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hgfictionwriter · 14 days ago

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Self Control: Part Fifteen - Wedding (Epilogue)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Raising a kid certainly derailed your and Jessie's wedding timeline, but after many months, the big day is finally here.

Warnings: G!P content. Oral (J receiving). Fingering. G!P penetrative sex. Possessive language. Preg/breeding kinks. Language.

A/N: Well, everyone, the closing chapter is finally here. To everyone still with me on this journey or those who are new - thank you! I hope you enjoy. Full series is here.

"How are you holding up? I hope you're having a fun night."

Jessie read your message and quietly removed herself from a group conversation to take up a seat on a nearby couch.

"Honestly? A bit overwhelmed lol. Missing you and Riley."

"Yeah, who decided to follow through with these weird traditions of us not spending the night together lol."

"Seriously haha. We can blame my friends for that. But hey - at least we spent the day together, we just aren't allowed to spend the night lol."

"Well...Riley's probably fast asleep with your parents. But, if you want a break from the unrelenting celebrations, there's nothing stopping us from running into each other on a midnight walk."

"I love that idea. Let's do it. Meet over by the dining cabin on the far end of the complex? There shouldn't be anyone over there at this hour. I need probably 10 min."

"Done. See you soon, love."

Jessie realized she was smiling as she put away her phone. She cleared her throat and ran her palms against her thighs as she began to formulate her exit.

Her neutral expression was short lived as her eyes fell upon the three newly inked lines across the wrist of her right hand, more or less a mirror of the ones she'd gotten years prior on her other wrist. These lines though - one for each member of her new family; you, herself and Riley.

"Smiling to yourself the night before your wedding - that's gotta beat sweating bullets and having an existential crisis."

Jessie arched an eyebrow at Janine as she stood.

"Yeah, none of that here," she chuckled as she started to make her way towards the cabin door. "My parents texted. I forgot a bag of Riley's stuff in the car. I'm just gonna go grab that and drop it off at their cabin."

"Oh, I can do that. Stay - this is your night. You can't leave - you're the star of the show."

"Now that has me sweating bullets," Jessie replied dryly with a teasing eyeroll as she grabbed her keys and continued walking. "I'll be back in a bit."

She ignored Janine's persisting rebuttals with a charming smile and a wave as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh mountain air as she looked up at a dark sky lit up by twinkling stars and a crescent moon.

She shoved her hands in her pockets and began the trek over to the other side of the complex you and her had rented out for your wedding.

Though both of you would've loved to have little to no fanfare or audience, it really just wasn't feasible no matter how much you tried to trim the invite list. Jessie would've loved simply eloping - going away for a weekend alone and coming back married, but that would've gotten her killed by a multitude of friends and family.

As a compromise though, you wanted to have the wedding be as 'you' as possible, meaning you both found this nice, rustic mountain resort with cabins, hiking trails, a beautiful creek and more as opposed to having it at some fancy venue in the city.

The wedding took a while to get off the ground. What with a baby in the picture and a new club season and international window to work around, all of the effort required to pull a wedding together just fell by the wayside. By the time this day came around, your baby went from a newborn to an 18-month old toddler in the blink of an eye.

The cabin Jessie went to meet you at was dark when she arrived, as expected. It was locked at this hour, but this cabin was far enough away from where all the guests and staff stayed that she wasn't entirely worried about privacy. She went around to the back and leaned against the wall as she waited for you.

She patiently looked up at the constellations until she heard faint footsteps in the distance. A smile crept across her face and evolved into a full blown grin as you rounded the corner, tentatively peeking around.

You put on a mock expression of surprise, a hand to your chest as you approached.

"Oh my gosh. What in the world? I can't believe that you're out here too."

Jessie laughed and mimicked your expression. "No way! So crazy." She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh well, what can you do?" She pulled you into her arms and gave you a kiss. She smiled further as your arms came up around the back of her neck and you leaned fully in.

You rest your forehead against hers and exhaled quietly as the kiss ended. "This is so silly, but I feel like I haven't kissed you at all today. I know we did during all those games and such, but, you know what I mean."

"A real kiss," Jessie answered, knowing exactly what you meant. Doing all of these couples games and people hooting and hollering for you and her to kiss was a bit of a nightmare to begin with, but it also certainly wasn't an intimate, real kiss.

"See? You get me," you said as you gave an exaggerated, contented sigh. "I guess that's why I'm marrying you."

She chuckled and captured your lips in another kiss.

"Yeah, you're pretty much stuck with me," she said. "Pretty hard for you to back out now."

You shot her a withering look and rolled your eyes to which Jessie just grinned.

"Yeah, I'm really dying to get out of this relationship. It's the worst," you deadpanned.

"I knew it," Jessie played along and you rolled your eyes once more, this time pulling back and placing your hands on your hips.

"Well, I mean, I hardly know you," you said slowly, eyeing her up and down before reaching out and letting a finger trail down her chest. "I thought you were such a good girl, but here you are sneaking out at night and breaking the rules." Your eyes met hers and she smirked at the glint she saw in them.

"I can be bad for you," Jessie said rather smugly as she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close again.

"Well," you smirked as you drew teasing circles along her shoulder, "let's keep that between you and me. I'd hate for you to have an early midlife crisis and go through a belated Bad Girl phase. Fucking around and all."

She gave you a look. "You really don't get how much I adore you? Us having a baby together and getting married really hasn't convinced you yet?"

You toyed with her shirt idly, the look in your eyes shifting slightly. "People get married and have kids all the time. It's not a guarantee of anything. Feelings change. Wants change."

Jessie let out a slight laugh, but narrowed her eyes nonetheless. "Well are your feelings or wants going to change?"

"No," you replied simply and easily, holding her gaze.

"Then why would mine?" She challenged lightly, causing your eyes to drift downward towards the ground. Jessie thumbed your cheek gently and pushed your hair behind your ear. "You really don't get it. There's absolutely no one else for me. It's you. Every moment. Every day. There's no competition. I love you so incredibly much. And just when I think I can't love you more, you do or say something that makes me fall even more for you."

Even in the dim light of the moon, Jessie could see the faintest signs of blush on your cheeks.

"Whoa," you joked shyly, eyes still on the ground before lifting them to meet hers. "Save something for the vows."

"I need you to know how much I love you," Jessie said earnestly. She watched you intently and you eventually sighed.

"I know...I just love you so much. I think the world of you and I don't ever want to lose you. I honestly don't know what I'd do."

"You're not going to lose me," she assured you. "It's been years and my friends still make fun of me for how obsessed I am with you. Never mind how whipped," she finished with a smirk, but held your gaze unwaveringly. "You're the one. You're my everything. You're my best friend. The love of my life. The mother of my child. And tomorrow?" She spoke intently, eyes looking down at your lips as she caressed your cheek once more. "You'll be my wife."

The kiss started off slow - just two people in love. Jessie wanted to somehow express how deeply she felt for you and reassure you that she'd always be here.

It wasn't long until the kiss began to grow hungrier, Jessie finding herself slowly being pushed back against the wall of the cabin, both your hands and hers beginning to wander. The sounds of your heavy kisses filling the night air.

"God, I wish we were staying together tonight," Jessie mumbled into the kiss as she felt her pants beginning to grow taut against her. She moaned deep in her throat as your hand came to cup her growing length.

"Maybe we should just go to the honeymoon cabin," you suggested as you two continued to kiss. You dipped your head and began to kiss down her neck. She groaned once more and her eyes fell shut as she attempted to think.

"W-we don't have the keys," she eventually managed. You made a noise of complaint, but continued to caress her restrained cock.

"Well...," you said slowly as you began to undo Jessie's pants. "It's just us out here."

"Babe," Jessie said, half in warning, half in astonishment as you began to kiss your way down her shirt and soon dropped to your knees in the dirt and fully undid her pants.

"What?" You asked teasingly as you looked up at her. "You don't like me on my knees for you?"

A low rumble emanated from her chest as she let her head fall back against the wooden slats of the cabin wall, a blissful grin on her lips as her hand began to run through your hair.

"Jesus Christ," Jessie mumbled, though certainly not in complaint. She looked down at you again with a crooked smile. "You're talking about me being a bad girl - it's your fault. You're the bad influence." She recalled the events of the past couple of years. "Getting me hard in the back of my friend's car and feeling me up, being so fucking sexy that I just have to jack myself off while on the phone with you and getting freakin' caught. Fucking in my parents' basement and in my childhood bedroom while my mom is on the other side of the door. Got me storing a collection of dirty photos of you in the back of the nightstand. Never mind what's in my phone. And now you're about to give me head while we're outside where anyone could see."

Jessie groaned again as you reached into her boxers and released her stiff cock, your fingers trailing teasingly along its length.

"Well. When you put it that way...," you said with a smirk. "But looking at how hard you are right now and the way your cock is already leaking cum for me, I'd say you like it."

She gripped your hair tightly before releasing it and running her fingers through your locks once more. She closed her eyes and nodded her affirmation. "Yeah. You can confidently say I like it."

"Well good," you accepted with a light chuckle as you rubbed her precum across the tip of her cock and teased her a bit more. She moaned low in her chest again and subtly began to thrust into your hand. You smiled. "Hey Jess?"

"Mm?" She asked, forcing herself to open her eyes once more and look down at you. God, you really did look incredible kneeling in front of her with her stiff cock in your hand. You gave her a teasing smile.

"I love you," you said as you took her into your mouth.

"Oh fuck," Jessie said in a low voice as your warm mouth wrapped around her and your tongue teased her tip. You moaned around her cock and she clutched your hair tightly in her hand once more. "Jesus."

She let her head fall back against the cabin and she leaned back, grateful for the structure behind her because of how weak in the knees she felt already. Her breathing deepened as you took her deeper and continued to pump her up and down with your fist.

Her jaw was slack as she finally opened her eyes. What a moment - your head slowly bobbing up and down on her length, looking absolutely gorgeous on this starry night, out in the wilderness on the eve of your wedding. In all of her wildest dreams, she could've never thought this up.

It didn't take long for Jessie to feel that tightening sensation between her legs and it took so much control for her to keep her thrusts gentle, her tip nudging the back of your throat and not pushing deeper.

"I'm gonna cum," she warned you. You moaned, nearly setting her off with the vibration of it, and began to take her deeper into your throat.

Jessie held back a loud moan, a muffled grunt escaping her throat instead as she released herself down your throat, her palm flat against the back of your head as she bit her lips and emptied herself.

You eventually pulled back with a slight cough, your eyes starting to water as you swallowed her load.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she breathed as she looked down at you and leaned down to help you to your feet.

"Don't be sorry," you said with a choked laugh. "It's hot."

She tucked herself back into her boxers and did up her pants. You leaned against her, her arms wrapping around you in an embrace as you both settled. She played with your hair and kissed the side of your face as she came down from her climax.

She felt you sigh in her arms. "I wish we could just go to bed together tonight," you repeated her earlier wish.

"I know," she sighed against you as she ran her fingers up and down the back of your neck. You shivered against her.

"Cool it," you said as you shrugged her hand away. "I'm already worked up."

"Yeah?" Jessie asked, peeking one eye open and looking over at you, a devilish smile beginning to form. Her hand drifted down your body until she reached the top of your pants. You didn't protest as she began to unbutton them, instead only moaning and gently rolling your hips against her.

Any drowsiness she felt in the haze of her orgasm quickly dissipated and she flipped you both so you had your back against the wall of the cabin. She dipped her head down and began gently sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck. You gasped softly, fingers digging into her crown as she did so and it drove her crazy.

Despite her recent climax, she felt herself growing hard once again as you quietly mewled in her ear and rolled your hips against hers. She felt a rush of arousal come over her, her body tensing up as she resisted the urge to truly pin you against the wall and have her way with you. She subconsciously sucked harder on your neck.

"Jess!" You hissed, bringing her back to the moment. She blinked, pulling away in confusion as you slapped a hand to your neck and stared wide-eyed at her. "The night before our wedding?! Really?"

Jessie stared at you a moment longer until you lifted your hand away, revealing the initial signs of a hickey. She cowered slightly, heat rushing to her face but she couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped either. She stared at it and eventually gave a half-hearted shrug.

"You're going to be wearing makeup," she offered before laughing once more. Her smile turned into a grin. "Besides, everyone already knows you're mine anyway."

Your eyes flashed and you leaned forward, latching onto her neck and sucking hard. You pulled back a moment later with a very satisfied look on your face as Jessie was now the one to cover her neck with a palm.

"What the fuck!" She hissed in return. "I'm not wearing makeup tomorrow. How am I supposed to cover it up?" She gave a disgruntled noise of complaint and you simply shrugged haughtily.

"They can photoshop it out. And now everyone will know you're mine as well."

"Oh my God," Jessie said, her mild irritation waning and quickly shifting to affection. She grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head. Her cock pulsed at the wicked grin you gave her as you held her gaze. "I gave you my baby. I gave you my ring. And now my name, too. I don't think anyone would've doubted I'm yours."

You looked upward in mock contemplation before smirking at her. "You can't blame me for wanting to stake my claim on you," you said as you rolled your hips against her once more causing her eyes to drift shut as an all too fleeting wave of pleasure rushed through her.

Despite Jessie pinning your hands above you and seemingly being in control, it fooled neither of you - you were very much in control. No surprise. And she didn't mind at all.

She released one of your hands and reached down to cup your heat through your underwear. She let out a low moan of approval at the dampness and radiating heat she was met with there. She pushed your panties aside and ran two fingers through your slick folds. A grin crossed her face as your knees buckled and you melted into her embrace, clutching her closely and gasping in her ear.

"God, you are so wet for me, baby," she said as she relished the feeling of your wet folds, clit and sopping entrance. Her cock strained painfully against her boxers and pants as she slipped two digits inside of your entrance. You gasped further and let yourself fall into her waiting hand.

"Fuck," you whispered as you gripped her curled fingers. She withdrew them slightly and pushed inside once more, the sounds of fingers moving through your arousal filled the otherwise quiet night air and Jessie's jaw dropped in amazement.

"Holy fuck. You are soaking and you sound so fucking good. Oh my God." She ground out the last part and couldn't help but grind herself against your thigh.

"Jesus Christ, Jess," you panted already as you rocked into her hand. "I want you to fuck me."

"Babe," she said as she buried her face into your neck, rolling her head against you in want as she felt your core accommodating the girth of her fingers. She could feel the ridges and curves of your walls as they fluttered and flexed around her and her cock twitched as she continued to slowly grind herself against you for some semblance of relief.

"God, Jess. I know you want me too," you said as you shook off her hand and reached down to cup her once more, massaging her firmly through the taut fabric.

"I didn't bring a condom with me," she said as she slowly thrust against your palm. "They're back at my cabin."

You exhaled heavily though you didn't stop the gyration of your hips or the movement of your hand. You ran your other hand through her hair.

"Sorry I didn't think to bring one - I didn't exactly anticipate this," she said.

"Well, stop being so sweet and romantic - meeting up in the middle of the night out in the moonlight and telling me how much you love me. If you stop doing that and stop being so attractive then maybe I'll stop spreading my legs for you."

Jessie let out another low moan and her grip tightened on you. Soft noises of want and need came from you both for several moments until you finally spoke.

"Riley's 18 months old now," you started. "The doctor said we're in the clear to start trying again if we wanted to."

A low growl rumbled up Jessie's through as she pushed her fingers deeper inside of you and ground her hips against you harder. You let out a breathy chuckle.

"I know you've been dying to fuck me without a condom again," you teased.

