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[eddieslittleslutmuffin]

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Show you off Pt. 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Sinclair!sister

Word count: 2k

a/n: ask and you shall receive @e0509 you gave me the extra boost to finish this, and as this is a series for Eddie and my oc Devina, there will be a pt.3 in the future. 🫶🏽

Eddie, and I got to the venue early before doors opened to the public; his team, and production showed up an hour before that.

“Madison Square Garden, not bad for a kid from a small town.” I beamed up at him, Eddie bumps his hip into mine, wraps an arm round my neck, and pulls me close. As we both stand there looking at the imaginary crowd, an overwhelming sensation washes over me; Eddie has pulled through a lot, we both did. Surviving Hawkins, Indiana is no easy feat, but somehow we did.

“Kids like us, we aren’t supposed to make it this far. I’m so proud of you.” Tears from at the bottom of my eyes, they threaten to fall, but the second they do he caught them with his thumb.

“I’m so proud of us, your art gallery is opening soon, and I just know you’re gonna do great Angel.” He kissed me on my forehead, his lips felt warm, and soft. The feeling of butterflies rushed up from the pit of my stomach at the mention of my new gallery. I spent every last dime I had from working, and college tuition on it. Of course Eddie funded everything else I couldn’t pay for, even when I told him no, he refused to listen to me.

“Thank you baby, I love you.” My voice cracked at the end, the memories of the past flashing by in my mind, and I couldn’t have imagined any of them without Eddie in the picture.

“Hey guys, sorry to ruin your moment, but we gotta get a move on with sound check.” Alison, the production manager, called to us from down below the stage on the floor where the pit section would be.

Eddie pulled me in close for one last kiss, at least the last one for now, but he savored the flavor of me making sure to take all my gloss with him.

“Alright, calm down, I’ll see you in a few.” I had to pry him off me, if it were up to him, he’d kiss me till my lips fell off. Eddie’s love, and affection knew no bounds. Even if we’re in public together, he finds a way to intimately touch me; I used to be shy about the pda at first, but then along the way it somehow boosted my confidence.

I kindly ask one of the security guards to escort me back to Eddie’s dressing room, “Thanks.” The large burraly man nodded his head in response, and left me alone.

The room was a simple enough design, nicely furnished with a red sofa, an end table next to it. A coffee stable sat in the center with a stack of magazines, and a large charcuterie board. A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket with ice, I so badly wanted a glass, but I decided against it since I was talked into singing tonight.

At the front of the room is the makeup chair, with mirrors with lights bordering each one. I smiled at myself in the mirror, Eddie wanted me to get all dressed up. I think he went a bit overboard with his style of outfit, making sure to put me in something that is damn near naked, while also highlighting my breast.

After I did a few warm up exercises, I decided that I should probably take a nap, it would be a few hours before Eddie brings me out. I settled down on the sofa, tucking my legs underneath me. Soon I’m drifting off to sleep.

A few hours later

Eddie is doused in sweat, the microphone dangling around his neck, and his guitar sitting carefully nestled in its stand a few feet away from him. Off stage he could see Devina shifting her weight from one hip to the other, a nervous habit he noticed she has. He threw her a wink, and a dazzling smile. This seems to put her at ease a little, her body visibly relaxing.

“Alright quiet down my little hellraisers, quiet down.” He commanded the crowd, at the sound of his voice the stadium calmed down to a low simmer. Devina is always amazed by how well Eddie could control his crowds, they hang on his every word. He’s always been naturally charismatic, that was the first thing to grab her attention when they first met in High School.

“I’ve got someone really special for you all.” Excitement shone brightly in his brown eyes, it’s the only thing he could think about all night. Finally he gets to show his baby off on the grandest stage of them all.

The crowd began to buzz a little, whispering amongst each other, this is an unexpected turn of events. Usually Eddie sticks to the script, when it came to performances, going off page was unlike him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the beautiful, talented, and future wife, Devina Sinclair!” He shouted, his arm outstretched towards the curtains where she appeared from. On cue a bright spotlight shines onto her, the stadium roars to life at the site of Eddie Munson’s infamous girlfriend. Though there were a few of his “fans” that treated her like shit, the majority of the fanbase absolutely adored Devina.

Eddie met her halfway on stage, grabbed her by the hand, and brought her right over to the microphone. At the moment the stage lights were down giving her view of all the people in the pit. It warmed her heart to see them blowing her kisses, making hearts with their hands, and shouting compliments at her.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, my beautiful baby here is going to sing a cover for you, and yall are gonna be the kind hearted supportive people I know you can be. Sounds good?” The stadium erupted again in response, Eddie grinned, and nodded his head satisfied by their enthusiasm.

“What about you honey, all good?” He covers the mic with his hand, he leaned forward a bit so he could hear her better.

“Yea, but can we turn the stage lights up please.” No seeing the crowd would help a lot, a seed of self doubt grew inside her. Before she could start to spiral about rather or not this would go awful, Eddie grabbed her by the hands.

“Hey, you got this, and even if you still get nervous, just close your eyes and pretend like it’s you and me.” Bending a bit lower to her, they touched foreheads, and the crowd went insane.

“They like me, they really like me.” Devina giggled to Eddie, squeezing her hands he pulled back and turned to the one of the production people off stage.

“Hey is there a chance we can get these lights back up?” He flashed the young woman a sweet smile, her cheeks turned a deep red as she talked into her head set.

“They’re ready when she is.” She confirmed, Eddie bowed to her in thanks, turning back to Devina, his heart pounding. She looked stunning, though she could be completely dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt and still look beautiful.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Eddie kissed her on the temple, pats her on the head, and steps back by his drummer.

“Hi everyone, um, sorry if I’m awkward Eddie is the true natural born star.” Devina chuckled dryly, one girl in the very front shouted out at her. “YOU GOT THIS QUEEN!” And then another voice, “WE LOVE YOU!”

“Oh wow, thanks guys. Uh, well the song I’ll be singing is a classic. Hope you all know Creep by Radiohead.” The crowd buzzed with excitement as the music started up, she requested that Eddie have the production team play her mixed version of the song instead of the original.

“When you were here before, Couldn't look you in the eye.” Her voice was hauntingly soft, it really added to the dark overtone of the song, Eddie was shocked. He knew his girl could sing, but this is clearly something she’s worked in before. He wondered why she never shared this with him before, maybe it’s something she’s mentioned, and maybe he forgot?

The crowd is in awe of Devina, the voices of the people become the background singers as they quietly sing along with her. The girl in the front row from earlier, seemingly in tears now, found it heart-swelling to see another Black girl being treasured like this. She took her phone out to record, though Devina had all her comments blocked on social media, the young woman wanted to share this moment with her anyway. Her hope was that Devina could see herself the way they all saw her.

Devina hadn’t noticed her eyes were wet until she was done singing, Eddie is immediately by her side again pulling her into a tight hug. The stadium came back to life, the sound of thousands of people cheering is deafening. Overwhelmed by their positive energy, she stepped back from the microphone stand, and took a moment to breathe.

“That was a stellar performance if I do say so myself baby.” He spoke in a hushed voice only they could hear, his eyes sparkled, and his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. He’s never been so proud of someone before.

“I was inspired by your confidence, Eddie freakin Munson.” Devina beamed up at him, her words were true, she thought about how carefree he looked on stage, and tried to follow his lead.

“Aw of course you look up to daddy.” He said smugly, his hand reaching for her round booty, but before he could get any further than her lower back, she grabbed onto his hand.

“Thousands watching, remember?”

“Actually I’m glad you mentioned that.” Eddie’s face suddenly got serious, turning back to the crowd he brought his fingers to his lips.

“Children, daddy is speaking now.” As if his words were made of magic, the crowd settled down, and they all looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Now, I know there are hundreds of people here already, but I hope some of you out there are recording so that the whole world can hear me.” He took a breath to gather his thoughts, Devina, and the way people treated her is not something he took lightly.

“I've been seeing all the nasty little comments some of you have been making about Devina. Let me tell you little shits something, this woman, this gorgeous woman, and my future wife. She’s not going anywhere, so if you think you can bully her online…harass her in public, well you and me got a problem. I don’t care if you stop buying tickets to my shows, I don’t care if you stop listening to my music. The sole reason I’m here in this stage today for you little pricks online to obsess over is because of her. There’s no Eddie Munson without Devina Sinclair.”

The crowd erupted when he turned to Devina and pulled her in for a big kiss, he didn’t hood back either. One hand held her against him, and the other grabbed a handful of her ass. Gently he pulled away, there was breathing heavy, and hearts hammering. Devina wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck, she got up on her tiptoes to plant another sweet kiss on his lips.

“I love you.” She whispered, Eddie’s eyes brimming with tears, he never feels happier than when he’s with Devina. He pecks her in the forehead one last time, and addresses the crowd.

“Okay, I’m done ranting, ha, I’m starting to feel like my old man. Yall ready for one more song, or are you tired?” The crowd cheered in response, he squinted his eyes looking out into the sea of people.

“Is anybody alive out there? I said…is anybody alive out there!” He shouted, the lights went up to show the crowd, the people in the pit were the loudest ever.

“One last time give it up for my lovely Devina Sinclair!” She bowed in response to the claps and cheers, and ran off stage, back to the dressing room. She kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the couch. She didn’t even bother trying to fight the tiredness, Devina’s eyes slid shut, and immediately fell asleep.

Much later that night.

The feeling of something wet swiping across my face woke me, I opened my eyes to see Eddie’s face above me. A wet makeup wipe in hand, and a tiny smile on his lips.

“I figured you were too exhausted to remove the makeup so I did it for you, but I’m not sure I got everything.” He continued to swipe at my eyebrows making sure he got everything. My head is in his lap in the back seat of his car, Marcus, Eddie’s driver, is nice enough to drive slowly.

“I slept that long? Oh god you didn’t have to carry me did you?” An impending embarrassment rushing in as the thought of my poor Eddie struggling to lift me, or worse than that, him not being able to lift me at all.

“Relax babe, you were awake enough to walk on your own, but still too sleepy to be aware of it happening. When we made it to the car you passed out again.” He chuckled, I sat upright, and switched to leaning against his shoulder. Automatically, Eddie brought his arm around me, pulling me in close, and peppering kisses over my face until I giggled. My hand rested on his chest, my fingers drew circles over his bare skin, the top four buttons were left undone.

The rest of our night was quiet, we both ran a bath, and did our nightly routine together. We snuggled into bed, and passed out. I’m sure Eddie is going to want my pov of last night in the morning.

[jen-with-a-pen]

Honeysuckle ❀ II

SERIES ❀ PREVIOUS ❀ NEXT

summary: Sleep is for the weak– except for when a certain Super Soldier helps put you to bed.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

warnings: ooey gooey fluff, touching, major mutual pining, teasing, resisting the urge to cuddle, sleepiness

word count: 1.7k

a/n: Literally??? Thank you all so so much for the support and love for Dirty Dishes AND Honeysuckle so far!! I cannot believe it. I love and appreciate each and every single one of y'all ♥

a/n 03/2024: hi! i have gone through and rewritten and reformatted a few parts in the fic in order to make it flow better and to ensure it has all-inclusive language in it (this was one of my first fics in the fandom and was not as educated as i am now.) if there are any mistakes, please feel free to DM me and kindly let me know :)

divider by @firefly-graphics | gif by @itz-me-aggie | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist

Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Piles of mission reports were scattered throughout your apartment, covering everything from your bed to the coffee table, to the couch. For once, the hard floor where you’d taken refuge was the most comfortable seat in the room– even if your bottom half had already gone numb and your knees ached from sitting for hours on end. 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes while giving way to a yawn. Glancing at the clock, you uttered a groan at how late it was. The digital numbers mocked you. It didn’t help that you also had a debriefing in less than six goddamned hours plus physical training directly after. Falling back against the carpet, you silently begged for something, or someone, to make the suffering stop so you could get some rest. 

As your eyelids weighed over your vision and drift closed, F.R.I.D.A.Y. gently called your name. Eyes squeezed tighter. You refused to believe anyone in the entire tower was awake at that hour. 

Well, everyone except…

“Honey, Agent Barnes requests to know if you are still awake,” F.R.D.A.Y. asked. You scoffed a laugh, lips breaking into a smile at the mention of Bucky’s name. 

“Of course he is,” you muttered to yourself.

“Should I let him know you are awake? Or shall I leave you to your work?” 

You thought about it, concluding you could do with a break. A short break. Just a few minutes.

“Yeah, tell him I’m awake. Unfortunately,” you answered. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Moments later, a soft knock came from your door and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to hide your grin. 

“’S open,” you called out. The handle turned hesitantly and the door opened slowly, carefully. 

You sighed with relief when Bucky stepped inside your apartment, delicately shutting the door behind him. For a hulking ex-assassin, the man knew how to keep quiet and stay quiet. He plodded further into your room and looked around with a furrowed brow, unaware of your presence on the floor.

“Honey?” He whispered, voice hoarse with exhaustion. He hadn’t gotten any rest the past few weeks thanks to the mess of a mission that ended up being the mess of paperwork on the floor of your living room.

You rolled your eyes. “Down here, Buck.”

He glanced down to find you sprawled out in the middle of the explosion of paperwork. A crooked smile flashed across his lips as he stood over you. You followed him until your gazes met. You’d never seen such bright baby blues in such dimmed lighting before. You couldn’t help but snort a laugh when loose strands of hair fell in front of his face.

He softened. “You seem to be takin’ these reports seriously, huh?”

“Oh, you know me. Totally serious, here.” 

Bucky smiled at your stretched form on the ground. Manilla folders, papers, and sticky notes surrounded you like a mosaic with you as the centerpiece. For a minute, Bucky wishes he could pause time just to stare at you in awe. 

“What about you? You made any progress?” You asked, eyes flitting across his features. IT could be the sleep deprivation, but you swore you almost caught him in the act of scanning your every curve from head to toe. He cleared his throat upon realizing you were talking to him: the only other person in the room

“Oh, uh, y’know. They’re more confusing to me than the twenty-first century.”

His remark elicited a snort as you rolled your head to the side, closing your eyes once more, exhaling.

“For once I agree with ya, Buck.”

“Mm. Thanks.”

A moment of silence washed over both of you. Your eyes opened, peering back up to him. It felt like a dream through your half-lidded eyes as he stood over you, admiring your form from the curve of your hips to the crook in your arm above your head. Neither of you dared to look away as though you were scared of waking up– scared that it was all a dream. 

It had to be, though. Right?

All that paperwork, the same black and white lines repeating over and over again after hours of reading the same things three times over. It had to be messing with your head. You were sure of it. Bucky Barnes, of all people, wouldn’t be standing in your room late into the night while gazing upon you like an esteemed piece of art. 

…Right?

His tongue jutted out, dragging his bottom lip into his teeth as he admired you over and over again. Something about the way his eyes occasionally flicked back to yours filled your chest with something giddy. Something new.

“Can I help you?” You half-laughed half-whispered, breaking the silence– and him out of his self-induced trance. Bucky cleared his throat. 

“No, but I can help you. It’s late. How ‘bout you get to bed ‘nd I get these folders organized, hm?” He offered a vibranium hand out to you. It softly whirred as you propped yourself up on your elbows, quirking a brow at him. 

“Is that why you wanted to see if I was up? To put me to bed so you could finish your reports before me and get Stark’s gold star for the week?”

He faltered, pink flooding his cheeks. “What? No, I– I just wanted, to–”

“Mhm. Sure,” you purred. He remained uncertain until you tittered, breaking the sarcasm and shaking your head.

“Ya know ‘m just teasin’ ya, Buck."

Relief flooded his features. Sarcasm was still a different venture for him. You forgot sometimes.

Grabbing his hand, he hoisted you up to your feet. The sudden rush of standing upright made you stumble, catching yourself against his chest. The move startled both of you, and while you were going to apologize, the words evaporated off your tongue and out of your head as you looked up and met his delicate baby blues. Exchanging an understanding smile, silence blanketed the two of you. Standing together, you were cradled against him with a hand rested against his sternum. You could feel the roughened engravings of his dog tags through the thread-bared fabric of his shirt, your fingers absent-mindedly tracing the dented edges of each letter.

Something overtook you. Whether it be the sleep, the silence, you couldn’t tell. A wave of needing to be cradled against his chest bloomed as Bucky gently moved his prosthetic over the hand that fanned his chest. You allowed his palm to smother yours, hooking over your skin with cool precision and warm fingers. His gilded knuckles glinted in the dimmed lighting, hypnotizing you. Your hand paled in comparison to his, yet it still managed to be a perfect fit. The cool vibranium plating you were expecting surprised you with a comforting warmth. The mechanisms inside whirred faintly as he squeezed your hand to his chest. 

Then, he pushed further, slowly wrapping his other hand around your back and resting lightly on the curve of your waist. The light squeeze he gave you as goosebumps shot across your skin. 

It was a dream. It had to be. He had to be. 

You were too tired to focus on the warmth from his hand– or the fact he couldn’t take his eyes off you– or the fact you two were alone, in your room, at who-knew-what hour it was in the morning. Bucky studied you. The silence grew warmer, more palpable.

He rubbed his thumb softly over your fingertips, ever-so careful not to crush your hand. As if he were on autopilot, his hand moved slowly up your back, gently brushing up the column of your neck as he cupped your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, and before he could retreat, you leaned into his touch and nuzzled your nose against his thumb. You opened your eyes once more, meeting lust-blown blue ones. Both of you locked stares for what seemed like an eternity. He swallowed as you buried your cheek further into the callused skin of his palm. To you, it was the softest thing in the world.

Right then, right there, it was anyone’s move.

Your eyelids weighed into your vision, lulling back into the relief of closure. It was so late. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, right then.

Bucky finally spoke.

“How ‘bout we get you into bed, Honey?” He whispered before you could drift off in just his palm. Sleepily, reluctantly, you nodded. He carefully unraveled from you, turning your tired body and leading you back to the bed. He placed a hand onto the small of your back as he guided you, pausing to gather up the continued mess of manilla folders scattered across your bed and placing them neatly on the kitchenette counter.

Exhaustion pulled at you while he helped you into bed and under the blankets. As your head hit the pillow, sleep threatened to sweep you away at that very moment. But instead, you fought it, reaching for Bucky’s hand again before he stepped away.

“Mm, Buck?” you slurred, voice soft and low. He squeezed your hand once more.

“Yes, Honey?”

“Can y’ stay th’ night?”

Bucky gasped softly.

As much as he yearned to do so– and Bucky would do anything to cuddle up next to you– he knew better. He knew it would be best to let you sleep with such an early morning and busy day ahead of you.

He knew he had to wait. Just a little while longer. He had to be sure. To be safe. 

“I–” he started, voice caught in his throat, “’m sorry, Honey. Gotta get these folders organized, ‘member?”

Sleep had all but fully taken you as you emitted a muffled groan of protest, body relaxing as your breaths became steady.

Bucky held your hand until he felt your grip relax. Tenderly, he brought your fingers to his lips and lightly kissed them, gently placing your hand across the other side of the bed. You languidly dragged it into your chest as you turned on your side. 

“Next time, Honey,” he whispered.

That was a promise.

[cillspropertea]

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Gif: Yo-whats-up23

Chapter 8: Grass

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

Warnings: suffocation, panic attack, emotional distress, mentions of injuries

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

 Word count: 2273

Esmeralda Gold

    You sat in your room in the middle of the night, wincing and grimacing at the pain you were in. The ruptured wounds on your muscles had turned bluish yellow and were pretty sensitive to touch, the three gash like injuries, near your head, shoulder and ankles, had a different, burn like sensation, whenever you wanted to sleep it seemed.

    It had been almost two weeks since the meeting and you had hardly gotten out of your room ever since. You had not planned any of it when Polly had literally pushed you out of the room to attend this family discussion. “This is me giving you the family that you deserve love!” Polly had pleaded with a hand on yours. “I have no family, and I don’t plan on being a part of one in any near future as well!” you had replied, honestly and genuinely. ‘The pain and agony my last family has honored me with is enough for a lifetime, at least’ you’d thought tiringly. “I won’t force you. It’s your decision in the end. Just attend this one and then you can decide.” Polly was relentless. As soon as she felt you contemplating your answer rather than throwing it at her straight away, she softly tugged your arm and helped you walk to where the meeting was being held.

    Walking in, you had seen the faces but had never known the names of everybody in there. You had Known Arthur as the ‘mustached man’ when they’d taken you from… you couldn’t even think about those two days. The memories brought back too much suffering and torture. But then, later the other day, when Polly had come to your room and told you how everyone, including her older nephew Arthur, who had recently been wounded due to some bad business with some foreigners, was going to be living in the Arrow house for a few days, you’d figured it out.

    Sitting in that room, during that meeting, you felt like puking. What in the actual fuck were you doing there? Those people, those Shelby’s too had a hand in everything that had unfolded in that ground with you. And then he’d started speaking. The main man. The culprit. ‘If my name hadn’t come out of his mouth that day during that idiotic wager... If he wouldn’t have taken advantage of me that night, leaving that mark…’ You did not want to look up, did not want to give a face to the person who’s planning and actions had brought you into all of this mess, had almost gotten you killed.

