#leyla's looks: soft and tender

[goldenclarice]

lady sabitha may be unknown to her yet, but there is a familiar bend to a woman's elbow that allows clarice to readily graft onto her companion. two ruling ladies walking arm-to-arm and with agendas of their own - that alone required something to live beyond meeting; would clarice need victoria's brilliance? her mother's ambitions? franklyn's tales of knighthood? perhaps clarice own strength of character would suffice, and she might dare to delight her like a knight from the stories, those great paragons of chivalry and honor that beckoned beautiful maidens from a tower and carried them off by swordpoint. and while clarice was not of champion-build, and sabitha was no moony-eyed maiden in need to be rescued, clarice still had strength and honor aplenty. her courage carried her forward with the surety of a noble steed between the grip of her knees. at present, the fog seemed to have lifted between them and so she allows a half-suppressed laugh at sabitha's own estimation of her needlework skills. "perhaps you may want to read us one of your poems at the weaving circle instead. a poem that speaks on why they call you the 'lady of ladies.'" clarice shares a shy, close-lipped smile with her. "i am curious to know why they call you that."

her curiosity only grows at mention of the hightowers and the hand they will play at sabitha's own ambitions. there are machinations yet to be discovered and they race in clarice's head in so many shapes and colors that she cannot help but feel as if the air around her has been pinched out of her whe she realizes the mistake she has made. she had easily judged lady sabitha's worth as another frog mucking around the pond and not perceived the clarity of her companion's ambitions - she held the confidence of the queen and arranged a marriage pact with the second most powerful house of the reach. clarice could not allow herself to trust her just yet, so she would bid her time during this meeting until she could bring these revelations to her mother, franklyn and victaria and see what sense they made of it. for now, she nods towards sabitha with respect and temperance. "the hightowers and the citadel are the torchlight that have always carried the realm forward in all the ways of enlightenment. they are also our most powerful vassals." clarice quirks her brow with a modicum of suspicion. "you are wise to know whom to ally yourself with." the sentiment goes through the same motion as wilting when her eyes brighten with warmth as she considers the light of the reach. "lady sam is my own kin besides, a rowan from from her mother and all the more beloved by me. knowing this, i am certain lady leyla will be good to your son." her smile persists on and roots onto sabitha now, only now it is borne out of sympathy. "my lady, you are a good mother to look out for your son's interests, even if you may do it alone. i am sorry to hear that you and your son's honor has been tainted by your lord husband's indiscretions. in interest of your son's rightful rulership, i would see to it that your husband's bastards are sent far away. bastards are made of evil and sin and will grasp at any small measure for power."

clarice folds in on herself as she takes a moment to glance at the ground, not out of bashfulness, but in emulation of a sore that had been prodded. her lorence would forever be held abreast to her like a silver arrow that had torn through the tenderness of a fallow deer. that arrowhead had once pierced through the soft and yielding core of her, leaving her with bated breath and a tremor of excitement running through the roots of her. now, it drove into her like a hammer onto the anvil, leaving a searing pain that left her gasping for relief. her heart had always been a betrayer in her own body, but no truths pulse across her face. instead, she faces the question with a dignified seriousness. "my lord husband was a good man. a fierce leader and a gentle husband who was loved by the commonfolk and highborn alike, long before i had become his lady wife." there is a pause between the statement and her next, an inhaled breath of softness as she thinks of their son. "he did not live long enough to be a father that a son could remember, but i know he would have been a patient, guiding hand to our lyonel, too."

clarice feels herself stiffen at the attention placed on the worst spectacle she has had to face in the short arc of her life, so she breaks away from sabitha and faces her with a grim seriousness. life would have it that she would not be a bride for long, but instead the lady-regent of the richest region of the realm. the strength it took to rise up from a broken heart is a fire in her eyes with little patience for illusions. "but i don't need your pity," she begins. "if we are to be friends, all i ask is for your understanding. so you must understand how he died." she resumes their journey along the length of the courtyard and keeps an even pace with sabitha. "he was killed by dornish spearmen along the prince's pass. they bled him like a pig long enough under the sun that he cooked within his armor." she lets out a straggled exhale at lorence's pain and her own. her hands grasp onto each other and begin to shake. "when they brought him back to me, the spear that dealt the death blow to his neck was still attached. i took it out and tried to mend the bones together with silver wires but it was impossible. my lorence was a broken thing that i could not fix." a rush of wind passes through them as a small disturbance and in the time it took for their surroundings to settle as they once were, clarice's expression had twisted with a corrosive hatred. "i used to rest easy knowing that he feasts in the Father's golden halls... that he does not suffer any longer. but that was before i was made to share a hall and make merry with the people that butchered my lord husband and the pirates of the summer sea who continue to kill the commonfolk of my lands. now do you understand?"

« Well... that was better than expected. » Sabitha was fully ready to receive a slap on the face if Lady Clarice stayed as furious as she appeared. She made enough bold moves to make her mother faint. Lady Clarice's blush was a welcomed surprise; Sabitha didn't expect to become just as red as her, that was for sure. Her hand was forced on the lady's heart, what other reaction was she supposed to have? « View on her eyes. Keep your damn view in her eyes, Sabitha. Have her eyes always been this pretty? Sabitha focus. » The thoughts were worthless, Sabitha was hooked by her brown eyes. « Oh, no... »

She tried to keep her composure. Although she realized her mind will keep coming back to this moment.—You're correct. Our sons one day will need to forge alliances of their own. —Sabitha tried to return to he political machinations, but she was difficult, her head slowly becoming a mess— It may interest you, my son Theo will soon be betrothed to Lady Leyla Hightower. So the Reach and the Riverlands can grow stronger... together.

Trust is built slowly. Sabitha had a lot of it. She felt the loneliness insert the Court too. She intertwined her arms with Lady Tyrell's. Hopefully it came as comfortable as possible for the other woman. —A good friendship must have mutual understanding. I wish to know you, my Lady. — She followed her steps, already forgetting where they were supposed to go in the first place. —As you can see, I'm terrible at neddlework, but I quite talented at poetry. Lady Jyzene proposed my marriage to her son, Lord Forrest, after she read it. Back at the time I wasn't the "Lady of Ladies", but simply a maiden with no interest in boys; instead I had a strong devotion to the Seven, my dream was to become a Septa. —Two ladies bonding over religion wasn't weird or suspicious. At least that was what Sabitha told herself.— My Lord Husband keeps asking for another boy, but I can help but pray for a girl. He has his own seeds back at the Crossing... But me? Only Theo. — « Am I sharing too much? » Sabitha straighten herself. « Just ask. It's just a harmless question. » — I know lost can be difficult, do you wish to speak about your late Husband?

[ginjointsintheworld]

Lauren Bloom looking at Leyla Shinwari

[saintlike78]

A handy gift [S.G]

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅

Navigation

A/N: I imagine this as being before Steven knows about Marc - and Leyla doesn’t exist.

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!wife!reader

Words: 1.5k

Summary: You’ve missed Steven all day and he looks so tired - perhaps a gift is in order

Warnings: NSFW 16+, handjob, switch!Steven (but leaning more toward sub!Steven), mention of spit, cum swallowing. As always lmk if I missed anything.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅

“Hi baby boy,” you greeted softly, walking straight into the arms of Steven.

Instantly you buried yourself in his chest breathing in his scent - the one you had missed all day.

“Hiya, darling… have you had a nice day?” he sighed, dropping his worn down messenger bag on the floor before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight.

“I missed you. The flat is awfully boring without you here,” you pouted, unburying yourself to show him your dissatisfied face.