"Oh my God," Jessie muttered as she began to hump you a touch faster. "Don't tempt me. I'm not fucking kidding."

"Who says I'm kidding?" You said breathlessly as you dug your fingers into her crown once more.

"I'm serious," she said through nearly grit teeth as her free hand dug into the small of your back and pulled you tightly against her. "If you tell me we're trying again, you're leaving here with baby #2 inside of you." She forced herself to take a deep breath. "If you aren't ready, it's fine. I can sneak back to the cabin and get a condom."

"And what if I don't want you to?"

Jessie moaned, legitimately worried she was going to bust in her pants. "Then I'm fucking a baby into you tonight."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you shifted, Jessie pulling back to look at you only to see you shimmying your pants and underwear down your legs. You nodded to her and she immediately began undoing her pants once more.

Your pants and underwear fell into a heap on the ground, Jessie's barely dropping down around her ankles before you wrapped your leg around her waist and grabbed her bare cock, positioning it at your entrance.

Jessie didn't hesitate in sinking inside of you, sliding in to the hilt right off the bat. A wanton moan escaped you, probably louder than either of you intended or wanted, but you were both so far gone that it went unnoticed and Jessie began thrusting in and out of you with a level of urgency and desperation that might've embarrassed her in the past, but the way you gasped and clawed at her it only egged her on.

"I love you so much," she panted into your ear as her wet strokes filled her ears.

"I love you too," you whimpered in return as you bounced on her cock, your shirt the only thing keeping your back from getting scratched up from the cabin walls.

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to cum already," Jessie said a short while later. She panted, forcing herself to refocus for a moment to look you in the eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Cum inside me. I want you," you told her.

She needed no further encouragement and a few strokes later was pushing inside of you as deep as she could, spilling herself with a shuddering breath. She whimpered as strings of cum continued to shoot out of her and into you, coating your insides with her potent seed.

"Fuck," she breathed as she slowly drew her hips back. She looked down, seeing a mixture of your cum and hers along her cock before she pushed back inside of you, loving the way you moaned at the motion.

You stayed in one another's embrace for as long as you could before you both agreed that you should head back to your respective cabins. You reluctantly put on your clothes and walked back towards the guest cabins hand in hand.

You reached yours first and Jessie walked you up the steps to the door, no longer caring if someone saw you two together.

"Aww, it's like a first date," you said facetiously with a chuckle as you wrapped your arms around her and she kissed you. She leaned into your ear and whispered.

"Yeah, except this time my cum's deep inside of you and with any luck you'll be carrying my baby soon."

You blushed and swatted at her.

"Stop," you hushed her as she grinned at you. You relented with a brief shake of your head. "True though." Jessie continued to grin devilishly at you and you gave her another playful shove. "K. Get to bed, you heathen. You have a very important event tomorrow and you better not be late."

She kissed you again. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

---------------

Despite Jessie's exceptional dislike for attention, she felt calm and elated as she stood with you at the alter in front of all your friends and family and said your vows to one another.

The ceremony was lovely. The tears started early. First being when her mom came out with Riley; Riley in her dress and Jessie's mom's at the ready as Riley waddled down the aisle as she haphazardly threw handfuls of petals on the ground, straight up into the air - sometimes at the guests - dropping the basket entirely as she spotted Jessie and ran towards her, clutching her leg tightly.

"Up! Up!" Riley asked and Jessie glanced to her mom. She was supposed to sit with her mom and dad during the ceremony. She looked down at her little girl - with her curly, dark hair, brown eyes and bright red cheeks - she really was Jessie's kid. She bent down and picked her up, holding her against her hip.

"You look so pretty, my girl," Jessie whispered to her as she kissed her forehead. She pointed towards the crowd. "Let's wait for momma, okay? She'll be here soon."

She couldn't keep her eyes off of you. She started crying the second she saw you in your dress. It must've surprised Riley, because the little one just clung to her harder and buried her head in her neck.

"My two favourite people," you cooed as you came up, kissing Riley on the cheek and cupping Jessie's face to give her a quick peck. You made a face immediately after. "Oops, am I not supposed to kiss you yet?"

"Who cares," Jessie laughed as she handed Riley over to you, the toddler reaching for you as you stood across from them.

"Hi sweetie," you said as you took her. "Did you know mommy would've never asked me to marry her if not for you?"

"What!" Jessie protested in as hushed a tone as she could muster. She could feel her cheeks heating up already. "Of course I would've!"

"I'm just kidding," you told her. You laughed at how flustered Jessie was and gave her a wink. "We're off to a good start."

You handed Riley to her grandparents and the ceremony continued, culminating with you slipping new bands on each other's fingers and sharing a kiss that had everyone cheering and clapping.

Considering how some wedding receptions were, yours and Jessie's was pretty tame - at least for you two.

Even though it was probably overkill, you'd switched to non-alcoholic, coming up with creative excuses as to why and Jessie was simply never much for drinking in the first place. Though, her friends did manage to get her to do a couple of shots that left her cringing and coughing as you watched on and laughed.

Jessie was chatting with some of the guests when she heard her daughter's laugh followed by thundering, but clumsy, footsteps as she ran through the crowd, people nearly tripping over themselves to avoid bumping into her. She'd discovered a few weeks ago that she could run - or something akin to it - and she'd been nonstop ever since.

Jessie laughed as suddenly you emerged from a group and picked Riley up mid-run. She pouted and flailed momentarily, but whatever you said to her caused her to relax in your arms. Jessie excused herself from conversation and smiled as she approached you two.

"Look who's here," you said as you looked down to Riley and pointed to Jessie.

"Mommy!" Riley exclaimed, beaming upon seeing Jessie.

"She's having a field day out here," you said slyly to Jessie with a teasing look. "Running any chance she can get. Cheeks extra rosy from running around. And look at that smile," you said as you gently poked your daughter's cheek, eliciting a giggle from her. You looked at Jessie pointedly. "She's certainly your daughter."

Jessie took a moment to kiss Riley before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"She better be mine," she teased. You pulled back with a smirk before leaning in to whisper back.

"What? You wouldn't want me carrying and having someone else's baby?"

Before Jessie could respond, you were walking away, eyes glimmering playfully. She called after you.

"No. I'd despise that!"

You turned and shrugged, earning a dangerous look from her. You grinned and grasped Riley's hand to give Jessie a small wave before disappearing into the crowd knowing full well that conversation wasn't over.

A short while later, Jessie found herself getting pulled out onto the dance floor by you. She grumbled in protest, but allowed you to push and pull her as you wished as you danced to whatever song was playing.

"You're my wife. You're supposed to be happy about dancing with me," you teased.

"I'm happy to be with you. I just don't like dancing," Jessie refuted as she half-heartedly tried to dance along, though was always half a beat - or more - behind.

"You didn't seem too bothered dancing with me when we were at that club on New Year's a few years back," you said with a glint in your eye. "Mind you, probably not appropriate for here."

Jessie's mind flashed back to you grinding up on her. In a sea of people, she was solely focused on you and how incredible you looked and that it was her you were with. True - not appropriate for here. She gave you a lopsided smirk either way.

"I wouldn't be opposed," she joked though her eyes raked up and down your body in appreciation. "And you look even more gorgeous than you did that night."

"Yeah?" You asked as you moved in close and Jessie wrapped her arms around your waist.

"You better cool it," Jessie warned in a murmur as her eyes drifted away. "I don't exactly need wedding photos of me sporting a boner."

You cleared your throat, drawing her eyes back to you. "Well, your daughter did ask for her light up running shoes. Those are back at the cabin."

Jessie's eyes studied you for a moment as a smile crept across her face.

"Oh. Well, we should definitely go get them. That's what good parents would do."

"Absolutely," you agreed.

You both looked around briefly to ensure no one was watching either of you too closely before Jessie grabbed you by the hand and led you out of the hall. The sun was setting as you two walked the paths back to the guest cabins. She retrieved the skeleton key from her pocket and showed it to you.

"And we can get into the honeymoon cabin this time," she told you proudly and you laughed, wrapping your arm around hers and cuddling in as you walked together towards the cabin.

You were kissing each other as you stumbled through the door and slammed it shut behind you.

"Pretty sure we're supposed to wait until the end of the night for this," you chuckled as Jessie was already starting to undo her dress pants.

"Well, we've done a lot of things out of order," she dismissed with a grin as she kissed your neck and guided you towards the couch. "And who's to say we're not going to do more later."

She kissed your lips and made sure the kiss didn't break as she took a seat on the couch and pulled you down on top of her. She bundled up your dress and lifted it so it was out of the way and she could have access to your underwear. She ran her fingers along the fabric and felt herself growing harder as she could feel the warmth and definition of your lips through the thin fabric.

"Fucking me during the reception," you teased as you kissed her deeper. "Gosh, I really am a terrible influence on you."

"Fuck no," Jessie disagreed with a wily smirk. "You're the best." She lifted you off of her to stand for a moment as she removed your underwear. She grinned as she tucked them into her pocket.

"I've created a monster," you joked as you pulled her cock out from her boxer briefs and straddled her waist once more, bracing yourself on her shoulders as you held yourself up as she poised herself at your entrance.

She ran the thick head of her cock against your entrance, getting it coated in your juices before she began to gently nudge at it and push inside. She moaned in pleasure as your tunnel slowly welcomed her, enveloping her length as she inched inside of you.

"Fuck. I'm so glad I can ditch the condoms again. God." She exhaled through her mouth as she looked you up and down. "Nothing feels as good as being inside of you like this. Nothing between us."

"God," you said as you tossed your head back and ran your fingers through her hair as you sunk down onto her and slowly rose back up. "I'm not kidding you - I've soaked through these panties more than once today thinking about last night. That was so fucking sexy."

Jessie growled as she began kissing down your neck and as much of your chest as your dress would allow.

"I noticed you're not drinking tonight," Jessie commented. "Think I knocked you up that fast?"

"You did last time," you chuckled as you began to ride her at a steady rhythm, her tip stretching out your entrance, teasing her, before swallowing her once more.

Jessie exhaled heavily - already feeling overwhelmed by the way you felt around her, the way you looked bouncing up and down in her lap - in your wedding dress no less - and the way your hands explored her.

"Y/N Fleming," she declared as she pulled you into a hard kiss. "Can't believe I've waited so long to make it official. To have you take my name." She rolled her hips up into you as she pulled you down into her lap. "Fuck. You're all mine."

"Oh God," you whimpered, head thrown back once more and eyes closed. "I'm yours. And you're mine."

"Always," she affirmed with zero hesitation. Her mouth hung open as she worked to steady her breath. She could feel blood rushing to her face and knew her cheeks were red with exertion. She shook her head. "I can't believe there was ever a time before you."

"Same, baby," you reciprocated as you looked down at her, cupping her face as you sensually rocked atop of her.

Despite your agreement, Jessie felt a rush go through her. She tightened her grip on your hips as began to buck up into you from below. She spoke through nearly clenched teeth.

"I hate that anyone was ever with you," she said. "You were made for me. They didn't deserve you."

Your eyes fell shut again and you leaned into her, your hands gripping her shoulders. "Holy shit. No one's ever fucked me like you. Or loved me like you."

Jessie snickered smugly, the sound of her hips bouncing off of your thighs resounded loudly in her ears.

"Well no one could ever make me feel like you do. I'm so lucky I met you."

"Jess," you whimpered as your body collapsed into her and you held her tightly. "I love you so much."

Jessie grunted as you rode her, your walls flexing and massaging her in the most exquisite way. She began to buck into you faster and her breathing grew ragged. You clutched her and she looked up to see your own cheeks rosy and your mouth slightly open as you pleasured one another.

"I can't wait until I start swelling with your baby again," you panted and Jessie's eyes slammed shut to the point of wincing as she fought off her climax. She wanted you cumming all over her cock before she flooded you.

"Jesus Christ. You are so sexy. I couldn't keep my hands off you last time. I never can - but God you look incredible carrying my baby." She grunted as she nearly came. "My gorgeous wife. So fucking beautiful."

"Don't stop," you begged as your orgasm neared. She watched you steadily as your expressions changed and you panted and moaned.

"My gorgeous girl," Jessie praised. "You look perfect bouncing up and down on my cock like this. And soon you'll be walking around this wedding with my cum dripping down your legs."

"Oh shit," you gasped as you began to convulse around her cock. Your movements stilled, fingers digging into her shoulders as your orgasm shook you. The way your softness spasmed around her, Jessie had no hope of fighting off her climax further and let out a whining grunt as she released inside of you.

"Oh, fuck, Jessie," you panted as she began to rut into you, shooting string after string of her cum inside of you.

You collapsed in her arms on top of her as you both panted and worked to regain your breath.

When you finally went to climb off of her, you both maneuvered yourself in a way that tried to limit how much of her cum was going to spill out onto her pants. Even then, your disappearance from the reception was extended further as you both worked to clean the cum off her pants before you made your return. Eventually, you gave up and Jessie got changed into a different outfit - people would believe she wanted to get into something more comfortable. You followed suit and got changed as well.

You returned to the hall and though you both received a few comments about your costume changes, all in all your absence was met with minimal questioning. Riley was thrilled to get her light-up shoes and immediately went stomping around the dancefloor squealing with delight.

Jessie continued to mingle with friends and family, as did you, and the night wore on. But it was really only a matter of time until a familiar cry soared over the music and din of the crowd.

Jessie frowned, excusing herself from a conversation and headed in the direction of her daughter's cries. She spotted you navigating the crowd and you caught each other's eye. When you both found Riley, she was red in the face, tears staining her cheeks as her grandparents tried to soothe her.

"What's going on?" Jessie asked as she approached, kneeling down in front of her as her dad bounced Riley on his knee.

"She just started asking for you both and got upset that you weren't here," he answered.

"Oh, Ri," Jessie said as she picked up her daughter and began to bounce her in her arms. She looked to her dad. "She's probably just tired. I know she had a nap, but it's been a big day." She looked down at Riley and spoke softly, "Are you tired, sweetie?" Riley wailed louder, her little hands bundling Jessie's shirt in their grasps, but as Jessie kissed her forehead her cries tapered. "I know it's been a long day. I understand - I need a break, too," she chuckled. "You've done so well."

Riley sniffled, her little shoulders hitching as her cries ebbed. Jessie signaled to her parents that she'd handle it. She and you took Riley over to a quiet corner of the hall. Jessie sat down, resting Riley in her lap and kissed the top of her head.

"She should really go down for bed," you said as you rubbed her back.

"Her and me both," Jessie said dryly with a smirk. "I'm exhausted." You played with her hair and kissed her cheek.

"And you didn't get a nap," you joked and Jessie gave you a playful sidelong glance. You rest your head on her shoulder. "Are we allowed to leave before the guests?"

"I think that's a bit of a faux pas, but honestly, I'm very tempted," she said as she eyed the room and contemplated the option. She looked down at Riley whose eyes were heavy as the toddler hung onto the precipice of sleep. She then glanced over at you. "I mean, everyone here knows neither you or I are big partiers. And, we have a toddler to look after..."

You chuckled, tucking a strand of Jessie's hair behind her ear. "I mean, your parents are happy to look after Riley and she's supposed to be staying with them again tonight."

"But she wants us," Jessie said with a pointed glance downward at their daughter who was resting very peacefully in her arms now. "Clearly."

You leaned over and kissed Jessie's cheek. "You know? I'm sure everyone will forgive us if we duck out."

------

A short while later, Riley was asleep in the middle of the king size bed in your cabin with Jessie laying next to her in a t-shirt and shorts, you climbing into bed in your pyjamas on the opposite side.

