words while your heart feels impossibly heavy. All you can do is nod to answer his question.

“That’s what he was like before…” he stops himself as hesitation washes over his face.

The abrupt halt in his words makes you look up at him. “Before, what?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he returns your gaze. “A story for later?” Miguel suggests, “it’s not important now.”

Your eyes roam over his face and figure for a moment. “So… is that what you look like too, underneath all… this?” you ask, gesturing to himself.

His eyebrows raise at your question as a smile threatens to flit across his lips. “You think I’m also altering how you perceive me?” he asks as you watch him warily.

“In case you didn’t realise, I’m having a bit of trouble trusting anyone right now…”

Miguel chuckles deeply at your comment. “Well, you didn’t have a problem earlier, did you? Just goes to show you can’t trust any handsome face,” he says, another dig at you. “No, I’m not using any powers. This is all me.”

Every one of his digs at you makes you want to smack his stupid, beautiful face, but you refrain yourself. “Why is he doing this? What’s his goal here?”

“Ahh, you’re asking the good questions now,” he says, standing up again, resting his hands on his hips as he begins to pace. “He’s weak, and he’s doing reckless things to try and cure himself,” Miguel starts his explanation. “Morbius thinks that young blood will refresh his infected body. And, as for what he was about to do to you? That was just simply being greedy.”

Without even thinking about it, your hand rises up to where Michael had bitten you, the skin in the affected area still sore, sensitive and bloody. Air hisses through your clenched jaws as the bite stings, the sudden noise, making Miguel look at you.

“Here,” he says as he approaches you, “let’s take a look,” his hand reaches out for your arm, not giving you any room to say no. For a moment, you feel weightless as he pulls you up to standing. His soft hands gently brush aside your hair, bringing back the haunting memory of Michael doing the same, making you shudder at the thought. You don’t know when the memory of his deformed appearance will leave your mind; but you hope it will be soon.

Leaning in closer, Miguel observes the bite on your neck. “It’ll need cleaning-” he begins, before you hear him sniff, like he’s catching your scent.

Looking up at him as he towers over you, you notice his red eyes are glowing again. The slight tip of his tongue slips between his parted lips before it leisurely caresses one of his razor-sharp fangs.

“Uh - no,” you say sharply, pulling away from him, wrenching your wrist out of his grasp. “Don’t even think about it.”

Miguel snaps out of his momentary daze and shakes his head. To try and take his mind away from you, he clears his throat and looks out for Lyla. Once he gets her attention, he calls her over and asks her to clean you up. In that time, you notice the red in his eyes dim again.

As your bite-mark is attended to, Miguel watches you from afar, arms folded while he thinks to himself. In the background, you hear the kids and young adults talk amongst themselves.

Your gaze wanders over Miguel as Lyla gently presses a bandage against your neck. “I should probably go…” but you soon realise what you have just said was the wrong thing to say. Both Lyla and Miguel react in a way you were not expecting.

“No!” they both exclaim at the same time, making your eyes flit between the both of them.

“You want to leave? While a vampire who thinks you’re a walking banquet is on the loose in the dead of night?” he asks as he unfolds his arms and steps closer to you. “You’re safer here.”

Lyla nods in agreement with her business partner. “If you leave now, you won’t get home alive,” she adds to Miguel’s case.

You look at your surroundings. Are they seriously suggesting you stay with them, and sleep amongst vampires? The look on your face must have reflected what crossed your mind as Lyla rests a hand on your shoulder.

“You will be safe here,” she begins as she gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Despite how this place looks, it’s actually quite comfortable - once you get used to gloominess and the odd rumble from passing trains in nearby tunnels…”

Miguel rolls his eyes and tuts. “Way to sell it, Lyla…” his business partner lets go of your shoulder and frowns at him.

“I’m just saying there is a difference between what she considers her regular comfortable living conditions versus what we have here…”

The giant vampire opens his mouth to retaliate, but you wade in. “Fine! I’ll stay… But where am I actually sleeping? If I can sleep, that is…”

Both Miguel and Lyla look at you again but he speaks first. “Lyla; set up a comfortable, private place for her to sleep. Then you can finish for the day,” after he speaks, he brushes between both you and his business partner and strides back up towards the nightclub.

In what you suspect is an old ticket office, Lyla covers a large mattress on the floor with several mismatched sheets and cushions. You get the impression they were all pulled from the shelves from a shop in bulk; bought for function and necessity more than aesthetics.

“You weren’t kidding when you said your partner was a moody guy…” you comment as you help Lyla set up your sleeping space.

A sigh leaves Lyla’s lips as she smoothes over the material of the sheets. “He’s had a tough life. Poor guy can’t seem to catch a break,” she replies as she stands and pulls a phone charging cable out of her pocket and hands it to you.

Taking the cable, you begin to thread it between your fingers as you contemplate asking your next question. In the end, you decide to go ahead. “How did he become a vampire?”