     What had he done with you in that room that night? The thought alone made you gag. Your mind had started whirring too fast so you’d decided to focus on this one spot on the floor, until the whole danm meeting was over. But then he’d called your name. More than that he’d called you ‘Miss. Gold’, the audacity of this man! You’d looked at him, and had been stuck for a tiny moment. The eyes, you had not expected the eyes to be so…. Clear and blue and… intimidating. But when he’d started saying all those words, as if you were a part of his agenda for the day, like apologizing was just going to get him a clean slate that easily, like him making amends will undo everything that had destroyed the meaning of your life. Your simmering anger and pain had boiled over in that moment. You had not realized your actions until you were out of the door. It was as if someone had taken over you. Your fury perhaps? Getting to your room, as fast as your state allowed, you locked it from the inside. The rush you had gotten later on was insane. You were sweating and breathing hard as you rubbed your stinging hand.

    Two weeks had passed after that meeting and your interaction with the family, which was already limited prior to it, reduced to none at all. None of them bothered either, having their own shit to deal with, you had gathered that much from the meeting. Plus the fact that the blue eyed Shelby, was not popular amongst the family too, not positively at least. The maid brought your meals in the room, which mostly returned untouched as for some reason you just couldn’t keep anything down lately, so what was the purpose of eating then? Polly came to visit at least once through the day. And Charlie, boy did that little munchkin adored you. He always walked in with such a command, demanding your attention. He was your only highlight of your day. His father on the other hand, had been avoiding you just like you were avoiding him. Surely your actions had hurt his ego, you’d assumed. ‘Good riddance’ you’d thought.

    Silently, you’d gotten up and padded towards the window. You were feeling hot all of a sudden, so you’d decided to get near the opened window, but it was no help. Sighing, you felt your sweat stricken forehead. A panic attack was on its way and you knew it. You were feeling suffocated ‘No one… there is no one…’ you tried to take in air but it was as if your lungs were not functioning anymore. ‘I deserve this… I deserve these wounds… I deserve this pain… I deserve this loneliness...’ you were hyperventilating now as you backtracked and ran out of your room. Running down the stairs you ran outside to the vast grounds surrounding the house. You kept on running as fast as you could. Your bare feet protesting against the rocks and debris hitting them as you sprinted, to or from what you didn’t know.

    Suddenly your feet couldn’t keep up anymore and you fell, face down into the dry grass. The smell of it, the ground and the earth brought down so many memories. They flashed before your eyes like a film. You playing with Diana, how she would cook for you your favorite meals, how she would shelter you from Da and Gran when needed but most of all the way she gave you importance. You were never invisible to her. You had your own identity in her eyes, a place which no other children of hers had been able to take away over the years. Her voice in your ears rang again, ‘‘it’ll be fine. You’ll get through this. Soon the sun shall shine. Soon the birds shall sing. Soon the darkness will be gone. And you’ll be with me again’ your palms bawled in the grass as a dam of emotions broke free from inside of you. You wailed and screamed as the pain poured out of you. You had not cried at all after the courtroom. You had felt that if you let yourself cry then you will lose your strength and you did not want to look powerless in front of those betraying imbeciles, until the end at least.

     You sobbed for your unknown birthmother, who was a stranger to you but her pain and story had brought a strong sense of familiarity between you two. You felt your body getting so light with exhaustion that you felt like you were floating in the air. Getting on your knees, hiccupping, you wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to put together your own broken pieces as you heard a gun clicking from behind you. It was him, the blue eyed devil himself.

Thomas Shelby

    “What the fuck!” he exclaimed as he realized it was her. He immediately put the gun away. “Stay the fuck away from me! You fucking monster stay away!” she screamed, her voice already hoarse from crying so hard. She started walking again, away from the house, away from him. “Where are you going?” he asked, following her. She hurried her pace, “Away from all of this. Away from you…” she started running again. Thomas moved fast too, getting a hold of her arm, he tried to stop her when they both fell down. She was struggling, moving herself like a bird trying to flap away from a net. He got a hold of her hands and clasped them over her head with his, holding her body down with his own. “Let me go, let me the fuck go you Devil!” she tried to move but he was stronger. “Just calm down… take a deep breath” he said, his voice soft as he tried to encourage her to inhale and exhale with him. “Are you going to do it again?” she gritted, willing her rigid body to not move. “What?” Tommy frowned. “Are you going to rape me again?” His eyes went wide, “Nothing happened that night!” Tommy exclaimed. His face mere inches from hers as their breaths mingled. “You’re lying… the mark on my neck…” Esmeralda shook her head slightly, glowering. “It was a mistake, I was drunk, but as soon as I saw it wasn’t…” he closed his eyes for a moment before he looked into hers again. “… As soon as I had realized it was you, I stopped…” This was not making sense to Esmeralda at all. ‘He had to be lying, there is no way…’ in that moment Tommy noticed the lack of space between them both. He exhaled and simply rolled off of her. With their backs on the grass, both of them were breathing heavily. Still wanting more assurance Esmeralda sat up and muttered, “So you did not…. Ahem… do it to me then?” She asked avoiding his face and hiding her own behind a curtain of her hair. “No I did not fuck you Esmeralda.” Still looking away, he got up and offered a hand to help her up too. She was stunned. ‘If this was true then he … no he still made you a part of the wager… but then Da’… your father should have backed out…” She felt more confused than ever.

    She looked at his open palm and then at his face, contemplating. But then stood up on her own anyway. Dusting her now filthy dress, her legs protested as the rush subsided and the usual pain returned along with her senses. Plus the exhaustion that came after the panic episode. She just wanted to lie down now.

     Silently Tommy turned and started walking towards the house, picking up his weapon on the way too. If she wants to leave, it was fine with him. Keeping her as a captive was never his or his aunt’s intention anyway. But he smirked and shook his head when he heard crunching dried grass behind him.

    When they reached the threshold of the house Tommy spoke softly, making sure only her ears could hear, “Let’s have a proper conversation tomorrow, eh? Clearly there are things that need to be addressed between the both of us.” She was still avoiding his gaze. His eyes were too penetrating and she felt too vulnerable while looking in them. Looking down she said, “I’ll think about it…” and walked away towards her room.

 Esmeralda Gold

    Early in the morning, the nurse had arrived from the hospital for your weekly check-up. “Everything seems to be fine Miss. It will take time but you’ll be okay. Even the scars will go away, but as I said, it’ll take time” ‘I’ll never be okay’ she further scolded you about how Mrs. Gray had informed the Doctor of your lack of appetite and irregularities while taking your medicines, you’d nodded numbly. As the nurse started packing her stuff you had an idea. Biting your lip, you knew this was the only way to know if what ‘he’ had said last night was true or not. Losing a breath, you mustered up the courage to just say it. “Nurse? I need your help in a matter. Would you help me?” the nurse, who’s young and kind face reminded you of your sisters, smiled “Sure. What is it Esmeralda?” here we go, “I want you to check if I’m a virgin or not.” You scrunched your eyes, bracing yourself for her reaction. When you opened your eyes you saw her wide eyes and gaping mouth, you knew you’d have to explain. “You see, I think something happened to me when I was asleep a little while ago…” the girls opened mouth turned into a knowing smile as she bobbed her head in some kind of understanding. “Oh it’s okay… I understand! Girls your age are bound to make some mistakes… some experimentations with your man got you worried huh?” ‘Wait what?’ “Um.. no I don’t think you understand!...” she cut you off. “Its okay, no judgment I promise… Just lie down and relax…” you decided there was no point in giving any explanations as they wouldn’t make sense to her at all. So you just laid down and exhaled not sure what you were hoping for but subconsciously you thought, if what he had said was true then what?

-----

    As soon as the nurse had left Frances, the maid, had knocked and informed you how Mr. Shelby awaited your presence in his office.

    On your way you bumped into Aunt Polly. She put her arm through yours saying she was going to his office too. Just before you both could knock and enter, the door to the office opened and out came a white as sheet Thomas Shelby. Polly sprang into action immediately getting a hold of his shoulder, “What is it Thomas? What’s happened?” He looked into Aunt Polly’s eyes with an expression you could not understand, “John… John is dead!”

[theweasleysredhair]

Baby Love [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1693

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Looking after Teddy Lupin makes Fred decide he wants a baby of his own with you.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: just a reminder that this is a queued post! i’m currently taking a small break from tumblr (should be back by the end of the week though!) as i am not in a good place at the moment. feel free to continue sending in asks and messages whilst i’m away - i’ll answer as soon as i’m back online! i shall also catch up on things that i’ve been tagged in and fics i’ve missed then as well! ❤️❤️ to the requester - i hope you enjoy my love! 💕

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Never seen him so content,” you hummed to Hermione, a smile playing at your lips as you nodded over to Fred, who was sitting on a nearby couch in the living room of the Burrow, where everyone had gathered for Christmas - the second one since the Battle of Hogwarts - holding a tiny toddler, who was giggling at Fred’s attempts to make him laugh, hair turning a bright blue as he threw his arms into the air.

Hermione laughed, “He’s always loved Teddy.” “He reminds him of Lupin I reckon,” you replied, not having to mention the reason why, considering the small boy looked just like him. Fred, you knew, felt indebted to Lupin, since he was the one to bring George back to the Burrow when he lost his ear - kept him safe after the incident, travelling back quickly to save him. You knew that was one of the reasons Fred offered to look after Teddy so often - that and the fact that the baby adored him.

“Are you not thinking about children yet?” Hermione asked you, breaking you from your thoughts, “I’d have thought with the way he can never keep his hands off you that you’d be pregnant by now.”

You let out a laugh, knowing she wasn’t exactly wrong - Fred always had at least an arm around you or a hand on your waist, always pulling you into his lap and kissing you when he got the chance. And he’d only gotten worse since you were married a few months ago, thoroughly enjoying the new house you’d moved into after the wedding and all the privacy it gave you both - George had learnt to knock on the door when he arrived rather than apparating in immediately, after finding you both in a rather compromising position on the kitchen counter one time.

“Well, I mean obviously we’d love to have a baby... it’s just, well we both got hurt pretty badly in the battle and each had to deal with nearly dying,” you spoke, earning a sympathetic look as thoughts of the battle crossed both your minds.

Fred had nearly been hit by a wall falling in an explosion - he had been knocked unconscious and the moment you saw him laying on the floor of the Great Hall, you’d assumed the worst, until Molly had assured you with a watery nod that he was okay. Then when the battle recommenced, you’d had your leg crushed by falling debris, not being able to dodge spells fast enough, meaning you were nearly hit with the killing curse, had George not have pulled you out of the way in time.

The battle overall took its toll on you both, causing flashbacks and nightmares for the first year or so, only just beginning to ease when you and Fred decided to get married a couple of months back, wanting to make things official after years of dating.

“We just haven’t had the time to plan for a baby. Plus, we’re still really young,” you continued, shrugging your shoulders a little before turning your gaze to Fred, who was preoccupied by baby Teddy, pulling faces at him and playing peek-a-boo, not being able to help the smile that graced your lips, “But maybe having a baby would be a good thing.”

“He’d be a great dad,” Hermione grinned, seeing the way your eyes lit up as you watched your husband cradling the toddler in his arms, even as Teddy decided to grab a hold of Fred’s ginger locks, pulling at them happily.

“The best,” you nodded with a content smile. You excused yourself from Hermione as you saw Teddy reaching out in your direction, stuttering out what you assumed was his attempt at saying your name, clambering over Fred’s lap to get to you.

“I’m here baba, I’m right here,” you cooed, scooping the now-sandy haired toddler up into your arms and giving him a hug, his little chubby arms wrapping around you as best they could. You marvelled at how much he resembled Remus, the same tiny smile on his face.

“Be careful, he likes hair now apparently,” Fred grumbled, rubbing a patch on his head that you assumed Teddy had yanked. You laughed as you sat beside him, nudging his side a little with a wink, “I thought you liked having your hair pulled.”

“I do, but only when it’s you that does it, not when a baby does it with the intention of making me bald,” Fred replied, but despite himself he was smiling at Teddy, who had curled up in your lap and was babbling nonsense to you both.

You glanced up, noticing a presence watching you, finding Molly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a spatula and practically cooing at the sight of her son and his wife looking after a baby.

“Oh you remind me of me and Arthur when we had our Bill,” she gushed, waving the spatula in your direction. You smiled at her warmly and shifted the toddler a little, Fred holding his tiny hand in his much larger one.

“I’m assuming Bill was a lot calmer than the rest of them, eh Molly,” you laughed, watching as she nodded immediately, nearly sighing as she thought back to her other children.

“Indeed. Charlie was a nightmare, always finding creatures from the garden and claiming them as his pets - once found a Doxy in his room that he’d been keeping from me, if you can believe it! An absolute pest, had to get rid of it as soon as I could. Percy was a good child, very smart. Almost as good as Bill. And then came you two,” she pointed the spatula at Fred who mocked innocence and pointed to himself in shock, “Who were nightmares. Then there was Ron and Ginny, but they were almost easy compared to the twins.”

Fred grinned smugly, “We enjoy keeping you on your toes, mother dearest, what can we say.”

Molly hummed disapprovingly at him, “I can’t wait until you both have a baby - for your sake, Y/n, dear, I hope they’re like Bill. For your sake, Fred, I hope they’re like you were, an absolute terror.”

Fred’s jaw dropped comically, absent-mindedly taking Teddy from you as he crawled on his lap, jogging him up and down on his knee, “Terror? Me? As if. I’m the light of your life. Besides, it’s awfully forward of you to think we’re having a child, Mum.”

“Oh look at you both with him,” Molly gestured pointedly at the toddler, who was happily playing with Fred’s jumper, “You’re parents already, you just need a baby of your own.”

With that, she turned to head back into the kitchen, as Fred turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows, “What d’ya reckon, eh love? Want a baby with me?”

“Already picked the names,” you joked, taking Teddy back from him and lifting him up in the air, making him squeal in delight, waving his little fists around.

Fred grinned, then found himself watching the way you were holding Teddy, the way you were cradling him so gently, making him smile and laugh. He bit his lip, imagining what it would be like with his own baby - one with his ginger hair, his nose, and your eyes and lips. One that was half him and half you.

All through the rest of the gathering, all through playing games with his family, talking about how Bill and Fleur were expecting their baby in April, and how Hermione was doing working in the Ministry, all he was thinking about was starting a family with you, watching as you cared for Teddy, to give Harry and Ginny and few hours alone before they took him back for the evening.

And as he sat, arm slung around your shoulder, Teddy now asleep across both of your laps, he decided he wanted his own baby with you.

Later that night, after you’d returned Teddy to his godfather, you and Fred retreated back to the room you were staying in in the Burrow. You lay on the bed, watching your husband move around the room, seemingly deep in his own mind as you watched him bump into the corner of the cabinet twice, and nearly trip over the rug, before you spoke, “What’s on your mind, Freddie?”

He paused in place, having removed his trousers and instead stood in a shirt and his boxers, “Just thinking about Teddy... and you... and how good you are with him.”

“You’re pretty good with him too, you know, he loves you. Kept asking for his ‘Unca Fwed’ when I gave him back to Harry,” you laughed a little, shaking your head.

Fred grinned, “He’s pretty cute, huh? Been wondering what it’d be like to have him around all the time. Except not him, but a different baby. Our baby, to be precise.”

“You want a baby?”

Fred nodded, almost shyly as he pulled his shirt off and threw it over to you, you swapping the shirt you were wearing for his, happily breathing in the smell of him clinging to the fabric.

You smiled at him, holding your arms out to him as he crawled up the bed until his body hovered above yours, leaning on his forearms on either side of your head.

Wrapping arms around neck, you leaned up to brush your lips against his, “I’d love to have a baby with you, Freddie.”

He nudged his nose against yours, humming contently, “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft smile, kissing him gently, “Imagine, we could have one by next Christmas, or one on the way.”

“Maybe babies. Multiples run in the family, you know,” he murmured, moving to place kisses along your jawline and you felt him grin against your skin.

“I’m not having twins,” you deadpanned, shaking your head at him fondly as you scoffed out a laugh. Fred pulled back a little, still grinning back at you cheekily as he gently rocked his hips against yours, making your head fall back against the pillow,

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that, love.”

[stonerbughead]

stonerbughead's year in writing 2021

i wanted to take a moment before 2021 ends to say a huge thank you to all the bughead and nace fanfic writers - and to all the readers who reblogged, messaged, left kudos, or left a comment on my fics this year! y'all truly kept me going in these trying times, and i'm hoping for a better 2022 for all of us!

anyway i'm proud of how much i managed to write this year despite riverdale canon providing very little inspiration, so i thought i'd do a round up.

right back where we started from (3/12) i started a new WIP this year! my bugvarchie the O.C. AU feat. core four friendship has been so fun to write tho the slowburn has been killing me. can't wait to make varchie and bughead smooch. bugvarchie endgame!

I posted two new chapters of my ongoing WIP Exhale (18/23) in 2021, chapter 17 and chapter 18. i'm so grateful to readers who have been invested in this story since 2018!

@riverdalepromptathon gave me a reason to write a few different codas to existing fics that i'm proud of:

familiar places (1/1), a fluffy bughead moment within the Pop Tate, Working Class Hero universe (in which Pop's is worker-owned.)

do you think i'm being foolish if i don't rush in? (1/1), a dinner party with Bughead and the gang three years after if it feels like a home

feel it all around (1/1), a prompt fill for @lucivar showing Bughead through the years as seen, told, and observed by the ensemble cast of do you like or like like me?

other fandom events gave me inspiration to expand my horizons too!

under the boardwalk (1/1), @riverdalepocweek gave me a great excuse to expand on a universe i created for the @riverdaleprideandjoyzine. i love my gurl Melody Valentine and it was fun to write some more about the Pussycats and my boy Munroe.

four years later (1/1) the @aceandnancy @nancydrewcentral Nace Appreciation Week event inspired me to finally write my first Nace fic! Private investigators going undercover as lovers felt like a good way to kick off writing for that pairing ;)

and the holidays gave me an excuse to get festive, including the time honored tradition of Bughead Secret Santa!

friendsgiving 2012 (2/2), a Thanksgiving coda to do you like or like like me? set during Bughead and the gang's freshman year of college.

you can count on me (2/3), my fake dating tropefest @bugheadsecretsanta gift for @theheavycrown, which i'm working on finishing as soon into the new year as i can (the last chapter is set during new years so I'm soaking up all the inspo I can and going out with a writing bang!)

2022 writing plans:

Exhale: i don't make too many promises when it comes to this fic anymore, but i do plan to update. i'll do an annual 4/20 update for sure, but hopefully more!

right back where we started from: i plan to finish writing chapter 4 early in the new year, and am hoping to make some progress in general! there are a lot of exciting moments in the ch 4-5-6-7 territory of my outline, so excited to write it.

Write more Nace! I'm really hoping to write for Nancy/Ace more in the new year, bc it was very fun and i'm hoping canon Nancy Drew is gonna deliver some serious inspo when it returns in January. also you can catch all my nace ranting @acesnancy, my ND sideblog

i have a longshot hope that i'll write more in the if it feels like a home universe but we shall see! you never know where 2022 might take us!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, and lots of love to everyone who makes fandom great! (Too many people to tag, i already tried.) 💖

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Crescent Moon 1/1

Title: Crescent Moon

Pairing: Henry Cavill x YOU

Rating: Sexy, fluff, teasing, some swearing and borderline language

Summary: As a working model, you landed a coveted Dunhill Cologne job. The number one rule in the industry is NOT to get involved with your fellow models. But, the delicious blue eyed boy waiting for you on set changed your mind. 

Gif by amancanfly

Note: this is absolutely a trash fic. So.. here ya go :)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘I can’t very well put my tongue in her mouth without even knowing her name, Jamie,’ Henry groused and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to where you sat in a rickety director’s chair getting your make-up retouched.

‘You’re so fucking, English, Henry,’ Jamie replied easily. ‘Do you need a little page three girl? Get your courage up?’

‘Fuck off.’

Why would he need boobs in newspaper form when he had a real live woman right there on set?

Jamie laughed and slid an overly friendly arm around Henry where his tuxedo jacket stretched crisp and inky black across his broad shoulders.

‘Listen. You are the handsome face of Dunhill. Right? You are paid to do what you’re told and to sell the product. It’s my job as principal photographer to make you look delicious so that every little wet twat out there wants to buy this cologne for her ruddy, beer bellied husband and every lad wants to look exactly like you in the hopes of pulling a posh bird.’

Jamie thumped Henry’s chest with the base of his palm and smoothed down the artfully undone bowtie around his neck.

‘We understand each other?’

Henry nodded. He depended on Jamie for the campaign and pissing him off wasn’t in his best interest.

‘Good, now go sit in the chair and put your fucking tongue into her mouth. And for the love of god, act like you like it.’

‘What’s her name?’ Henry asked shrugging out from under the heavy arm weighing him down.

‘Fuck if I know, ask her yourself. While you’re at it, why not ask for her ring size as well and her old gran’s maiden name.’

‘Jesus Christ, Jamie. What the hell is wrong with you?’

Jamie scrubbed a hand across his unkempt face and was tempted to spill his guts about the divorce papers with which he’d been served that morning.

‘Just…. go do what I tell you and we can all get paid. We still have a night shoot on the bridge and we have to make it quick.’