"Is this what you would've pictured for your wedding night years ago?" You teased as you lay propped on your side looking across Riley and over at Jessie who mirrored your position.

"Stone cold sober, party still raging on at the reception, and my toddler fast asleep between me and my new wife?" She asked with a lopsided grin, her head in her hand. "No. But I adore it." You snickered and gently pushed down Riley's rogue curls as she slept.

"Same," you said.

"We have a beautiful family and we're very lucky," Jessie mused as she carefully leaned over to give you a chaste kiss. You smiled into it and laid a hand on your stomach as Jessie pulled back.

"And maybe there'll be four of us soon enough."

A/N: That's all, folks! I can't thank you enough for joining me on this ride. What started as a one-shot I was super nervous to post, has been embraced by so many of you and you've allowed me to create and share this love story with you all. It truly means so much. Thank you!

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #woso smut

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literaryvein-reblogs · 18 days ago

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More European Renaissance Art Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Halo - The gold circle or disk placed behind the heads of Christ and saints, a symbol of their sanctity or the light of God.

Hatching - The drawing or engraving of fine parallel lines to show shading. When the lines intersect each other, it is called cross-hatching.

Horizon Line - The line where the sky and earth appear to meet. The horizon line is drawn across the picture at the artist’s eye level.

Hue - A particular variety of a color, shade, or tint.

Lunette - A semicircular shape.

Magus - A member of the ancient Persian priestly caste, skilled in Eastern magic and astrology. In the New Testament, the Magi are the three wise men who came from the East to pay homage to the newborn Christ Child.

Majolica - Tin-glazed earthenware.

Palazzo - An Italian word used to describe a large building. It may be a mansion or palace, or an official government building like a town hall, court, or embassy.

Passion, or The Passion of Christ - The events surrounding the Crucifixion of Christ; a popular subject for religious drama, painting, and sculpture.

Perspective - A technique that artists use to represent the three dimensional world on a two-dimensional surface, such as a piece of paper, canvas, or wood panel. Using perspective, an artist can create the illusion of depth or space and show the proper proportion between objects. Without perspective, a painting or drawing will appear flat.

Pictorial Space - The illusion of three-dimensional space created on a two-dimensional surface.

Predella - An Italian word for the series of small paintings that form the lower section of large altarpieces. It usually has narrative scenes from the lives of the saints who are represented on the main and side panels of the altarpiece.

Putto - From the Latin word meaning “male child.” In 15th- and 16th century poetry and painting, putti are depicted with wings and connected with the god of love, Eros, also known as Cupid.

Red - In Christian paintings, a symbol of the blood of Christ or the Passion.

Relief - A raised surface; for example, sculpture that is carved or modeled and which projects from a background.

Star - In Christian paintings, a symbol of divine guidance or favor. The Star of the East guided the three Magi to Bethlehem.

Triumph - An ancient Roman tradition honoring the return of a victorious general, who paraded his soldiers, prisoners, and spoils through the city streets.

Tromp L’oeil - French for “fool the eye”; a style of painting intended to trick the viewer into believing that the minutely observed objects shown are part of the viewer’s three-dimensional world.

Vanishing Point - The point where parallel lines appear to meet on the horizon line.

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Part 1

#renaissance #art #terminology #writing inspiration #writeblr #dark academia #writing reference #langblr #spilled ink #creative writing #light academia #literature #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #art reference #michelangelo #writing resources

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myownwholewildworld · 1 month ago

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flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: for death was not the end, but the beginning. a/n: to whoever is reading this... I'M TRULY SORRY, okay?? 😭 i am a sucker for happy endings, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart needs. forgive me, please. comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! <3 warnings: mdni. full on ANGST. everyone dies. you've been warned. w/c: ~1.5k

Laid on his back, Marcus Justus Acacius’s life was a thin thread, just a moment away from being cut by the Parcae. It coiled and it stretched between their bony fingers, testing its resistance, its adaptability, its flexibility and elasticity. He could feel them toying with him, just another soul waiting to be reaped.

The sand beneath felt wet, his own blood pooling underneath him like a warm blanket beckoning him to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, not yet, not until he knew you’d be safe, away from harm. He was buying you time, his death an entertainment for Traianus, a loitering distraction so your father wouldn’t realise you were not in the Colosseum’s Cubiculum, watching him die.

He had ensured that the last of his loyal men took you away at dawn. Far from this forsaken city and its bloody claws, from your father’s thirst for revenge. Rome was nothing but the vestige of a forgotten promise and its Emperor was a ghoul who would stop at nothing when bereft.

Exhausted, he mentally scanned his body, weighing his options. His back hurt like hell; breathing felt like fire burning his insides; a piercing pain drilling his left temple from an almost final blow; his right fingers dislocated along with his shoulder which had popped out of its socket. And the injury right under his blood-soaked breastplate, where his torso met his hip, kept on gushing, no matter how hard he pressed the wound.

Marcus felt his life, his breath, slipping away. He was completely spent, having been in the arena for the last hour, fighting for his life like a wild animal. But the stamina, the adrenaline that fuelled him, was running out. His time was running out, one he hoped you gained — a fair exchange, one he would gladly comply to.

After duelling with opponents and animals alike, he felt clumsy, his limbs unresponsive. He was the last man standing but knew better than thinking the Emperor would grant him freedom. This was just a farce, a way of torturing him in his final moments. A lesson to others: not even an acclaimed, well-loved General was immune to Traianus’ rage.

Marcus heard a metallic, creaking sound, the gate ascending to present his next foe.

Almost choking on his own blood, his left fingers wrapped around the hilt of his gladius, and slowly turned to his side — his bloody saliva dripping off the corner of his mouth onto the dusty ground. Sticking the pointy side of the blade into the sand, he used it as leverage to stand up, his knees trembling like a newborn foal.

Two men approached him slowly, full, impenetrable armour on. One with a sword, another with a spear. Drawing a deep breath in, which caused havoc in his strained lungs, Marcus swung his own gladius in a perfect circle, then bent his knees ever so slightly to stand his ground.

Even through the pain, the fatigue and the heartache, he fought to death. The gladiator with the sword fell to his knees before his head dramatically rolled off his shoulders with ease. Marcus rotated on his heels to face his last rival; gladius tightly gripped at the ready.

“Libertas! Libertas! Libertas! (Freedom)” chanted the crowd, asking for his release.

The loud mantra was deafening and soothing at the same time. It wrapped around his achy body, knowing that even though Rome was savage, its citizens were not. A chink of hope, rather small but present. They saw the injustice unfolding in front of them, how cruel and vicious the Emperor was.

Perhaps his death would become more than just a distraction or a lesson. Perhaps it would be a wakeup call. And if so, his destiny would be fulfilled.

A sudden silence befell the Colosseum, the chanting dying off and transforming into pitiful gasps.

Marcus stopped on his tracks, catching a glimpse of the crowd — hands hovering over mouths in disbelief, faces ridden with teary, widened eyes. Then shrieking cries filling the air, pleas for mercy.

Something dark and heavy sunk to his stomach, impending dread and anxious nerves consuming him as he turned around to face the Imperial Box.

You had not been able to escape at dawn as he had planned, you were right there. Precious and beautiful and determined.

You were standing proud and mighty — a flowy, white dress hugging the hourglass figure he loved most, and golden ornaments amplifying your raw beauty. Your father was right behind you and only when the sun reflected off the blade he was holding to your neck, did Marcus react.

He lunged forward, his last enemy forgotten — heart beating wildly against his ribcage, throat closing off as tears welled up and blurred his vision. Marcus threw his gladius to the side, coming down to his knees in front of the loge.

If begging would save you, he would do it loudly and unashamedly — Marcus would drag himself over the embers of hell, set all his dignity aside, exclusively for you.

“Please, Your Imperial Highness. I beg of you. Spare her life and I’ll gladly give mine,” he screamed at the top of his lungs, his grievous voice floating above the gut-wrenching cries of the crowd.

This could not be happening. Not you, the most innocent, kind soul Rome had ever seen — that he had ever seen. His love, his devotion for you had brought you here. He could make peace with dying for you, for your freedom — but with this? Not with this senseless, revengeful death.

His eyes were transfixed on you, widened with fear, with sorrow. Asking for your forgiveness. He was sorry he couldn’t do more, he couldn’t save you.

You gifted him with a weak smile before mouthing an “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered silently, desperately. Hoping his breathless confession would reach you.

Your father’s hand moved along your neck, slitting your throat.

When Marcus saw a river of red staining the front of your white dress, his body and mind just went numb, tears falling unbeknownst to him.

He’d failed. It was over. It felt like if it had been his own hand slashing your neck. Because it probably had been.

Still on his knees, he sat back on his heels, his shoulders sloping down as all purpose left him. Marcus was empty, devoid of emotion, unable to feel. A carcass of someone he was but no longer existed. There was no reason to fight, to remain on this earthly plane.

He’d rather meet you on the other side than living a purposeless, unsavoury life. He’d welcome death like an old friend and would hope for your warm embrace before embarking onto your next adventure together.

Defeated, and through a thick veil of numbness, he saw Traianus’ thumb pointing downwards. A welcome sight.

Before closing his eyes, Marcus saw the spear coming towards him on the corner of his eye.

Then darkness. Forever darkness. A final relief.

“Wait, I know he’ll come,” you begged the Underworld’s ferryman, your hands nervously twisting on your lap.

“The time has come, my lady,” his guttural, harsh voice reached your ears, but not your heart.

You knew he’d come, and you’d wait. Perhaps not today, not at the same time as you, but Marcus would join you. You could have your happily ever after away from Rome, from your father. From life. You could love each other in joint Death, since you couldn’t do it freely in life.

The small boat started moving, drifting away through the dense fog, while your sight lingered on the shore. Hopeful, always hopeful, even in death. A sudden shift in the atmosphere made you squint your eyes, distinguishing a silhouette on the shore — one you would recognise in all lives you lived.

You sprung to your feet, your salty tears mixing with your trembling smile.

“Marcus!” you called him, gripping the edge of the boat.

You watched him turn around, first confused, then understanding. When your eyes locked through the thick mist, the resolution you saw told you he’d follow you wherever you wound up. Even if that was the Underworld.

Marcus jumped into the river, swimming through the darkness and the floating souls clinging onto him. Soon enough he got to you, strong arms lifting him up over the edge of the boat. You sighed, a wave of comfort washing over you as you welcomed him in your warm embrace.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it today,” you confessed, cradling his face with your lips closed to his.

“For you, I’d give up my life in the blink of an eye, mea vita (my life). Don’t you ever forget that,” he whispered, his thumb caressing your bottom lip.

Knelt on the ferryman’s boat, you hugged each other, his soothing hands roaming your body as you blended into a loving, eternal kiss.

For death was not the end, but the beginning.

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bulbabutt · 4 months ago

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okay. lets bite the bullet and talk about 2012. lets talk about child abuse, familial abuse, generational abuse, toxic family units, whatever you wanna call it. lets talk about it and whether it exists in this show. i actually encourage you to read this no matter what your take is, just to hear it out. let me be FUCKING clear: i love this show, but i get scared to talk about it seriously. everyone on every side is defensive all the time but i love every turtles show to no end.

this post is going to go over so well and not controversially at all.

precursor: every splinter is some level of shitty dad. he always has been. the fucking bare bones of the character is that he raised his children to kill the man who killed his own father. thats inherently fucked up. every splinter has some level of fucked up about him. maybe hes inattentive, or neglectful, or strict, or secretive, maybe hes just not very good at dealing with his kids. splinter is supposed to be far from perfect. thats what makes him splinter. maybe he grows over the course of a series, maybe he doesnt. maybe hes supposed to be shitty his whole life, maybe hes not. thats just splinter. each is adapted differently depending on the story being told.

and 2012 has a very interesting tone to its story.

lets start at the beginning, back in japan. this is season 3, was this story what they intended when they started writing the show back in season 1? probably not, theres probably things they would have written differently had they known this was where splinter's story started. thats kind of the way tv works, you add the details later. but for our sake of analyzing the character of splinter as a whole, it seems best to start here as if its all intentional.

hamato yoshi is a member of the hamato clan. theyre a very traditional old ninja clan in the modern world, they have old feuds and theyre trying to keep their culture alive. they're literally the last of a clan of ninjas like this, having (supposedly) defeated the foot clan (their generational enemies) back when yoshi was a baby. hes set out to lead next, and its very important to him. and yet hes married to a woman who works in the city, a modern woman who doesnt live the life he does. she even moved to be with him. i feel the need to compare this to how men in the real world who want traditional wives never go for women who are willing to be their housewives, always try to break down the independent ones. splinter seems unconcerned with how his wife wants to live. with how she wants their daughter to be raised.

im not necessarily saying this is how this comes off in the show, but i find it interesting to think about. this is absolutely the most rounded version of tang shen as a character (thus far) it stops her being just a name on a page "hamato yoshi's love and the object of his enemies affections who died" and turns her into a woman who has a stake in the story. gives her more agency.

its very interesting that this show implies an actual relationship between tang shen and oroku saki, albeit a one-sided one that didnt work out, but they do seem to have parted on equal ground. the pair of them discuss yoshi's inattentive duties as a husband and father, that he's too obsessed with the tradition and lineage of his clan. honestly, if this woman just took her baby and left no one would blame her! he has his priorities set, and it leaves no room for her and their newborn baby. if she ran away with saki at this point, the story would make just as much sense.

but then disaster strikes, saki learns the truth about his family, that he was actually a child of the foot clan (honestly i wish we saw this play out instead of jumping ahead in the story but thats not what this post is about) and he kills he and yoshi's father. revenge for him having killed his. cycles of abuse and revenge that never end. the pair of them were raised in this society that values lineage like this, that would kill for it. its no wonder they both grew up this way.

anyway, tang shen is killed by a blow meant for yoshi, and saki takes their child and raises her. based on splinter's lack of desire to be a father so far in the story, its honestly not one you can blame him for. its fucked up, but it makes sense. saki does to miwa exactly what his father did to him. cycles of abuse and revenge.

yoshi loses everything, and moves to america. he's turned into splinter the mutant rat, and gains four turtle sons.

so as established, he's not exactly grown up with a stable family life. he obviously, while human, wasnt acting as a stable father for the child he intended to have. so how good is he at this?

ive talked before about how the 2003 show treats the turtles as kind of one whole unit. they don't have individual relationship arcs, they dont have overarching storylines where they grow apart or closer, they're always in each other's corner.

2012 makes this more dynamic. here we see that 15 years seeing no one but each other, growing under this splinter has come with its own quirks. these brothers dont understand each other that well. they get jealous of each others treatment, some are left out, some are misunderstood. raph resents leo, none of them appreciate what donnie does, mikey bothers everyone else for attention, etc. it creates a really good starting place for this show.