He wrinkled his nose, leaning down to place his lips softly to your pouting ones, “I am truly sorry, my love. Believe it or not, but I think I missed you more.”

A small grin spread across your face, replacing your feigned pout, “I don’t believe that,” you whispered, walking backwards as you kept a tight grip around him, forcing him to move with you.

Steven smiled down at you, his tired eyes brightening as you walked with him blindly in your grasp to the chair that sat on its lonesome by the desk. The wooden floor creaked beneath the weight of you both, a sound falling into the background along with the noise from the street and the faint humming of the fish tank - the only sound that mattered was the quiet breathing from Steven. The desk chair squeaked and creaked with the movements of having been spun around and acquiring the weight of Steven upon it.

“I love you,” you murmured softly, your hand placed gently on his cheek, stroking his skin tenderly.

He couldn’t help but lean into your touch, eyes shutting instinctively as a long puff of air escaped him. The tender words fell from his lips in a whispered sigh before he opened his eyes again to watch as you fell slowly to your knees in front of him; his eyes were wide - somewhat resembling a large puppy - closely watching your movements.

“Will you let me make you feel good?” You whispered, hands already starting their task of removing his belt and unbuttoning his trousers.

Steven nodded with eager, yet heavy movements, “please, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at the breathy noise that escaped him as your hand ghosted over the already growing bulge in his boxers, your hand trailing lightly over him. Abandoning your teasing touches you instead moved down to remove his shoes, throwing them to the side as you did. Your fingers danced lightly over his calf atop his trousers, moving along a path up his leg - antagonizingly slow. All Steven could do was watch through hooded eyes as your hands drew closer and closer to his now almost completely hard cock that strained in his boxers. It was pure enjoyment - selfish enjoyment - watching him and listening to his breathing as it grew slightly heavier, his eyes never leaving you.

“Stand please,” you spoke lowly, squeezing his thigh before you shuffled backwards on your knees to give him space to stand.

He complied without question, following your lead blindly - patiently waiting for what you had planned. Your fingers pulled at the waistband of his brown pants, slowly helping them down and off his legs - Steven almost tripped over the fabric, clumsily rocking in place to regain balance. His breath hitched when he felt the soft cushions of your lips leave small pecks on the front of his thighs before grasping his hand to pull him back down on the chair.

“Tell me about your day, Steven,” you sighed, leaning your head against the soft flesh of his thigh, hand dancing over the waistband of his boxers, only reaching under to pull out his - now painfully - hard cock as he was about to answer.

He stuttered through a gasping moan, the words dying on his tongue, instead too focused on your soft hand around him - squeezing him around the base.

“It was alright,” he exhaled, placing a gentle hand on your head, scratching at your scalp, his mouth slightly parted as your hand worked slowly up and down the length of him.

You basked at his gentle touch, closing your eyes for just a moment to enjoy the feel of his blunt nails on your scalp, making goosebumps rise along the back of your neck and travel down the expanse of your spine. Your eyes opened again, too eager to watch Steven’s face as it twisted and scrunched up in pleasure; you almost moaned listening to the loud whimpering moan that escaped him as your thumb circled around the spongy head of his tip, gliding over the slit, spreading the pre-cum.

He almost whined when you removed your hand from his cock, but decided against it when you presented it to him, palm up and expectant eyes staring at him.

“Spit,” you demanded, fingers already glistening with pre-cum.

Again, Steven did as he was told - as he always did when it came to you - and let the clear liquid fall from his mouth and into your open palm.

You wasted no time in going back to your previous task, hand now able to glide easier over him. Steven obviously appreciated the lubrication and easier movements - which was made clear by a particularly loud moan.

“Feels really good, love,” he sighed, voice slightly higher pitched than before. His teeth gnawing on his lip, eyes fluttering slightly as your movements grew faster.

Nuzzling your head more against his thigh, you put on your best innocent eyes, looking up at him as if you didn’t have his cock in your hand, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a moan, smoothing over your hair before gripping it to make you look up at him.

This time you couldn’t bite back the moan, it fell from your lips so softly, but it made your head spin along with the twitch in Steven’s cock.

“Tell me what feels good,” you prompted, gasping when his grip on your hair tightened as your other hand found the smooth skin of his balls - taking them into your hand, massaging them in time with the more rapid strokes upon his twitching length.

“Bloody hell, darling… everything,” he gasped, “your brilliant hands fuck on me - so good.”

His hips bucked into your grasp, moving in time with your pumps of his cock, creating movements on where you lay with your head, yet kept in place by the grip he had on you.

His moans grew louder and louder accompanied by the tiniest of whimpers; along with the twitching of his cock you knew he was balancing right on the edge, just about to topple over it.

With gentle movements you lifted your head, the warmth of your breath flowing around him as you let your tongue hang out letting a small dribble of drool land on his tip; the squelching sound and his moans that followed each pump of your hand around him were almost enough to have you finish in your panties on your knees in front of him.

“Cum on my tongue, Stevie,” you moaned, opening your mouth only to wrap your lips around his reddened tip, suckling on it as you felt him twitch both in your hand and on the seat.

You moved the hand massing his balls down further, finding that special spot right between his balls and his tight ring of muscles to press on it.

Steven came with a loud groan of “fuck me,” filling your mouth with his hot spurts of cum. You kept sucking, swallowing everything as it came, moving down further to take more of him in your mouth to work him through the feeling of release. Placing a hand on his abdomen you felt the muscles contract and tense, his thighs shaking around your body as you kept moving your tongue on his sensitive cock.

“Darling,” he groaned, pulling you off of him when he felt that familiar feeling of overstimulation crawl up his spine and tighten his gut.

You dutifully tucked his softening cock back into his boxers, letting him help you up from the floor to tug you onto his lap with strength that never failed to surprise you. His lips met yours in a feverish kiss, clashing your tongues together in one big cluster of moans and saliva.

“You are absolutely brilliant, did you know that?” Steven spoke in between kisses, his grip tight and possessive around you.

You giggled when his lips moved all around your face, placing wet kisses on all available areas with a pleased hum.

“So I’ve been told,” you grinned with a sigh as his forehead came to rest against yours.

The fuzzy noise of the street slowly started to seep in through the cracks in between the windows, along with the low buzz of the fish tank - and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when all you could hear was the content pounding of your heart along with Steven’s breath that slowly began to return to what it was.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅

a/n: to be notified of future work follow @saintlike78slibrary and turn on notifications

Also tagging @burnthoneymint to feed some Steven content

[nawaazishein]