With that, Jamie turned round and walked off of the dimly lighted set. To calm himself, Henry tried to push his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and not for the first time that day he remembered that they were rented and the pockets had been sewn shut. Instead, he swiped his moist hands on his thighs and went back to the curved, crescent shaped chair on the set. It was supposed to be an easy shoot. Lounge in the chair, smoulder, have girl between his thighs leaning adoringly over him, avoid looking down her low-cut top and boom – 5k in the account.

When you joined him on set, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes,  and half-smiled awkwardly. He’d been paired with high end models before who had been icy and hurried. But you were someone he felt he could talk to. He asked your name.

To which you turned to him, smiled curiously,  and gave it.

‘I thought you already knew it,’ you said.

Henry leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together between them.

‘I turn up, do what they tell me and go home to walk my dog,’ he laughed and then cringed, caving beneath the weight of how lame he must have sounded.

He was Fat Cavill all over again, floundering and unable to talk to a pretty girl. He hated himself for it.

Henry was heartened when you made an interested noise and leaned in close.

‘What’s his name? Your dog.’

Names, he thought. See Jamie? Names were important.

‘Kal,’ he said.

‘Kal… like Kal-el?’

With his eyes brightening, he turned towards you.

‘Yeah! Like that. Do you.. I mean are you… so you know about Superman?’

You grinned and bobbed your head.

‘Who doesn’t know about Superman? I mean… my little brother collects comics and I used to watch that show back in the 90s.’

You shrugged and teased slyly, ‘Pfft, who doesn’t know about Superman,’ but in a way that asked if he was really wondering if normal people didn’t know about one of the most famous comic book superheros.

Henry wasn’t bothered by it. He he smiled, intrigued and was about to continue the conversation when Jamie, holding his massive digital camera, swaggered over and pointedly waited for you to stop talking.

‘Right, you two lovebirds getting good and acquainted?’

‘He’s nice,’ you said, pressing your elbow into Henry’s side. ‘He’s got a dog named Kal. You know, like Superman.’

Absolutely pleased with you in that moment, Henry ducked his head and squashed a grin. But Jamie looked blankly at you and then made a face of disgust.

‘Here’s how it’s going to go. You two are having an illicit night out, met at a party, little drinks, a little dancing and you’re into each other. You can’t wait to leave together. You like her, you like him and shagging is definitely on the table. I want that from you. I want longing looks, I want wet parted lips, I want sex. Ok, got it?’

He looked directly at Henry.

‘Or shall I bring out the finger puppets.’

You smiled and nodded happily. You weren’t sure what was going on with the photographer, but a job was a job and you had dealt with worse.

‘Get into your original positions, please,’ Jamie said motioning towards you.

You got up, untwisted the thin shoe strap across your ankle and waited for Henry to lay back against the chair. He reached up for you and cradled your hips as you positioned between his spread thighs. You put your knee down between them, careful not to press up against his sizable bulge and with one hand on his shoulder, you artfully leaned in. Your breasts swung forward in your skimpy top and you turned just a little so that they wouldn’t bounce out and hit him in the face.

Not that you thought he would mind, considering how fixated on them he had been for nearly the entire shoot.

But you yourself hadn’t been so innocent.

You had noticed how much he was packing when you were first posed together and that little lizard part of your brain wanted to feel him.

Henry was fixated on you and you were fixated on him. You looked down into his big puppy dog eyes and could tell that he was still feeling nervous, as he had been all morning. You wanted to relax him, maybe play a little.

‘Look at you,’ you murmured, leaning in closer as his attention snapped to your face. ‘Lying there like the perfect boy.’

Henry’s lips parted and he gave you such an adoring look that you greedily drank it in like a cool glass of wine. You popped open a few of his shirt buttons and gingerly curved your fingers about his naked throat, marvelling at how immediately the shyness melted from his eyes. One corner of his lush mouth curved up into a slight smile and the fingers clenching your hips pulled you closer. He froze when his own actions pressed your knee right into his groin. You both looked down at where you were touching him so intimately, yet neither of you moved.

‘Whatever you two are fucking doing, don’t you fucking stop.’

Jamie was close now, the camera shutter clicking madly, but he was an annoyance in your peripheral. Your entire focus was on the boy beneath you and the big hand working across your bottom.

Not wanting to give away what you were doing to him, Henry hissed in a long indulgent breath and undulated in response to the upward press of your knee. Colour seeped into his cheeks and when you leaned down, hovering your wet mouth over his, he groaned softly. Everything muted and faded into the background and he lifted his chin to close the distance between you. The gentle confident stroke of his tongue along your sensitive lips rippled a delectable sensation through you and tightened your nipples into tender peaks.

This couldn’t be real, you thought. Are you that willing to fuck this man right here in front of the whole crew?

‘Ok, that’s good you two. I think I have enough.’

Someone was talking. 

It was Jamie.

 And just like that, the spell was broken. You scrambled back and off of Henry. Standing up, you quickly dusted off the back of your dress. Henry’s hand had been so hot against your arse that you were sure he had left handprints.

You tried not to look back at the man still lounging on the chair. But you couldn’t help it. One sly glance at him looking positively debauched, told you that it wasn’t over between you. And it was later in the back of the setpiece Bentley that Henry showed you how much more he wanted.

-end

Thank you for reading and please consider reblogging to help me to reach a wider audience :) 

@lightsidecalling @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @emmaofgreengabbles @justaboringadult @jencanbeyouryengeralt @skittywittykitty @g0ldenlush @xxxkatxo @the-soot-sprite @rachie725 @harrysthiccthighss @little-green-love @littlefreya @foxyjwls007 @xshadyladyx @angreav @mstgsmy @ruthoakenshield @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @henry-owns-these-tatas @supernaturallymarvellous @cynic-spirit @whiskey-cokenfanfic​ @laketaj24 @october505 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @foodieforthoughts @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @singeramg  @sapphirescrolls  @emyearns​

[queridopascal]

The new job (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Part 1 of the “Ad Astra” series

Summary: as your eyes scanned the page, the words “spatial coordinates” and the phrase “writings and symbols no one has been able to decipher” made your eyes widen and your interest spike... (word count: 1.7k)

Warning: mention of food and drinks

A/N: my first ever Mando fic/series (even though we don't get to meet him in this first chapter)! Huge thanks to @hnt-escape for beta reading, and I hope you guys enjoy it ✨

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ❤️

NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Sitting alone in your home office with a mug of coffee in your hand, you shuffled through the heap of unopened mail you found upon your return from your last expedition: advertising brochures, leaflets, bills and, at the bottom of the stack, a cream-coloured paper envelope with slightly torn edges.

Prompted by curiosity, you put down the mug and opened the letter with an old knife you kept in the first drawer: it was typewritten, dated 25th of September and signed at the bottom by a certain Elizabeth Williams.

As your eyes scanned the page, the words “spatial coordinates” and the phrase “writings and symbols no one has been able to decipher” made your eyes widen and your interest spike. Your work as an archaeologist had given you the opportunity to travel the world, discover different types of artifacts and ruins, get closer to cultures and their ancient origins; but something inside of you, a feeling in your gut, was telling you that what was described in the letter was unique and, possibly, something you had never seen before.

Without giving it a second thought, you dialed the phone number scribbled underneath the signature and waited with bated breath as you began fidgeting with a pen, clicking it open with every beeping sound coming from the other side.

“Hello?” a calm tone greeted you.

“Mrs. Williams?” you asked, clearing your throat.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Hi, I’m-”

“I know who you are, I’ve been waiting for your call.” the woman said with a smile in her voice.

“Oh,” you gasped, “I... received your letter and I would love to hear more about this artifact you mention.”

“Great. I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow morning at 9 sharp.”

“Thanks, Mrs Williams,” you nodded, “do I… have to bring anything?”

“Your knowledge will be sufficient, my dear.”

Once you both ended the call, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, feeling anxious and impatient for what was about to come and reliving the exact same sensations you had experienced the day of your very first excavation.

After a sleepless night, you were awakened by the furious pitter patter of heavy rain against the windows. The dark grey of the sky made every room of your house incredibly cold and humid, and you put on your favorite cardigan as you dragged your feet into the kitchen to prepare something for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you took a quick shower and got dressed in your favorite black pencil skirt and a white blouse, a matching blazer and a pair of heels completed the look. You took a seat on the couch in your living room and waited for the driver.

At 9AM there was a knock at your front door, and you immediately grabbed your blazer and your purse and walked over to it.

“Good morning, Miss,” the driver bowed his head a little and extended his gloved hand to you while opening a black umbrella with the other. “Please, follow me. Mrs. Williams and her colleagues are waiting for you.”

You put your hand in his as he walked you over to the sedan; he opened the car door and waited for you to get in, shutting it swiftly once you got comfortable in the cream leather back seat.

After a two hours drive, the car stopped in front of a wired mesh and barbed wire fence, lined with several “Military Zone” signs. A couple of seconds later, the guarded gates opened with a screech, letting the car enter what looked like a tunnel carved inside of a mountain.

The driver pulled up in front of a large white door with soldiers on either side, where an elderly woman waited with crossed arms.

“Goodmorning my dear,” the woman stepped towards you. “I’m Elizabeth. Welcome to the Falls Hill military installation.”

She hugged you tightly and you stiffened at first, looking at the two soldiers, whose eyes were fixed on a point in front of them.

“Come, I’ll show you around.”

One of the guards stepped to the side and held the door open for you and Mrs. Williams. The large corridor that extended in front of you reminded you of a war bunker: it was grey and cold, illuminated by pale neon lights, and it had the same distinctive smell you would find in the subway.

You followed her obediently, and when she reached the end of the corridor, she slowly opened a set of double doors bearing an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign; taking a step forward, your mouth dropped open in wonder as soon as you laid eyes on what looked like a giant stone ring covered with strange inscriptions.

“I've never seen anything like this,” you gulped, keeping your eyes fixed on the object.

Mrs. Williams chuckled, pleased at your reaction. “No one has, my dear.”

“Can I…?” you asked in a trembling voice as you pointed at the artifact.

Elizabeth nodded and you walked over to it, placing your hand on the rough surface of the stone to feel the engraved characters under your fingers.

“These inscriptions,” you started, turning to her, “might be hieratic or maybe cuneiform, I think I've seen some of those symbols before.”

“Perhaps you could help us with the interpretation?” she moved to stand beside you and tilted her head to the side, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, of course. I'll get to work right away.”

The hours passed quickly, and between one cup of coffee and another, it was already evening. The succession of symbols and characters engraved in the stone kept repeating in your mind, a mix of infinite combinations and interpretations, from the most logical to the least plausible.

Wrinkling your eyes for tiredness, you looked up from all your papers and notes, finding a new possible interpretation of the second row that made your heart race.

“Mrs. Williams, was anything else found in the proximity of this object?”

“I was hoping you'd ask me,” she smiled and motioned you to follow her.

Elizabeth led you through a hallway and stopped in front of another door, resting both hands on the opening handle.

“You are not to speak of this to anyone, understand?”

You simply nodded, your breath catching in your throat at her request.

“Mrs. Williams, I haven't issued any new authorization papers for this lady.” a baritone voice captured your attention, and you turned around only to find a soldier in uniform staring back at you.

“Colonel Shaw, it's nice to see you again,” Elizabeth greeted him with a gentle smile, but the man looked at her with a serious and impenetrable gaze.

“Mrs. Williams, I don't think I'll have to remind you that what's inside this room is classified.” he walked over to the both of you, his expression unfazed.

“She's the new addition to my team, Colonel,” she said, looking him straight into his icy blue eyes, “a world-renowned archaeologist who is going to help us decipher the inscriptions on the stone ring.”

“Exactly. Then why are you here?” he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Because,” you cleared your throat “the second row of inscriptions refers to another object, described as the portal.”

The Colonel raised an eyebrow at you and sighed, then looked at Elizabeth.

“Permission denied.”

“Excuse me, Colonel Shaw. I was told you would have given me carte blanche, especially since the government authorized this project,” she stepped towards him with her usual calm tone.

“Not for long,” he retorted, “you have one more week Mrs. Williams, the clock is ticking. And since she doesn't have any authorization at the moment, I won't grant her access into this room.”

“Then I guess I'll have to ask Captain Gallo,” she crossed her arms. “See, he was the one who helped us get started with this project and I'm sure he would authorize this young lady in a heartbeat.”

The Colonel exhaled angrily, his jaw was clenched in frustration and you smiled to yourself.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth “You have my permission.”

6 days later

Staring at the portal, the inscripted characters on dark metal and stone looked so similar to something you had seen before, but also so different. You felt intimidated by that object, almost in awe, it was as if it gave off vibrations within the room, as if it wanted to give you clues to solve that riddle that had been keeping you and the rest of the team awake for days.

“Morning guys,” Elizabeth walked into the research lab with a box of donuts, “I brought something to eat.”

“Thanks,” you beamed at her as you took a glazed donut from the container. “I really needed something with sugar.”

“How is the research going?”

“Bad,” Linda, one of the members of the team, shook her head, “no matches whatsoever.”

“Is that so?” Elizabeth turned to you, her expression somber.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “even if the inscriptions look familiar to us, when comparing them to all the material we have available, we found no similarities. We’re missing something and tomorrow is the last day.”

“I’m gonna ask for a permit extension, I'm sure they'll grant it to me,” she stroked your back, comforting you.

“I found another reference!” Linda squealed with excitement “Shall we start with the comparison?”

“Absolutely,” you rushed to her side and took a seat on the corner of her desk, looking at the monitor of her computer.

The documents she had just found showed incredible similarities, and referred to an engraved metal fragment found a few months earlier in the Atacama Desert.

“These three symbols are exactly the same ones of the central row!” you exclaimed, not believing your eyes.

Linda nodded, then gulped, “They also say here that they found out some symbols represent a stylized version of constellations, and that this type of metal is not…”

“Terrestrial,” you added as you kept on reading the description under one of the pictures.

Mrs. Williams looked at the both of you with a proud smile, then she walked over to the other desk and dialed a number on the phone.

“Captain, we finally found a match for the inscriptions.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @withakindheartx @katiebits1 @evelynseventyr @derretendotoda @darnitdraco @janebby @mswarriorbabe80 @audreyispunk @agingerindenial @jediknight122 @princess76179 @elegantduckturtle @t3rradactyl @cheekygeek05 @serini-ty @tobealostwanderer @tothejedi @castleamcc @thatgirlselectryc @rosie-posie08 @snow30285 @radiowallet @heythere-mel @hnt-escape @kestrelmando @greeneyedblondie44 @carstwirs @hb8301 @sara-alonso @pedrostories @phoenixhalliwell @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @sleep-tight1 @jennacide02 @aana4664 @jasterslegacy @almaeunice @hexedeslichts @midwesternwitchery @what-iwish-you-knew @littlemisspascal @ew-erin

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Duke and His Swan (5/5)

Summary: Dearest Reader, the ton is abuzz with speculation that the new Duke of Ironhook will be remaining in town for the duration of the Season. Second born of the illustrious Jones family, Killian Jones has quite the legacy to live up to now he has inherited the dukedom from his late elder brother. Also entering Society for her first season is Miss Emma Swan, ward to the Viscount Nolan’s family. Gifted with a respectable dowry, Miss Swan’s financial worth and uncommon good looks will surely make up for her rumored prickly disposition in the eye of more than one fortune seeking suitor. Stay tuned, Dear Reader, for this author has it on good authority His Grace and Miss Swan shall cause quite a sensation, perhaps even resulting in… scandal!

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post a sneak peek this week! I know I promised I would, but when it came down to it everything seemed too spoilery.  I hope posting early will make up for it, though! With all the Memorial Day events we have planned tomorrow, I wanted to make sure the final installment got posted sooner rather than later.

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I SO appreciate all the reblogs, comments, likes, kudos, and reviews. Thanks so much!!

Much love to @artistic-writer for the gorgeous pic set she created to accompany this fic, and a thousand rainbow hearts and unicorn stickers to @kmomof4 and @ilovemesomekillianjones for being my cheerleader and beta, respectively. Love you ladies to bits!!

Rated M for language and smut / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Part Five

What a whirlwind of a week, Dear Readers. One filled with tantalizing tales that I, Lady Priscilla Candlewyck, promise to convey to you even as they continue to unfold within the ton.

First, it seems Mr. Neal Cassidy has found himself no longer in possession of a membership at Aesop’s. While speculation runs rampant, I can tell you his honor has been called into question. It seems he owes vast sums to a number of debtors, a problem he likely sought to solve by marrying an heiress, which would explain his relentless pursuit of a certain Duke’s Swan. While such circumstance is not unheard of within the ton, it appears that is only the beginning of Mr. Cassidy’s misfortunes. This Author has heard it rumored the man recently engaged in an act of such cowardice and despicable character, he is no longer welcome in any respectable home or business and is, at this very moment, embarking on an extended journey abroad where we can only hope he will have the good sense to remain in exile.

But let us not dwell on these unpleasant topics, Dear Reader, for there is reason to rejoice! Like many of you, I confess a most undignified sound of pure elation escaped me when I read the Pronouncement of Engagement between Miss Emma Swan and The Duke of Ironhook in yesterday’s evening paper. I must tell you, though, Faithful Reader, that is not the most exciting and intriguing bit of news regarding the Duke and his Swan. For by the time you read this, the two will have found themselves, not simply intended for one another, but pronounced husband and wife! At this very moment, they are likely on their way to the Duke’s country estate to begin their honeymoon, and I am sure you will join me in wishing them every happiness and satisfaction in their wedded bliss.

~/~

A warm, orange glow filled the cab of the Duke’s carriage as it gently rocked and swayed the two inhabitants sitting in quiet resolve within. Other than when they’d exchanged their vows earlier that morning, Emma and the Duke had not said much to one another. Pleasantries mostly. Expected and necessary comments of polite and proper discourse as they entertained the few guests invited to the ceremony and modest reception. Overly civil and formal exchanges when they’d stopped for dinner on the road. Emma thought she might go mad from the silence, but was at a loss of how to break it without causing greater damage to their already fractured existence.

Silhouettes of towering trunks flickered past the carriage window, alerting Emma to the change of scenery. Killian had told her his lands lay just beyond a forest where the occasional vagrant or bandit would attempt to waylay coaches at night, thus their need to leave out from the city by midday so they could reach the estate by nightfall. She supposed he did not relish having to spend their wedding night at a roadside inn, and was quite frankly glad of that.

Nerves fluttered through her chest and down into her stomach at the prospect of what awaited her once they reached the estate. Churnings of both apprehension and anticipation had made it difficult for her to consume much of anything that day, and with the sun’s descent towards the horizon and the pace of the carriage seemingly increasing in speed, her heart soon matched their swiftness with its strumming beats racing beneath her breast.

Perhaps sensing the mounting tension permeating the cab from her attempts to quell her thoughts regarding their wedding night, Killian shifted in his seat and finally broke the silence hanging heavily between them.

“Not much farther now.” His own gaze was fixed on the blur of trees sweeping past. “I sent word yesterday to the housekeeper, Mrs. Tremaine, that a formal welcome and introduction of the staff can wait until tomorrow. I imagined you’d be tired upon our arrival and would wish to be shown to your room so you might turn in for the night.”

Emma’s head snapped toward his, her brow creased in confusion as she questioned, “My room?”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes remained focused on the landscape which had begun to change back into golden fields as they left the shadows of the forest. “Aye. It is customary for the Duchess to have her own chambers, and I would not presume to expect duties from you until--”

“But I am perfectly prepared to meet those expectations,” Emma assured him. His eyes fell shut and a heavy exhale shuddered from his chest, prompting her to reach forward and place her hand over his, balled up into a fist atop his thigh. “Killian,” she said softly. “I know you do not love me, that this is a marriage born of duty and not something you truly wanted, but I am determined to make the best of our situation. I know what is expected of me, what is required of us, in order to secure the future of the Ironhook name. You need an heir, and there is only one way for us to produce one. I may not have been your first choice as Duchess, just as being a wife and mother was not something I had ever anticipated wanting, but we both must find a way to compromise the expectations we had for our lives and make the best of the one we find ourselves forever joined in.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, she looked at him pleadingly, needing him to meet her halfway in this commitment and the forgiveness she desperately sought from him while wishing to impart her own absolution for the part he played in their current predicament. The desire to confess the fullness of her heart to him remained firmly planted on her tongue. She was certain he felt trapped enough as it was, and did not wish to add to the burden of his responsibility to her by making him feel as though he must reciprocate the love she held for him. Perhaps, if she were truly fortunate, he would come to love her with time.

“You think I…” Killian’s words, even as they trailed off, pulled her attention back to him. She flinched back when he raised his other fist and pounded on the wall behind him, the one that separated the cab from the driver. The carriage slowed to a stop, and before Emma could pose an inquiry as to why, Killian stepped out and demanded the reins from the coachman.

Emma jostled when the wheels began to turn once more, her hands gripping the bottom of the window as she peered out to see where Killian was taking them. They had not traveled far when a lane appeared on their right, its destination leading to a grand manor house Emma could barely make out in the waning light of the day. After coming to a stop once more, Killian alighted from the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door, assisting her from the cab with an expression full of trepidation.

“Where… Where are we?” Emma asked, taking in the vast house and sweeping lawns. “What is this place?”

“This,” Killian said, leading her away from the carriage and to a better vantage point where she could appreciate the manor and all its amenities better, “is my wedding gift to you.”