(the issue i have with this show is more that they never really open or close any of these beats, at least not in ways that last. but boy does it make for some good dramatic scenes)

we see over the course of this first season that splinter treats his children just as he was, as little ninjas more so than sons. he raises them to follow his traditions, the ones tang shen never cared for. but this is all he knows how to be! you cant really blame him.

most people bring up mikey as the quintessential example when they talk about this, i dont want to do that cuz i know you've all heard it. while i think his father does disrespect him and i think it is paid forward and his brothers do too, i'd rather talk about raph for a change.

in one episode, raph loses his temper. to teach him a lesson, splinter makes his brothers pelt him in training while insulting him any way they can, and tells him to just... not lose his temper. this is a terrible lesson in general. instead of trying to coax out why he might be angry, it just plays up that if he loses his temper bad things happen.

splinter in this episode basically encourages bullying. this comes up a lot when it comes to raph. to compare, in 2003 when raph loses his temper, hes told to blow off steam which he does. his brothers don't blame him for having emotional outbursts, they know thats just how he is so they know how he needs to cope with it. he's given the physical space to let it out.

im not saying this show needs to be like that show, im just saying thats a version of this story where the outcome is better for raph as a whole. since this outcome is not as good for him emotionally, you can tell why he's still got these emotional issues. splinter never helps him more than that. thats more why this raph differs from that one, if that makes sense. one has his family in his corner more than the other.

speaking of. raph has a pet turtle. this turtle is the only one he can talk to about how he feels. why might that be? it's the only thing hes kind and gentle to, and he refuses to let his brothers make him feel weak for being kind to it. where did he learn to be ashamed of being kind and gentle? thats a learned behaviour. in a house full of other men... yeah, that would happen. but whos values start that?

when this turtle gets some mutagen spilled on it, it tries to get revenge on his family. there is such a resentment going on here, its extremely juicy. the show chalks this up to "post mutation insanity", but its just as easy to think that everything raph has experienced has made him seem angry and resentful and perhaps scared to his pet, and that former pet wants raph to himself so they can be free. the frustrated venting of a child complaining about how no one understands him in such a big way turns slash into a vengeful monster, cuz thats all he's ever heard. it makes sense, he went from a little turtle to a fully cognizant adult aged being in an instant. emotionally no one would handle that well, and definitely not someone whos only ever heard the worst about people.

he comes around later. notably by being on his own, away from the hamatos.

again, im not saying the show is writing this intentionally, but i think tonally its in the zone where you could see this analysis as being canon. that these little pieces of narrative fit the worldview of a toxic family unit that isnt dealing with its problems in a healthy way.

there's other small aspects. leo slaps mikey early on, having seen it on his favourite show be used as a way of getting someone to calm down. mikey questions this behaviour, leo seems to feel bad about it when questioned. if we know that that behaviour was bad, what other things might he emulate in a similar way?

there's things like donnie's predatory behaviour towards april. in a world where all they ever knew was splinter's stories of the outside world (and perhaps television from decades earlier), hearing splinter's story of his love for tang shen, his rivalry with his own brother over her, you could actually see why he would behave the way he does, why he claims her the way he does. not as an excuse, but as a reason he learned the behaviour. and there's multiple opportunities for his father to tell him off. he never does. why would he? he knows no better.

this splinter, unlike every other, is not old or disabled. he doesnt require a cane (at the start, but also was never a good cane) and its interesting that despite being like... a 40 year old man in the peak of his life he does not accompany his sons on missions. he sits around doing nothing and disproves of his sons heroic actions. april literally calls him out for this at one point. the show is actually telling us some of this man's behaviour is wrong.

one of the more upsetting things that happens in this household is a lot of physical hitting. "theyre training" you might say. understandable. but when you see a lot of hitting come from the father in this show, played for a laugh, when you see splinter play the "drunk master" bit it makes you think. is that okay? isnt that a bit much?

the end of the muckman episode is a freeze frame of splinter (after having knocked out all of his sons to punish them for leaving while grounded) turning his anger on april and her running away. idk thats just not funny to me. this is a bit of the dating of the show, 2012 was a time where character's in shows were meaner, less affectionate, more bullying in nature. that was the sense of humour at the time. that isnt me making a judgment, it's just kind of the era. a pre steven universe world, if that makes sense. so many of the jokes that end in a hit aren't funny in 2024. especially not when they come from a parent.

when this splinter speaks about his kids to their brothers he often ends up insulting them. "you should be like mikey, he never overthinks because he doesn't think", this would be a big reason the boys speak about each other the way they do to their faces. puts forward a bit more of that bullying thing i mentioned earlier. if their own father talks about them like this, of course their brothers do too. so of course they join in and give payback.

again. splinter wasnt raised in a normal family. he was raised in a ninja commune with a bunch of murderers. he wasn't great with his wife and baby daughter. its not surprising that he's bad at this.

so, ive just said a bunch of things about what's wrong with this household as a whole. i think ive explained why the family unit behaves the way it does: generational teachings of feuds and traditional values. i dont think this makes the show bad! i, in fact, wish there was more of it. i think theres so much low hanging fruit that the show kind of wants to play with, but cant fully bring itself to.

specific example: during the space arc on a planet thats driving all the characters emotions against each other we get this amazing scene where raph screams at leo for being splinter's favourite. leo responds by hugging him. its really well done!

however its never brought up again, never actually getting into the nitty gritty of why raph feels like that is exactly what i think makes this show resonate with so many people

its dark! it pulls at your heart strings! it makes people feel seen! we go in mikey's head at one point and see such splintered (lol) personalities in his head. he has a huge anger problem (much like raph) in there. he retreats into imagination land when stressed. the show kind of toys with "these kids are fucked up!" but never lets those character moments go anywhere. i love how fucked up this family is. its so complex, it feels real. at least real to me. i wish it went that little step further and let the characters talk about these things a little more.

maybe you have a different experience, and thats fine! but i wouldnt brush off people like me who look at 2012 and say "these dynamics make me uncomfortable". to excuse it by saying "my family is like that and we're fine" sometimes i just wanna say... <:/ are you? have you talked about that? and if that's your read on it is that its fine, thats great. but some people notice patterns and those patterns can make them uncomfortable. i hope ive explained the patterns here.

i think thats why the fandom is as big as it is. this show would lead to the most amazing deep introspective fan-works youve ever seen, it lays the pieces out so perfectly for you to draw your own conclusions about why they are this way. you cant really blame people for talking about it as if its got a way higher rating than it does. it feels like it does.

i should say, i dont even know if i blame the show on its own for leaving those pieces laying there, it was on nickelodeon. i sense studio meddling in the tone. i mean, given that the show wanted to end with the big mutant apocalypse storyline, and yet the network wanted to end it with the big 87 crossover..... yeah i think its safe to say nick would rather they keep it light.

which is funny, because i think the most controversial thing i can say is i personally love the finale arc as the mutant apocalypse. it so encapsulates my favorite part of this show. to end this show in the darkest timeline and say "even though these characters are so far removed from who they used to be and even though the entire world is over they still have each other in the end" and i find that so perfect.

so. i understand that this is always a touchy topic. i know people want to brush it off as "people say the 12 brothers are abusive to mikey but mikey is fine", and i think thats a really skewed version of it from both sides. first of all. mikey is not fine, look in that boys head. look how he copes. he's not. but also, mikey is not the only victim. they all are. these turtles are victims of their upbringing, victims of generational war. of men who didnt know how to be good fathers in the first place. and thats good writing! it feels deep! it connects!

for more context: any fucked up way you can think of karai being raised by shredder? its probably the same way here. splinter and shredder were raised the same way.

i guess i think about this a lot, cuz i always see things like "oh, rise fans write crossovers where the rise boys love each other and have to teach the 12 boys how to be nice cuz they dont like 2012!" and i just think to myself:

guys. do you understand why a person might do that? why would someone (likely a teenager) want 2012 mikey to be treated nicely by a kinder more openly affectionate version of his own family? do i need to spell that out for you? why do we connect with media at all, why do we write our own stories about it?

if you genuinely dont. i mean, im glad for you. but sometimes you wanna imagine a world in which your own family is more openly affectionate with you. where they hug and tell you theyre proud and love you and you never have to question it, never have to look elsewhere for that kind of approval. its less that they're idolizing rise, and more that they're looking at the two families and saying "this one is emotionally mature and in touch with their feelings more than that one. how would that play out?"

doctor feelings ass response.

look, im not saying everyone understands 2012, that everyone likes or needs to like it. im just trying to say that i think these fucked up parts of 2012 are all around my favourite parts of the show. its an inspiring story about this fucked up little family that has no one but each other, and they're not great about it. they try, but they don't always get it right. i just wish the show would have talked about that part more. but i think that since it doesnt people get to fill in those blanks themselves, and they do it so beautifully. and i really wish people on the internet would be more kind to one another when they wanted to discuss these darker themes they find in it.

these are the reasons i love this show. i think its so very interesting that splinter dies this fucked up father figure who never really apologized for his behaviour. i like that raph needs to be held to stop punching his brothers. that leo doesnt have a good grip on what it is to be a leader, that he tries bad ways of doing it. i like that no one copes well! i like that their relationships are so complex! this show is messy! its good! i wish it was more messy!

and id love if we could be more honest about these things and how they make us feel instead of just brushing each other off as "likes the show" or "doesnt like the show". the things that make me uncomfortable are why i love this show and i'm pretty sure i'm not alone there.

#tmnt #thoughts #tmnt 2012 #the post ive been putting off for a year!!!!!#im not sure if i said everything i wanted to but its obviously long enough and i dont want to just summarize things #its here folks im gonna go on a mental health walk now #rip me a new one or dont. just hear me out

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 months ago

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Halloween, 2004

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (joel’s a flirt, but no actual smut, a good amount of early y2k nostalgia for my fellow ancient gen-z/millennials)

wc: 1k

series masterlist

October 31st, 2004

“Cutest little hobbit in the whole world.”

You couldn’t help gushing over your newborn daughter as she slept in her swing. You’d just finished carefully slipping on her first halloween costume, one that fit in with Joel’s chosen theme for the year—The Lord of the Rings. You’d decided to go as Arwen, the counterpart to Joel’s Aragorn, and had spent a pretty penny crafting the costumes from scratch. You’d always been a DIY kind of kid growing up, and even though it had been tempting to take the easier route and buy one of the cheap costumes from Party City given your newly hectic life as a mother, it felt a bit sacreligious to turn your back on your old ways.

Sarah had politely declined taking part in the family theme this year, choosing to dress up as one of the Cheetah Girls instead, but took enough pity on her pouting father to agree to dress up as Legolas for one singular picture. A picture that was never to be shown to any of her friends, as per her request.

“Oh my god,” she said, covering her mouth as she descended the staircase in her best elven getup, a white, synthetic lace front half-hazardously thrown over her freshly corn-rowed braids. “Dad’s gonna die over this.”

You laughed and nodded your agreement as you pulled out your new digital camera—one you’d splurged on for the upcoming holiday season—to snap a picture of your two girls. “Ten bucks says he cries a little.”

“Fifteen says he cries a lot,” Sarah countered as she tried her best to hide her face from the camera. “I thought we agreed on one picture.”

“One family picture,” you corrected with a smirk. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come trick-or-treating?”

She gave you a deadpan and pretended to gag, earning an eye roll from you. “God no. Besides, Jessie and I are working at the library’s haunted house. But save me some candy.”

“Luckily for you, Iris doesn’t have teeth yet, so it’s all yours,” you said. “But can’t promise she won’t put up a fight in a couple years.”

“Yeah, well I’ll have her trained by then,” she said, flickering some of her straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

Joel’s truck pulled into the driveway shortly after Iris woke up from her nap, you and Sarah cozied up with her on the sofa as you watched Hocus Pocus on Disney Channel—your pick, not Sarah’s. When Joel stepped through the front door, he was met with the sight of two elves and a tiny hobbit sprawled out on the sectional, a bowl of popcorn in his eldest daughter’s lap and a bag of candy in his wife’s. His grin was glorious.

“Have I died and gone to Middle Earth?” Joel said, shaking his head as he walked over to Sarah, kissing the top of her head before doing the same to you and then finally, his newest baby girl. “You’re gonna make my damn heart explode, baby girl. Look at these hairy little feet.”

He rubbed her socked feet between his thumb and index fingers, chuckling at the fuzz you’d glued on.

“And you,” Joel fixed his attention on his first born, his dimple showing with how hard he was grinning. “You make an excellent Legolas, baby girl.”

“I’m taking this thing off as soon as you guys take that stupid picture,” she said, souring her face. “This wig is itchy and cheetah print is calling my name.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, rolling his eyes as he scooped Iris out of your arms. “We get it. You’re a cool teenager now, too hip for family costumes.”

“You guys could’ve been Cheetah Girls, too,” she said. “I would’ve been on board, then.”

“I don’t think your dad could pull off cheetah print, babe,” you said, standing up and setting your bag of candy on the coffee table. You didn’t miss Joel’s eyes appreciatively scanning over your costume, a devious glint in his eyes. “Come on, papa. You have a costume to get into.”

Joel shot you a wink before handing Iris over to Sarah, mumbling a promise that the two of you would be right back. A promise that you doubted he’d keep given the look in his eyes.

You hardly made it to the privacy of your bedroom before Joel hand his hands on you, tugging you close to his body as he placed a few greedy kisses to your lips.

“You’re keepin’ that on tonight,” he said, nipping at your chin.

“Long as you keep yours on, too,” you purred, gently scratching at his scalp as you melted into him. “My king.”

Joel groaned, swatting your ass through your dress. “I’m gonna have you kneelin’ for me later, that’s for damn sure.”

You giggled, swatting at his chest as you pulled away to grab his costume from the closet, setting each piece on the bed—wig, included.

“I ain’t wearin’ that,” he chuckled, but all it took was one pout from you to change his mind. “Fuck me, fine. But the second that thing starts to itch, it’s comin’ off.”

Once he’d gotten his costume on and took a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror, he sighed.

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be on your knees tonight for makin’ me wear this fuckin’ wig,” he grumbled, though you were too amused to care. “How do I look? Royal?”

“You look good with longer hair,” you mused, playing with the wavy ends of his wig. “You should grow it out one day.”

He scoffed. “Maybe one day when I’m old and my devilishly handsome looks have gone to shit.”

“I don’t know,” you said, biting your lip as you gave him a once over. “I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be devilishly handsome to the day you die, Miller.”

“Good thing my wife’s a ten, then,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your lips. “Wouldn’t want to outshine, ya.”

You tossed your head back and laughed, earning another kiss to the base of your throat. “God, I love you.”

“Love you a thousand times more, darlin’.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #elementary #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou

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limonmelon · 5 months ago

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armandaniel reclist

Because I really have to start putting these somewhere and because I need everyone to read these and give them the love they deserve:

outcast of all this night by gaypiratedivorce - "After a month in Dubai, Daniel Molloy is back home and miraculously alive, eager to get to work on his first draft. The vampire Armand has other plans." first in an insanely good (and complete!) series.

two truths and a liar by andrealyn - "Facing down the press junket for his book, Daniel Molloy is prepared to hype up his hit novel. He's less prepared to have Armand crash the tour to play bodyguard and doting assistant and he's definitely not ready to have his secrets spilled on a world stage because Armand wants to play games. The longer he sticks around to torment Daniel as he chases him across the country, the longer he stays. So, who's really winning this game?"

to the edge of the earth by andrealyn (you can tell I love her Daniel voice) - "There's nowhere that Armand can run where Daniel won't find him. Using the Talamasca's information, his own dogged determination, and eternity sprawling ahead of them, Daniel's going to find his maker and figure out why Armand keeps running. When he catches him (and he will), he's going to prove that it's going to be the two of them, forever, and that he's going to love Armand the way no one has before."

and then what? by andrealyn - "The droning hum of Louis' boredom is going to drive Armand mad. Instead of accepting it, Armand seeks out the kaleidoscope chaos that is Daniel Molloy's mind to learn why he's so special, so fascinating, so interesting. Every city he finds him in, he learns more before he makes Daniel forget. Every city, Armand grows a little more addicted. And every city, Armand does something he's not supposed to do -- falls a little more in love and eager to give Daniel the memories of who they are together."

his thoughts were red thoughts by spqr - "Daniel’s barely thirty; he can’t fathom one century, let alone five. It’s probably a wonder Armand doesn’t spend his time skulking in a cave somewhere, muttering to himself, covered in the blood and muck of his innocent human victims."

care and keeping by katplanet - "Louis shakes his head. “And now he's got you stepping on him.” Daniel picks his drink up and necks the last half of it. “I have not,” he says, “stepped on him, as of yet.” “But you want to.” “I think so?” Daniel puts the empty glass back on the table and scoots it out of their immediate limb radius. “I think I could want to. I want to want to.” “There you go,” Louis says, “tell him that. That'll set the mood.”" With some really great Louis/Daniel friends who love each other and also fuck too.