Thoughts on Sen Çal Kapımı bölüm 13: (Is it 13? I almost feel like Kerem because hatırlamıyorum.) My babies Serkan/Eda: I loved that they both finally confessed to their families and were pretty much like, “He/she is going to be part of my live and if you don’t accept it, byyyyyye.” as well as the “Sevgilim?” after. They had so many cute adorable scenes, from the “How are you real? Let’s elope.” to “I’ll be your breath whenever you want me to.” to “I already bought a house in Rome.” Special shoutout to the curtain commercial because we all know what happened that night 😏 , although they clowned us with that fragman again. What I didn’t like when I first watched it without subs was the jealousy and especially Serkan storming out after his argument with Eda. It was so unlike Serkan. However after watching with subs, I realized he wasn’t angry because he was jealous but because Eda didn’t believe he was serious about Italy. Him walking about still wasn’t a 100% Serkan but the supposed jealousy didn’t create as much of a problem as I initially thought it would. Hopefully they keep it that way. I hated the whole jealousy thing in EK and could do without here, tbh. Eda/the firm: So Eda doesn’t even have a bachelor’s degree? I’m sorry but even if she was about to finish her Master’s, her “rank” in the firm would be very questionable but with her not even having her undergrad, it’s so far-fetched. To a point, Serkan gave her those projects because he was taken with her, yes, but early robot!Serkan wouldn’t have let that interfere with his work to that extent. No distinguished architect with a firm worth millions would EVER give work this important to a student still working on her undergrad. I guess this is just one of the many architecture-related things I’ll have to accept for the sake of creative liberty and story telling. Serkan/Selin: I honestly wasn’t mad about their scenes. While she has done some shady shit, I think they might veeeeery slowly get back to a place of friendship, and I’d love that for the both of them. Serkan could use her support in work-related issues as well as what’s going to happen in his personal life. Serkan/Leyla: We got some more info about their relationship and it honestly made me tear up. He paid for her operation, her sister’s education and constantly checked on her during that time. Serkan Bolat has such a tender heart, it continues to surprise and amaze me. He said that Eda made him a better person but I’m gonna be the cheeseball that says he’s always been a really good person, he just kept it a secret. Same with his donation to the orphanage. Ask me again why I am so soft for this boy and I’ll give you a 30 pages long essay! Ferit: Can my dude just shut up for once? Why does he wear his heart on his sleeve and literally tell anyone everything?! Efe: He said he was made to buy the shares by someone – grandma? Ayfer/Aydan: Listen, I have been defending them both for the longest time. They’re both very protective of their children and they both only try to keep them from the heartbreak they know lies ahead. They’re not wrong in that and I understand their intentions... buhuuuut they’re overdoing it a little. I’m not saying “Overprotective mothers are so not 2020” like a lot of people on twitter because that’s bs imo, but the two of them could definitely reel it back in a little. Melo/Selin: Oh Melo, I love her so much! She’s so soft and I wanna wrap her in a hug and never let go. Selin almost doesn’t deserve Melo being so nice to her because of Eda’s backstory with her, but then again I love how Melo doesn’t let that cloud her judgement and gives her the support she needs. Melo is the best. I said what I said. Editing: The editing felt kinda sloppy, ngl, especially the end. From Serkan to just leaving Eda like that, which again was unlike him, to the random jump to their first night – although I loved the fact that we know they had their first night - to Alptekin spilling the beans... it felt pieced together. However, I suppose it was the best they could do considering the shooting and working conditions during the week they shot it. The last scene: Oh, the goddamn last scene that ripped my heart out, stomped on it, ran it over with a truck and then threw it in the trash. So, on the one hand I understand that Alptekin told Serkan in an attempt to salvage whatever is left of their father/son relationship by being honest with him. He didn’t want to hide this very important piece of information from him when it concerned what, or more like who has become the most important part of his life in such a short amount of time, I get that and to a point I agree with it. Honesty has to be a given in any family or relationship. On the other hand I’m like, why now? He didn’t really get involved in anything regarding his son’s life in the last 19 years, so why now? Alptekin had “no issue” hiding this secret from the world for so long and the likelihood of it coming out now just because Serkan is in a relationship with Eda is questionable, so why? He claims he wants the best for Serkan but there’s also some selfishness in involved in telling him. Alptekin wants to unburden himself from this ugly truth he’s been hiding, to get it off his chest because with Eda around it’s to much for him now. It was ok for 19 years but now it’s too much. As a result, his son now has to carry it around with him. He was allowed to be happy for all of two days and and now this weight is so much bigger than the weight that had seemingly been lifted off his chest by confessing to Eda. I know he’s going to blame himself for this somehow and distance himself from her, and I am already in pain just from thinking about how that is going to play out. With Eda saying, “Sometimes love isn’t enough” we’ve gotten some very obvious foreshadowing and I think that he will convince himself that he and his family are no good for her and no matter how much he loves her, it’s not enough to make up for that. God, it actually really hurts to just think about that. (Also, with the amount of times we’ve heard “I can’t live without you,” I’m speculating about what Serkan’s state will look like after the separation. Shots are on me if I hear something along the lines of, “Ever since Eda/you left, he’s stopped living. He is alive but he is not living his life at all.” after their separation.) Anyway, lastly I’m going to say that it felt like Kerem didn’t know what to do with his hands during this scene but I think it was probably just to show how Serkan doesn’t fully comprehend what just happened yet or how to react to this information AT ALL. The “rest” of Kerem’s acting in this scene, the small nuiances from realizing to absolute horror and then devastation killed me. Chapeau for that, Kerem Bey!

[ambrcsias]

She wasn't quite sure what stunned her more, the fact that she couldn't have predicted why he was there or that he had been in town for so long without her knowing. "Oh." It was a lame response but she didn't have another, mind still attempting to process all that he'd said and latching on to his last words - the bitter notion that she'd left him with. Maybe that part should have hurt her more but it was the one thing she'd always known to be true. Leyla might have been based on her but she was the way Bash had seen her, his gaze tinted heavily by love and crafting her into more of a goddess than a mortal. It'd once felt like he'd revered her as one but now she felt more like a fallen angel, tainted by the weight of her sins against him and unable to maintain the lofty heights that he'd imagined she'd soared in.

It's only when he mentioned leaving once more that it dawned on her she'd been so painfully silent. Distance had hovered between them echoing the chasm that she'd opened up with her absence but she closed it now, giving in to her instincts instead of fighting them. "Bash -" Voice was soft and the hand she placed on his arm was even softer but instead of tensing her body only relaxed, the contact reuniting her with the part of her that was missing. Despite the tension between them, there's a shiver of exhilaration that runs through her at their closeness, temptation rising to pull him closer even though she knows she deserved to be pushed away. She indulges in the thought for a moment too long, eyes drifting to his lips and leaning imperceptibly closer before her eyes snap up to his. " - you're right, Leyla never really existed."

Dark eyes had held his gaze but she wanted nothing more than to get lost in it, lose herself enough that she could pretend it was a simpler time. But she denies herself, eyes closing so that she can attempt to give some kind of explanation that might set him free, even if she lacked the talent he had for stringing words together. "There might have been parts of me in her but it was the me that you saw - the me that love made you idealise. Any cracks in me were filled in with your care and tenderness, any imperfections wiped away with the beauty of your words." There was silence for a few more heartbeats, trying to ensure that her voice wouldn't betray her as she looked up once more. "Any girl could be Leyla, because it's not about her. It's about how Damien sees her." But maybe that was the problem, her Damien didn't look at her with love anymore and he couldn't imagine anyone else doing the same.

Bash scoffed. That would be all too easy - if she accepted it. Once upon a time he would have never dreamed of feeling such disdain towards her. Or desire. And how he never knew the two emotions were such gemini twins. "I don't know why I came here." He looked around - maybe he meant her home, or perhaps, Eureka at-large. He'd been sent on this wild goose chase with this very confrontation in mind. But perhaps the weaker, softer part of him couldn't bear to do it. To hear her out, to listen to an explanation might truly ruin him. "I mean - I do. I do know why I'm standing here, now." Bash shook his head, tongue dragging against the back of his teeth as his lips pursed. "They're making our book into a movie." Our book. The book he'd ghostwritten about their love story. A virtual non-fiction masterpiece of their entire early days. The book that had launched his career - had carried lesser works on its back as he tried to chase the narrative that had been so successful.

She was his muse, after all. And her absence from his life had tortured his art. Twisted it. The hopefulness has left his fingertips as he penned word after word. There was no happy ending - love had curdled as the pages turned. "But I can't do it. I can't -" Bash let out a frustrated sigh. "The studio hired some goddamn PI to find you here. Where you work. Where I could run into you. And I've been here for months. I've done everything I could not to see you. Not to talk to you. To get out of this - this roadblock. Because apparently, apparently..." Bash finally looked back to Nura, hurt flaring in his eyes. "Apparently I'm torpedoing the project. And they seem to think it's because of my feelings toward you." He shook his head again then, breaking that brief moment of eye contact. "But I don't, I can't... I can't rationalize it. The girl in that book doesn't exist. And I don't know that she ever did." There. He'd said it.