“What?”

“I was planning to show it to you tomorrow, but after all you said in the carriage, I knew it could not wait until then.”

“I do not understand,” Emma replied, casting her perplexed expression upon him. “My wedding gift? Why would I have need of--”

“The east wing would be an ideal place to keep the orphaned children. It has multiple levels of rooms so you could have a floor for boys and one for girls.” He stretched out his arm and gestured towards the other side of the manor, suggesting, “I thought the west wing might serve as a place where you could house women who find themselves in similar circumstances as your mother had. Provide them with a safe place where they can bring their baby into the world with dignity, giving them options on what they think might be the best chance for them and their child. Whether it’s leaving them in your care here at the orphanage, or perhaps making a fresh start with a proper reference from a Duchess, no less.”

Words caught in Emma’s throat, impeding her ability to draw in a full breath. When she did not respond to his vision for what he’d had in mind with his wedding gift, he stepped before her, taking her hands in his own, and ran his thumbs soothingly along the backs of her knuckles.

“I told your brother to put your dowry in trust, so you might use it as you see fit,” he told her in a hushed and gentle tone. “And as you’ll see, the manor is only a short distance from our estate, making it convenient for you to be as hands on with the orphanage as you wish to be.”

“I don’t… how did you… is this manor not part of your--”

“It used to be August’s,” he confided. “It belonged to his mother’s side of the family, but he lost it gambling many years ago.”

“To you?”

“No,” he replied with a soft smile. “To a man who passed on some time ago, and through whose solicitor I acquired it the day before yesterday.”

“The day before…” Emma’s breath caught at the earnest look in Killian’s eyes, the way he waited for the full measure of understanding to settle over her as she parsed. “Before the Camelot Ball? Before we… before the gardens and our… before Mr. Cassidy witnessed us and you… before--”

Her words cut off when Killian leaned in and rested his forehead against her. “Aye,” he breathed. “Before all of that.”

“Why?”

His tongue darted out and wet his lips, his eyelids fluttering closed as his chest labored from a fortifying breath. “Because, love. This is your heart’s desire.” Opening once more, Emma felt herself getting lost in his forget-me-not depths as he continued to profess things she never found herself brave enough to dream he’d say to her. “I promise that’s all I want you to have. I did not want you to compromise anything of your wants and desires to be my wife, and had hoped, once I had a chance to convey that to you, it would have been enough to convince you to say yes.”

“Say yes?” Emma parroted breathlessly. “You mean… you already had intentions of proposing?”

“Of course I did, Swan,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her lips as darkness enveloped them. “I love you.”

His hands released hers in favor of holding her face within their gentle grasp. His eyes bounced between hers as he unburdened himself of all the things she imagined he’d been holding back from declaring, afraid of the weight such proclamations might add to her perceived disappointment in being forced to marry, just as she had refrained from expressing similar sentiments to him.

“I love you, and there is nothing I will not do to ensure your happiness in the hopes that one day you might return my love.”

Emma opened her mouth, but her response stuck in the back of her throat, overcome by the emotion welling up from within.

“I will not deny my desire for children, but the legacy of an heir can wait until such a time you are ready. Indeed, I am willing to wait in regards to all aspects of our marital bed until you are comfortable with the notion, despite how much I want you.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle above flickering in time with her pulse as his words, the veracity of which she could see swirling in his darkened gaze, sent her own longings thundering through her veins. Dusk had begun to cast its nightly spell, leaving the air around them charged with wistful promises of possibilities long yearned for. Possibilities Emma determined to take hold of, not wishing to let another moment go by where doubt or misconstrued intentions might rob them of the happiness they had already delayed with their foolish presumptions.

Surging upward onto her toes, Emma fused her lips to Killian’s. After a moment’s pause, getting over the shock of her unexpected action, he slipped a hand to the back of her neck and tentatively returned the kiss. It occurred to Emma she had said nothing since his declaration, and while clearly not opposed to what she had hoped to convey with her kiss, Killian had always been a man of words and, therefore, would need the assurance of hers before he would allow himself to read too much into her actions.

“Take me home, Killian,” she breathed against his lips. “Take me to our bed. Make me your wife.”

His fingers dug into the back of her neck, his grip tightening there and at her waist where his other hand had settled. “Are you sure, love?”

“As sure as I am of my love for you.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers as an expression of reserved hopefulness swept over his features. “What?”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emma raised herself up a bit higher on her toes so she could press her forehead to his. “I love you, Killian. I love you, and I… want you, too. So, please, Your Grace. Take me home.”

An audible gasp, tinted with laughter and surprise, rushed over her lips when Killian bent down and lifted her into his arms, marching a quick path back towards their carriage with a growling, As you wish… Your Grace, rumbling from his chest.

~/~

Emma’s lips tingled and her skin was flushed from the simmering heat coursing through her veins. Mindful to not put any extra sway in the carriage during the short ride to the estate, Killian had tried to keep their interactions somewhat chaste, but by the time they rolled up the long drive leading to the grand house, Emma had found herself on his lap making a right mess of his hair as he plundered every bit of exposed skin his lips could reach. The heat at her cheeks intensified when she took in Killian’s disheveled appearance as they entered the house and greeted the Housekeeper and Butler, imagining she likely looked in quite a state as well and hoping they wouldn’t judge her too critically.

“No need, Mrs. Tremaine,” Killian waved off the woman’s offer to help the Duchess get settled in. “I’ll see to my wife’s needs this evening.” Placing his hand to the small of her back, he steered Emma towards the grand staircase and murmured huskily in her ear, “Each and every need, even if it takes until dawn.”

A shudder of wonder ran down her spine and anticipation fluttered through her chest and low in her belly. How she managed to make it up all those stairs with her legs wobbling, she’d never know, but their tremble was nothing in comparison to the quiver taking hold of her entire body now that she was alone with Killian in his - their - bedroom.

“Are you still certain, love? I can show you to your room if you’d rather--”

“No!” Emma protested, perhaps a bit too vehemently. Her brazen insistence and his amused expression made her blush once more. “That is… I’m sure.”

“Good,” he murmured, stepping closer with a confident swagger. His eyes swept over her with a predatory hunger, making her feel like a hare caught in a wolf’s sights. “Turn around,” he commanded, softly but firmly.

It did not even occur to her to inquire the reason as she immediately obeyed, turning her back to him with the soft crackle of the fireplace attempting to combat the shiver that skittered over her arms in the wake of Killian’s fingertips. Without a single word spoken between them, he meticulously and reverently removed each of her garments. His deft fingers made short work of the closures at the back of her traveling gown and his determined tugs at her laces divested her of her corset in record time. All that was left was her underskirt, but he seemed in no rush to add it to the pool of fabric at her feet just yet, too intent on trailing his lips, teeth, and tongue over the slopes of her shoulders and down her spine, making the fine hairs of her body raise to attention as she fought to keep air in her lungs.

“Positively stunning you are, love,” Killian whispered into her skin, his hot breath rippling over her hip as he placed another kiss above the fastening of her underskirt. “Perfection.”

He popped the button out of its closure then followed the material as it slipped down her legs, the rough calluses on his hands contrasting with the soft texture of the linen as both brushed her skin with a feather light touch. Her flesh broke out in hot waves of prickled goosebumps when he stood behind her, his hands continuing to map the lines and curves of her body. When he turned her back around to face him, she thought she might combust from the desire burning in his eyes and the way his gaze traveled over her breasts.

“You’ve no idea how long I have wanted to see you like this, my darling,” he said, something strained and barely controlled tightening his tone. “I’m going to touch you now, and you let me know if there is anything that isn’t to your liking when I do.”

Emma’s breath caught at the sensation of his touch, running the backs of his fingers along her collarbones then over the swell of breasts. He palmed one breast, kneading it in his hand as his mouth followed the path his fingers had tread, his tongue circling the outer edges of her nipple before he slipped it between his teeth. Certain this time that her legs would fail her, Emma gripped Killian’s arms in an effort to support herself, but the action caused him to rear back, a pained hiss falling from his lips.

“Killian, what…” Her eyes widened with realization when she saw him place his hand over the upper part of his bicep. Gasping, she recalled, “Your wound! Oh, Your Grace, I am so sorry.”

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he assured her with a small vestige of a grimace marring his features. “As the doctor said, I was fortunate, and so long as we are mindful of it, my injury will not detract from the enjoyable activities I have planned for us this evening.”

The image of him hurt and bleeding in that field sprang to mind, and the accompanying emotions of terror, rage, and guilt threatened to consume her once again as they had yesterday morning when she had nearly put a bullet in Neal Cassidy for his treachery.

“Hey, no,” he soothed, cupping her face in his hands. “I will not allow him, or anything else, to cast a pall upon this night.” Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed, “Just you and me, love. Tonight, it is just you and me.”

“You and me,” she echoed back, letting the soft caress of his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks bring her back to the sensations of the moment. Like the pleasant heat of the fire playing against the coolness of the room, and the way her skin came alive at the reminder she had not a stitch of clothing on while Killian was still fully dressed.

Running her hands up his chest, she slipped them beneath the lapels of his coat and carefully guided it over his shoulders and down his arms. He watched her, his gaze intently focused on her face, searching for any trace of hesitancy or uncertainty as she undid the buttons of his waistcoat then moved to the ones at his shirt. When both garments landed on the floor next to his coat, he reached down and grasped the backs of her thighs, lifting her into his arms before she could set work upon his trousers.

Impatient sounds reverberated through Killian’s chest as he laid her atop their bed, his lips desperate in their need to pay homage to every inch of her skin. Emma’s back arched, her hands balling the bed coverings in her fists as he licked and nipped and kissed his way down her body. The tip of his nose trailed from her knee along the inside of her thigh, a silent command that she open herself up to him asserted on the hot breath drifting towards her apex ahead of his mouth.

“Relax, darling,” he imparted, spreading her legs wider as he settled between them. “Lie back and let me taste you.”

When the rough, heated texture of his tongue met the soft dampness of her sex Emma nearly dissolved within the mattress. Head thrown back and eyes clamped shut, she gave herself over to the depraved way Killian was devouring her and all the previously forbidden desires his actions were releasing within her. Sounds she never would have thought herself capable of echoed through the room as her body began to move wantonly in response to each flick and flutter of his wicked tongue, but those utterances and gyrations were nothing in comparison to how she reacted when he slipped a finger into her center, curling it along the inside of her walls before removing it and then thrusting it, and a second, back in again.

“Oh, God! Killian!” she panted, on the verge of begging him to stop, though she felt as though she might die if he did.

While her mind warred with her desires, her body knew full well what it wanted, continuing to chase the release as her hips desperately ground against his mouth. A series of vibrations tormented the sensitive bundle he was currently lavishing his attentions on, hums of appreciation and encouragement from his lips while his free hand skimmed up the heated flesh of her form until it found her breast and squeezed it tightly before rolling her nipple between his fingers.

White spots of dazzling stars exploded behind her eyelids, and a tidal wave of pure pleasure washed over her in waves of relief as an icy fire rippled over her skin in the wake of its ebbing. Her chest heaved, her panting a faint rhythm against the thundering of her blood in her ears. Small tremors coursed their way through her body as Killian finished his ministrations, leaving her one last kiss amid the soft curls above her sex.

She scarcely felt the mattress move when Killian climbed off of it, but his absence forced her eyes open in search of him. He hadn’t gone far, standing beside their bed with his lust filled and hooded gaze raking over her, a shimmer of her essence still clinging to his chin.

He hummed decadently when his tongue swept over his lips. “You have a beautiful taste, my love.”

A fresh swell of desire prickled her skin, flushing her a deeper shade of pink and reawakening the ache between her thighs. When his hands began to work the fastening of his trousers, her gaze remained fixed, her breath coming in labored pants of anticipation laced with apprehension over that which was about to be revealed. The sight of him, rigid and proud and much larger than she had expected made her throat go dry, making it nearly impossible to swallow her surge of panic.

“Don’t be afraid,” Killian murmured in a half plea, half directive tone.

“Isn’t it meant to… hurt, though?”

Crawling back onto the bed, he positioned himself atop her, his hips settling into the space between her still splayed thighs with his weight braced on his forearms, his hand caressing the side of her face. “I would never intentionally cause you pain, love,” he promised. “The initial sensation will feel foreign, like an intrusion, and perhaps be a tad uncomfortable until your body has become accustomed to mine, but once that has passed-” he rolled his hips, allowing his member to slip between her folds and make contact with the pleasure point that had once again begun to throb, pulling a moan from her as rapture ran up her spine. “-all you’ll feel is my love for you. Filling you.” Another tormenting thrust brushed against her, causing her back to leave the mattress. “Worshipping you.” His mouth latched onto her breast, pushed upward from the arch of her back and another wanton sound fell from her lips as he sucked hard on her painfully erect nipple before releasing it with an indecent pop to darkly impart, “Giving you everything you need until these trepidations you feel are a distant memory.”

“What trepidations?” Emma groaned, bucking her hips against his, no longer feeling anything but a fierce desire to be filled and worshiped and given everything he had to offer, just as he’d promised.

He chuckled and shifted his hips. “That’s my fierce lass.”

Reaching down, he lined himself up with her entrance, his eyes never wavering from hers as he pushed inside ever so slightly. At the first hint of her body’s reluctance he withdrew, repeating the languid actions of gliding his length through her slick sex and taunting her bud before attempting his advance once more. It did feel like an intrusion at first, but the mixture of delightful bombardments he was assaulting her with - from the press of his lips slanting against hers, to the touch of his hand now applying pressure to that wondrous place between her legs, to the feel of his cock stretching her in a way that burned with exquisite agony - had her relaxing her guard and welcoming him fully into herself after a few deliberately controlled thrusts.

“Bloody hell, Emma. I’ve never experienced anything as luxurious as the feel of you.” His forehead pressed against hers, damp from the exertion of keeping a tight command upon himself, the strain of which crept into his voice when he told her. “I have to move. Have to feel your walls sliding against my cock. Feel the way you cling to me each time I thrust into your depths. Making you mine as you claim me as yours.”

“Yes!” Emma exclaimed, her nails clawing at his back with each change of pace and rhythm his hips orchestrated.

The scratch of his chest hair against her nipples, the burn of his beard rubbing against her cheek, the grip of his hand on hers, fingers tightly woven together above her head as the snap of his hips jarred her body with fresh pleasures, and his words uttered all the devotion and depravity he wanted her to have from him had her instinctively hitching her legs higher against his waist. The slight change in position unlocked a new trove of unexpected pleasure, shockwaves of bliss bursting up her spine each time his length met the spot she knew would send her over the edge once more.

“There,” she exhaled, not sure her breath had been strong enough to carry the clarity of the word to his ears with his own pants and vocalized breaths ringing in her own. “Right there,” she repeated. Pulling her hands free of his, she grasped his backside and held tight, her nails digging into the firm flesh, causing his rhythm to stutter.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please, Your Grace! Don’t stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Your Grace,” he growled teasingly, his hips pistoning with renewed vigor, making her body stiffen as the final elements of her release gathered at the base of her spine. “That’s it, love,” Killian praised, feeling her walls clamped down around him. “Take your pleasure.”

He was relentless, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her as she felt that same current of pure satisfaction sweep her away within a riptide of euphoria.

“Gods above, Emma,” Killian cried out with a jerk of hips, his length pulsing in her depths, spilling his seed into her as she continued to convulse around him.

With a grunt of exhaustion, Killian collapsed beside her, his hand covering his face as his chest, like hers, fought to find breath.

“That was…” Emma began, not sure how to even begin putting the experience into words.

“A one time thing,” Killian muttered, his tone professing the self-reproach he was inexplicably feeling.

Emma’s heart clenched and her stomach fell away at the thought she had somehow disappointed him, but before the feeling of despair could take root, Killian seemed to realize how his words might have affected her.

Rolling over, he gathered her in his arms, face cupped in his large hand with nothing but love and apology swirling in his eyes. “I meant, my finishing inside you, Swan. I shouldn’t have done that. An heir can wait until after you’ve established your orphanage. I don’t want you becoming pregnant to be an obstacle towards your heart desire. I never meant to--”

Emma cut him off with the press of her mouth, unwilling to relent in her assault against his kiss swollen lips until he was thoroughly distracted from the train of thought he’d allowed himself to traverse.

“You are my heart’s desire, Your Grace.” She brushed the fringe of his hair off his forehead and swept her hand through his riotous strands until her fingers curled around the back of his neck. “You. Killian Jones. The Duke of Ironhook. My husband.” A wide grin broke across his face at her use of that particular moniker. “You are my heart’s desire. You and our future together, whatever that entails, is all I will ever desire. Do you understand me, Your Grace?”

“Aye, love,” he replied with a soft, contented smile. “I understand you perfectly.” Pulling her in tighter, he placed a kiss at her temple and tucked her against his chest. “Because you are, always have been, and always will be, my heart’s desire as well.”

~/~

The ballroom was buzzing with a pleasant murmur of the Duke and Duchess’ friends and family, gathered to celebrate the end of The Season, the arrival of the Nolan heir, and the upcoming nuptials of those among their circle who had found their own match. Killian sipped his champagne from a quiet corner, amusing himself with the way his and Emma’s worlds were colliding right here in their home.

Lord Nolan balked and hovered nervously as his wife handed off their fussing son and heir to Jefferson, who had always had a way with children, able to calm them despite the chaotic nature many within the ton associated with him. Once The Viscount seemed convinced his son was indeed in good hands as Lady Nolan and Jefferson jointly cooed over the quieting infant, Nolan turned back to the conversation he’d been engaged in with Robin, though Killian could not fathom what commonality the two men had found to discuss.

A smile quirked Killian’s lip when he moved his attention to Will, stammering hopelessly as he tried to converse with Miss French, who had been shocked to receive their invitation, given the scandal that had erupted around her after he and Emma had wed and left town.

It seemed her father had lost everything in a series of bad investments and had hoped to marry her off to Gold before the truth was revealed. Fortunately for Miss French - at least, Killian believed her to be most fortunate anyway - the news of Maurice's dire straits broke within Candlewyck’s pages before a contract of betrothal could be drawn up. Unfortunately, it also meant Miss French’s prospects had plummeted, but given the way she seemed receptive to Will’s clearly smitten advances, perhaps things might turn out well for her after all.

A booming laugh pulled his focus towards Nemo, assembled in a group that included Lord Huntsman, Miss Lucas, and the Widow Lucas. No doubt Granny had made one of her off-color remarks, catching Nemo by surprise and thus eliciting such a guffaw it had pulled everyone’s attention to the furiously blushing young couple who were mere weeks away from their wedding and the start of their own happily ever after. The thought of happily ever afters had him instinctively scanning the room for his Swan, his breath catching like it always did at the sight of her bright smile and glittering emerald eyes.

Over the past several weeks, he and his Duchess had revelled in the joys and delights of their honeymoon, exploring every inch of the other’s body while christening a number of the estate’s rooms and various locations upon the grounds. He’d dismissed the staff from the dining room one morning before breakfast, electing to feast upon his wife, splayed out across the dining table, rather than the fare the kitchens had provided. They’d made love on the sprawling grounds of the estate numerous times, even got caught in the rain once and ended up fucking in one of the garden pavilions in which they’d taken shelter.

The memory of his wife’s wet, naked body bent over in front of him as he pounded into her like the deluge had against the stone structure had him stirring to attention. As did the memory of her on her knees beneath his desk in his office one afternoon, taking him into her mouth for the first time; a result of her curiosity and a challenge he’d issued, knowing she would never back down from it and just needed an excuse so she could do the thing she had not been bold enough yet to initiate with him.

Then there was the library, the grand staircase, and the random closet they’d ducked into when things had turned heated in a hallway and a maid was about to happen upon them, all locations they’d left well used, though not by their intended purposes.

Downing the remainder of his champagne, Killian cleared his throat and took a moment to collect himself. He needed to rejoin the party and interact with his guests or else he’d find himself dragging his wife away in search of some new corner of his estate to take her in.

With a slightly stiff gait, he made his way towards the object of his desire. Like a moth to a flame, he was playing with fire by going to Emma while his blood still ran hot in his veins, burning for her, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be than by her side. Thankfully, the conversation she was currently occupied in with August had more of an affect on his heart than his groin.

“Mr. Hopper believes we can begin hiring the rest of the staff now that renovations to the manor are well on their way. We hope to be able to care for children and wayward mothers by the first of the year.”

“It’s a remarkable thing you’re doing, Your Grace,” August praised.

Killian well recognized the look of admiration and awe within the man’s eyes, it was a common expression people wore when his Swan told them of her plan and how much she had accomplished towards her goal of opening an orphanage thus far. In fact, he was certain he’d worn it many times himself.

“My mother and father would be thrilled with what you are doing with the manor. Especially my mother. The place meant so much to her,” he said in a tone faintly tinted with remorse and contrition.

Emma gave August a warm and understanding smile, then started to ask him something, but was interrupted by Jefferson coming up behind August and wrapping his arms around his waist before setting his chin upon his shoulder.

“Are you ready to turn in, darling? We have to depart rather early tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry you both can’t stay longer,” Emma said, and it warmed Killian’s heart to know she absolutely meant it, despite the nature of their relationship which others would have severely condemned them for.