Endearments by Nothing_But_Paisley - "Daniel never compared him to a Botticelli angel or a Bernini cherub, never called him a demon or an imp. Such images scarcely existed within that wonderfully secular modern brain of his. Daniel was entirely a creature of the flesh."

open up your skull, i'll be there by typefortydeductions - "He shakes his wrist free and brings it to his mouth, licking up the trail of blood, his eyes never leaving Armand’s. He turns, and walks away, and spends a restless night in his own bed with his dick half-hard and the memory of Armand’s blood and Armand’s hands and Armand’s final whispered words before he upped and left Daniel sprawled newborn on the floor." this series floored me it's so good please read it.

mystic seaport is that way by exastris_scientia - "Daniel should really get more sleep and stop getting himself into these situations..." this series has it's boot on my throat. written pre-Season 2.

bend your dream with the road | VOTE TO END OTW RACISM by meronicavars - "Daniel is asleep dreaming of his own unreliable recollection of Louis at Polynesian Mary's all those years ago and Armand wants to dive into his dream and wrench Louis out, shake him until he realizes that Daniel is his, Daniel has always been his. Isn’t this something Louis should know? That Daniel was his gift to Armand. Why must you torture me with his presence? He wants to ask. Why would you bring him here if not to punish me?" also part of great series and written pre-Season 2.

the man who wasn't there by obstra - ""I just couldn't bear to lose you and Louis in one day.” Armand is looking away from Daniel now and picking more ferociously at the edge of his sleeve, like he's avoiding something big. He's almost afraid to ask, somehow he can tell this is going somewhere significant “Why would losing me be the same as losing Louis Armand? Just some kid you met decades ago in San Francisco, tortured a little bit then threw aside? Explain to me why. Does this have anything to do with the fact that my memory of the 70s has more holes in it than swiss cheese? I thought it was just drugs but I also thought San Francisco was just drugs and look how that turned out.”"

a haunting just for company by valkyrisms - ""I know what a breakup looks like," Daniel says. "The better question is, why are you coming to me about it? I'm the one who broke up your little sham." "This is what humans do, don't they?" Armand asks, letting his voice drop. "Crashing on their friends' couches when there's a blip in their romances?""

Simplicity by WendigoDreaming - "Daniel's memory is a gaping hole morphing slowly into the shape of Armand." also part of an ongoing series!

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning by trinityofone - "He should have left when he had the chance. But he wanted to see how it ended. His mistake. Because the story wasn’t done with him. All at once it was grabbing him by the throat. (A version of Daniel's turning featuring visions, sex, and sexy visions.)"

forever's gonna start tonight by trinityofone (actually just read all their IWTV fic thank you) - "I’ve lost my mind, Daniel thinks, still lavishing kisses to the chest of the creature that killed him. He says the next part out loud: “I fucking hate you. And you hate me. So something is making us do this.” “I don’t hate you,” Armand pants. “You mean nothing to me. Don't stop.”"

more to come!

#iwtv #devil's minion #armandaniel #armand #daniel molloy #fic rec #interview with the vampire

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moonlitstoriess · 4 months ago

Text

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools.

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely.

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes.

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

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penvisions · 9 months ago

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress.

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time.

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain, you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided. “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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thatacotargirl · 7 months ago

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The Daughter of Day (1)

My third and final active fanfiction is here! This is The Daughter of Day, a series exploring a new Court and a triad, because why not!

I hope you enjoy this introductory chapter - and keep your eyes peeled for the next instalment 🌟

This story is set after A Court of Silver Flames.

My inbox remains open for oneshot/imagine requests.

A Reader x Feysand Fanfiction

🎶 "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine - you make me happy, when skies are grey - you'll never know, dear, how much I love you - please don't take, my sunshine, away" 🎶

Helion held his newborn daughter, bundled in his arms in a yellow blanket, as he swayed gently around the nursery. He had had no intentions of becoming a father anytime soon, but when the baby's mother arrived at his doorsteps, he had fallen in love on the spot - those chubby cheeks and shining round eyes that peered out at him had captured his heart and soul.

Now, he couldn't imagine life without her.

Placing his daughter into her bassinet, watching her sweet eyes grow heavy and blinking, he set her floating celestial mobile to turn and tucked her in. Stroking her cheek as he watched her slowly fall asleep, he vowed to love and protect her for always. She would want for nothing in this life, he would make sure of that.

25 years later - Reader POV

"Y/n, are you ready?"

You can hear your father calling out to you, interrupting your reading. Grumbling, you grab your bookmark and note the page, before setting it down on the coffee table. The middle of a chapter. The worst place to stop reading.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming".

As you exit the sitting room and join your father's side, you see the look he gives you in response to your attitude. His eyebrow still raised, he stays silent as he opens the front door and gestures for you to leave the palace. You walk ahead of him and towards Xalan, your pegasus. Your father had gifted you Xalan on your 10th birthday and the pair of you were thick as thieves; much to his horror. You had Xalan wrapped around your little finger and often got yourselves into all sorts of trouble that Helion would have to rescue you both from. One time, you'd ended up in Thesan's bedroom in the middle of the night - and nearly gave the High Lord a heart attack before Helion was able to arrive and scoop you away, profusely apologising. He still apologises every time he sees Thesan for the embarrassment.

You mount Xalan and wait for your father to join with Meallan. Once you are both comfortable, he gestures for you both to take flight.

"This is a diplomatic meeting, y/n, so you have to be on your best behaviour. You are the heir to the Day Court, which means you represent the Court and me".

You don't reply. There's no need to, really. You will sit demurely and smile, speak when spoken to, and daydream otherwise of what life could offer you if you could just break free.

You had everything you could possibly want at the Day Court, your father made sure of that. But it didn't quench the desire in you to explore and see new horizons. 25 years in the confines of Day, only being able to satisfy your curiosity of Prythian by reading historical literature, was really taking its toll. You didn't mean to start acting out, but the boredom was driving you insane.

As you begin your descent into Velaris, the Night Court's City of Starlight, you can't help but notice the colours. The Sidra, the river running through the city, looked like it contained iridescent starlight. Flowers bloomed in deep blues and purples in people's front gardens. The mountain ranges in the distance seem to sparkle even in the daytime. You can hear people bustling about the streets, happy chatting and laughter fill the air.

Landing with a gentle thud before a riverfront house, you carefully guide Xalan to a stop and follow your father to a grassy sideline where the pair can graze happily. Once both pegasus' are settled, you watch your father round to the door and knock heavily.

"Helion, welcome!" comes a booming voice as the door swings wide open.

"A pleasure as always, Rhysand".

You see your father embrace the High Lord of Night as you stand behind, awkwardly. As Rhysand pulls away, he looks behind Helion to see you standing there. Helion notices Rhysand's wide eyes and turns to introduce you.

"Rhysand, this is my daughter, y/n. I thought it was time she learn the ways of the business, since she will one day take over from me after all", he laughs, guiding me to stand in front of him. Rhysand kindly takes my hand in his, shaking it gently.

"Welcome to Velaris, y/n". He smiles at you with kind eyes, which you return, before shyly pulling your hand away and tucking it behind your back.

"Helion, I had no idea you had a daughter?"

"Yes, well, I tried to keep her out of the spotlight to let her have a normal childhood; but she was getting restless in Day".

So he had noticed.

"Do come in, both of you".

Rhysand opened the door wider and moved, allowing you both passage into his home. You noticed the paintings that adorned the hallway, stopping at one in particular. It was one of your father, in the midst of the war 45 years ago, wielding his Spell-Cleaving powers with Hybern's army visibly falling in the distance. You had read about your father's role in the war, but only through reading the history books in his library. He never spoke of it, no matter how often you asked.

"Remarkable, isn't it? Feyre, my mate, painted this from a memory of your father during the war. He was a force to be reckoned with, took down nearly half the army on his own".

You turned to Rhysand with a gasp.

"Really?"

He looked at you, his face shrouded with confusion.

"He was formidable, y/n. Really, Prythian wouldn't be standing if it wasn't for him".

You turn back to gaze at the portrait, lost in thought. If your father had powers strong enough to single-handedly take down half an army, what could yours do with the right training? Helion was reluctant to let you do more than basic healing spells, worried that you would accidentally hurt yourself with your powers if left to your own devices. You could feel the power in you, strumming through your fingertips, begging to be wielded.

"Y/n?".

You turn and see your father standing in the doorway, silently beckoning for you to join him in the office. You sigh, thoughts of powers ebbing away, as you join him to discuss peace-making treaties with the mortal lands.

After you had been introduced to the rest of the Night Court, and they had gotten over the shock of Helion's 25-year-old daughter making a sudden appearance, the meeting carried on as normal. You mind wandered often, to the streets outside of the house, to the painting of your father and the power you could feel exuding from it, and you could feel yourself getting restless.

When the meeting was finally finished and you and your father had began the flight home, you couldn't help but wonder what your life would be like if you left the nest of the Day Court. And, as you watched Xalan in flight, his wings outspread through the sky - you realised it was time to spread your own.

"Father".

"Yes, sunshine?"

"I'd like to take a trip".

"Where would you like to go, my love? We could visit the continent, if you'd like?".

"A trip on my own, dad".

You can feel your father's gaze piercing you, but you refused to look up and meet his eyes.

"On your own?"

"I'm suffocating, dad. I need to live a little. Please. Just for a few weeks, just some distance from Day, so I can learn and explore and have fun like any other 25-year-old".

"But you're not any other 25-year-old, you're heir to the Day Court. You are a target".

"Then let me go somewhere where I'm not a target, where I can be protected. Please, dad".

You can feel your eyes pricking with tears, and not from the blowing wind. Your head is still bowed, but you know your father can sense them, can sense your heartache. He remains silent for a few minutes.

"I can, perhaps, ask Rhysand if he would grant you permission to stay in Velaris for a short while".

"Please, dad. Anything".

You meet his gaze and can see the pain in his face. His heart torn between keep you safe, but keeping his promise to you to want for nothing. And, it was becoming more obvious to him now, that what you wanted was to leave.

"Ok. I hear you. I will send a request to Rhysand when we are home".

#a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #feysand #feysand x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre x rhysand #feyre x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion

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theguildedtypewriter · 2 years ago

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The Juicy BTB Deetz

Read Burn the Bone today and see all the action and emotional ruin for yourself!

Check out the full review on Goodreads.

🔗s in bio or check out linktr.ee/rejohnsonauthor

🔥𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞🔥

The secret demonic underworld of Newborn City is at war, trading out one villain for another much more powerful than the last. As the threat grows, one demon is faced with an old flame from his past.

Life's all sunshine & roses now that Marcus is dead, right? Wrong. Now that the Inferno's former boss is no more, his second command, Roger van Statton, steps up to the plate, & demons are disappearing left & right. As Ciaran's best friend, Dimitri Romanov, struggles to identify the pattern of the kidnappings & murders, a mysterious guest shows up at the front door. Dimitri knew life was a bitch, but bringing in old flames was a new low.

When you're a killer, it's hard to prove you didn't, in fact, kill someone, & Red's all out of ideas. On the run from the cops who want to arrest her for the one murder she didn't commit, Reddina Leeyan decides to turn to some old friends. The trouble is, none of them want to see each other. As Roger's plans pick up new steam, Dimitri & Red are thrust into a fight they didn't see coming—& old feelings are brimming under the surface.

With everything catching fire around them, Dimitri & Red have two choices: lock themselves up in cages of their own making or fight for what they love. As the second installment in the Newborn City Series, Burn the Bone forces its heroes to deal with kidnapping, torture, &, worst yet, confronting their feelings.

BTB, 2nd in the NBC Series, is full of second chances, high stakes, & edge-of-your-seat action. It's a dark PNR, & you'll find:

👥Dual POV 👄Slow-burn to high heat 💗Second chance ☑️Forced Proximity 🩹 Hurt/Comfort 😈 Morally Grey MCs 💦C*m play 💓Praise 💔Tragic Pasts 🫗Alcoholism 😔Self-hatred 🔪T0rture 🪢K!dnapping 🔫 fights

#writers #writing #writblr #paranormal romance #dark romance #urban fantasy #newborn city series #burn the bone #dimitri romanov #books #indie publishing

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alec-volturi · 1 month ago

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LAMENT | Alec Volturi x Fem!Reader

This is the prologue to this series. Masterlist here.

Summary: Drawn by reports of a violent string of murders plaguing Seattle, you take a detour to uncover the truth for yourself. But in the shadows of the chaos lies a sinister secret: a newborn army of vampires wreaking havoc on the city. As you navigate the perilous streets, you must stay hidden, evading not only the feral young vampires but also the relentless Volturi, who have been trying to track you across the years.

Pairing: Alec Volturi x fem!reader Genre: angst, romance, drama, fantasy, suspense, dark, vioIence, friends to lovers, dark academia, gothic horror, canon divergence Word Count: 2k Warnings: This will have the lore of both films and books of the Twilight Saga series but with much darker themes. Gore/blood, mentions of witches, witchcraft, burning at stakes, devils and demons, vampires. And ofc NSFW so minors don’t interact. All characters in this series are aged up or are above the age of 18.

A/N: Reader description not described besides having red/gold eyes, clear/blemish-free like skin, and having some abilities as canon to all vampires in the books. And clothing from time to time. Dividers by @cafekitsune ♡

Stories usually start with a "Once upon a time," a simple phrase that loosens the veil between the familiar and the forgotten, leading listeners into worlds safely confined to dreams. But this story was different; it felt like a secret, like shadows pooling at the edges of your vision, waiting to pull you into a night where time doesn’t pass, where mysteries linger, and every whispered word tastes like something forbidden. This wasn’t just ink on a page; it was a door to someplace half-real, someplace where darkness wrapped you close and left you wondering whether you'd ever find your way back.

This world isn’t like that. Instead, it’s a place where time stands still, its hands frozen in a perpetual twilight, neither moving forward nor offering escape. For some, it feels like eternity, an endless stretch of nothingness where the hours blur together, unchanging. But for others—those who wander the shadows or fall prey to what lurks within—it’s a once upon a nightmare, a story where the darkness never relents, where hope is a fleeting, hollow echo swallowed by the night.

In the year 1663, as dusk painted the sky in blood and shadow, the people of London knew better than to linger outside. Each night, as the first stars appeared, every family bolted doors, snuffed candles, and whispered fevered prayers as they hid behind thick walls. Beyond the windows, darkness belonged to those who had vowed to fight it: priest with holy scriptures clutched tight, town braves with sharpened stakes and pitchforks dispatched in blind white anger, sworn to rid the world of creatures who defied mortal law. Blood demons, shapeshifters, and witches—they were all condemned as sin’s cruel agents, hunted as monsters by men who claimed their duty was divine.