Perhaps it all had been a ruse. That closeness, that soul connection. Everything they knew of one another, everything they'd felt. She'd walked away with such simplicity, leaving Bash in the rearview mirror. How, then, could this evergreen version of her, of Damien and Layla, stand up against the dismal reality? What justice was there is letting people believe that such a love could survive the test of time? "I should go." Bash tucked his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, looking down then at his shoes. Ashamedly? He didn't know, now.

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 2 - CHAPTER 11

Returning to Zelde, we take a glimpse at how she’s dealing with things in the aftermath of the attack. We also learn about Cordovan’s fate following the devastating blow struck by Wisteria.

ZELDE

For a moment after she woke up, Zelde almost forgot where she was; and then the familiar forms of the clinic equipment came into view, and it all came back to her.

Sitting up in her chair, she stretched her arms upwards before relaxing slightly. Her back ached from how she had fallen asleep, and her body still cried out for longer rest. Since the attack, she had barely been able to sleep in the days following the attack. When she closed her eyes she only found a restless sleep awaited her, with red dreams close on their heels.

Grey eyes were glance towards Cordovan who was resting soundly in the bed beside her, his tilted at an angle towards her. Leaning forward, she rested her hand against his forehead for a moment, before brushing some hair out of his face in a tender way. Zelde was pleased to find that his temperature felt more normal now. He had been very warm the day before, with the doctor fretting his wound might have become infected. He had given him stronger antibiotics in an effort to put a halt to this but admitted with limited resources, there wouldn’t be much else for him to do. It was almost a relief when, after several days of frantic calls to the mainland by both the doctor and Helia, Atlas finally gave the go-ahead to have him moved there to get the rest of his treatment.

Almost.

Zelde was, of course, relieved he would be getting the care he needed, but she couldn’t help but fret. With the rest of the team still here on Shizukana, and Cordovan set to be moved back to Atlas, she would be unaware of any changes in his condition. It was hard to communicate with the mainland from here, any messages often delayed by days or weeks. If the worst happened to him she could potentially not find out for days or even weeks. She couldn’t let that outcome happen...not when there was still so much that needed to be said.

In truth, it was probably not the finest moment to become certain in her feelings towards Cordovan, but it happened regardless. Seeing him lying there, and being relatively powerless to help him had made her realise how much she cared for him, how much it would hurt her if anything were to happen to him. 

Her feelings only seemed to deepen in the days she spent sitting by his bedside, giving him water on those brief moments he was alert, cooling him with wet flannel when he had gotten too hot, and holding his hand as if to reassure him that everything would be alright once he had come out from his operation.

She vowed to herself that once this was all over, she would tell him the truth of how she felt. And if she were lucky, he might feel the same way too.

Behind her, the door clicked open and the doctor stepped in. He gave her a brief nod, before coming over to inspect Cordovan, testing his pulse, his temperature, and then adjusting the drip he had in his arm. Zelde watched the doctor intently, studying his features and trying to gauge if anything was a cause for concern by how he reacted. Once he had adjusted the drip, the doctor made a few notes on his chart at the end of the bed.

“How’s his condition now, doctor?” Zelde inquired. “Any changes I should know about?”

“Miss Sewick, as I told you yesterday, and the day before that, I am not liberty to discuss the full situation regarding my client’s condition to a non-family member,” He pointed out. His gaze softened when he saw the way she looked at him. “All I can say is that he appears to be more stable than yesterday.”

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but she was grateful for the update regardless. “Thank you.”

The doctor gave her a small smile before taking his leave. “You’re welcome, Miss Sewick.”

Zelde lingered by Cordovan’s bedside, before taking a small break and making herself an instant coffee from the machine in the clinic. Although a Friar Tuck coffee, it tasted pretty awful, so Zelde threw it away after a few sips, and instead poured herself a cup of water instead. As she sipped it, her mind wandered to the situation with Neela.

She knew she had been lacking on that front, despite having talked to Mr Per about any sightings of Candy the day before with Leyla. Zelde was also aware of Xanthos encouraging her to look into more things, his not so subtle way of saying she wasn’t doing enough. And perhaps he was right about that, but Cordovan was the priority for now, his injuries more severe and life-threatening. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Neela’s safety, but as Candy had pointed out when he had grabbed her, she was too valuable to kill or hurt. The Oxford name carried a lot of weight around Atlas, and Zelde had no doubt in her mind that if any harm came to her, the Oxford’s would respond tenfold.

Taking the last of her water with her, Zelde would come back into Cordovan’s room, and take her seat in the chair beside him, as she had done for the past five days. She was taking a large gulp when movement in the bed caught her attention.

“Zelde?” Cordovan mumbled.

Corodvan’s eyelids moved, before blinking open. His gaze was confused but perhaps the most aware it had been since before the attack.

“Easy,” Zelde implored, giving him a soft smile. “You’ve been out of it for days, your body’s probably not used to all this movement again.”

“Out of it? What do you mean?” Cordovan asked, his brows knitting together in a frown. He did a glance around the room as if attempting to determine where he was, before glancing back at her. “Am I at a hospital?”

“The Shizukana clinic,” Zelde corrected. She shuffled a little closer in her chair. “What’s the last thing you remember, Cor?”

The confused expression never left his face. He scratched the side of his head before responding. “I remember sirens. Loud sirens. And we were being attacked by Candy and Wisteria, and some other people I didn’t recognise. I was fighting with Wisteria and then she -” His voice broke off at that point, as though he was suddenly capable of recalling everything. There was a look of mild panic on his face as he turned to Zelde. “She slashed my leg.”

Quicker than Zelde would have expected for a man in his condition, he suddenly started scrambling to untuck the sheets of his bed. It took her a moment before she realised what he was trying to do - he was trying to look at his leg. The doctor had warned her the shock of seeing his wounds might be too great for him initially, and that it would be better to ease him into things when he was more conscious. She attempted to hold him off, batting his arms away in an effort to stop him untucking, but he was too frantic.

“Cordovan wait!” Zelde pleaded. But it was too late.

With a sharp yank, he untucked the sheet, and he was finally able to see the wound inflicted to his leg, or rather lack of it.

“My leg…” Cordovan said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The cut Wisteria had dealt him had been too great. They had not known that when they first bought Cordovan back to the clinic, but after the doctor had seen to him, he had revealed how the damage was too catastrophic to save it. He had lost a lot of blood from his wound, and as well as cutting deep, the blade Wisteria had used, had damaged a lot of the surrounding muscle and tissue around the wound. It was not an easy decision, but factoring in the wounds, and his state at the time of his initial treatment, the doctor had made the choice to remove his left leg just above the knee.

Zelde watched with a pained expression as Cordovan tentatively touched the bandages around where his leg had been removed. As the doctor had feared and suspected, he had gone into a state of shock at seeing in.

“Oh, Cor, I’m so sorry,” Zelde said, attempting to reach out and touch his arm comfortingly. The touch seemed to knock some life into him again, as he flinched away, hastily grabbing the sheet he had untucked, and pulling it with him as he turned away from her.

“I want to be alone,” He announced.

“Cordovan…”

“I said I want to be alone!” Cordovan snapped, turning to look at her briefly. His cheeks had flushed with colour, and he had a teary look in his eyes, understandable given the circumstances.