“Me too,” Jefferson lamented. “Priscilla always loved this part of the countryside and I haven’t been in this part of the realm in many years. Perhaps I could bring Grace with me next time? She’d love it here, too.”

“Priscilla?”

“My late wife,” Jefferson informed her. “Grace’s mother.”

“I see.” Emma nodded. “Of course you can bring Grace with you next time. You are all very welcome here any time.”

“Well…” Killian drawled, reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he gave the men a significant look beneath his pointedly raised brows. “Perhaps not any time.”

“Point taken,” August replied on a laugh, taking hold of Jefferson’s hand and bidding them goodnight.

“Oh! My Lord Booth,” Emma said before they could go too far. “I meant to ask you something about the manor.”

“I’m happy to answer any question you have, if I can.”

“On the official papers, the manor has a name. I haven’t found anyone who is familiar enough with the tongue of the land your mother was from in order to pronounce it, much less translate it. Do you know how to say it and it’s meaning?”

“Lucignolo?”

“Yes, that’s it!”

August’s eyes slid slyly towards Jefferson, the two of them sharing a conspiratorial look before the man confessed…

“It was actually my mother’s maiden name, and in Misthavenian, it means… Candlewyck.”

The Duke and his swan’s mouths dropped open and their gazes bounced, first to Jefferson - Priscilla… my late wife - and then to August - Lucignolo?... it means… Candlewyck, then uttered in perfect unison, “Bloody Hell,” as the two men held their fingers up to their lips and implored them to remain silent with a soft shushing sound before linking arms and strolling from the ballroom with self-satisfied smiles plastered to their faces.

The End

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[ruxian]

Hi, hi, hi, ruxian!!! This is your Deckerstar Network Summer Exchange human waving hello!! Your gift is up and I've tagged you in very possible location, lol. I do hope you like your gift! Have a wonderful Labor Day!!!

HELLO!!!! okay okay first off AAAAAAAA!!!!!! you’ve honestly been one of my favorite authors for a long time i’m crying omg. SECONDLY i just finished it and AAAAAAAAAAAA AGAIN!!!!!! it was everything i could’ve hoped for and more!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m in mild shock it’s 5 am and i have a big dopey smile on my face AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! that seems to me the best reaction i have at the moment. screaming. so i shall continue to scream. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!

[cillspropertea]

Flipped

Chapter 13: Office supplies

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

 Warnings: conversations about past traumas, mention of alcohol. 

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

  Word count: 2852

Thomas Shelby

   Later Polly had come in with Charlie who had literally jumped on Thomas from his Granny’s arms. Tommy felt ridiculous for thinking his son had started to hate him. Betrayal is the only word that could have described Tommy’s feelings when he’d noticed Charlie had changed his direction towards Esmeralda.

“Are you okay?” Polly asked at now smiling Tommy, letting Charlie play with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Tommy replied frowning. “With the way you reacted, I thought you’d be sulking in your office.” Polly had raised an eyebrow. “No. It was just… a bit unexpected what this boy did out there that’s all…” Tommy admitted. “Unexpected. Like father like son eh?” Polly shook her head, smiling.

   After a few moments, when Polly was sure Tommy’s mood was okay she spoke again, “Did something happen while I was gone?” Tommy’s guard went up immediately, “What do you mean?” He said settling Charlie on his lap and giving him a blue binder clip to play with. “You know, anything unusual? Esmeralda seems a bit shaken…”

   “She had a panic episode of sorts last night.” Tommy spoke before letting her complete. There was no way he could tell her what else had happened after that. It was one of his mind tricks, give something to hide something in return. Always worked. “Oh dear!” Polly’s hand went to her mouth.

   “She kept on talking about people with pitchforks and torches coming to get her…” Polly rubbed her temple, getting tense. “I wish none of that would have happened. Not to her neither to her mother… Those fucking Golds! They are a disgrace to human beings.” Polly said looking up at the ceiling, feeling tired all of a sudden. Just then Tommy noticed Charlie had fallen asleep in his arms, the binder still in his hands. He smiled shaking his head a little. Of course that little man was tired, he’d travelled for so long to get here. He called Frances to take him to his room. When she tried to take the binder from him he started fussing in his sleep, his grip tightened on it. Tommy asked her to leave it with him, that it was okay.

   Only when Frances had left did Tommy acknowledge Polly still sitting on the chair in front of his table. He had to call her name a few times to bring her back from wherever she had transported herself to. “She went to see Esme too. Talked to her on the phone first but she talked in Romani so Maggie did not have a clue what the conversation was about.” Polly nodded, still a bit dazed. “They are technically family you know…” She said. Tommy’s frown deepened. “Her mother was from the Lee family. Her actual mother… Probably why she was punished and killed the way she was too…” Tommy leaned back in his chair, putting one leg over the other, pushing Polly to say more. “Why sudden interest in her?” Polly asked with a tilt of her head. “No interest, just curiosity.” when she still did not elaborate Tommy added, “Last night, she said something. I just need to make sense of it. That’s it.” Polly got up and poured herself a glass of whiskey and then decided to bring the bottle with her to Tommy’s table. “I’ll need this then…” she said before continuing.  

  Esmeralda Gold

    Esmeralda had cried after coming back to her room. Not for the very obvious reason alone but because of one other one too. Her heart was shattered more than once today. First, when that woman had come out of Thomas’s room and then second, when Charlie had come to her instead of his father. She loved the little guy dearly, but the affection that little angle had bestowed upon her had simply reminded her of how she shall never be able to have one of her own. The curse had been confirmed, she’d called Esme the next day to confirm it to Jan to proceed. She wasn’t regretting it, she wasn’t a child who had taken that decision in the heat of the moment but this little gesture by Charles had just reminded her how big of a cost she had paid in order to extinguish the burning hell inside of her.

   And then it was about Thomas as well. And that, she admitted to herself, was a child’s decision. To give away her heart like that. To a man who himself was absolutely heartless. She should have guarded herself more. Shouldn’t have let him see her vulnerable side that easily. Shouldn’t have opened herself up to him too. She took a deep breath wiping her face. ‘What’s done is done. No need to fret upon it now… I’ve been perfectly fine until now, on me own. And I’ll be perfectly fine after this moment as well.’ Getting up she’d sorted her appearance and walked out of her room. She had to distract herself.

     First she went to see Charles, but the baby was asleep, she was informed by Frances. Because of that she couldn’t practice her shooting as well, it would wake the baby up. She made a mental note to insert the shooting practice between Charles’s sleeping hours and playing time for the next day. Then she decided to go to the stables.  There was a new horse there. Brought in just a few weeks ago. A jet black mare. She could hear the horse a long way back before she saw what was actually happening. Curly was trying to put a saddle on her and she wouldn’t let him, running wildly in the ground near the stables. When it almost kicked him in the face with her back foot Esmeralda chuckled. “This aint right Miss Gold… you laughing at me like that…” Curly said huffing towards her, seemingly given up on the horse, who ran flamboyantly, mocking him further. “Please don’t call me that… Esmeralda is fine.” She said. “And I’m sorry I laughed. I couldn’t help it.”

   “Oh no need. This ones the devil I tell ya. Been working on her for days but nor siree, won’t even let me touch her. Acting like a posh lady that one…” Curly’s scrunched face made her smile even broader. “Can I give it a try? If you don’t mind of course…” she asked sincerely. “Oh I don’t know. If you get hurt Polly would have my neck…” “Nothing will happen. I know what I’m doing… with that she climbed the fence. “You know horses?” He asked curiously. “Yeah. They are not my favorite but yeah, I’ve worked with them all my life so…” she walked towards the now grazing horse right on the other side of the fenced ground.

 Thomas Shelby

His car moved swiftly, blowing dust in its wake. He sat puffing his cigarette quietly. He was dreading the long travel, but it could not be avoided any longer. He had been travelling for a few days now, first by the boat then by the road. Things were getting out of hand with Luca Changretta and he had to get an upper hand somehow. His mind was reeling from the events of the past two days. Twice he had been attacked, twice! While being on the road. But both the times they did not try to kill him. Both the times his men had been injured, one killed but they hadn’t harmed him or tried to fire at him. It was making him suspicious. He had to put an end to it. As soon as he could. It had been going on for too long now.

   He took another long puff from the cigarette, willing his mind to stop thinking about the vendetta, after all that had been all he’d been thinking about ever since he’d gotten on the road. His mind went back to the day Charlie had returned. He had done it on purpose. He’d called that Russian Duchess in the wee hours of the morning. She and her family had been insistent to an extent for quite a while now to do business with him. It was a strategy of sorts to make their niece sleep with him, to find his weakness perhaps or simply to dominate him once they succeeded to make him attached to Tatiana emotionally. It was evident that they did not know Thomas Shelby well enough to understand how this plan would never work. Thomas was too clever and cold hearted.

    Grace’s voice still rang in his head from the other night after he had returned to his room from Esmeralda’s. And every word she had spoken was right. He did not deserve Esmeralda. After everything he’d done to the world, to innocent people, to Grace, he simply did not deserve any sort of contentment or happiness at all. Not in this life at the very least. He deserved the loneliness, the guilt and remorse which he already felt with every breath he would take for every moment of the rest of his life. So he knew, he knew he had to crush the hope and love he’d seen in Esmeralda’s eyes that day and in himself as well. Before it became something stronger, something from which walking away could get impossible. So he had called Tatiana Patronova, a Russian Duchess, and had made sure Esmeralda saw her leaving his room in the morning. He’d fucked her hard.  But throughout the ‘session’ he simply couldn’t stop thinking about Esmeralda. The way her body had felt in his arms, God he would do anything to feel her up again. She was all he wanted to feel, over his body and in his heart. But he knew that sort of heavenly contentment was not in his fate. He had to turn her away, had to force her away from him. It would be like freeing a bird from a cage or a slave from captivity. A slave who herself wanted to be in the cage while the master wished to free him. The thought made him chuckle out loud. Who would have thought, Thomas Shelby would turn a woman down, that too as breathtakingly beautiful as Esmeralda.

    But Esmeralda’s reaction had surprised him. He was expecting her to break, to shatter but she hadn’t. She’d simply stood there as if reciprocating his own coldness in his face. Had he misjudged her intentions towards him? Had her kiss simply been a heat of the moment kind of thing? Usually he could read people quite easily but with Esmeralda he was definitely struggling. Something similar had happened with Grace if he could remember correctly. When she had betrayed him while working for Inspector Campbell. It seemed like Thomas’s mind fogged whenever his heart got involved in the matters. The way she did not even flinch when she saw Tatiana made him confused and irritated. He hoped Esmeralda did not catch his gaping mouth after Tatiana had left. So was he the only one whose feelings were involved between the two?

    But then Charlie had walked towards her. Ignoring him as if he did not even exist. God he wanted to destroy everything. The anger he’d felt was unbearable. That moment had caught him off-guard. But when she’d picked him up. The way she had caught Charlie in her arms and the way Charlie’s little hands had cradled her face, he’d felt his breath whoosh out of him. He wished he had some sort of means to capture that moment. It was perfection. It was obvious what his boy was asking for. He wanted Esmeralda in his life. But didn’t Thomas belonged to Grace? Wouldn’t even thinking in that direction be a sort of betrayal to his dead wife and the mother of his only child? Before anyone could have noticed his emotional state, he’d simply walked off to his office.

   But what Polly had revealed, about Esmeralda, made him feel worse than he was already feeling. The girl was utterly broken. From what his aunt had told him, she’d probably never felt loved, important or appreciated ever in her life. And then that wager had simply multiplied her misery and torture which she’d endured all of her existence. No wonder she was having nightmares about it. It also cleared up his mind from the Esme fiasco. Maybe she’d went to see her mother’s side of the land, trying to connect to her roots with the Lee family. There had been numerous calls after that day to Esme too but Thomas wasn’t suspicious anymore and never listened into the conversations even if he had the chance to do so. Polly’s involvement in her mother’s demise explained her affection towards Esmeralda too. Thomas and Esmeralda were back on square one again though. They did not talk or acknowledge each other’s presence at all as if competing in who can show more coldness and bitterness towards each other. But in truth both of them could feel the other one right across the room. Their hearts always skipped a beat when their eyes met.

    But this had made his belief even stronger that she deserved someone better than him. He would try and make sure she found the right person to live her life happily with. Provide for them and their offspring as well. He would only bring more chaos and damage to this girl’s already broken soul and that wasn’t right. The car stopped as the driver announced they’d arrived at their destination. His friends ‘bakery’ in Camden Town. “Hello friend… It’s been a while isn’t it?” Alfie said with raised arms as Thomas got out of the car.

-----

    Alfie’s office was just as Tommy remembered. Stuffy, smoky with his table in utter mess. He sat and waited patiently while his friend looked for something noisily in the back. “Just a moment Tommy I hope you don’t mind yeah? I need to find something I lost yesterday in this pile of shit here…” He kept on moving things while furiously looking for something. “Ah! Found it!” Tommy turned around and saw Alfie bringing a stuff toy’s head out, dusting it off. “I lost it yesterday and Cyril had been chewing my ears off because of it… So!” he sat down on his chair getting out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from under his table. “What brings you here today eh?”

   “Nothing much Alfie. Maybe I was just missing ya” Tommy tilted his head. Alfie shook his head, “I know you Thomas. You always come to me when you’re in deep shit and I come to you when I’m in deep shit. That’s how our thing works yeah!?” Thomas smiled and downed the whole glass. “And usually… we both know about the shit already before either of us even meet. So, tell me Alfie, what can you do to help me with my vendetta with Luca Changretta eh?” Alfie frowned, acting as if he had no idea what Thomas was talking about. Tommy sighed deeply, just about to begin to explain what was going on when Alfie spoke up, “I do know you have been attacked twice on your way here… Seriously my friend, you mustn’t have travelled in these circumstances… it’s too dangerous!” Tommy cleared his throat, “I did ask you to come down there, but you said you were in the middle of a family emergency.” Alfie frowned for a moment, deep in thought, “Oh yeah! Cyril wasn’t well. I couldn’t have left her like that now could I?” Thomas almost smiled, “Besides, It is you who needs my help. It was only right that you came here no?” Thomas knew Alfie was enjoying this, him asking help. But he knew he would have to let him, it was true, he was in trouble and he needed his help. “I have a plan. We can make it work…” Alfie cut him off, “If I were in your place I’d ditch the plan and worry about the attacks Tom.” Thomas sat straighter, “What do you mean?”

    “I mean how are they so up-to-date with your current positions? How did they know your route and how have they been following you through that route?” Thomas thought about it. No one knew where he was heading except… home. He’d been calling Arrow house on every stop. “Yeah yeah! You get it now don’t you?” Thomas’s eyes sparked as Alfie smiled after putting one foot on the other on his table. “You’ve got a mole in your household!”

-----

    Thomas came out of the bakery saying his good-byes for now to Alfie. He had agreed to help him out and if everything went according to Thomas’s plan, things would be sorted out in no time. A good mile on the road he saw a white envelope near his feet. Picking it up, it felt heavy. He asked Robert if anyone had been near the car to which the driver had simply shaken his head. Opening the envelope, Thomas’s face drained of color. There was nothing else in the packet other than a blue paper binder.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Crown For Two {4}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Slow Burn, Dialogue Heavy, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 6.6k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.  

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”  

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.  

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride continues. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

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-Five Days Later-

-Henry-

“Before we get to cut this ribbon, I want to say something. My father—your king.”

 He paused, swallowed, and bowed his head slightly, trying to gather his thoughts and reign in his emotions. This was one of the first times he’d spoken about his father since his death, especially in front of the entire country. This unveiling was televised all around Brexendor and probably in neighboring sister countries, which meant he was probably speaking in front of over four million people. Clearing his throat, he tried to continue.

 “Eh-em, my father, and your king loved this project. He spent so many nights coming through every detail of it. He particularly wanted to be hands-on with this because he felt this endeavor would bring many people together.”

 He looked from face to face in the crowd, making eye contact and giving reassuring smiles—a tactic he’d learned long ago that made speeches more effective.

 “He believed though we are individual countries filled with many different races, ethnicities, beliefs, and cultures, he believed we are all one people. He believed that one of the most universal things was connection.”

The crowd murmured their agreement as several heads nodded. He felt the hand of his mother on his shoulder, gently reassuring him and giving him some of her strength.

 “As humans, we all crave connection. We all want to make connections in our lives that are worthwhile. That is what this endeavor is, a bridge for our connection across the world beginning with our finances, and he would be so incredibly proud to see it today.”

 The crowd before him erupted with applause, giving him a reprieve to bring himself back to his stoic image. He waited for them to quiet down before he continued.

 “Without further ado.”

 He walked over to the shimmering blue ribbon that was aesthetically tied in front of the bank's doors. Once before them, one of the men handed him giant scissors, and he got into place. The crowd counted down from three. Each second that passed, he could sense the excitement increasing. Once “one” was yelled, he cut the ribbon signaling the crowd to explode with applause and cheers. The camera snapped pictures of him from every angle as he shook hands, waved, and posed with everyone on the bank’s council and the finance commission’s office.

 The next hour was spent walking through the location, explaining all the details that his father had put so much time, thought, and energy into. As he pointed things out, he remembered the various conversations they had together about the items and specifications. This was a project just as close to his heart as it was to his father’s. from the corner of his eye, he saw his mother standing in front of the giant grandfather style clock that his father had chosen special. He loved clocks and had collected quite a few in his years. She placed her hand on it, then dipped her head down. He knew her pain.

 The following few hours passed with him answering questions and doing his duties as head of the country, never breaking away from the status quo. He could do this in his sleep. That was how well trained he was for this. In a matter of weeks, his duties would be tripled or even quadrupled when he went through his coronation. At that time, he’d really put all that grooming to use. It was an event he’d imagined differently his whole life. For one, he’d always expected to look out to his mother and father’s faces as they’d passed the duties on to him. This future was one he was not prepared for.

 “Mother.”

 She hummed and spun her head to him with a solemn smile on her lips.

 “Are you well?”

 She smiled brightly, and any evidence of her previous sadness was only visible in her pale blue eyes, but just a smidge.

 “Of course, I am. What about you, my darling boy?”

 He smiled. She’d been calling him that since he was, in fact, just a boy.

 “Glad to have gotten through that.”

 His mother nodded before she looped her arm through his.

 “You did beautifully. Your father would be incredibly proud of you, Henry, so incredibly proud.”

 The tears welled in her eyes before she kissed his cheekbone.

 “I have only ever wanted to make him proud,” he admitted.

 “He has been proud of you every single day since you were born. Every day.”

 She turned her face away, and he knew it was to hide the tears that had rolled down her cheek. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, allowing her to dab at her eyes. Several moments passed in silence as he looked out the window at the passing snow-covered hills. After a minute or two, his mother cleared her throat.

 “So, what is this I hear of a house guest?”

 He smiled to himself, thinking of you, your smile, your tenaciousness, and stubbornness. Since his mother had been away in Sandvell on Queen duties, she’d been absent for the excitement from the last near two weeks. He explained it to her in the vaguest of terms and finished stating you would be remaining at the palace most likely for the duration of the month. He spoke it so flippantly that he hoped it sounded to her ears that it was not a big deal.

 “Mm-hm. Well, I am pleased you are showing your charming side rather than your scrooge one.”

 He gasped, then snapped his head to her to see her amused eyes dancing with laughter.

 “I do not think it is right for a mother to call her son a scrooge.”

 She did not look as if she regretted it at all. “It is right for a mother to let her son know how he is perceived or has been for the last seven months.”

 “Mother, I do not mean to—I have tried--,” he sighed. “It has only been seven months since--.”

 “I know darling, believe me, I know. One of the tragedies of our roles, we are expected to carry on as if we are not human. We are seen as figurines, and we must ever be pristine. The human emotion of grief cannot hold us bad. Oh, how I wish it were different.”

 They sat quietly again for a few turns on the drive back to the palace.

 “I assume you have taken the necessary precautions with our house guest?”

 “Yes.”

 “Have you spoken to her?”

 “I have.”

 “Was it my son the scrooge or my charming son who did the talking?”

 He scoffed, then shook his head. “I am always charming.”

 His mother giggled before she rested her head on his shoulder.

Once they reached the palace and walked inside, the staff swarmed his mother, giving her details for the preparations for the opening ball that was taking place within the coming days for the beginning of the festive month. It was the tradition for a ball to be thrown the first weekend of the month to usher in the month-long festivities. That also meant that many would come to the palace to stay and join in on the jam-packed month of celebration.

 “Yes, Carolina, I know we have much to plan in a short amount of time.”

 Carolina, his mother’s personal royal assistant, nodded her strawberry blonde head as she gripped the stack of papers and folders in her arms tighter.

 “Welcome home, your majesty,” she began. “Shall we begin right away?”

 His mother, now free of her coat and outside garments, shook her head. “No. Prepare the necessary details, and we will meet in the pink tea room in thirty minutes.”

 “As you wish, your majesty,” Carolina replied with a head bow and curtsy.

 “Oh, Carolina, for tonight’s supper, please tell the kitchen I am feeling quite festive and maybe a roast. I hear we have a house guest, and I would like to welcome her properly.”

 “Mother, do you really think that I have been anything but absolutely hospitable?”

 She smiled and looped her arm through his again as they began ascending the stairs.

 “Of course, I am sure you instructed the staff to be hospitable and tend to her needs,” she clarified.