As the town’s lamps extinguished, the silence was cut by hounds howling at the scent of something unnatural. The synchronized march of boots clattered against the cobbled streets, while shouts and commands ricocheted off stone walls, penetrating even the thickest household walls and rattling the bravest hearts. Fear and faith held sway in equal measure as the men marched, some clutching crosses while others wielded silver weapons they designed thinking it would pierce the skin of creatures they had never truly seen.

But beneath the city, where no torchlight reached, another world had been hiding—a world of thirsting hunger, of whispers, of sleepless dark eyes. Through the damp and nearly caved-in sewers, slick with grime and infested with rats, a vampire coven had staked their claim. For months, they’d made their den in this forgotten labyrinth of foulness, surviving in silence, drinking only when the thirst grew unbearable. They’d kept to themselves, unnoticed by the townsfolk above, their existence a secret safeguarded by shadows and silence.

Yet tonight, their precarious sanctuary would be breached. The hunt’s new leader, a young man, by the name of Carlisle Cullen, had taken over from his now deceased father and previous Anglican priest, saw the world through different eyes. Only twenty-three, bold and relentless, he refused to limit his search to open fields or deserted woods as his predecessor had. People would whisper that he was smarter, shrewder; that he sought darkness where no one dared look. And tonight, that unyielding curiosity and grim resolve drove him down, down into the labyrinth of decay beneath London where he’d sworn he saw the monsters lurk. A little far behind him, lanterns casting jagged shadows as his men held their breath and followed.

With each step, the air grew colder, thick with the stench of age-old rot and black mold everywhere. Carlisle pressed forward in step much faster than the others with only two other men at his side, determined until he found it: the coven his father had hunted for two decades and never found was but three arm lengths away from them.

Chaos erupted as soon as the men were heard by this coven. They saw their bright burgundy eyes and weakened bodies suddenly stirring with a vicious, desperate hunger faster than their eyes could keep up. Blood splattered the stone as some of the creatures broke away, dragging one man into the darkness while another, a man speaking in Latin, lashed out on the spot, jaws bared, too starved to hold back. And amid the frenzy, she appeared.

She stood apart from the others, more kept and clean, her form delicate yet unyielding, framed by a grey gown that looked lavish, handmade of silk and cotton. Her skin was impossibly clear, like striking stone, and her fathomless eyes gleamed with something between rage and sorrow. Her lips, faded smooth, curled slightly into frown as she observed the slaughter around her, a cruel beauty etched in her features that seemed both ancient and timeless. She was like a statue come to life, a creature of elegance wrapped in death's chill, and as her gaze locked onto Carlisle, the air thickened.

Carlisle, though terrified, refused to flee. Heart hammering, he charged forward, blade in hand, toward one of the creatures—the one who chanted something fierce in Latin, rallying the other swift, chilling figures that blurred through the shadows as they ran away. But then, in one brutal moment, the world tilted; he was thrown to the ground by the man who had gone into a sudden frenzy, his side searing with pain. Blood seeped from his wounds, pooling on the grimy stone, and his breaths came shallow and sharp. He opened his mouth to scream but bit back the sound, fear taking hold as he thought of the townspeople—would they turn on him, claim he was infected, cursed by the vampire’s disease?

As he clawed at the ground, desperate to pull himself to safety, his gaze drifted upward, and there she was. He could do nothing but stare. Her form seemed to emerge from the darkness like a dream or an illusion, her skin radiant as though lit from within. Every inch of her invited him closer, her elegance disarming him, and he forgot, for a moment, that she was one of the monsters he’d been sent to kill.

“Miss!” he gasped, breath shaky, arm outstretched in a futile plea. “Hurry, quick! Get inside or hide before they… before they kill you!” His voice wavered, a desperate edge creeping into his words as he beckoned to her, oblivious to the danger she posed.

Her expression softened, a flicker of sadness crossing her face, almost as if she pitied him. Then she spoke, her voice ringing out like a gentle chime that seemed to drift through the chaos.

“Dear boy, you should not have come here.” she spoke, her tone light and melodic, as though she needn’t draw a single breath to speak. Her words lingered, brushing against him like silk.

He faltered, as tears traced down his cheek from pain and blood loss trickling from his arm and leg, mingling with the dirt. Confusion contorted his face as he fought to understand while staring at her, then all at once, the truth struck him like a blow to the chest. She’s one of them, his mind spinning, his eyes widening with horror. How easily, how effortlessly, he had been drawn in.

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmured, tilting her head, her dark gaze unwavering. “I won’t kill you.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he spat, a note of anger mingling with the brokenness in his voice. He could feel the cold tendrils of despair creeping in, the bitter realization that he’d been charmed, deceived by beauty. A little hope that she may put an end to his suffering.

Her lips curled into the faintest smile, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. “I’ve been watching you—son of Cullen,” she replied, a strange fondness in her voice.

“You’ve piqued my interest. You dream of becoming like your father, don’t you? But you desire more. You wish to help others, to save them, and yet here you are, hunting us when you’re worth more. Tell me, why do you follow such cruel orders by such a man that cared not for you?”

Gracefully, she lowered herself to his level, kneeling close enough that he could feel the chill radiating from her. He was breathless, the words caught in his throat as he stared into her dark burgundy, fathomless eyes. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint, sweet perfume that seemed to cling to her skin. Around them, the body of one of his men lay motionless, strewn like a broken doll across the ground, his eyes glazed and empty.

“You know nothing of me!” he shouted, his voice cracking, the burn of tears threatening to break free. He was shaking now, fear and anger warring inside him. All he could hear were the distant cries of his comrades, the faint echoes of those still coming to join the fray. Yet, for all their noise, it felt as though he and this creature were alone, the last souls in a world drenched in blood and shadow.

Her expression softened, her gaze flickering over his face as if she saw past his fear, his hatred, into something deeper. And for a fleeting moment, he wondered what lay behind those dark eyes, what truth might live within a creature so cold, so deathless. But he pushed the thought away, forcing himself to look anywhere but at her.

“You won’t have to suffer for long. At least not like right now,” she said, a frown lingering on her lips. “But I will tell you this—there is a price to every vow, every hunt, every act of mercy shown. And one day, you’ll have to choose what you stand for.”

Too weak to move, he lay trembling, silent cries catching in his throat as the cold of his skin pressed in. She watched him with a sorrowful frown, her eyes shadowed with something almost tender. And then, with a suddenness he could barely comprehend, she swept him up in her arms. The world blurred, and in the span of a breath, they were far from the echoes of shouts and the clamor of pursuit. She lowered him carefully onto the cool grass beside a riverbank, the night air thick with the quiet gurgling of the slow-moving stream.

“You don’t have much time left,” she murmured, voice softened. “Too much blood lost—you’re dying.” She paused, gazing down at him, her dark eyes almost regretful. “But maybe. . .maybe you’ll take this chance and do something good with it, with this second life. There’s light in it, I swear, if you find it.”

Her words were little more than a whisper, slipping through the cool night air like secrets meant only for him. She took his limp arm, holding it gently before lowering her mouth to his skin. Her fangs pierced his flesh with a sharp, burning pain of silver, and he gasped, feeling the warmth of his blood slipping away, mingling with something that felt like ice, binding him to a pain unlike he felt previously. And then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone, leaving nothing but the faintest swirl of mist where she had knelt.

For a moment, he thought he’d dreamed it all—the pain, a fierce burning agony that raced through his veins, igniting his senses, hollowing him out from the inside out. His arm throbbed with searing heat spreading up to the tips of his fingertips and into his heart, each heartbeat like a pounding fire surging through every inch of him. His breath caught in his throat, unwilling to let out, vision blurring as the transformation began its slow, merciless work.

It would take three days for the change to complete, for his body to surrender fully to the chilling darkness now coursing through him. In those days, he would be caught between two worlds, his mind twisting, his memories reshaping, his humanity slipping away like sand through his fingers. And by the time he would open his fresh red eyes, the girl—the one who had granted him this second life—wouldn’t be seen again. It would be decades before their paths crossed again, though the memory of her face, her voice, her lingering sadness, would haunt him through every year of his endless life.

#twilight #twilight saga #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #alec volturi #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #bella swan #vampires #alec volturi x reader #volturi x reader #edward x reader #alec volturi x y/n #alec volturi x you #jane volturi #lament #aemond x reader

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zeriq-5 · 3 months ago

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Finally watched the latest episode and had a really funny thought, I think they are clearly preparing the twist that he was the creator of the game or someone who had the most influence in It's creation

When Pomni starts having another panic attack and says she's in hell, hw tries to correct her but in his voice you can tell he had an explanation for this place in the tip of his tongue but that didn't metter.

If we go with the assumption and he is the creator of this game that would explain why he is a chess king piece in the first place-

A lot of it makes sense, mostly it recontextualizes things in past episodes. But that's not what I want to talk about, but rather that the story of this game is clearly to be a parallel to Kinger's story but one piece of It i haven't seen anyone mention yet :

Who does the Angel parallel ?

Baron's obsession over the monster costed his wife's life and led to him being dragged to hell due to what he thought was just another beast to hunt.

But in the end he discovers that he was hunting an angel, going against the very laws of nature.

If Kinger truly is the creator, i think the Angel is Caine, the AI who maneged to become alive which goes against life Itself due to the ambition of Kinger.

The design of the two even has an oddly specific similarity with the fact that the head and body of the two are separate.

It's not the first time that the series has touched on themes of Christianity, as Caine is literally called Caine and the company that made this game seems to be called CAIN and ABEL

Which somehow If i'm going down the right path with his obsession with the most life like game was a thing, I think we should look more closely at what the roles were of the brothers.

Cain, the older brother, is described as a city-builder in the bibble which matches the character in the series who literally only knows how to create games and basically nothing else, that's why he exists.

Abel, the Younger brother, is a Shepherd and was the person who gave his newborn herd as an offering to god which made Cain jeleaous and led to the first murder in Human history.

If in the series his role was taken to the most literal, what would Abel be ? I think he was in charge of taking care of the players and most importantly, the in and out of the game.

He controlled who entered and left the game, Caine was jealous because he was charged with taking the audience away from him and be able to truly understand a player. I think this was the first sign of autonomy and awareness of his AI, Somehow or he deleted or overwrote Abel.

It is very clear that he is the villain of the series and does things without understanding because he has no way of understanding, he is not human but at the same time he is not incapable of feeling emotions.

I don't have all the answers obviously we're in the third episode afterall but I honestly think it will be revealed that Abel is the reason why the exit doesn't exist anymore.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc kinger #tadc theory #tadc caine #tringy talks

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creedslove · 1 year ago

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HEARTLESS 💔 - PART SEVEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels x f!reader)

Summary: You and Jack have a real conversation for the first time and you find out he's more vulnerable than you thought

(This is the seventh chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

Warnings: hurt, angst, hurt, angst, talk of past trauma, asshole!jack (but not really), mom!reader, and fluff because Wyatt is too cute

A/N: besties, I gotta confess 🥺 that I teared up writing this one, I don't know how you will all react, but my heart is broken for jack and reader 🥺

3.2k words

It was only evening when Wyatt finally showed signs of being tired. He loved Silver Pony so much and no matter if Jack showed him the other horses, he was hooked to your favorite girl, always clinging to her and stroking her soft fur. Silver Pony also enjoyed the affection, always hovering around the two of you gently, making your son giggle and reward both you and Jack with his sweet laughs.

The cowboy didn't interfere, he just watched the two of you having fun, his mind wandering through his thoughts. For once, he didn't think of his late wife and their unborn son, instead, he kept thinking of you and Wyatt, wondering and picturing what life would be like if he hadn't made you go away, if he'd taken care of you while you were pregnant, he was sure you were glowing and looking gorgeous, he thought of what would it be like holding you at night, stroking your pregnant bump and talking to the baby in your womb. How he would shower you in presents and you two would get the baby's room ready together. He liked imagining taking care of Wyatt as a newborn, how he would probably be afraid of holding him and you would soothe him. You two would be so happy with your beautiful little family. He thought of all the celebrations and parties that could have happened on his ranch, your engagement dinner, your wedding party, Wyatt's first birthday and so on. It shattered his heart to think he had missed out on an entire life of happiness only because he was a bad person.

He watched as the sun was setting and got up, gathering the basket and walking towards Silver Pony "I think we should head back, the sun is going down and Helen made us dinner…" he swallowed "it's your favorite sugar" he looked at you with his puppy eyes and you controlled the urge of rolling your own. It baffled you his ability of being a real dick and pretending nothing was happening, you were going to ignore what he said, but Wyatt smiled big "mommy happy?" He asked and you nodded, turning to Silver Pony "I'm very happy because I have you, my beautiful son, and also our gorgeous Silver Pony" she caressed down the mare's face and Wyatt whimpered as he couldn't reach it, so Jack quickly joined them, lifting him up and he imitated his mommy's gesture

"I wove Silvew Pony… can we take hew home, mommy?" He tilted his head in such innocent way your chest tightened and you laughed softly at him "we can't fit her in our apartment baby, otherwise I'd love to take her with us, so for now she has to stay here"

Wyatt pouted and nodded and then his face lit up as he had an amazing idea "can we wive hewe? With cowboy, mommy, Wyatt and Silvew Pony" he said happily and clapped his hands excitedly. Jack swallowed sadly and looked at you, you glanced back at him and licked your lips. As much as you wanted to punch him, you couldn't help but feel your lips tingling every time you remembered the kiss he forcefully imposed on you.

"I would love for you and your mommy to live with me, big guy, but I think mommy likes the city, but you two are always welcome here, to spend the weekend or as long as you would like" he said and rubbed Wyatt's arm, seeing his skin was cold and they should probably get back inside.

"Y/N… Wyatt is a little cold…" he said as he gently placed his big hand on your arm, startling you as you didn't expect his warm touch. "You're cold too. Here…" he told you, carefully handing you Wyatt as he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around your body.

You didn't say much as Wyatt snuggled you, clinging to your body and yawning as your warmth spread through his body. You also tried not paying attention to Jack's scent lingering all over it. It smelled like pine, a little bit of cologne, whiskey and him. It used to be your favorite smell in the whole world, but now it only left shattered pieces of your heart behind. You nuzzled Wyatt's curls and kissed his forehead, making him giggle as you two rushed inside as Jack stayed behind to take Silver Pony back into the stable.

Helen greeted you at the door, you knew Saturdays evenings she went back to her home and would only come back on Monday, she was ready to go, but not without showering Wyatt and kisses and hugging you tight, telling you once again how happy she was to see you and how she wished you would come more often to visit them, you nodded and said goodbye, feeling happy to have seen the woman and placed Wyatt down. You took off Jack's jacket just in time to see him walk through the door and handed it back to him "thank you" you said in a low voice and turned to your son "now you're gonna get a nice warm shower, okay? So we can have yummy dinner" she told him, but he pouted and hugged his dad's legs, who knelt in front of him and stroked his cheek "mommy is right, buddy, you gotta do what she says, it's time for shower because no one likes a smelly cowboy" he winked and tickled his tummy making his son laugh.

You nodded, surprised at Jack's reinforcement as you expected low of him after he displayed his true character towards you so many times. You just assumed he would always take the easy road in order to be Wyatt's favorite, but it was good he knew you should work as a team and not as rivals.