Zelde chewed her bottom lip, before nodding silently. She rose from her chair and quickly made her way to the door, knowing he probably wouldn’t approve of her lingering. Still, she couldn’t help but hesitate when she opened the door, glancing at his shape on the bed. She could have sworn she heard him crying softly into his pillow.

With a small sigh, she stepped out of the room, shutting the door as quiet as possible behind her. She remained where she was for a moment, fighting the urge to cry herself before it overwhelmed her, wracking her body with frustrated sobs. She leaned against the door and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor.

It was just as her mother had said. All she had lead her team to was ruin and destruction.

[wariest]

wanted connection — devrim salih ( cengiz al ) 

part of hellstate rp !

relation to character: younger sister

age: seventeen

faceclaim: simay barlas

ethnicity: turkish

birthplace: reno, nevada

more under the cut ( trigger warnings for abuse )

history: the salih household can be best described as turbulent. between those walls ran an excess of violence and an absence of love; three children who’d never known tenderness treated each other with the same hostility their parents displayed with one another. their father valued the family much less than he valued his habit of sleeping with other women, and later on, one affair produced a son. devrim, the child is named. meaning: revolution.

the name rang true. the boy’s birth became a catalyst for turning the salih children’s lives upside down — their mother, in anger, walked out on their family and moved to another state. change came quicker than they could have anticipated. less out of love and more out of necessity, their father’s mistress soon became their mother’s replacement, and not long after entering their lives, the woman gave them another half-sibling, a girl, this time. the last of the salih children received the name leyla, meaning: night.

the older ones, unable to take out their anger on their father and newfound stepmother, let the half-siblings receive the brunt of their antagonism. though fights among each other remained common, fights against the younger ones became a display of both resentment and power. however, samira, the eldest an only girl from the three, gained a soft spot for devrim. her favouritism for him was obvious, and like-minded individuals stayed close, while leyla was left with no one on her side.

leyla was twelve when a physical altercation between devrim and another older brother lead samira to take her brother away and run. almost a year later, the world fell into ruin. leyla was left to defend herself from the violence within the household ( and later on, the apocalypse ) on her own.

the dynamic: as children, they weren’t too close, devrim’s withdrawn nature being the sole reason for this. often they’d get into fights over petty things ( though it would never veer into the territory of abuse, as fights with their older siblings did )

devrim cares for his sister and regrets leaving without her, though these regrets have been pushed to the further depths of his mind — if he gives them a louder voice, he’d be consumed by his remorse. if they were to reunite, he’d do his best to protect her, all to make up for the years they lost.

personality: an escapist. the interpretation is up to player ! take note, however, that the character you’ll be playing is a survivor of abuse and it is absolutely necessary that you portray this with utmost respect and sensitivity. 

extra: 

their dynamic is a little like that of hazel levesque and nico di angelo from heroes of olympus !

i’m a little meticulous about the details of the salih family history, so i’d appreciate it if we talked things out first ! you can contact me on this account : D

why apply?:

adopting leyla will win you my undying love and friendship.

your muse will have the privilege of having cengiz al as her hot older brother.

imagine looking for GIFs and staring at simay barlas’s face for hours i bet god the father himself wept because he couldn’t make heaven feel as good as this GIF hunting experience.

please look at how beautiful our children are. look at their beautiful matching smiles. 

[kenxmatsui]

“It’s not my fault people are annoying.” A scowl was soon to form had Ken dwelled on that, but his eyes crinkled with fondness as Leyla grew excited, a tender smile – one that was reserved just for her spread across his lips at her giggles. She was a calming effect and her happiness set about a great flutter within him, inexplicable but not entirely because he knew the reason, had known for a while, it was the acknowledgement that took its time, the self induced worry that always spiked when he got too close. Thoughts and gaze drifted to Leyla again, magnetic the way she pulled him in which resulted in a soft kiss being pressed against her temple, “Expected yes, but I couldn’t not give you anything.” She was not wrong in saying it was obligatory but Ken could not let the day pass without a present, that’s what people did right? While he might not be a birthday or celebration type of person thinking nothing special about such things, the same could not and would not be extended to her.

He was glad she put the two together without his further explanation, it was a link that he had spent countless hours in thought on whether it would come off as too gimmicky and silly, but with a sigh of relief, shoulders slumped when the opposite of his fretting came true. Placing a finger under her chin he kissed her softly on the lips, pulling away only because he had one more thing for her, “There’s something else,” he asked taking the gifts from her and placing it on the table, “We could just have a nice dinner too, ignore this if you don’t want to…” trailing off Ken led her out a few feet further where he had them station a telescope, “But I was hoping you could also show me the stars?” 

He wasn’t used to good or nice things lasting, part his fault for self-sabotaging whatever amount of happiness that found its way to him, but also part conditioning of being constantly told failure was all he’d amount to. There was too much focus on proving that wrong, of wanting to show he could be successful than there was in keeping the good but looking at her now, taking in her smile and the way he smiled, there was no fear anymore and words he had held onto for too long fell with ease, “I love you, Leyla, you’re one the best things to happen to me.”

"Like you don't prefer it this way regardless," Leyla pointed out, shooting Ken a knowing look as she leaned in to press the softest of kisses against his cheek. Only for her eyes to widen in surprise as Ken held a gift bag out to her. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked, trying to hold her blatant excitement as she took the bag from his hand. "Is this an obligated birthday gift? Really? Eep!" She giggled out happily. Her smile only growing as she began to pull out the jewelry box, only to roll her eyes lightly over as he told her to tell him the truth. "You know I'm easy to please, right? And anyways, I'd love any gift from you. It's the thought that counts and now that I've said all that, I can tear it open, right?" She asked, giving him her best pleading look despite already beginning to open the box.

"Ken," She gasped out as her eyes took in the dainty little necklace, only to quickly realize she had fucked up and forgot to read the card. "Oh shoot! The card, but," She moved to wrap her arms tightly around Ken's waist, giving him a tight squeeze as she peaked up happily at him. "I love it. And will you stop that. Everything you get me is goo-" She started to say only to trail off as she read the rest of the note he had attached to the gift. She didn't mean to stare up at him like some lovesick puppy, but she couldn't help it the moment she realized the gift was a Tinkerbell reference and that it came with a first edition book. "Can I kiss you now?" She asked, trying her best to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat and how much she wanted to say those three words she promised herself she wouldn't accidentally utter anymore again.

[puzzlingpeace]

Just a Drink Part Four

Written for the prompt “Scully lesbian encounter with a beautiful stranger “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?” 

Part one here Part two here Part three here

Rating: NC17 from here on out. Pairing: Scully/OC

WIP

“If I speed, we can be there in three.”

“Then speed.”

The three minutes feel a lot like three hours. Scully shifts uncomfortably,  pressing her thighs together in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the aching tension, and to protect Leyla’s leather interior from the pool of arousal soaking through her panties –  and probably through the slinky material of her dress. When she chances a glance at Leyla, she sees a ticking jaw and knuckles popping white against the steering wheel. She feels a surge of excitement at the knowledge that Leyla is just as impatient as she is.

The car finally comes to a stop in front of an apartment building, which Scully vaguely recognizes as being a couple thousand rent dollars out of her budget. She opens her own door and is stepping out of the car when Leyla appears in front of her.

Scully groans helplessly as Leyla’s fingers push into the dip of her lower back, bringing their bodies together. Their lips connect, and Leyla catches Scully’s bottom lip roughly between her teeth. “Inside,” Scully gasps against Leyla’s mouth as she struggles for air.

Leyla releases her, and Scully almost protests, but stops herself. The surviving ounce of logic still fizzling through the fog in her brain tells her that they’ll never make it into the apartment if any part of Leyla touches her again before they reach the door.