 She knew him too well. If only she knew that he himself had been the most hospitable of all, he thought to himself. He reminisced on the last few days. He hadn’t been able to have dinner with you for the last five days because the closer the event got, the more work he had to do. You’d exchanged emails about his speech with you leaving notes on what he’d prepared or even giving him suggestions on where to carry other thoughts he’d begun. He liked all your additions and suggestions. It was your suggestion to bring up something personal about his father, especially since it was his passion project. He’d had every intention to disregard it, but in the end, he’d listened to you, and he still hadn’t regretted it.

 Though you were maybe a six-minute distance from his own bedroom and under the same roof, he hadn’t physically seen you in those five days. He did get information from Dr. Alphonsi and even details from McArthur about how you looked, who had been to see you to extend his apologies for getting you into this predicament. McArthur was now your greatest fan. You hadn’t chastised him or belittled him for hitting you with the car. You said it wasn’t his fault, accepted his apology, and even thanked him because you would have probably had a health crisis sooner rather than later with your other ailments.

 Everyone in the palace seemed to have grown to like you. When he saw Jemma, his sister, she often sang your praises and chattered on about something you or your sister had told her. It was easy to see that even she’d been captivated by you, just as he had.

 “Were you listening to me?”

 Shaking his head, he glanced at his mother with a raised brow. “I am sorry, mother. What were you saying?”

 “What has got your head so far away? work?”

 He sighed, shrugged, and looked forward, realizing they were in the hall leading to your bedroom.

 “Where are you leading me, mother?”

 “It is you who is leading me, son.”

 He scoffed. Even his feet seemed to want to go to you. he made a swift left turn away from your hall.

 “Mother, I have some work to attend to before supper tonight.”

 “All right, do not work too hard. Supper is at seven…promptly, Henry.”

 He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Promptly,” he repeated before continuing on his way.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  -Y/N-

“I am quite happy with your improvement, Xari.”

 You smiled.

 “I do feel a lot better today than I have in weeks.”

 Dr. Alphonsi smiled and began closing his doctor bag.

 “That is wonderful news. The direct infusion through IV usually does work better than capsules or any other treatments. You have been a sample patient. If only my other patients would give me this little trouble.”

 You snorted, then shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been a teacher’s pet.”

 Dr. Alphonsi smiled again before he walked around to the IV rod to disconnect you. You watched as he slowly removed the needle from your forearm, only flinching slightly. He pressed down on the puncture hole for a few moments then plastered a band-aid across your arm.

 “There. So as our plan goes. A week IV, a week injections, then repeat,” Dr. Alphonsi reiterated.

 “Sounds good.”

 Dr. Alphonsi walked over to the stainless steel trey resting on the side table and placed the needle on it, then began taking the emptied IV bag off the pole. Once the items were arranged on the trey, he walked back over to his doctor’s bag.

 “Any questions for me?”

 You thought for a moment, then began. “Not really since I already know you’re going to say no traveling.”

 “You are not a prisoner here, Xari. If you are feeling strong enough, you can go anywhere you choose. The palace has plenty of rooms that would interest you. When it comes to venturing outdoors, I would say be careful, pace yourself, and do not overexert. There have been many who thought they could walk a block only to find they could not make it more than fifteen meters.”

 You nodded again.

 “Would you like me to speak to the prince about assigning you a lady’s maid?”

 “Oh my goodness, no. that is not at all necessary.”

 “All right. Well, you have my telephone number if you need me, as does the staff. I have instructed someone to inform you every time you are to take an injection. I have a trained professional here at the palace who can administer it if you are not confident enough to do it yourself. If you feel confident, remember every six hours one vial. I’ve combined them to decrease the number of needle pricks.”

 “Thank you very much, Dr. Alphonsi.”

 He nodded, then prepared himself to leave. As he walked to the door, it opened, and in came Anika.

 “Does she have a clean bill of health?”

 “Cleaner, but we still have quite a way to go. Slow and steady, says the tortoise to the hare,” Dr. Alphonsi said before walking out of your room.

 “Oooh, look who doesn’t have a pole attached to them anymore. How do you feel?”

 You took a deep breath and thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “A lot better than a did.”

 Anika smiled with you, then dropped on the bed beside you. “Does that mean you can finally leave this room and go exploring with me?”

 “Nika.”

 “Don’t Nika mean, you know you’re curious and want to look behind every door of this place.”

 She had a point. You were curious. You’d been in a few palaces from around the world before, but you’d never been in a palace as a guest. At the thought of “guest,” you began to wonder if that was what you were. Patient yes, unexpected and unwanted temporary responsibility, maybe. The look Anika was giving you said she was impatiently waiting for a response.

 “Ugggh, fine. Yes, let’s get our Dora on,” you said, slowly getting out of the bed.

 A shower took you longer than usual, mostly in part because you couldn't help but marvel at your surroundings. There was marble and porcelain everywhere. The amount of luxury that surrounded you made your jaw dropped. You sampled everything, beginning with the twelve jets in the shower to the heated bidet. The shower even had a switch that you could change the water from fresh to sea saltwater. That part tripped you up because you didn’t know why anyone would want that. Even the sink had buttons you could use to change the water pressure.

 By the time you’d showered and changed, an hour had passed.

 “What’d you think of the sea salt option in the shower?”

 You snorted, then busted out laughing. “Oh my god, I almost lost my shit. Did you try it?”

 “You know I did. Then I immediately regretted it when I forgot and began really getting into crevices to wash and rinse. Ouch.”

 That only made you laugh harder. The whole time Anika protested and pouted. When you stepped out of the room into the adjoining one, you felt like you saw it in a new light. The first or even second time you’d been in it, nothing registered. Now, you could appreciate the art on the wall, the décor, and color choices. It screamed elegance but also comfort.

“I asked around, and this particular room is called a sitting room. All of the bedrooms have one,” Anika informed.

 “Yeah. When I went and toured Versailles, the sitting room was where visitors were entertained. Marie Antoinette loved to also have tea and cake there before turning in for bed,” you added as you walked around, touching different materials and snapping pictures from a few different angles. It was all super high class. You didn’t expect anything less.

 You and Anika stepped into the hall, and your jaw dropped.

 “Holy Shit!”

 The people in the hall stopped what they were doing and looked back at you while Anika tried to stifle her laugh.

 “Sorry, sorry. Please carry on.”

 They slowly continued what they were doing while you and Anika made your getaway. The halls were gorgeous. The white and gold complemented each other so well you just knew that this was just the beginning. Then when you looked up to the ceiling at the Sistine Chapel worthy mural, you could hear a heavenly hymn in your ears.

 “The Sistine Chapel could never,” you muttered while walking and snapping pictures.

 It was so beautiful you almost didn’t want to move. Anika’s arm looped through yours was the directing force. She pulled you down the stairs that were on the same level of grandeur as the Russian opera house’s. The carpet that lined them was blue instead of the red that bathed other royal abodes. It even looked like it was silk. When the two of you finally descended the stairs to the main floor, you went down one of the halls on the right.

 The first door you both walked into, Anika whistled loudly. “Well, fuck!”

 It was the largest dining room you’d been inside in a long while. The table looked like it could seat at least seventy. As you walked around the room, you took pictures from different angles until you got to the window, then you gaped at what you saw.

 “Wow.”

 “Like a winter wonderland, right.”

 “Have you gone out?”

 “Heck no. You know me and winter don’t agree. There is a reason I live in Georgia.”

 You shook your head and snapped two pictures before you walked off in search of more. Once you and Anika finished looking around the dining room, you walked into a large parlor with several places to sit. You wondered what the room was used for. Your imagination said it could have been where smoking parties happened, or maybe a lounge area before dinners. It honestly could be used to anything.

 A library followed that you knew you could get lost in for days and days and lost you got. You touched titles you were familiar with and others you’d never heard of before, making a mental note to come back and have a closer look. The ones you couldn’t pass up, you took from the shelves and took with you. You didn’t know how long you spent in the library. It was hard to tell because you hadn't looked through the whole thing even with all the time you spent there.

 Somehow, you found yourself pushing open intricate golden doors and walking into an ornate room filled with gold, marble, and that same blue carpet lining. From the ceilings hung low hanging crystal chandeliers and an even more awe-inspiring mural. At the end of the carpet, you saw a pair of thrones. Immediately you knew you’d happened upon the throne room. You walked the length of it, taking a picture every few steps. When you reached them, you stopped in front and stared.

 You could imagine him sitting in the one on the right. You imagined him with perfect posture, a stern face, and tightly clenched jaws with the most regal of crowns. You wondered if this monarchy was as ostentatious as others. Maybe he usually held a scepter and golden orb while being draped with royal furs. At that thought, you imagined him sitting on that throne completely naked with nothing but the royal furs draped over his shoulders. It was a damn inviting vision, one you wouldn’t mind seeing.

 A loud sound behind you made you spin around to find a cleaning crew. Quickly you walked back down the carpet and out the room apologizing for intruding. Once back in the hall, you spun around, unsure when you’d lost Anika. You called her name a few times, but there was no answer. It was then you regretted not bringing your cellphone. You walked a little further down the hall then made a left as the scent of flowers captured your attention.

 When you stepped through glass French doors, you felt as if you’d walked into some country garden. The room was bathed in soft amber and purples, no doubt from the sunset. Thanks to the glass room, you were able to see peeks of its glory through the fluffy looking white snow resting on it. The more you walked around, the more the exterior contradicted the interior. You knew it being the dead of winter made it impossible for the sight before you. There were flowers of all different kinds. It was a sea of blues, reds, yellows, pinks, and even purples.

“Holy Shit!”

 “I will take that as a compliment.”

 You spun around, looking for the owner of the voice, but there was no one there.

 “Uh--.”

 You walked around cautiously.

 “A few more steps.”

 After three steps, you found a woman sitting at a table decked out with every piece of a tea set you could imagine, along with a few pastries.

 “Found me.”

 She looked up at you, then looked back down to your feet until she met your eyes again.

 “Uh—hi,” said.

 “Hello.”

 The smile on her face was pleasant, and it matched the kindness in her blue eyes. They were eyes you felt like you’d seen before, only on someone else. Slowly it hit you who she could be.

 “Oh my god, your majesty.”

 You dropped down to your best curtesy, hoping it would distract her from your potty mouth. She softly chuckled.

 “You are quite all right, dear. Stand up, please.”

 You stood and tried not to give away that you were slightly unnerved.

 “I’m sorry about the cursing. It’s a horrible habit and probably not—dignified,” you expressed.

 She laughed again, then took a sip from her golden rose printed porcelain cup. It looked fancy and antique. “No need to apologize. Believe me; cursing is not the worst thing in the world. I have said quite a few in my day.”

 You smiled, even though you found it hard to believe, especially with how prime and proper she looked sitting there.

 “I have to know, though. How did you know who I was?”

 “Um—your eyes.”

 She looked even more curious. “My eyes?”

 You swallowed and avoided her gaze. “They’re—they’re the same as Henry’s—eh-em, I mean his highness.”

 The way she looked at you made you slightly uncomfortable. She looked like she was assessing you. Before she could speak, another woman walked into the room, one with strawberry blonde hair.

 “Your majesty,” she began stopping instantly when she saw you.

 You cleared your throat and turned to walk away. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

 “No intrusion. Carolina, I think that will be all for today. I would like to finish my tea and possibly get to know our new houseguest.”

 “As you wish, your majesty.” She curtsied then walked back out of the room, leaving you alone once again.

 “Please, have a seat,” the queen said.

 Before you sat, you actually thought to dart out of the room but quickly changed your mind. When you sat down across from her, you took note of the open binders and folders sprawled out on the table. Out of nowhere, someone walked into the solarium, took up the matching teapot, and poured it into a new teacup to your right.

 “Will there be anything else, your majesty?”

 “Thank you, Edie.”

 The woman walked back out of the room, and it got silent for a few moments.

 “Please, have some. It is a Darjeeling blend that is grown right here in Brexendor. I drink at least a cup a day. I promise you it is delicious.”

 She took another sip, but she didn’t look at all worried that you wouldn’t sample it. You placed the books on top of the table and took up the teacup instead, and sipped. Lavender, mint, honey, and rose filled your mouth. A moan escaped you.

 “Good, right.”

 Nodding, you took another mouthful.

 “How are you?”

 After swallowing, you placed the cup down. “I am feeling a lot better, your majesty.”

 “Please, every time I am called that, it makes it impossible to forget. Call me, Cecelia, please.”

 You didn’t know what to say to that, and it must have shown because she smiled then giggled.

 “O—kay.”

 “I promise. I am not trying to trick you in any way. I just want you to be comfortable. I can imagine what it feels like to come here and be surrounded by all of this. It is—overwhelming…intimidating even. I just want to make your time here peaceful and enjoyable.”

 She didn’t look like she was lying or trying to cover something. She came off as genuinely kind, like she truly meant what she said.

 “Thank you, your—Ce—Ms. Cecelia.”

 She smiled, then nodded. “Alright. I understand.”

 “I’m Xari.”

 “A beautiful name. It is wonderful to meet you, dear. I do hope your stay has been a good one so far.”

 “Yes, yes, everyone has been nothing but kind and hospitable. I appreciate your kindness,” you expressed.

 Cecelia nodded and took another sip from her cup. Her eyes landed on something on the table.

 “Of Vice and Virtue and Clandestine. Two wonderful selections.”

 “I hope it’s alright. I took them. I promise I will put them back,” you began.

 Cecelia reached her hand out and placed it on top of yours. “Xari, I could not care less if you kept them. You are free to anything in the palace.”

 You slowly nodded and took another sip of tea. As you did, the photos on the table caught your eye. They were of a decorated room. It looked like a mock-up of a ballroom of some sort. The colors of the flowers were orange, and they didn’t look like they belonged with the pastel green that surrounded them.

 “This color scheme is all wrong. You shouldn’t pair orange and green. You have to pick one or the other. I’d recommend the green; it’s very pretty.”

 She looked curious, most likely wondering who the hell you were to say half of what you did.

 “Are you a decorator?”

 “Not officially. I took some classes, got some certificates in event planning and interior design,” you admitted.

 “Oh, so you design for a living.”

 “No, no. It—I am a travel photographer and blogger. It’s not what I planned, but I fell into it. Event planning and design are more of hobbies.”

 “Well, this might just be serendipitous. I am in the middle of planning the ball for the opening of the festivities,” Cecelia began adjusting herself in her seat. “I just got back in Brexendor, and the trip was longer than I anticipated. That means I have two days to put together our annual ball that is supposed to open Brexenavid. That is our month-long celebration of what every Brexdorian prides themselves on—our holiday time.”

 “What exactly is Brexenavid?”

 “It is our month-long holiday celebration that we go all out for. There are tens of events, sometimes games, balls, dinners, and dignitaries within Brexendor and our neighboring countries who will begin arriving to stay with us here,” Cecelia explained.

 You were impressed. It all sounded like a lot of work.

 “And you’re the one to plan all of it?”

 “Yes. That is my role as the matriarchal head of the royal family. It is one of my many roles.”

 You released a breath, then finished your cup of tea. Before you spoke, you poured another.

 “So tell me, if you were planning this, how would it look?”

 You took a few moments to sip your tea and think about how you would do it. Closing your eyes, you tried to visualize the space, but you’d seen so many spaces that you couldn’t really picture it.

 “Where will it be? What room? Can you describe it to me?”

 Cecelia smiled, then stood. “I can do better. Let me show you.”

 Cecelia walked out of the room, leaving you to hurry behind her. she led you through the hall you’d just walked down until you went down another hall you hadn’t before. About a minute later, you followed her into a large ballroom that looked like it belonged in Versailles. The walls dripped gold, and the ceiling housed so many chandeliers you didn’t bother to count past five.

“Wow. What a room.”

 “One of my favorites. It is the usual one I use. What do you think?”

 “Nice room. I would say with the amount of light that comes in and the views; I’d play that up. since it is December and I’ve seen several of your streets, Christmas is huge here.”

 “If you only knew,” Cecelia confirmed.

 “Then play it up. Christmas trees, poinsettias, tree lights, tinsel, everything that everyone loves about Christmas. Give your guests what they really love about this country, the beauty, the splendor,” you suggested.

 She looked around the room as if she were trying to picture it. “I like it.”

 Her smile was bright. “I more than like it. I love it. Carolina thought floral.”

 “Floral isn’t a bad idea. You can add some in. Roses are subtle, lilies, even Dahlias, and Tulips.”

 Cecelia approached you and took your hand. “I love your ideas, Xari. I have one of my own. How would you feel about taking point on this? I know you are still recovering, but you would have every staff member at your disposal. You would not be doing too much. You give the design orders, and everyone else will execute it.”

 You were speechless and couldn’t believe the queen had just asked you to deck out her palace for a ball. “Obviously, you do not have to if you do not want to.”

 “Do what?”

Henry’s voice brought your attention to him. he wore a simple white button-down shirt and grey dress pants. While it wasn’t as formal, he still looked put together.

 “I have just asked Xari if she would put together the ball.”

 “Mother. She is supposed to be resting and recuperating. Dr. Alphonsi has left very strict orders, and work was on the list of prohibited actions.”

 His mother looped her arm with his with a smile. “Oh, darling, I am not talking about manual labor. She has quite an eye for design and event planning. I thought it would be fun.”

 “Mother--,” Henry began again.

 “Plus, what are you doing here?”

 “You said supper was promptly at seven.”

 “Heavens, is it seven already? All right, Xari, you do not have to answer right away. You can take the night to think about it. we should all go to supper.”

 “Uh—I’ll go back to my room,” you began.

 “Nonsense, looking at you, you are well enough to dine with the rest of us. Come,” Cecelia pressed as she released Henry to loop her other arm with yours and led you closer to her son.

 Henry smirked, and when he realized he was in the middle, he softly scoffed and held out his arm for you. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, and you picked up a hint of amusement behind his blue orbs. You slowly looped your arm through his, allowing him to led the two of you out of the ballroom and down the long hall.

 As you walked, his mother chattered on about something that you paid no mind to. All you could focus on was the smell of Henry’s cologne and his towering presence beside you. Your hand rested on his forearm, and the heat radiating off of him tempted you to flex your fingers against him. The minute your fingers moved, you felt his bicep tense. It was an action that brought your eyes to him. You lost your breath when you found his were already on you. Goodness, you thought to yourself, slowly trailing your eyes over the details of his face until they landed on his lips.

 “Eh-em.”

 Snapping your head forward, you saw that you’d arrived in the dining room. You pulled your arm free and walked away from Henry flashing them out, trying to cool them from his heat and gain some control over your wayward thoughts. This dining room was a different one from before. It looked more intimate.

 “This is the dining room we prefer to eat in as a family,” Cecelia explained the closer you got to the table.

 Taking your place beside Anika, Henry took his at the head of the table while his mother across from you beside a beaming Jemma. Once everyone was seated, the staff walked in carrying trays of food toward you. Once yours was put down, the silver cover was taken off to reveal a pot roast of some kind.

 “I hope you are not a vegetarian,” Cecelia began.

 “Oh no, my sister and I love all kinds of meat, Anika blurted out, making you give her a harsh eye.

 “Wonderful. Please, dig in.”

 Dinner went on uneventfully. Jemma talked about her plans to include a local orphanage in the planned festivities for the month. Everyone seemed to think it was an excellent idea. Then the conversation turned to Anika as the Queen tried to get to know her better. The only ones who remained relatively quiet were you and Henry. Every so often, your eyes met and lingered. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words never manifested. That was when your eyes drifted to some part of him, either it was his lips, or his hands, or even those sprigs of black hair that teased the bounty that laid under his shirt just waiting to be played with.

 By the time dinner was finished, and after dinner, coffee and tea were served, things had moved to one of the sitting rooms you’d walked through earlier in the day. After your first cup of chamomile and lavender tea, the queen said her goodnights and left you, Anika, and Jemma to your own devices. It allowed you to crack open one of the books you’d picked earlier. By the time you finished your second cup of tea, exhaustion had caught up with you. When you looked up, it was just you and Henry sitting there. Once again, Anika had disappeared, this time taking Jemma with her.

His nose was buried in a book. Before you could admire the view of him sitting there with one leg crossed over the other, his eyes drifted to you; then he lowered his book to reveal a soft smile. Neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. A yawn sprang from you, making him snort.

 “This can’t be regular chamomile or lavender.”

 “You are probably right. I do know it is farmed straight from the field and brought here,” he answered.

 “Wow, so literally from the earth to your stomach.”

 Henry smiled again.

 “I um—I think I should probably turn in,” you said.

 Henry placed his book aside, then stood. “Allow me to walk you back to your room.”

 “Thank you, your highness.”

 He smiled, came closer, and held his arm out to you.

 “Are you always such a gentleman?”

 “I try to be. It is what I was raised to be,” he replied.

 “So—always. There isn’t a time of day where you say fuck it and let it all fall away?”

 He smiled and stepped a little closer. It was as close as he was the first night in the bar before you parted ways. His eyes bore into you from his towering height, and you decided you wanted to see what he would do.

 “There is about an hour in the morning when I first wake. No one has come in to give me news or updates. It is quiet, and my mind is clear. Then there are those few minutes at night before I fall asleep where I can let everything fall off me. In those two moments—I—I feel like myself.”