You took Wyatt back to the guest bedroom you'd be having through the night as you would help him shower in the bathroom. He was excited to put on his horses PJs after showering, so he could show his cowboy friend how much of a cowboy himself he was. You chuckled, finding it amusing while Wyatt already got undressed by himself and got under the shower wanting to be over with it as soon as possible; though you tried starting it, no stream of water came out and you sighed, as you had no idea how to fix it, you wrapped a towel around your son and went to the stairs, calling Jack so he could assist you. He ran up the stairs as quickly as possible, excitement rushed through his veins as you were addressing him "what's wrong?" He licked his bottom lip and watched you intently

"Shower's not working" you informed him and he nodded and followed you into the bathroom. Wyatt giggled as he saw the cowboy, he shyly hid under his mommy still in his towel, waiting patiently while Jack took a look at things.

"Seems like this cowboy will have to shower somewhere else and you too sugar. You can take the bathroom in my bedroom, you know where it is and you can use the tub as well" he said with an excited smile at Wyatt "how's that buddy? Would you like to be a water cowboy tonight?" He cooed at Wyatt who nodded excitedly "pwease mommy, i want to pway watew cowboy" he pouted and you agreed, heading towards Jack's bedroom - the one that used to be yours too.

"I'll warm up dinner while you bathe him, sugar, unless you want my help…" he offered but you quickly dismissed.

After Wyatt had a blast in Jack's tub and begged you to brush your hair to the side just like the cowboy's, the three of you had dinner together. Helen had been so kind to make your favorite dish, along with some nuggets for your son, who enjoyed every second of it completely oblivious to the tension between you and his daddy.

Wyatt didn't take long to fall asleep on the couch after the amount of fun and activities he had during the week. He was so happy and enjoyed every single minute of the day and, though Jack sighed a little disappointed as he saw him already fast asleep

"I wanted to show him the bedroom I set up for him… Y/N please, I want Wyatt to keep coming here, you too, of course, so you can visit Helen and Silver Pony, but I know you hate my guts so I won't force you to come any longer, but I want my son around" he said as he sat on the edge of the couch and caressed his hair gently.

"Why did you come back after so long? I don't understand… I know you've been providing us with money here and there and that you also watched us from afar, but why now?"

You saw how tense Jack got as he looked down and took a deep breath, ready to speak but then changed his mind as Wyatt whimpered in his dream "this ain't something we should talk about in front of a kid, Y/N… go relax, take your shower and I'll tell you later" he said firmly and very gently picked up Wyatt, asking you to follow him down the hallway where he stood next to a door, which you remembered really well it was another guest bedroom, but apparently Jack had made it into Wyatt's room. He waited for you to open the door as his own hands were busy with your son and your heart warmed at how beautifully he had it made.

It was of course, all farm themed, with paintings on the wall, all kinds of animal plushies and matching furniture. You knew your son would go crazy once he saw it and you couldn't help tearing up at how thoughtful that place was. Even if things were ruined between you and Jack, maybe he could be a good father after all.

He covered Wyatt gently and pecked his forehead, turning to you and giving you another sad smile "you should go shower now, we can talk in a little while"

•••

Jack waited for you to exit the bathroom in his master room with a glass of scotch in hands and sitting down in the armchair. He felt anxious at the same time he wanted to get things done with you as soon as possible. He knew you deserved the truth, as well as his apologies though he was sure you wouldn't actually accept them, still he had to try. He wanted his son around and he could only get it if you could stand him at least a little, because even if he had blackmailed you, he didn't want to bring lawyers into the game, he didn't want to take things to the court and cause you and Wyatt more distress. He hoped he could make things civil between the two of you and he knew the way of getting into it was being honest with you.

He could hear the shower running and wondered why you hadn't bathed in the tub, as you loved doing it and very often invited him to join in with you. He felt a wave of lust hitting him, as he thought of all the time you'd spent there together, how you touched each other's bodies, your lips on him, your taste in his mouth, he was so happy and wasn't even aware that would end some day.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he barely noticed the shower went completely silent and a few minutes later, you opened the door and walked out only in your underwear, completely unaware of him at first. He gasped and felt his mouth getting dry, not expecting such a beautiful sight for his sore eyes, he licked his lips and wasn't sure if he should make his presence known, though his presence was completely explicit as he was sat there a few meters from you, under the bright lights, you were just too distracted, and he knew exactly what had caught your attention: the picture frame he had in one of his shelves. It was you and Wyatt, on his first birthday.

You didn't know how you missed it the first time you'd been into his bedroom earlier, taking your son to be bathed, but now you saw it: it was a picture of you and him. You didn't know how Jack managed to get his hands on that picture, but it was also quite shocking as you analyzed the rest of the furniture and the wall and you didn't find any pictures of his late wife. Why did he keep your pictures and not hers? It was another Jack Daniels mystery you weren't sure you wanted to find out.

You knew you would have to put up some clothes and find him, he managed to make you curious and you didn't know until what extent he needed to tell you something serious or if it was one of his games, but once you turned away and walked to his bed to get the clothes you'd left there, you finally spotted him in the armchair. Your heart nearly stopped at the sight of him there, you didn't expect to see Jack and he looked almost as shocked as you did, not believing you were flashing him your body like that.

"Fuck Jack, what are you doing here?" You raised your voice at him, anger and embarrassment formed a wave inside of you, as you immediately grabbed your towel and covered yourself.

He swallowed hard and finished his whiskey, looking embarrassed himself and rubbed the back of his neck "I didn't know you would come out of the shower without clothes, well, technically you're covering your… body" he said choosing his words carefully "but I thought you'd be fully dressed and well, you look gorgeous, even better than what I remembered, if it makes you feel any better.

You scoffed at him and shook your head

"Gorgeous? You said I looked rough this morning, Jack… you don't have to pity me. Besides, don't forget you're older than me and with the way you drink, you can start kissing your pretty face goodbye real soon, so you will definitely look rougher than me" you spat at him, not caring if that was pretty at all. You caught a hint of hurt in his eyes and that made you feel really proud even if it shouldn't have, but he immediately shook his head and stared at you.

"I deserved that" he chuckled dryly "but I didn't mean that, and I also didn't mean anything bad I told you before… I am a dick I know, but I knew you hated my guts after I made you leave and I thought to myself it would be easier for me if I just pushed you away, you hate me Y/N and you got all the right to do so, and I thought it would be less painful if I forced myself to believe I hated you too, maybe if I tried hard enough, I'd stop loving you and it would be easier to handle your rejection" he said feeling ashamed and looked down.

You sat in the other armchair, the towel covering your body as you listened to his words

"You don't look rough at all, you're as gorgeous as you were the day you walked out of my life, Y/N, you're not a bitch, and I won't get any lawyers, I promise you" he said with a small voice "I've been hurting you so you hate me more, because I will never be worthy of your love again, I lost you, but I don't wanna lose my kid, Y/N, please" he said honestly and watched as you just had a hard expression on your face

"You know Jack, the first time I saw you, I was already head over heels, you were on a mission and I had no idea, but I saw you approaching that woman and throwing your charm and she refused you. It was kind of funny, but all I could think of was that if it were me, it would've worked, you would have me wrapped around your finger…" you said "and only at the end of the night you saw me… and then when we started dating, I found out you'd been married before, and that's the problem with you, I'm always your second option, and I will always be" you shrugged "it hurts… to know I'm not the woman that's on your mind, that whenever we do something special to know you are thinking of how much you'd like to do with her instead… I don't want my son to grow up knowing he is only here because you couldn't have your first option… I don't want him to feel he has to compete with a ghost, because that's how I felt… that's even how I feel Jack, because do you even hear yourself? You would never do this to your wife…. You would never try to push her away by being cruel like you are, if it were her, you would get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness" you said and got up walking to his bed and getting your clothes. You didn't want to talk to him anymore, you were tired of being that hurt, as you tried leaving, he got up and held you by your wrist, firmly, making it clear you were only leaving that place when he wanted you to

"The reason why I wanted you and my son back in my life, is because I was shot on my last mission. I tried sabotaging the mission, but the other agent got suspicious and shot me. They took me back to Statesman and Ginger fixed me right, but she still needed to trigger my memory, so she showed me a picture of my wife, God bless her soul, and nothing happened" he licked his lips and stared into your eyes "so Ginger decided to show me a picture of you and Wyatt, and that was when everything came back all at once. Us, our relationship, our life here on the ranch. I was able to relive my memories once more, and when I got back to my senses, Champ forced me into therapy, and you know what the therapist concluded?" Your jaw dropped the moment you saw Jack had tears in his eyes, you had never seen him show that kind of emotion, he was really good at controlling his feelings and he didn't show that kind of vulnerability in front of anyone. You realized he'd asked you a question and as you swallowed hard, you shook your head, answering him.

"The therapist said I replaced one grief with another; I finally let my first wife and son rest in peace and I was grieving the loss of you and Wyatt, because I couldn't handle the guilt of making you two go away, but he reminded me you two were very much alive and I didn't want to waste any more time, I just knew I wanted my family back, and that's why I beg you for a second chance, sugar"

_____

A/N: besties, I hope you have liked this chapter and let me know your thoughts, does this cowboy deserve a second chance?

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anonymooseforever007 · 2 years ago

Text

Bubbles at the Fair

(Tommy Shelby x daughter reader)

Summary- What should have been a peaceful family fair trip still has that hint of Shelby Chaos..... John learns what happens giving Katie to the wrong man, Arthur tries to explain how Infants get fed, and Tommy leaves with a mouth tasting like soap. But hey, Y/N and Finn won't stop talking about the fun they've had.....

A/N: Hi Y'all! No it's as trigger warnings for this one really. There are mentions of an arranged marriage and we actually learn more about Tommy and Marie's relationship in the beginning and it's a bit angstyish, but the rest is mostly fluff! Oh and in one part Y/N does have to wash her mouth with soap but she's not being punished, I promise! Also remember this is prewar Tommy, so he's probably different (happier) than he usually is in cannon especially since he's with his daughter! Enjoy ❤️based off a real story ❤️

WC- 5.6K

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

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Birmingham 1912

Thomas Shelby held tightly to the rope he'd tied to his four year old daughter's pants.

Well, technically they were her uncle's pants, but none of her dresses had any loops and Tommy didn't want to lose her. The bouncy child had a habit of shooting off these days, ever since she'd learn to run, she'd see something that excited her and go directly for it. It didn't matter who else was in the way. There had been many a talk between father and daughter about not just taking off in a heavy crowd and the young girl seemed to understand. But Tommy was still a bit worried. Especially since there were so many people around now.

The sky was clear and the air was cool as it shown down on the edges of the land. It was almost June and the schools had just gotten out.

Not only that, but the fair had come to town.

Dozens of children and their families flocked to the usually empty plot of land, now decorated with small colorful tents and circus acts promising amazing excitements.

And the Shelby Family was no different.

All of them had decided to close the shop early for the day and visit the fun that seemed to have drawn everyone in the city to its colorful signs and entertaining games. Even Marie was in a good mood and decided to come along, chatting quietly with Martha who was carrying newborn Katie.

Lately, Tommy had noticed his wife had seemed to be come less content with the cards dealt to her. And while he still couldn't say he loved her (nor that she loved him) they'd seemed to find some sort of friendship for the in between, if only because of their daughter. And truthfully he couldn't blame her. It had been a one night stand that had turned into a shotgun marriage once her aunt and uncle found out why she was getting sick every morning. Originally from America, her aunt and uncle had made her stay with Tommy even after the baby was born. And while in the beginning she hadn't minded, their short lived lust still in full run, the thrill seemed to be over for her. Tommy knew Marie had begun to felt trapped by the result of that one night. And while he sympathized for her feeling the same way at time, he didn't like how her feelings lead her to treat their daughter. Everyone could see that Maria had begun to draw away from her daughter and resent the young girl almost. In the beginning she had seemed to fawn over the child just as much as her husband had, but when Y/N began to grow and cling to her father more, Maria slowly stepped back. It wasn't that she didn't love her daughter. She did, but as the years past it got harder for her to ignore what her life could have been if she hadn't met Tommy that night. It was as if Y/N had become a reminder of where Marie's life could have gone and why she was stuck where she was. In a small, overcrowded house, surrounded by dirt and grime where few ever left. It certainly wasn't the life she'd planned when she came over to stay with her Aunt and Uncle for the summer, and her heart was beginning to feel more and more of its toll. She'd still let Y/N talk to her and grab her hand on the sidewalk when going to the park, but her responses had become shorter and park trips became less frequent. And the worst part about it was that little Y/N didn't seem to notice how her mother didn't smile as brightly at her drawings anymore. She didn't notice how her mother was always to busy too play tea party. She didn't notice how often her mother's side was empty, the nights she'd snuck into her parents bed. Y/N didn't notice her mother's hardening heart, but everyone else did.

Nevertheless, there were some days, like today, when Marie's heart warmed again, and she'd join the family on their outages, conversing with Polly or telling Arthur off for letting Y/N yell to loud. Those days were Y/N's favorites when both her parents were around and she was able to grab both their hands as they walked down the streets, chattering away about what she'd done with Finn. Sure, she could do that perfectly fine with her Father and Lizzie when they'd meet at the park. But for the four year old girl, there was just something special about being able to be near both of her parents, especially during the day when everyone was awake. After all, they were her parents. They were suppose to be the ones who loved her most right? So why shouldn't being around them be her favorite thing? The young girl loved nothing more than being around her family, even if it was only for a meal.

"Look Y/N there's a bear!"

Y/N squealed, turning to hug the speaking Finn as they both shook with excitement when the family passed under the colorful entrance sign. It was no surprise how close the pair was. Finn and Y/N might as well have been conjoined twins with how often they were together. Only separated by a couple months, the two had spent practically every moment together since Y/N was born. They even shared the same sleeping space as babies in the small room with Tommy and Marie. In fact, they were raised so closely Finn still had a habit of calling Tommy "Daddy" or "Da" often like Y/N did. After all, it was only natural he learn that since it's what everyone called Tommy when Y/N was around, seeing as he didn't want his daughter calling him by his name. And since Finn was always with Y/N he'd picked up on it too. Where Y/N went, Finn went, and where Finn caused trouble, Y/N was sure to follow. Almost always together, and always smiling with each other, the pair of four year olds were the light of the Shelby Family. And everyone was sure that in a few years, when Katie could walk, she'd be causing trouble right along with them. At his niece's joy, The four year old boy beamed, just as excited and he hugged onto his best friend. Finn didn't have a rope tied to his pants. Everyone knew he was less likely to run off and besides, there wasn't need for two ropes when Y/N was always holding on tightly to her Uncle some how. Be it the hand or shirt, Finn and her always had a grip on each other in some way when out in the streets. It was as if they weren't afraid of anything more than losing their other half.

"I see Finn! Daddy look! There's a bear! Ohh and there's a duck.... and there's a clown and there's that man eating fire and.. and... ahh there's so much..... Daddy it's loud."

Though she had been excited when she first saw everything, the crowd and the chaos immediately became a bit much for the young girl. Overwhelmed, she dropped her uncle's hand and stepped back until she ran into her father's legs. Still facing forward, eyes darting back and forth at the loud people and sights before her, Y/N reached behind her and tried to grab the fabric of her father's pants. She liked the fair and was still excited, but the sudden abundance of possible opportunities before her startled her a bit. She had no clue where to begin. It was a bit much.

Looking down, Tommy saw the look on Y/N face and knew she was at a bit of a loss. Reaching down, he began to run his fingers through her hair. But before he could bend down on one knee to speak to her, Finn had crashed into her, wrapping her in another hug that consisted of her, him, and the lower part of Tommy's legs. Unable to bend down Tommy could barely hear what Finn whispered to Y/N when he released the hug and grabbed her face forcing her look at him. Her cheeks were squished between his hands as he spoke with a determined look on his face. His best friend was nervous and Finn would do anything to fix that.