She follows Leyla, her eyes hungrily raking over the lean muscle of her long back, the sultry swing of her hips, and the smooth swell of her ass. She marvels at her own foolishness.

How have I denied myself this for all these years?  How did I put out of my mind the memory of a woman’s exquisite touch, the sharp planes and gentle valleys of the female body?

Her fingers are twitching with the need to touch the smooth skin exposed just above Leyla’s belt, her lips tingling at the thought of kissing her again. Of tasting her mouth, her tongue. Her cunt.

Fuck logic.

Leyla’s hands are fumbling with the task of unlocking her door. “Hurry,” Scully moans, unable to keep her hands from gripping Leyla’s hips, rough denim on her palms contrasting deliciously with the bit of warm skin bare under her fingertips. “Trying,” Leyla grits, fingers trembling as she makes a second attempt to insert key into lock. Scully scrapes her manicured nails gently up Leyla’s sides, lifting her chin to exhale against her neck.

Leyla’s voice is desperate as she whimpers. “Not helping, Dana.”

At last, mercifully, the lock cooperates, and they stumble inside. The door slams unceremoniously behind them. Leyla turns to look at Scully; her eyes are smoldering, her swollen lips glistening with both their saliva as she takes a slow, purposeful step forward. “That wasn’t very nice,” she growls.

Scully trembles, liquid heat dripping from her center. She tries to disguise the needy desperation coursing through her body with a casual shrug. She smirks, arching an eyebrow. “No? You seemed to respond fairly well to it.”

Leyla licks her lips slowly, and Scully notes for the first time that some of her own lipstick is smudged on the cupid’s bow of Leyla’s upper lip. She bites back a whimper.

“That’s true,” Leyla concedes, pulling Scully against her body with one arm. Scully’s breath quickens as their breasts and bellies meld together, and Leyla smiles knowingly. She closes her lips over Scully’s again, kissing her slowly and thoroughly.

Leyla’s hand trails between them, to the tender patch of skin just above Scully’s knee, slowly moving higher until she meets the slippery flesh at the crease of her inner thigh.

“Seems like you’re responding fairly well yourself, Dana.”

Feeling her composure slipping, Scully bites down hard on her lower lip and lets her head fall back slightly. Leyla gently moves Scully’s panties aside. Her fingers glide slowly across the wet, swollen flesh they encounter. “Oh – my – God.” Scully digs her fingers into Leyla’s arms. “Fuck,” she breathes. “Leyla, please.”

“Mmmm,” Leyla hums, brushing her mouth over Scully’s as her fingers continue their maddeningly slow dance across her slick folds. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

They kiss and caress their way from the living room through the spacious hallway, breathy sighs mingling with urgent moans. Scully’s heartbeat pounds in her own ears, beating in time to the only word she can coherently form – now-now-now.

When they reach the bedroom, Leyla reaches around to grasp the zipper at the back of Scully’s dress. She pulls it down slowly, and the sound is harsh in the sudden silence of the room. Her heartbeat begins to thrum a different tune. This-is-wrong, it taunts. Wrong-wrong-wrong.

Leyla dips her chin to catch Scully’s mouth in another blistering kiss as Scully’s dress begins to flutter open, exposing the small of her back. She thinks of the tattoo she bears there, and of the sordid night it preceded. She stiffens.

Don’t do this, she begs herself. Don’t think, don’t run. Just let me have this.

She thinks of the girl in college, down on her knees in front of a young Dana Scully, professing her love as her cherry glossed lips moved between trembling thighs in a most unholy kiss. How many Hail Marys before I felt absolved?

She thinks of the girl – Rose, her name was Rose – and the tears streaming down her wind stung cheeks as Dana told her, shivering in the chill of an early February morning behind the Liberal Arts building on campus, that what they had done was wrong. That it was sinful. That it could never, ever happen again.

She wonders if anyone ever told Rose that there was nothing wrong with her. She aches with hoping that they did, and that Rose believed them.

Leyla is touching Scully’s face gently, concern creasing her forehead as she studies her face. “Dana,” she says quietly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Scully whispers thickly. “I’m okay.”

“You want this, don’t you?” Leyla brushes a curl away from Scully’s forehead. “I mean – you would tell me if you didn’t, right?”

“Yes,” Scully says. Don’t ruin this, she pleads again with herself. “I want it.”

Leyla nods slowly. “You deserve to have things that make you feel good, Dana,” she says, in as matter of fact a tone as if she is stating that there are two hundred and six bones in the human body. “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

Scully stares blankly. “It’s been a while,” she admits haltingly. She hesitates, tugging uncomfortably at her dress. “It never turns out all that well.”

Leyla shakes her head slightly. “There are no obligations here,” she says. She brings one hand back to Scully’s jaw, cupping her cheek tenderly. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s time you stopped punishing yourself.”

Scully closes her eyes, choking on a bitter laugh. “You have no idea.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

When Scully opens her eyes, she sees a glimmer of something she recognizes all too clearly mirrored in the depths of Leyla’s eyes. Regret.

“You hurt someone, too,” Scully says in a small voice. It’s not even a question.

Leyla’s expression tightens, her face becoming unreadable again. For a moment, Scully worries that she has gone too far. She opens to her mouth to apologize, to say that I shouldn’t have said that, it’s none of my business –

“Yes.” Leyla’s mouth softens sadly. “A woman who loved me very much.”

“Yeah.”

“The girl in college?”

“Her name was Rose.” She speaks the name in a hushed tone. It’s a confession  – one she could never give to her priest. But here, in this moonlit room with this dark eyed stranger, she feels a weight lifted from her shoulders that a thousand Hail Marys had never quite managed to ease.

“Parisa,” Leyla whispers. “The person I hurt. Her name was Parisa.”

They stand in silence for a sacred moment, breathing together. Leyla takes both of Scully’s hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“Lie down on the bed,” Leyla says huskily.

Scully nods, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. Reaching behind her, she pulls the halter top of her dress over her head. She drops her arms, letting the silky material fall softly to the floor.

“Oh, God,” Leyla breathes, her eyes drinking in Scully’s body from head to toe. Scully’s arms are alive with goosebumps, her nipples hardening under Leyla’s ravenous gaze. If Leyla notices the gunshot scar where it curls against the skin over Scully’s diaphragm, she doesn’t seem to mind.

Scully carefully steps out of her high heels, and Leyla laughs breathlessly, looking at her in wonderment. “I didn’t notice before, you’re so – “

“Short?” Scully quips, finishing Leyla’s sentence. “Yeah, well. Dynamite and all that.”

“I have no doubt.” Leyla runs her tongue over her top lip, her lustful gaze never breaking from Scully’s body. “Lie down,” she repeats.

Scully backs up slowly until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed and she slowly leans back, working her way up the mattress until her head rests against silk encased pillows. Her breath hitches as she watches Leyla sink to her knees on the edge of the mattress and crawl the length of her body. Leyla is hovering over her now, her mouth close enough to kiss – almost.

“Take this off,” Scully demands, tugging at the white tank top that contrasts even more beautifully with the dusk of Leyla’s skin as she is cast under the moonlight peeking through the curtains. Leyla crosses her arms over her body, peeling the material over her head. Her waist is soft and smooth, her breasts fuller and larger than they appeared under her shirt as they spill over the black lace cups of her strapless bra.

Scully reaches wordlessly behind Leyla to unhook her bra clasp. She pulls the satin and lace away gently and feels her inner muscles clench, another warm wave of arousal flooding in her abdomen. Leyla’s nipples are the color of sweet toffee, rock candy hard and reaching towards Scully in invitation. Scully’s mouth waters.