 There was a pained look in his eyes that you wanted to know more about.

 “And what does it feel like to be yourself?”

 Henry gave you a melancholy smile. “Lonely.”

 A full minute passed then Henry held out his arm again. “Shall we?”

 You looped your arm and let him lead the way out of the sitting room, down the long corridor, and up the grand steps. The walk was quiet, but you didn’t feel weird being close to him like this. It felt normal. Halfway to your room, Henry spoke.

 “My father told me before he died, the more people that want a piece of you, the less you have for yourself and the lonelier it is at the top.”

 “Sounds like the words of a wise man.”

 “He was very wise.”

 Silence. You’d heard the sadness in his voice the first time he mentioned his father.

 “Do you miss him?”

 “Every single second of every single day,” Henry answered.

 As you turned down the hall that would lead to your room, the silence returned.

 “Your speech was amazing.”

 “You’re saying that because you helped write it.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh. “It doesn’t matter who helped write it. Words are nothing without the conviction to back them up. You made the speech.”

 You could feel his eyes on you, so you met them right before you stopped in front of your door.

 “Thank you,” he whispered. He then took a step to you, closing the wide gap between you.

 “Do you usually have to approve the plans for big events?”

 His crinkled brow said he was confused. “I guess it depends. Why?”

 “Well, since you are so busy being his highness and all, the only way we’d ever see each other the next few days would be for me to accept your mother’s offer and plan this ball seeing how his highness would get the final say-so on all plans. Right?”

 Henry slowly began smiling then he licked his lips. “That sounds about right, but that would mean one thing and one thing only.”

 You leaned against your door and smiled innocently. “And what’s that?”

 “That you want to see me almost as much as I want to see you.”

 Your heart pounded faster and faster. “Almost as much?”

 Henry rested his arm on the door jamb, sort of boxing you in. “You have to know, Xari.”

 “Know what, your highness?”

“Henry,” he whispered quite breathlessly as he stared into your eyes.

The tension between you was palpable. It felt like any second one or both of you were going to do something that neither of you could take back. The loud crack of thunder boomed outside, bringing you both to realize your surroundings. Henry cleared his throat and took two steps back.

 “Good night, Xari. I look forward to seeing those plans at every decision,” he said with a stern face and plenty of humor in his eyes.

 “Your highness.”

 He sighed, then walked back down the hall, leaving you to admire the sway of his hips and the plump but firm state of his ass. God help you, you thought to yourself before you stepped back into your room. You’d never been good at fighting off temptation. You liked to put up a fight but eventually, you always gave in. 

You knew that it was only a matter of time before you did just that.

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

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[george-fabian-weasley]

the mad hatter — g. w. (chapter 4)

Summary: Due to your direct relations with George Weasley, you were prohibited from leading the case anymore. But you were given a chance to interrogate him, and the tension between the married couple thickens. 

Words: 2,861 words

Warnings ⚠: TW murder, TW blood, TW injuries, angst, thriller, husband!george, sadistic!george, fem!reader, arguments, mentions of sadism

Disclaimer: hey yall <3 welcome back to another chapter of ‘syaf simping for sadistic george!’, I haven’t been able to be active in this site because of work, so I’m really sorry! I’m making it up for yall though, I have some fics ready in no time so wait for it! Reblogs and Comments are highly Appreciated! Enjoy!

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“... What do you mean?” Your voice was slow, yet it was menacing. “You heard me,” He said, sighing. “So you’re saying I can’t have this case anymore?” Your tone was quivering, trying your hardest to control your anger. The man in front of you, Remus Lupin is the A. D. A of the case. He’s going to be the one to put The Mad Hatter— no, George Weasley to jail.

But he’s pulling on your strings at the moment. Tightly.

“It’s inevitable, Y/N—” “Bullshit!” You slammed your hands on your desk, the pain of your palms didn’t sting, the adrenaline coursing through your veins were much stronger. You’re now breathing through your mouth, huffing slowly like a predator towards its prey. You’re angry, very angry. 

He’s telling you to back off from your own case. 

“You recommended me for this case to the higher ups. And now you want to take it back?” You scoffed, glaring at Remus with the deadliest look you can muster, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“This is my case. I’ve spent a month of my time and my co-workers’ time investigating this prick,” You spat, huffing a cynical smile, “You have no right to take away this case from me.”

“As this case’s attorney, I actually do, in fact, have the right to take this case away from you, Weasley,” Remus spat out as venomously, “Need I remind you that prick is your own husband. You have direct relations to the suspect, therefore you are now ineligible to either investigate him or take any part of this case.”

You two were in your office at the headquarters, door closed shut yet everyone dares not to knock on the room containing two wolves. 

“I don’t bloody care that he’s my husband, he’s a mass murderer and should be treated as such, therefore your reasoning to kick me out of this case is utter bollocks!” 

“You’re a fucking witness now, Y/N! You’re his wife!” Remus finally matched the tone of your voice, the veins bulging on his neck showed the severe control he had on himself to not explode. He sighed heavily, slightly massaging his temples, “How do I make this clear so you can understand, Y/N,” He muttered loud enough for you to hear, before looking at you straight to the eye.

“You have feelings for your suspect. You married him for seven bloody years so don’t give me that bullshit that it doesn’t matter and you won’t get emotional in that room!” He shouted, hand flinging to the direction of the investigation room, where George was waiting. 

Patiently.

“You know this would happen the moment you put him in cuffs. You know already. What do you even want to ask him anyway?” Remus’s tone deflated as his shoulders dropped. You clenched your jaw, hard enough to feel the veins at your temple to bulge. Remus was right, what do you even want to ask him anyway? Why would he do this to you? Why would he lie to you? Why would he play you like this?

Does he even love you?

‘Get a grip on yourself, woman. He’s no longer your husband, he’s The Mad Hatter,’ the voice in your head sternly said, snapping you out from your train of thoughts. You took a deep breath, calming down your temper as you spoke, “I want to ask him why would he target former sexual assaulters, and record himself talking about them.”

Remus shrugged his eyebrows, “Good questions indeed, but what makes you think he’s going to tell you?” 

You huffed a smirk, “What makes you think he won’t? I’m his wife, like you said and the mother of his child. I have the leverage that he doesn’t,” You said, feeling your confidence coming back and your professionalism finally resurfacing after what seems like hours of self-wallowing of ‘where did it all go wrong?’

Remus mirrored your smirk, “He fooled you blind for 7 years. What makes you think he won’t try again for the next 30 minutes?” He questioned, and you nonchalantly shrugged with a lazy smile on your lips, “Guess you just have to sit back and watch me do my job.”

The smile on your lips vanished, your grim expression had slightly intimidated Remus, “Let me in that room, and I’ll get him to confess that he’s The Mad Hatter.”

---

He knew you would come.

George smiled as he watched you walk in the room with the case’s file. “I knew you would come,” he watched as you slightly froze at his voice, before a hard look settled on your face, “Yeah, well, I need answers.”

George painted a small smile on his lips, “I’ll try my best to answer you then, my love.” “Don’t call me that.”  He tilted his head  to you,not quiet catching what you said, “Hm?”

You couldn’t look at him in the eye before, but now you’re standing in front of him, hands placed on the glass table, your fiery gaze straight into his somber ones, “Don’t call me ‘my love’. Or Darling, or Love, or anything. You call me Chief Detective, you hear me?” Your voice was low and dangerous, yet George only smiled at your attempt of intimidating him.

“Now why should I do that?” He asked, and you gave him a cynical smile as you sat across him, “You have no reason not to.”

“Why, haven’t you changed,” George muttered slowly, a smile on his lips. You looked different, and he likes it. Not that he doesn’t like you before, but this version of you; it impressed him. 

It excites him.

“Listen, Weasley,” You leaned forward, glancing at the shackles that held George’s hand on the table, “You’re in my house now. So you better start talking before I force words out of that deceitful mouth,” You said slowly, looking at him straight in the eye, smirking in amusement at his lack of fear.

“How funny,” He leaned forward as well, slightly shaking his cuffed hands to hear the rattle of the iron, a playful smile on his lips, “Was I not in your house this whole entire time?” His smirk widened at the clenched jaw you did, amused at how easy he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll have your tongue strangling your own neck,” You spat, leaning back on the chair to get away from him for a moment. The man in front of you isn’t the George you knew. It’s not the real George. Or, it is the real George, only he fooled you all this time.

Only thinking about it made your heart boil.

George chuckled coldly, his chuckles echoed through the room. “I’d love to see you try,” His voice was delightful, yet there was something poisonous about it as he smiled at you, “I want to share that thrill with my wife too.”

“The thrill of what?” You asked, and George chuckled again, “Now, my love, you know I’m not as gullible as you think I am to fall for that. Nice try, though,” he winked. You sighed, getting irritated by his play of words, “Let’s cut off the bullshit now, shall we? Let’s start the investigation.”

He shrugged, “I gave you my word. Let’s start then.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. No matter what you do, you can’t help but to feel flutters in your heart when he smiles, or call you ‘my love’. The flutters felt like knives, though. 

“Lights out,” you suddenly said. George tilted his head, “What?” “Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you,” You quickly cut him, you faced the one way mirror, “Lights out.”

“You have 15 minutes before Lupin knows, so make it quick,” Zabini’s voice rang out from the speaker, and the lights went out. A while later, the emergency light was on, a red glow looms the entire room, giving the space an eerier vibe.

George looked at you curiously, “What is this, Y/N?” You sat silent. You hated it that you had to plan a secret mission with your team just to have time to talk to your husband. You need answers. No matter what.

So, it was no wonder that you looked up to him with your lips quivering and your eyes weak, “Why did you lie to me?” Baffled with your sudden change of demeanor, George furrowed his eyebrows, “Wha—” “I got Blaise to cut off the electricity here for a few minutes, so the surveillance camera won’t work,” You explained. 

“Not even Blaise can hear us, so tell me,” you looked at him again, “Why did you lie to me?” 

Watching the vulnerability in your expression, George’s smug facade faltered. He knew you like the back of his hand, you were telling the truth. Yet, George wasn’t stupid. He didn’t know how you act in your work, so he had to be cautious. He put up his wall again as he smirked, “But I didn’t. I didn’t lie about anything.”

His smirk washed off as you closed your eyes, “George, please…” He watched as you wiped away the tears welling in your eyes, this was the Y/N that he knew, the Y/N that he protected for the past 7 years from his truth.  

George clenched his jaw, “What do you even want me to say, Y/N?”  His voice now lacked the tinge of amusement, you realized he’s serious now. You looked at him, “What happened to you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” He said, and you gritted your teeth, “What happened to you, George? What caused you to be like this?” “This?” He repeated your words. He scoffed, “I’ve always been this, Y/N. I’m just good at hiding it from you and Rafa.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been lying to me for 7 years straight, I deserve the truth,” You voiced out, and George shook his head, “No, you deserve to be away from me. The truth will only make you resent me more.”

“What fucking difference does it make now, George?! You lied to me! You hide yourself from me! Do you even love me?!” You were standing now, slamming your hands on the table. George clenched his jaw, fighting to stay silent. 

“Tell me the truth! Do you even love me?!”

“You want the truth? Here is my truth,” he snarled, “I am that sick bastard you always talk about. I am The Mad Hatter!” 

“Of course I fucking do!” He stood up abruptly, startling you. The handcuffs rattled more as he tried to yank his wrists away from the table. “If I don’t love you, then I would have drowned you that night we met! I wouldn’t have Rafael with you! I would have killed you!” His voice was loud and clear, yet his feelings inside couldn't exactly say the same thing.

George Weasley had lost control of his composure.

“No, no…” You muttered, shaking your head slowly, “But you’re an angel to me! You’re an angel to me and Rafa, George!” You said, desperation clinging onto your voice tightly. 

“If I am one,” He breathed heavily, “If I am an angel, then let me rip off my wings and break apart my halo because I have killed!” He shouted, “And I don’t fucking resent it! Not one fucking bit.”

You were silent in shock from his outburst, while George huffed heavily. His heart was racing with adrenaline, but he hated this one. He looked at you who was still in shock, “Is that what an angel is to you?” he asked cynically.

“Someone that kills for the thrill? If I wanted to, I would have killed you that day you walked into the shop, Y/N,” he said. “But I’d rather kill someone else then kill you and Rafa,” He continued with a small voice. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

You snapped out from your state of shock and began to shake your head in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about, George? You mean to tell me that you killed 7 people because you didn’t want to kill us?”

“Yes, Y/N, that’s exactly what I meant,” He spat, looking at you with a snarl, “Who do you think killed my whole family except Fred?” George started to laugh maniacally, “And I’ve only spared him all this time because he’s my twin brother and I need a partner for my business.”

“You… You killed your family?” You breathed out, horrified. George looked at you and smiled eerily, “Who else?” His expression grimmed. “I’ve always been this, Y/N. A monster; who craves for the thrill of the kill, and the stench of blood, and the screams of pain and burn. That’s who I am, that’s who I truly am.”

“... I never understood love. Not even when I married you. But when Rafa came along, he taught me what love is. He taught me how to love. And when I realized I love you both, I realized that I loved my family too. But in the end,” He chuckled again, “I killed them,” He whispered dreamily. 

There was a shadow of pain in his eyes, you could sense it. When he looked at you, you found the tenderness he always had in his eyes when he looked at you. For a moment, you wondered if he’s really saying the truth; about him being in love with you. Being in love with your family.

“You,” You watched him look away from you for a moment, pursing his lips, “You gave me a happy life. And I forgot what it’s like to kill. You made me into a new man,” He said slowly. There was silence for a while, it was only you and him, staring into each other. But something clicked inside him that caused him to look away. 

He continued in a cold voice, “But I remembered what I did to my family. I remembered how I felt. I loved it, no matter how much guilt weighed on me for years. I loved seeing their terrified faces when I killed them slowly one by one. Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and, and little Ginny. They’re in my dreams every single day after that, haunting me, taunting me to kill you and Rafa next. Because that’s who I am,” He slowly shook his head, “But I don’t want to.”

His head turned to you, “I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill Rafa. If I ever do, I— I—” He scoffed, his eyes wandering around the table wildly, “I don’t know if I can forgive myself for it.”

“For killing us?”

“No, for enjoying it,” George confessed. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to digest it right. Looking at you being quite shaken by the truth, George smiled to himself, “This is also why I didn’t want to tell you the truth.”

“What?”

“You’re looking at me like a monster,” He said softly, lips etching that gentle smile you always adored. He sat back down on his seat, his hands playing with the metallic chain that held him down. “I’m not saying that I’m not one, I just feel better when you look at me with love because I’m your husband, not a sick bastard who kills for fun.”

“It feels nice not to be a monster sometimes.” 

“George... “ You didn’t know what else to say, but his name. “T-then… Why did you target former sexual assaulters? A-and why would you record them?” You asked slowly.

George looked at you for a moment, blinked and he only smiled. That’s when you realized that he had put up his walls again. That George who had confessed his love to you, and had confessed his crimes to you was gone, this is The Mad Hatter now. 

“I told you the truth, I answered your questions. I gave you my word, didn’t I?” He spoke, as if nothing happened a few minutes ago. You took a deep breath to recollect yourself again. You felt confused, angry, scared, and everything else.

 But you’re also hurt.

“... But you did kill me, George.” Your words caused him to look up to you. You were looking down on your hands before standing up straight, sighing as you looked at him, “You hurt me, you lied to me, you deceived me, you played me like I’m no less than a rag doll. Even if you didn’t kill me physically, you killed me in there,” You pointed to his chest, slightly scoffing at the tears welling up your eyes.

And the lights went back up again. 

You took a deep breath, pretending everything was fine. “Nott and Zabini will interrogate you. I’m off the case because of you, so I hope you can work with them, and tell them what you just told me,” You said nonchalantly, forcing the lump on your throat to swallow itself back down. 

George chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t think I will.” You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

At that moment, the door opened and someone came into the room, “This interrogation is over now that I'm here, please leave,” The man said coolly and you widened your eyes as you recognized him instantly as soon as he walked in the room, “...  Fred?”

“Ah, brilliant.”

The glint of mischief in his eyes had returned, and you realized that the two brothers in front of you are up to no good.

“My lawyer’s here.”

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[hufflautia]

In Sickness and in Health

Requested by @milk-leaves!​  

Warnings: A very brief and non-explicit sexual implication

Summary: Slytherin catches the flu. Luckily, her husband is there to help. However, her stubborn nature and insistent claim that “she can’t be sick because she’s never been sick in her entire life” makes it a little difficult for Hufflepuff to assist her. Marriage isn’t always easy, but with the proper amount of love and patience, everything works out in the end. 

Slytherin grabs the garbage can just in time to vomit into the basket. When she finishes, she wipes her mouth with a grimace and rests her forehead against the bed. 

“Honey?” 

She looks up and sees Hufflepuff standing by the door, his forehead puckered as he takes in her appearance. Her hair unruly, she’s slumped on the floor of their bedroom, looking tired and pale. 

Usually, Slytherin would be happy to see her husband. However, all she feels is irritation in the wake of his presence, and she leans against the side of the mattress once more. 

“What are you doing here,” she croaks, eyeing him as he approaches her and kneels down. “I thought you had to go to the Ministry today.” 

“It was a minor emergency, so I left early.” He regards her carefully. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Hufflepuff frowns. “But you threw up.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that a lot today,” she murmurs weakly. Noticing his eyes widen, she snorts. “I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking. I got my period today.”  

He gives her a sympathetic look. “I imagine it’s been a very fun day for you.” 

“The best I’ve ever had, actually.” 

Leaning in ever so slightly, that’s when Hufflepuff sees it—the faint flush on her face, the way she folds her arm around herself, the tinge of hoarseness in her voice.  

He reaches out and touches Slytherin’s forehead. Her skin feels hot and cold at the same time. She bats away his hand in annoyance. “What are you doing,” she snaps, scowling at him. Her anger immediately falters when she notices how his eyebrows rise, a look of surprise mixed with hurt spreading onto his face. 

“You have a fever,” he confirms quietly. 

Slytherin resists a frown. “But I never get sick.” 

“Well, it happens to the best of us.” He gets up. “Wait here, I’ll get some medicine.” 

“I don’t need it,” she calls after him but he’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. He returns with a bottle and a small cup. Taking a seat before pouring red liquid into the cup, he ignores her when she says his name in a tone of indignation, insisting that she isn’t sick.

Hufflepuff hands it to her. “Drink,” he says firmly. When she juts her chin out and pouts, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Honey, I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel better.”

She still doesn’t move. This time, he returns her unyielding stare with one of his own. His tone is hard and demanding as he warns, “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

Slytherin grudgingly brings the cup to her lips. If she didn't feel like complete shit right now, she would keep pushing his patience for fun. She’d even be a little turned on by his authoritative voice. Probably both. 

She immediately makes a face as the medicine slides down her throat. “This tastes like ass,” she grumbles, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and setting the cup down. 

He chuckles. “Medicine tends to taste that way.” He stands and offers his hand. “Come. I’m sure a warm shower sounds perfect right now.”  

A faint smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “How’d you know,” she asks, taking his hand. A wave of nausea sweeps over her when she gets up, and he quickly plants his hands on either side of her. 

“I’m your husband,” he pulls her closer, “I know these things.” 

Slytherin wraps her arms around him. “Will you carry me to the bathroom,” she mumbles into his sweater. 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head before picking her up bridal-style with care. 

“Do you even have to ask?” 

A couple of hours pass. Feeling drowsy from the medicine, Slytherin took a long nap before waking up to the smell of homemade soup. Hufflepuff cooked something for her while she was sleeping. To her dismay, he also gave her another cup of NyQuil, but she drank it without any resistance. Afterwards, her headache subsided and was diminished to a dull pain, which is nothing compared to before. 

Now, she is laying in bed, feeling comfortable and content as she snuggles with her husband while he reads her favorite book out loud. She’ll probably never openly admit it but she loves when they cuddle. Listening to the smooth drawl of his voice, she catches a few words while dozing in and out of sleep. Her lips curve into a smile. He’s getting to her favorite part where he speaks in a ridiculous voice when reading the dialogue of an ancient wizard. 

Hufflepuff had read the book to her before when they were dating. He used the same wise and raspy voice as he uses now. At that moment, as she attempted to hold in her laughter, she knew he was the one. Funnily enough, he ended up proposing to her a month later. 

Feeling the familiar tug in her heart that can only be classified as complete adoration, Slytherin musters enough strength to pull herself out of the cozy arms of sleep. She shifts around so that she can properly see his face and says his name tenderly. 

“What is it,” he asks, putting the book down. “Is your headache still bothering you?” 

“A little, but...I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I was angry at you for no reason, but it might’ve been because of my period, and you already know how bad my PMS gets sometimes, but I still feel terrible about being so rude because you’re so great and sweet and you were only trying to help but I was being so difficult and I think I’m just not really used to people taking care of me, so I was trying to handle this flu on my own but I still shouldn’t have acted that way—and I literally hit your fucking hand and I hate myself for it because you don’t deserve it at all, you deserve so much more than whatever I have to offer...” Words continue to spill from her mouth as she rambles on and on, not bothering to pause for a breath of air. 