Picking up a bundle of blankets from a bag, Lyla places them down on your bed so you can stay warm at night. “It’s probably best if you ask him. It isn’t really my story to tell,” the woman answers before giving a slightly awkward smile and makes a move to leave the room, but you stop her.

“He said he trusts you with his life. Do you trust him back?”

Lyla’s eyes meet yours before she opens her mouth to speak, her expression earnest. “We may bicker, I might piss him off from time to time, but it is without a doubt that I trust that man,” she replies, but she observes the suspicion in your eyes. You feel her hand on your shoulder again as she continues. “Morbius is a treacherous bastard. I don’t know what he did to you, but whatever he did, you’re right to not feel very trusting at the moment. Hopefully over time you’ll feel you can put your faith in Miguel,” her hand gives you a gentle pat. “Just give him time to warm up to you, just like you need time to adjust to things that have happened.”

You give Lyla a silent nod and a weak smile as she leaves the room before you turn to look at your new make-shift bedroom.

With a dull thud, you collapse onto the mattress, arms and legs splayed out while you try to process everything. You could kick yourself over how easily you trusted Michael. An angry huff leaves your lips; Miguel’s harsh words - ‘hook, line and sinker’ - circles tauntingly in your mind. You bet he thinks you a fool… maybe he’s right… With a groan full of embarrassment you roll over and bury your head in your arms. In the darkness, Michael’s glowing red eyes pierce through, staring into your soul, haunting you still while you are out of his reach.

It dawns on you that after meeting Michael that morning, the answer to your investigations was right under your nose. It is all because of him, that missing kids have been feasting on rat’s blood for sustenance. It astonishes you how the lead you got from a member of the public this morning has sent you spiralling into a story you cannot yet fathom how deep it goes. Imagine the glory of unveiling the world of vampirism to Nueva York…

You lift your head up from your arms, your lips parted as you consider this amazing opportunity for work. This is groundbreaking stuff; news that’ll rock the city. Or… your mouth closes… you’ll be carted off to some asylum for writing something totally insane and unbelievable…

Sitting up on your mattress, you look through your partially open door, your sympathetic gaze lands on the kids huddled together, talking and bonding with Miles in the communal social area. If you pursue your story, your bid to reveal the truth, you would be doing them a disservice. Not to mention Miguel would be beyond mad.

Lying back on the bed like a starfish once more, you let out a contemplative sigh. You are going to have to abandon the developing story and write about something else… But for the time being, you close your eyes to try and get some sleep.

Sitting in the office behind the bar of Las Sombras, music pounds through the walls, sending rhythmic shockwaves through Miguel’s body with every beat. His leather jacket sits in his hands, his thumb running over one of the many rips in the material, courtesy of Morbius… Tossing his ruined item of clothing in the bin, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls his phone out. Opening a contact, he begins to text them.

He waits a short while before he gets a reply. The phone buzzes in his large palm.

Finally, Miguel places his phone on his desk before resting his head in his hand as he props his elbow up on the table’s surface. “Mierda…”

Thank you for reading part 2 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Next chapter >

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[math-markers]

Studyblr Intro

Hello, there! I have been a long-time lurker in the studyblr community, and I decided that It's about time I joined in on the fun! This is a sideblog that I am revamping to use for study-related content. I am currently taking a few summer classes at my community college, and I'd like to use this blog to keep myself motivated.

About me:

He / Him

Undergraduate first year (I started in spring)

Currently 20, but will be turning 21 in August

I live in New England (America)

Currently pursuing a Liberal Arts Degree with a Math Focus

I am hoping to go into a math-related career. At the moment, forensic accounting interests me, but I am definitely open to other things.

Interests and Hobbies:

Drawing

Crochet

Cooking & Baking

Video Games (Stardew Valley, BOTW & TOTK, and Minecraft, mostly)

I'd like to get into reading, but that has been slow going

Goals:

Stay on top of my classwork

Get above an 80% in all of my classes

Be able to spend more time on my interests and hobbies

Make some friends, hopefully

What to expect:

I'd love to give a tangible list of what to expect, but this is also the first blog that I will be making (hopefully consistent) personal posts to ever. It'll be as much a surprise to you as to me. You can probably expect a lot of reblogs, some to do lists, photos, and maybe some hobby-related posts.

Studyblrs that inspire me:

@noodledesk @study-coffee-chicago @the---hermit @why-the-heck-not @beforeiread-studies @caramelcuppaccino @frithams @learnelle @luthiest @oneanxiousstudybuddy @lexdiscipula @teacherstudiies @ben-learns-smth @chemblrish @studiousliz

((And a couple others following my main account (@hellbentsunday): @honeyteastudies @cupsnpages @savemygrades ))

While this blog is partly about motivation, I hope than I can also make some good friends! This community is super friendly, and I'd love to get in on some of that.

Thanks for reading!

((I'll be tagging my posts as #math marks.))