Scully glides her hands down Leyla’s strong back, reaching her head forward to close her lips tentatively around one stiff peak. Leyla cries out, her chest arching forward. Encouraged, Scully swirls her tongue roughly. She takes Leyla’s other nipple between two fingers, rolling the tight bud in time with the circles of her tongue. She adds teeth, gently scraping across sensitive flesh, her clit throbbing in response to Leyla’s sharp cries and moans of pleasure. Leyla grips Scully’s hips desperately, her thumbs slipping below the lace edge of her panties to press into her hipbones.

“Dana,” Leyla groans. She pulls away, and Scully frowns petulantly. “Come back,” she says, raising up on her elbows. “No,” Leyla says, gently pushing on Scully’s shoulders. “Lie down.” Scully considers arguing, but the look Leyla gives her makes her shudder in anticipation, and she obeys.

Leyla moves like warm molasses down Scully’s body. She stops every so often to press languid kisses against the side of her neck, her clavicle, her nipples – “Jesus,” Scully whimpers, her hips arching off the bed of their own volition. Leyla smiles against her skin before slowly running her warm tongue along the bottom swell of Scully’s breasts. “I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” she says, flattening her hand against Scully’s pelvic bone as she suckles at the sensitive flesh beneath her ribcage.

Scully moans, arching her pelvis forward against Leyla’s palm. “Please,” she begs. “Leyla, I need you to – “

“Tell me,” Leyla says, stroking softly over the sodden silk covering Scully’s cunt. “God,” she breathes. “You’re so fucking wet, Dana.”

Scully is panting, her hips twisting and writhing without her permission. “Please, Leyla.” She digs her heels into the backs of Leyla’s denim clad thighs. “Please touch me.”

Leyla grasps the lace edge of Scully’s panties, tugging them down her thighs and tossing them to the side. Lowering her face, she breathes hotly against the throbbing flesh between Scully’s legs. “You smell amazing,” she murmers appreciatively. Scully moans helplessly, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Leyla,” she begs again.

“I know,” Leyla whispers darkly. “Touch you.” She glances up through the dark fringe of her long lashes. “I want you in my mouth.”

“God, yes,” Scully says, digging her fingernails sharply into her own thighs.

Leyla moves forward, tossing her long curls over one shoulder. Scully holds her breath in anticipation, and then – “Fuuuck,” she hisses. Leyla drags her tongue hard and slow through her drenched folds. She hums against Scully’s pussy, savoring the taste of her as she moves her tongue in an agonizingly slow rhythm over and around her clit. “Harder,” Scully chokes, her calves pressing tightly against Leyla’s waist, urging her closer. “Please. More.”

Leyla wedges her arm under Scully’s ass, slowly but firmly inserting two fingers into her dripping pussy. “More,” Scully insists weakly, thrusting down onto Leyla’s palm. Leyla groans, adding a third finger. Scully whimpers deep in her throat at the delicious aching pressure against her inner walls. Leyla moves her hand, pushing deep into Scully’s body as her lips close over her engorged clit, sucking and licking in time with her thrusts.

Almost almost almost. More more more.

“OhJesusohgodfuck – “ Scully’s fingers tangle unconsciously into Leyla’s silky curls, her eyes slamming shut as her back arches off the bed. “I’m – “ The last of her words are lost on a strangled cry, her hips bucking and thrusting against Leyla’s face as her pussy tightens and clenches around her fingers.  

Scully comes back to herself slowly, her body relaxing in stages as Leyla gently removes her hand from her cunt. When she catches her breath, Leyla is lying beside her, full breasts resting against Scully’s arm. “Hi,” Leyla smiles, gently tracing her nails over Scully’s belly and across her nipples. She carefully avoids the scar.

Scully returns the smile, turning on her side to drape her body across Leyla’s. “Hi,” she replies softly. She wraps her hand around the back of Leyla’s neck, pulling her face to hers and kissing her hungrily. She tastes herself on Leyla’s lips, sweet and salty.

Reaching down, Scully unbuttons Leyla’s jeans and slowly lowers her zipper. Leyla’s breath catches in her throat, but she closes a hand tightly around Scully’s wrist, tugging her hand away. Scully blinks, confused. Leyla loosens her grip, her fingers stroking soft circles against Scully’s inner wrist.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Scully laughs incredulously. “Have to?” She shakes her head. “I want to, Leyla. I want to make you come.” She leans forward, nuzzling her face into Leyla’s neck, kissing behind her ear. “And at some point,” she says, “I want us to come together.”

Leyla worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Dana,” she begins, then stops. She averts her gaze. “I just wanted to fuck you,” she says simply.

Scully stares in disbelief. “I – what? So that’s – that’s it?” She sits up, not sure whether to be offended or not. Leyla looks at her, her dark eyes carefully blank, her expression impassable. Scully has seen that look before, earlier. When Leyla was talking about Parisa.

“You hurt someone, too.” 

“Yes – someone who loved me very much.”

“Leyla?” Scully searches her face. “Please don’t do this.” She takes a deep breath through her nose. Should I let this go?

No, she decides. It’s only fair.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, her voice quiet and kind, “I think it’s time you stopped punishing yourself, too.”

Something flashes in Leyla’s eyes then. Anger? Denial? No. Something infinitely more heartbreaking. Raw, unabashed grief. Scully would know that look anywhere. 

Leyla’s mouth twists into a sad smile. “That’s not fair,” she says hoarsely. “But it’s good advice.”

Scully touches one gentle finger against Leyla’s abdomen. “Please,” she says. “I want to make you feel as amazing as you made me feel. You deserve good things, too, Leyla.”

“Okay,” Leyla whispers. She lies back, arms by her sides against the bed. Scully settles between Leyla’s knees and kisses the skin below her belly button. “Relax,” Scully urges her in a soothing voice. “You deserve this,” she reminds her, carefully tugging the waist of Leyla’s jeans down. Leyla lifts her hips to assist her, but Scully senses apprehension in the movement. Leyla’s hands are trembling, and somehow, Scully knows it isn’t from anticipation of an orgasm.

Scully peels the denim over Leyla’s hips, down her thighs –

Her heart shatters, stomach plummeting.

The majority of Leyla’s right upper thigh is almost exclusively scar tissue, raised welts overlapping with sunken bits of flesh. As a doctor, she recognizes the after effects of a chemical burn. As a human being, she doesn’t ask.

Instead, she gently grazes the scar tissue with her palm, then dips her chin to place a chaste kiss against the roughened flesh. Leyla’s leg jerks, and Scully peers up at her face, carefully assessing her reaction.

Leyla smiles down at her, her breaths deep and trembling. Her eyes speak volumes. Thank you, they whisper. I need this, they plead.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Scully says, her voice rich with sincerity. Leyla touches Scully’s shoulder gratefully and closes her eyes.

Scully lowers her face again, this time to breathe in the heady scent of Leyla’s shimmering cunt. She slides one finger easily through Leyla’s folds, and moans in tandem with Leyla when the slick evidence of Leyla’s undeniable arousal drips onto her hand.

She darts her tongue out, flicking Leyla’s clit, just once. At Leyla’s deep moan, she repeats the action, then moves her tongue further down, swirling it inside Leyla’s pussy. She uses Leyla’s deep sighs and soft cries as a guide – a slow lick elicits a contented moan, but a rough swipe against her clit earns an upward thrust of her pelvis and a startled gasp of pleasure.

Scully quickens her movements, using her fingers to press against Leyla’s upper wall as she laps up her arousal, greedily flattening her tongue against her clit. “So good, Dana” Leyla gasps, her hips rising and falling. “So fucking good.” Scully groans against Leyla’s soaked folds. She feels the vibrations of the sound against the roof of her mouth, and knows by Leyla’s reaction that she feels it, too.