Hufflepuff says her name and she finally stops, staring back at him with a contorted expression as if she were trying to back tears. He cups her cheek, to which she leans into his warm touch. “Please don’t worry about that anymore, honey, it’s okay. Honestly. I’ve been with you long enough to know that there’s no one else I would rather be with but you. Even with your stubbornness, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more.” He gives her a reassuring smile as she looks back at him with watery eyes. “Just focus on resting for now, okay?”

She nods and tries to smile back, getting a little choked up in the process. His words are laced with so much endearment that she realizes just how lucky she is to have someone like him to spend the rest of her life with. She puts her hand over his. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for loving me as you do.”  

His gaze is so unimaginably soft that, for a split second, Slytherin wonders how it’s even possible. He leans in, and she happily closes the distance. 

One might think that as time passes for a married couple, the love begins to stale. This is not true in their case, for the flutter in her stomach intensifies as they kiss. She can only focus on how soft he feels against her lips, how he invades all her senses in the best way possible. Her fingers grip the front of his shirt while his hand rests against the curve of her neck when they finally pull apart. Their noses brush against each other as they lock eyes. 

“I love you,” she breathes. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And I love you.” 

“Good. Because we’re stuck with each other forever.” 

“I’d be sad if we weren’t,” he replies with a grin, retrieving the book. “Shall I continue reading?” 

She beams at him before laying her cheek against his chest. “Yes please.” 

Hufflepuff flips to the page he left off from. While he reads, he traces patterns around her stomach, as if he's painting a beautiful masterpiece over her skin. 

A couple of chapters in, Slytherin momentarily closes her eyes as his melodious voice washes over her. 

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulls her to sleep. 

FIN.

~

Check out my masterlist! | Kind comments and reblogs are most appreciated :) 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It took me a while to come up with an idea for this (also, to the person who requested this, I hope you are satisfied :D). My friend had the idea of “a vacation gone horribly wrong”. It was a fantastic idea - I even made a google doc for it and everything, but I did not write out a sufficient amount of general details for it because nothing solid came to mind. Then, when I was trying to go to sleep, I came up with this idea and I am very happy with how it came out!! 

I modeled Hufflepuff after Steve Rogers to some extent. He has that gentle giant type of vibe. He is kind and loving, but he’ll be stern if he needs to. I have to admit, the thought of making a series about slytherpuff married life has crossed my mind while writing this one-shot. I am still contemplating it. If I do create the series, it won’t be restricted to this couple specifically, but I will consider writing more stories about them because I really do adore their dynamic! Anyways, if I were to write that series, it would be different stories with different couples. It might not even be classified as a series but more as a collection of slytherpuff married life stories. Also, there would probably be at least one nsfw story included in that collection, but I will not be writing any smut until after my birthday, which is in April. *HI THIS IS JESSICA FROM THE NEXT DAY, aka the day that i’m gonna post this and im just going over the fic. while i was sleeping, i just thought of ANOTHER marriage fic so i think im going to make a married life collection of storiessss :D :D :D!!! however, im still wondering about whether i should write it, because the story idea is a little eh. if anyone has any other marriage life ideas, please feel free to let me know! before, i was a little hesitant on making a collection because it was hard for me to think of ideas for this fic when the request came in. hopefully, that will change in the future. also why do i keep coming up with good ideas for stories in my sleep lmao* 

Writing this story was fun. I stayed up until 2 am for four straight days while writing. Lmao how odd is it to see those two sentences right next to each other? In all honestly, I didn’t feel like it was 2 am because I was in the zone. I just kept writing until I told myself to go to bed because the future morning me will regret it--and lemme tell you, she really does. Anyways, I used my own experience with medicine for fevers. I absolutely hate the taste of NyQuil; I remember when my mom would make me drink small cups of it whenever I was sick. Also, when I was writing Sly’s rambling bit, I did not put any periods in the paragraph because I wanted to make it seem like she’s going on and on and isn’t stopping. However, I thought it to be weird and so I put the paragraph into the “translate to english” thing so that I could press the audio icon and hear what it sounds like. I’m happy to report that it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard in my entire life because her monotone voice saying all that was very amusing. 

There is no telling what fic I will post next. Last week, I was all over the place and working on several fics, moving from one to another when I got bored of the story. Also, my mental state is not the best at the moment. I’ve been feeling self-conscious about my writing recently, and I’m probably gonna go through another episode of that because this is gonna be the first fic that marks the end of tag lists and so this is probably gonna be an underrated fic because fewer ppl will see it. I came to realize that it’s not me who’s writing bad fics; even though I tag people, there’s a noticeable lack of interaction, so it’s likely that some of my followers just aren’t active anymore. There was a fanfic writer who I really like because their loki fics are amazing. A few weeks ago, I found their other blog that I was not aware of beforehand and they made a post 3 weeks ago saying that they would no longer be writing fics because there were barely any people interacting with them. She seemed really upset, saying stuff like “I guess my fics just aren’t good enough”, “no one can save me anymore” (I know that sounds very ominous but she was insinuating “no nice comments will make me change my mind”), and “I feel like deleting my blog because there’s a sense of failure in just leaving them there”. This made me really sad, and a part of me was afraid that one day, I would adopt a similar mindset. However, I know that there’s a group of people who will always be there to read my stories, so I’m gonna try to hold onto that idea and continue writing to make you happy and myself happy as well. Also I just realized that I always include one part in my author’s note that’s just sad for some reason :’)

ANYWAYS, I remember making a post a longgggg time ago that said “I promise that I will finish the slytherpuff series if it’s the last thing I do”. That has changed; I plan to post all the chapters leading up to their requited love at last (aka the part in which they actually get into a relationship together). After that, there’s still a bunch of chapters but they’re just fluffy bits, i.e. rainy day, they bake together, oop it’s one of their birthdays, etc. In other words, they aren’t essential to the plot. I could turn them into one-shots and stuff, but some of the chapters relate to the characters’ lives. In addition, it’s sweet to see their relationship progress. For those chapters regarding fluffy bits of their relationship, I won’t feel incentive to write them right away because their love is already requited and I also have two big series that I would rather work on. However, I’m not gonna start another series yet because I don’t wanna leave you on a cliffhanger in Chapter 3 and suddenly start writing a whole other series. The plan is to post all the chapters for the slytherpuff series leading up to the moment when they start dating (Chapter 7 or 8 will probably be when they actually get together). That way, there’s no rush to complete it because it’s just easy and sweet since they’re already in a relationship and readers aren’t anxiously waiting to see what happens next. After that, I will probably begin writing the other series, which will be different from the original slytherpuff series. You’ll see why. Once in a while, I will go back to the original series and write for that when I feel like it. 

I’m trying my best to finish writing Chapter 4 :( It is gonna be long - I’ve already written about 7 pages and I am thinking of splitting it into two parts. If I do, I might be posting part 1 soon because it’s kind of already done. Then again, I like the idea of just posting it all at once. We’ll see! I’m gonna try to work on that after this. My desire to write is sporadic, but comments and interactions from readers are very impactful in terms of my motivation to write, so be sure to leave feedback if you can! I’ll see you all again the next time I post a fic. Thanks for reading!

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[msmarvelwrites]

Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader 

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee! 

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me! 

Thank you forever to @cutie1365​ for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work! 

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving. 

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams. 

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled. 

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you. 

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made. 

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer. 

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking. 

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.” 

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her. 

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust. 

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour. 

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda. 

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows. 

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter. 

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him. 

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that. 

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…” 

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her. 

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging. 

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot. 

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it. 

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy. 

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.” 

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips. 

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished. 

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you. 

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.” 

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun. 

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble. 

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?” 

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort. 

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party. 

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room. 

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins. 

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said. 

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music. 

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration. 

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter. 

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay. 

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put. 

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor. 

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over. 

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.” 

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable. 

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable. 

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and- 

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. 

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted. 

“No?” 

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip. 

“So its my fault?” You gawked. 

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…” 

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak. 

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds… 

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.” 

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music. 

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little. 

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass. 

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath. 

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room. 

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in. 

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.” 

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you. 

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words. 

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses. 

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.” 

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest. 

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart. 

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk. 

________________________________________________________________

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[noperopesaredope]

Ok, so, new (actually pretty old, but I revamped most of it) fic idea!

I remembered this bad boy sitting way in the back of my pile of old fic ideas I nearly went through with, touched it up, and shall now pitch it to all my fellow Varian fans out there! (most of it was original, but then I changed it up because I was inspired by shows like “What If...” and “Loki”, so you may see some similarities, but those ideas were already there a few years before those shows, they just looked a bit different)

This post is long, so if you want to hear about it, just click the read more button.

Plot

So, this fic starts post-series, about 4 months after the finale (maybe more). Varian finds some old Demanitus designs (or maybe a hidden room full of weird equipment), and Varian being Varian decides to build it. He ends up making a weird mask and glove (the glove has a weird circle symbol on it with a couple of runes). He ends up somehow pricking his finger and some of his blood drips on the center of the circle. Varian thinks nothing of it and moves on, trying to figure out what the glove/mask can do and how he can activate them.

Suddenly, (while he’s wearing them) they start working, and a smallish portal opens up from underneath him, which he falls through. Suddenly, he’s in a whole new place, very different from anywhere he had ever seen. He begins walking around, exploring, and sees amazing things, like dragons and magic and stuff, just out and about. It’s straight up HIGH fantasy. He’s like an isekai protagonist in a fantasy world.

While Varian’s walking around, he is suddenly attacked by a group of generic monsters, but a mysterious stranger saves him. He thanks the stranger, whose face is covered, and asks if they can tell him where he is. The stranger looks him up and down before saying “far away from your home, Varian. Very far away.” Varian, surprised and a little bit suspicious, asks how this stranger knows his name, and then who they are. The stranger simply says that they are someone who can help him. They introduce themselves as “One”, and request that Varian follow them to safety.

Varian, looking around him, decides that he’d rather just trust One than get stranded, so he follows them. They find a good place to stay for the night, and One asks if they can see Varian’s glove. Varian cauciously hands it over, and One looks it over before handing it back, then decides to explain the situation.

“Varian, have you ever heard of the multiverse theory?”

“Yeah, I read about it in Demanitus’ book. It talks a bit about how there could be infinite universes parallel to our own and each other, each event creating new universes based on the alternate versions of those events. Some universes also work entirely differently from others, or the flow of time is different, so there might be a universe where everyone is a chicken, or a universe where everyone that exists now is living 100 years in the future compared to us. But everything also moves at the same pace. It’s like a time paradox. Sorry, I’m rambling. Why are we talking about the multiverse theory?”

“Well, my young alchemist, what you have there is called a thread jumper. It allows you to jump between universes, and travel the multiverse.”

“Wait, so what you’re saying is, I’m in another universe?”

“Precisely.”

After a small panic attack, One explains that they know all about this kind of stuff, since they have a jumper too, and can help get Varian home. The only problem is, Varian’s jumper isn’t working. One says they know someone who might know how to help, and they walk to a strange hut. One barges into it without knocking, shouting “what’s up Science Bitch” as they entered.

Inside is a guy reading a book, who immediately puts it down to yell at One, shouting “I’M A WIZARD YOU-” before noticing Varian. They stare at each other for a long moment, due to the fact that they are both Varian.

So, introductions are made, short existential crisises are had, and Wizard!Varian sits down to look at OG!Varian’s (That’s what I’m calling our Varian) jumper.

Turns out, Varian’s jumper is a bit weird, and requires a day or two to recharge after a jump, so they have to wait a while for it to charge (it seems that Varian can only travel using his own jumper, and can’t just hold onto One or anything). They all groan at this, but decide to take advantage of this by getting to know each other a bit. Wizard!Varian and One already know each other very well, and have a history with the multiverse stuff, but they don’t want to talk about it much with OG!Varian. Instead, they tell him a tad bit more about how some of the stuff works, and ask about his world.

After a few hours of conversation, Wizard!Varian decides to observe the jumper a little more, and finds some more bad news. So, he doesn’t know why, but it doesn’t have settings, so they have no control over where OG!Varian might end up when he teleports. Uh oh. So they might have to do a slightly more old fashioned way; just keep teleporting until they get to the right world. OG!Varian will be able to tell when he’s in the right universe though, so it should be okay! Besides, they can probably find someone to help them fix it since Wizard!Varian can’t.

So, One vows to help get Varian home, and they soon (after it finishes charging) head off. The fic will start out slightly episodic, with a bit of a “universe of the week” type format. In each one, they will meet a different Varian (since this fic is centered around the different Varian AUs. Some crossovers may happen occasionally, but there will always be a Varian there). While they are in each universe, they may end up helping the Varian there in some way or another, and later on in the story, one or two may end up joining the duo.

Eventually, the plot will pick up, and become something a bit bigger, with plenty of lore and character development for the Varians. I already have the bigger idea for the plot and most backstories already planned out in my head, but don’t want to give it away in case I starting making this proper.

Anyways, that’s my fic idea. I call it “Varian!AU” and nobody can make me change the title.

I’m probably gonna add more info and ideas in a reblogged version of this post, so look out for that on my blog!

Hope you guys think this is interesting! I’d like to hear some suggestions for AUs I could include (I already have a long list, but I want to see some other stuff people come up with)!

[werewolfsquadron]

Hey! You’re my fav rdr fanfic writer. Got any recs now that I’ve worked my way through everything you’ve written! Thanks!

oh gosh, yeah do I have fic recs (and thank you for your kind words about my fics)! Fics are in the order they are in my bookmarks, so they’re pretty much in reverse chronological order. I’ve tagged those authors whom I know are on tumblr, but I’m sure there are others that are here that I just don’t know about. 

Morston:

Blackwater - gaslight (@gaslightwestern on tumblr): Noir AU, ongoing but almost finished. Arthur is a private detective, John is a bar owner during prohibition that hires Arthur to look into a murder. Does a super impressive job of capturing the noir tone in writing while not being cheesy about it. Lots of intrigue, mystery, and also Arthur and John being lovable dumbasses. John manages to be a homme fatale while also being his normal impulsive, dumbass self. 

Hard times come again no more - dilangley: Arthur survives the end of RDR2, and encounters John again while John is in Mexico during the events of RDR1. Complete. Really unique for Morston in that it takes place when both characters are older, and really well done. You get to watch Arthur and John build a life together, and survive what would normally be the end of their stories. The epilogue made me cry.  

I’m a Rover - anotherbird (@the-other-bird on tumblr): I’m a sucker for a post Blessed Are the Peacemakers fics and this is no different. After being suck in camp healing, Arthur decides to go for a ride and John refuses to let him go alone. Oneshot, so complete. Lots of feelings, and Arthur and John being unable to communicate them to each other because they have no emotional literacy. It’s wonderful. 

Hell Be Comin’ Round That Mountain - moonoverwings: There’s a frustrating lack of trans Arthur content in general, but especially with Morston, and this is one of the few, if not the only, fics I’ve found that just nails it. It’s ongoing and hasn’t been updated in a bit, so could be abandoned, but what’s there is great and still worth reading. Characters are well written with great characterization, and they really nail the “idiots in love” trope with these two. 

Golden day blues - Yuu_chi: Reincarnation AU where John tracks Arthur down after they’ve both been reincarnated into the modern day. Complete. Lots of complicated feelings and struggling with being alive, and the boys fistfight and fuck to deal with it. It’s good. 

Nothin’ - helvel: helvel’s got a bunch of great fics, but this is one of my favs. Modern AU where the boys are resting out in a shitty motel room after Blackwater, and things progress from there. Oneshot, so complete. It’s the unsaid and implied emotions, both good and bad, that really make this one for me. 

All of Them Wolves - thegoodreverend: AU where Arthur got out of the life earlier, and is living a peaceful life as a trapper up until John shows up in his house. Complete. Not only is this fic emotion heavy and full of the good feelings, but it’s got some excellent banter and John and Arthur feel in character throughout, even though they haven’t met each other before in this AU. This fic is definitely one of my favs. 

Charthur:

Lost Country - iridan: A coffee shop AU with a twist. Finished relatively recently. Characters are all so well written, and it doesn’t shy away from the darker or heavier parts of their characters. Arthur is a bartender/reluctant barista at Dutch’s bar/coffee shop, and Charles is a long haul trucker that’s started getting coffee there in the mornings. Arthur owns a small ranch and has a collection of rescue horses, and it’s wonderful. 

Come and Lay by My Side - boldlygoingnowherefast: When things start going downhill, Charles convinces Arthur to leave the gang with him just before the bank robbery. Complete. Some wonderful Charthur moments, but also looks into why leaving the gang would be so damn hard for Arthur. 

Up Strawberry Way - grantaire_dont_care: Charles and Arthur go on a hunting trip that doesn’t go as planned when they get discovered by O’Driscolls. Complete. I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, and this has that in spades. Plus some great Charthur moments, especially in terms of having someone who actually cares about Arthur being there when he’s hurt. 

Out of the Dark - sky_daybreak (@shady-tavern on tumblr): A time travel fix-it where Arthur gets a chance to start over and try and fix the events of the game (and, y’know, get together with Charles). Complete. Not only does it have so many wonderful moments and heart-to-hearts, but also doesn’t try to pretend that everything can be fix. Some things still go wrong, but there’s happier endings for a vast number of characters, and Arthur gets to see much of his family safe on a ranch together. 

Dust and Devils (On My Conscience) - catwrites: An AU where Charles is a werewolf. Oneshot. I’m a sucker for the supernatural, of course, so this is one of my favs. Charles is keeping his werewolf status a secret, but Arthur finds out early in the fic, and that influences and colors what’s to come. 

Scars Are For the Living - alliancedogtags: AU where Arthur is shot in the final mission instead, and Charles comes back for him. Complete. Found this originally when I had just beaten the game and was looking for AUs similar to what I already had in my head for BALTWIO, just to see if someone had already done it. Arthur isn’t shot by Dutch in this one, but he does get brought to Charlotte’s place. Lots of sweet moments and that good hurt/comfort, and Charles and Arthur get to live a happy life together, which is the important thing.

gen or other ships:

Blessed Are the Hearts that Bend (They Shall Not Be Broken) - Disishistory: During Blessed Are the Peacemakers, Hosea goes after Arthur when he doesn’t show up after the meeting with Colm, and Micah tags along, which goes about as well as you might expect. Complete. Plenty of tension and hurt, but also has those comfort elements and found family feelings.

Soldier, Poet, King - nerdytf84fan: A long fic that looks at the early years of the gang, from just after Dutch picks up Arthur to, more recently, John’s introduction to the gang and Arthur’s breakup with Mary. Ongoing, but has been pretty steady in terms of updates. As with every fic on this list, the characters are well written and feel like themselves. Also full of found family feelings. 

Quest for Arcadia - nerdyft84fan: An Arthur/Albert Mason modern AU fic, where Albert visits Alaska for a photography project and ends up meeting Arthur, who has recently gotten out of prison after taking the fall for one of the gang’s crimes. Complete, and has a second fic full of (relatively) low stakes stories about the epilogue of the fic. Full of both really sweet moments and really heartbreaking moments. Albert still, even in a modern AU, finds himself getting into trouble with the Alaskan wilderness.

If Your Well is Empty - pipdepop (@pipdepop on tumblr): All of pipdepop’s fics are wonderful and definitely worth a read, but this and the second fic in the same series are some of my favorites. When Arthur’s hurting after Eliza and Isaac’s death, Hosea brings home a coonhound puppy to help ease the hurt. Complete, since it’s a oneshot. I’m a sucker for Copper fics, and this one is no different. Plenty of puppy shenanigans, but also some really heartbreaking moments that Copper helps resolve and turn towards healing. 

Nothing But A Note In A Symphony - pipdepop: A post Peacemakers fic, where we see each gang member’s thoughts throughout the worst of Arthur’s recovery. Complete. Really heartbreaking at moments, but ultimately really sweet, especially since it ends with a really nice Arthur & John moment, and has a follow up tag about Hosea and Arthur. 

Birdshot & Bone - magistrate: John and Arthur try to rob some O’Driscolls, and it does not go well. John breaks his leg, Arthur gets shot, and they get captured. Complete. I’m constantly in awe of magistrate’s characterization, and this has that plus all that wonderful hurt/comfort goodness. Plenty of John and Arthur arguing but ultimately caring about one another.

A Matter of Preservation - charlock221 (@charlock221 on tumblr): An Arthur/Albert Mason fic where Arthur agrees to be a bodyguard for Albert. Complete. Lots of wonderful Arthur and Albert moments, but also some tension as well. Includes hurt/comfort flavor later on in the fic. 

Brothers - gaslight: To borrow the fic’s summary, explores John growing up but from Arthur’s perspective. Complete. Really gets in deep with all those complicated emotions of the early years of the gang—from Dutch’s manipulation and Arthur’s feeling put to the side to the way Arthur and John absolutely would die for each other. Plus, there’s John being an absolute wild child which is always a fun ride, especially when you see how that carries into his adulthood. 

sorry about the wait! life has been ridiculous and I only now had time to go back through my bookmarks. I’m sure, too, that there are some fics out there that I’ve loved that I just forgot to bookmark, so don’t take this as an exhaustive list. and then, lastly, anyone should feel free to reblog this and add on their own recs—this list is just my taste, but I’m sure there are plenty of other wonderful fics that I either forgot to bookmark, never saw, or just didn’t check out in the first place because I wasn’t in the right headspace at the time.