“Oh, fuck.” Leyla’s thighs tremble and tighten around Scully’s shoulders, and Scully pulls hard, once more, against the rough patch of flesh at the front wall of Leyla’s pussy. “Fuck,” Leyla cries again, her orgasm sending a gush of liquid into Scully’s eager mouth and onto the bedsheets. Scully continues pumping slowly as she kisses Leyla’s inner thigh, riding out the aftershocks with her. She retreats only when she feels Leyla’s hand slip through her hair, tugging gently. “Stop, stop.”

Wiping her face with both hands, Scully peeks up at Leyla. Her full breasts are still rising and falling quickly with the effort of her breathing. Scully lays down beside her, curling an arm around her waist.

Leyla’s eyes are still closed, and for a moment, Scully thinks she has fallen asleep.

“So,” Leyla says, her eyes fluttering open. She brings Scully’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “Here’s to not punishing ourselves anymore.”

Scully tugs the covers out from under Leyla, who lazily rolls over to help her. They settle beneath the sheets, Scully’s warm, sated body flush against Leyla’s. Several seconds tick by, and Leyla’s breathing deepens and slows. Scully presses a final kiss against Leyla’s temple before resting her head on her shoulder.

“Here’s to absolution,” Scully whispers.

Leyla’s arm tightens around her.

“To absolution,” she echoes, a promise.

TBC in Part Five.

[ginjointsintheworld]

I think what’s most surprised me about their relationship is how romantic and accommodating Lauren is when it comes to Leyla. And I don’t mean money wise, because I don’t think Lauren’s someone who sees money as a big deal and Leyla isn’t really moved by that anyway. I mean more that she’s so dedicated to seeing Leyla happy, so helplessly smitten, it’s like she can’t help but share parts of herself she’s kept concealed from everyone else or do things she’s usually put off(the vacation for example) all in an effort to better connect with Leyla. It’s as if she’s been holding all this love in and the second she had an opportunity to show it without fear of ridicule, it just overflowed. 1/2

And on the flip side, there’s Leyla, whose love is so grounding and steady, even I feel calm when she’s onscreen. She’s a lot more guarded than I thought but lets down those walls with Lauren Lauren and allows herself be soft too. I used to think she reeled Lauren in but it’s more that she gets her to pause and consider her options lol. I really like that they still have that back and forth and still call the other out when needed but their private intimate moments are my favorite because they’re both so candid and uninhibited. In a perfect world we’d get an episode that follows just them from morning until night, and lets us have all the domesticity we’ve so far had to imagine! I really hope episode 10 at least gives us a lot of tender content before dropping the hammer on us all. Won’t make it worth it, but it’ll help ease the pain some! 2/2

i think often about how lauren tried to apologize to leyla without actually saying the words in her typical stubborn as a mule lauren bloom ways and leyla told her straight up she's down right crap at apologizing and that's not gonna fly. and do you know what happened every moment since? lauren's actually used "i'm sorry" whenever she apologized! it's the little things like that, even at the very beginning of their collision that stands out to me. lauren, who's coming out of this hectic peak covid period where she was buried in work and surrounded by death, probably seeing the worst of everything as a doctor working in the ED, but in a way found purpose in that chaos because she was needed. then she finds this person that she wasn't even looking for who makes her stop and consider what it'd be like to let someone know who just lauren bloom is. who doesn't need her to be Dr. Lauren Bloom. who just wants, lauren. like i say this in the most endeared way possible, lauren was deadass one brush off away from telling leyla her social security number to get her to trust her FJLDKSFL. and when have we ever seen lauren be that willing to break her own walls down outside of connecting with a patient to help them?

leyla was SO guarded at the beginning and given her circumstances and how they met, i don't blame her. but that never deterred lauren. it's like she knew in her bones that leyla was going to be someone fundamental in her life. which even that should have sent lauren running from the hills but it didn't. so when leyla had her own outburst of vulnerability ('it's nothing to you but it's all i have'), lauren was ready to meet it with a piece of her own ('i'm sorry (!!!). it'd just be nice to know a little about you'). i really wish we'd gotten to see even a little snippet or reference to their pizza outing because it was a major turning point in their relationship.

as you said, it's as if lauren can't help but to offer leyla all these parts of herself that she's kept closely guarded for so long. admitting that she's an addict, that her apartment isn't spare on purpose, that she doesn't think she's very good with living things, that leyla makes her so happy she literally has no idea how to function so the only solution her brain can come up with is to... stop being so happy. all the parts, easy, vulnerable, jaded, ugly, out there for leyla to hopefully accept as she is. lauren, the same person who once said 'i ruin all my relationships', has tried so hard to give whatever that's between them, whether it was friendship or romance, the best chance to take root and grow. and for all the love and trust that leyla is willing to give, lauren gives just as much in return, unrestrained. their ability to keep that fiery banter and have disagreements show that they really do accept all the parts of each other. these two prickly hedgehogs are blunt and stubborn and abrasive and while that's not all they are, those things are a part of who they are and they love each other for it ('you know i find your refusal to admit you're wrong, attractive' if you looked up simp in the dictionary the picture would actually just be lauren bloom)!!!

god if i could pay the writers to write an episode that's exactly what i'd want. just follow lauren and leyla through a day in their life. the other characters can make an appearance but let me see these two saps in love and how they navigate the life that they've so carefully and tenderly built together. i think i'm already bracing myself for the hammer to drop in 4x09 and then a goddamn building to be dropped on me in 4x10 but if the writers wanna prove me wrong and give us some soft moments to live off of when the angst is unrelenting for the next 8 episodes then i will gladly eat my own hat.

[troublesomemix]

complicatcd:

══✿══╡°˖✧ꕥ✧˖°╞══✿══

his words caused her to pause, if only momentarily. doing this behind her sister’s back was one thing; if she came out and caught them in the act, she wasn’t quite sure if she’d still harbor that same boldness. but as she looked at austin, she knew she had to. for years, she lusted after the boys leyla brought home. now was her time to pounce, to actually do something, because she didn’t know if she’d have the nerve again. so with steel resolve, she let her eyes close as their lips met, sealing the deal, so to speak. there really was no going back now.

there were no fireworks, no magical spark when their lips met. maybe if she was younger, a bit more naïve, she’d see it as such. but there was lust there, wrongness at doing this while being a guest in her sister’s home. and strangely, it spurred her on even more. with little effort on his part, hayden felt herself eagerly get into the kiss, her body leaning into his even more. the desire to get close to him was growing by the second, so much that she had to get up, pecking his lips in the process as she moved her body until she was settled in his lap, sitting on his thighs. and once she could, she was kissing him again, her tongue swiping across his lower lip to deepen their embrace. now that she had a taste of him, she couldn’t go back, was starved for any and everything he’d give her.

just how long had she had a little crush on him? he could just imagine it. maybe that was what made her be so eager now? austin knew that he was a fucking trophy, but if she wasn’t interested, his own good looks weren’t enough to convince her to kneel before him like this. asking him for a kiss was such an easy thing, a kiss was so simple to hand out and it took so little from him. it helped that her lips were soft and warm, fitting against him so well. he could play the tender role for a moment. put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her chin to feel her warm body. austin hadn’t been executing her to climb in his lap, but so be it. he moved without breaking the kiss, shimmying back further on the couch to make room for the two of them. she wanted to get closer? fine with him. his hands changed position, holding a soft grip on her arms, to pull her body closer. he didn’t mind getting physical in the slightest, especially when it came from a soft female body.