"Y/N. Hi Y/N! Look at me. It's Finn. Look at me."

Cheeks still squished between small hands, Y/N stared uncertainly at her favorite uncle before answering.

"...hi finn. It's kinda loud."

"Yeah but it's ok. It's ok. It's just noise."

"Just noise?"

"Yeah, like Pol bangs pans in the kitchen or Ada yells at Johnny for stealing her pillow. Or when Da says naughty words if he hits his hand on the door? Only noise. Like when Artie snores so loud Ada tries covering his head with a pillow so he can't make it any more."

Y/N smiled at her uncle's words, laughing quietly at the image of her aunt smothering her oldest uncle with a pillow.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Y/N smiled again and hugged her uncle closer for a minute more. The adults all watched in with small grins on their faces.

Then not moments later, the pair of children began to rock. Gently at first, nudging the other back and forth before, still clinging tightly to each other. Then their giggles began to grow and soon the children were twirling around in fast circles, trying to see who would fall first. It ended when they both tripped over Arthur's left foot and landed in a heap in the ground. Finn and Y/N stared at the others for a moment, blankly, before bursting into giggles again.

"All right twiddle de and twiddle dum. Ready to have some fun," Arthur chuckled as he dragged both children to their feet. Grinning eagerly at the eldest Shelby man, they both nodded.

"YESSSSS!"

"Alrighty then. Let's get to it!"

Grabbing each child in one arm, Arthur lifted them on to opposite arms and ran farther into the crowd, Y/N and Finn squealing as he speed up. The rest of the family laughed as they watched him run. John slid up by Tommy, Katie now snuggled in her father's arms as the women broke off to enjoy some time of their own without any scheming children.

"Which one do you think he's gonna drop first?"

Tommy looked a John with a raised eyebrow, his sticking arms out for his two month old niece. Adjusting the baby in his arms, Tommy was surprised at how even now, she was bigger than Y/N had been at three months. But then again, Y/N had been a month early. And Katie obviously got John's baby genes, weighing more than Finn and Y/N had combined. She was a squishy little thing full of baby rolls, burps, and love. Y/N had been so excited when she first met her cousin, eagerly stating that it was the cutest potato she'd ever seen. Martha nearly peed herself laughing when she heard, while John stood by the couch, mouth open in shock at the three (almost four) year old's audacity. From the pillow she was laying on in the her cousin's lap, two day old Katie had only stared wide eyed at the girl, while Finn dared squeeze her cheeks curiously. Now two months old, Katie made a sweet cooing sound from her uncle's arms as he tickled her belly slightly. Tommy smiled at her, before looking at John....his smile dropping. John realised it was a mistake to let Katie go. She was his only protection. With one arm, Tommy childishly shoved his brother back a few steps in retaliation, causing Katie to coo again as her Uncle laughed.

"Your Daddy's being silly isn't he Katie Kat?"

Rolling his eyes, but still chuckling himself, John stepped back towards Tommy, reaching his arms out for his daughter again.

"Ha ha, very funny, steal a man's baby and shove him while he's distracted by her singing huh? What kinda of example is that, ya shit uncle?"

Tommy only grinned at his brother and held the baby out of her father's reach. It was the same way John had done it when Y/N was this age. Now Tommy was finally able to get his retaliation. Thank you Martha for falling for his stupid brother's stupider pick up lines...

"It's a good one John Boy. Teaches her never to give up her greatest protection. If you hadn't given her to me, you wouldn't have that shit colored mud stain on your ass now. I bet Martha will find that real attractive won't she?"

Eyes wide, John spun in circles looking for the offending mark.... Only to find nothing as his brother started laughing again.

"Oh fuck you Tommy, I fucking outta-"

"What shove me? You wouldn't shove a man with a baby in his arms now would yah John boy?," Tommy grinned smugly, in the way only a big brother could. Holding up Katie and squishing her cheeks lightly he continued, "I mean you wouldn't want to knock this squishy potato now would you?"

Katie giggled and reached out her arms for her father, as she was bounced in her uncle's arms. Huffing, John rolled his eyes and stepped up to Tommy. Then as hard as he dared with his daughter's safety in mind.... John poked Tommy's shoulder aggressively as one could.

"You're a right ass you know that."

"Ada reminds me every day John Boy."

"Oi! Are you two ladies done making faces or are we gonna play some fucking...shit don't say that word tinys...or that one....Are you gonna play with us?"

Arthur had called over to his brothers from the bench he now sat on as Y/N and Finn crawled all over him. The first time he'd cursed, Arthur had remembered he wasn't suppose too around the kids, grabbed their heads and shoved them against his chest, one hand over each to muffle any more possible "naughty words" they might have heard. In protest at being restrained, Y/N and Finn struggled back to free themselves of Arthur's grasp, laughing as he playfully battered their attacks off.

"Yeah alright, just as soon as Tommy gives me my kid back."

"I was just trying to teach her a good lesson John. Ya know. Good uncle shit and all that." Tommy shrugged his shoulders and finally relinquished his niece.

Hearing mentions of her cousin, Y/N scrambled off of Arthur and over to John where she grabbed his knee in hopes he'd kneel down. He did, and soon Katie was laughing again while her cousin poked her belly the same way Y/N's father had only moments before. She talked eagerly to the baby who didn't understand a word being said.

"Are ya having fun Katie Kat? Are we gonna play some fair games?"

Katie just cooed (it was practically all she could do) and grabbed on to her cousin's finger. Tommy smiled down at his daughter and noticed something. There was a faint rim of chocolate around her mouth, and already he could tell the girl was bouncing more than usual. Looking over to the bench, Finn displayed the same traits.

"ARTHUR!? Did you already give them ice cream?"

Looking anywhere but his brother, Arthur stood up, swooping Finn onto his shoulder and started heading towards the games again.

"Ohh would you look at that! A line's forming! We better get there quick before it's too long shouldn't we Finny?"

Rolling his eyes at Arthur's antics, Tommy smirked and swooped Y/N up on his own shoulders. As long as John, well technically Katie, was besides her, Y/N would have no problem being carried. Especially if it was on her father's shoulders where she could see everything.

"Right then sweetheart, ready to beat Artie and Finny at darts?"

"Yeah!!! DARTS!"

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It had been an hour since the family had arrived at the fair and everything was going great. Tommy, John, and Arthur had all won a handful of prizes from a shooting game, as Finn, Katie, and Y/N cheered them on, clapping. Well, Katie clapped and cheered. Finn and Y/N just cheered, while taking turns with one another holding Katie as the other covered her ears from the shots. Luckily it was only pellet gun so it still didn't make too much noise. Against common sense and their promise to Polly, the older men had also given Y/N and Finn the chance to shoot the small pellet guns at the paper targets. Sitting in Arthur's lap, each child had been given the chance to pull the trigger while the older man aimed the pellet gun. The whole time Tommy was also telling them all the important parts of the gun and how to safely use it. Sure they'd definitely get chewed out for it later when Polly learned, but it was still fun to watch the children's faces light up as "they" hit the target like the older men they adored.

In addition to the shooting game, they'd also played a game involving rolling a bowling ball over a hill. This one was more fun for the kids, but Arthur's leg had ended up being a step stool for Y/N and Finn to stand on as they rolled the balls. After that the group stopped for another ice cream break. They bought three ice creams and split it between the five of them. Y/N wanted to feed Katie a small bit off her finger, but then Arthur ended up explaining why she was too young to eat any of it herself.

Why was Arthur the one to do it? Because John himself didn't know why, actually curious to try, and Tommy had run Finn to the bathroom. And so the slightly blushing man fumbled through explaining where her two month old cousin's food came from, hopefully in a way that wouldn't get Arthur hit by his brother, for his description of his sister in law if he accidentally brought up too many barn animals. Martha would kill him for doing that, and then Polly would start.

"Well Y/N, Katie doesn't eat like the rest of us. She doesn't got any teeth."

"Why? Did she loose them? I can help her find them if she wants."

"No, she didn't lose them they haven't come in yet. See, right now Katie gets her food from Martha."

"Oh because Martha makes her and John food at night. But John doesn't just eat Martha's food does he?"

"Well, actually Y/N, the stuff Martha makes isn't too ba... gaaaahh!" John opened his mouth, about to announce something that would absolutely get him wacked for saying to a four year old, but Arthur's foot on his heal stopped him.

"Ignore him tiny, the icecream has shot to his brain."

"Oh no! Does his eye hurt?"

"What?"

Y/N rocked on her feet as she stood on the bench to feel John's right eye.

"Sometimes when I eat icecream too fast it makes my eye hurt, and I go MY EYE! MY EYE!" She responded, holding her own eye for dramatic effect.

"What the fuck did you do to my kid?"

Appearing from the crowd again with not only Finn, but the women of the family, Tommy had arrived just in time to see his precious daughter grab her eye, call out for it, and fall into Arthur's lap. Seeing Finn return again, Y/N bounced up, and ran to him.

"FINNY! Guess what! Artie is telling me how Katie eats!"

Immediately, all heads shot to Arthur who seemed to shrink in his seat, aware that with the women around he'd have to tread more carefully.

"Yeah. Right. So it's like... well she doesn't have any teeth so she can't eat hard food like you or me right."

"Yeah! Artie said that she can only eat Martha's food! And Johnny said he likes it a lot too!"

Ada hid her face in Tommy's shoulder to muffle the laughter coming from her mouth, while Marie didn't even bother hiding her smirk as she supported Martha who was almost bent over laughing. Eighteen year old John looked anywhere but his Aunt's eyes.

"That's not true."

"Yes it it."

"Not it's not"

"YES IT IS!" Y/N stomped her foot glaring at her Uncle, not liking being called a liar.

"Fine!" John quickly relented, not wanting to start a yelling match he knew he'd loose. Y/N nodded her head before looking for Arthur to continue. Arthur just sputtered for a moment, not really sure how to continue or why he was the one answering. Aside from Finn, Arthur was probably the last one who should be answering this question. He was the least equipped, having no kids or tools of his own.

"Well....right. She only eats food from Martha. And Martha kinda...in a way... makes it for her."

"Ohh like a recipe. Does she get the stuff from the store like when Polly goes to buy bread?"

Arthur's face was a red as Katie's dress now.

"No no... ya see Y/N... she doesn't get it from the store, she just kinda...." Arthur gestured vaguely in the direction of the still laughing Martha's chest hoping that would've be enough to quell the girl's questions... It wasn't.

"That's Martha, Artie. Correct. You still haven't said where she gets the food from."

Arthur just groaned, wondering who he'd pissed off upstairs to deserve such humiliation. Y/N only smiled innocently, eager to hear her Uncle's words..... But Arthur gave up.

"Ya know what, why don't you ask her because I ain't telling ya. She's the one who makes it yeah? So she's the one who knows it best."

"OK!"

Skipping over to Martha, Y/N motioned for the eighteen year old girl to lean down so she could whisper in her ear, as if they hadn't been having the conversation in public only moments ago. Obliging, Martha bent down. It only took a few minutes for Martha to whisper in Y/N's ear before the four year old pulled back and looking wide eyed and pointing to Martha's chest.

"There?"

"Yep. It's pretty normal."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like a bottle. Your mum probably did it too when you were a baby."

"Really?!" Y/N looked at her mother who just nodded in confirmation.

"You can... you can like have snacks wherever you go!"

The adults laughter at the child's innocent idea while, Arthur was just glad he didn't have to talk any more.

"But wait? Why did Uncle John say he...."

"Moving on!" Tommy put a hand over his daughter's mouth to keep her from opening that can of worms.

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

"Alright! I think we have time for one last game and then we have to go home alright?"

Y/N and Finn looked decisively at the booths around them, trying to decide what game to play. They'd gone around to most of the games already, but there were some they hadn't played yet. Over by the edge of the tents, Y/N noticed a small green one that seemed to have a pool of some sort underneath. Hoping there was maybe a fish she could see, she nudged to Finn and pointed over in that direction.

"Wanna do that one? It's got a tub so maybe we can get a fish! But you can't lick it this time ok."

Finn's eyes widened with excitement at the thought of a pet, while every adult present internally hoped it wouldn't be true.

"Ok! If we gets fish can we name him Jethro?"

"....I like that name, sure!"

Running over to the tent, the rest of the family followed, confused to where Finn had heard such a name. Though when they reached the tent, much to Y/N and Finn's disappointment, the tub wasn't filled with live fishy friends, nevertheless they were still excited to play. The tub was instead filled with toy rubber ducks. Tommy knew this game. It was incredibly simple, only requiring the user to pick up a duck with their hands and see what size prize they'd won. A easy game, it couldn't be any harder to get wrong, which is why it seemed perfect for the last game of the day. With something so simple it couldn't go wrong. The man running the game stood up and walked over to the group.

"Fancy a play? Everyone's a winner at the duck pond!"

"We wanna play! We wanna play!" Y/N and Finn cheered eagerly while Tommy handed over the money for each kid to play a round.

"Alright you know how to play? You get duck from the pond and whatever shape is on the bottom is the prize you get, understand?"

"Yes! Me and Finny played a game like this with our Aunt Ada once!" Y/N explained to the stranger, eager to start. She remembered having so much fun with it last autumn.

"Ok then. Start whenever you're ready."

Grinning at each-other and then their family behind them, Y/N and Finn faced the tub while Arthur gave a count down.

"Ready..... Set............GO!"

Finn immediately stuck his arm into the water and picked up a duck.

Y/N stuck her head in.

Somewhat horrified Tommy jumped for his daughter, intending to pull her head out, only now noticing how dirty the water was with its sickly green tint. John and Polly immediately started laughing, while Ada and Marie just stood in shock. Martha put her hand over mouth while Katie just gurgled happily at the water splashing her. Arthur gagged and pulled Finn back from the tub, who looked like he was about to do the same thing. Not that Y/N noticed of course. Her head was underwater.

Tommy had only just touched his daughter's shoulder when her head popped back up out of the water. She turned around dripping wet and proudly showing off the small yellow rubber duck, whose head was in her mouth.

Tommy didn't even give her the chance to spit out the duck before he picked her up and practically ran with her to the makeshift sink by the outhouses. Really it was a tub under a water pump, with a few bars of soap on a nearby stool. Placing her down firmly on her feet, Tommy grabbed the nearest soap bar and couched down by his daughter.

"Spit it out."

Confused as to why her father didn't seem happy she'd won, Y/N's brow pinched as she shook her head.

"Y/N spit the duck out now."

The four year old girl still shook her head. She'd won the duck, why did she have to give it back? Tommy's face grew stern and he took a tone he rarely did with the kids.

"Y/N spit the duck out NOW!"

Finally listening, Y/N finally pulled the rubber toy out of her mouth and pouted at her father. Tommy ignored it for now more concerned about the fact he'd seen a used cigarette butt in the water as he went to grab his child. Fuck, there were probably so many diseases in there she'd be dead by dawn. Who even allows such a filth game at a fucking fair, Tommy thought, especially without explaining how to play. Evidently the game was harder than he thought, and the standman should have made the rules more clear. Now his beloved daughter probably had the plague or something like it.

"Good, now open your mouth."

Again Y/N complied, only to be met with a small bar of soap being placed on her tongue as Tommy urgently tried to get whatever filth was in the water out of his daughter's mouth. Her nose wrinkled as the taste of soap covered her mouth and Y/N tried to hit her father's arm, knocking his scrubbing off her tongue. And though she hadn't been strong enough to do so, luckily a few moments later her father pulled out the soap. Refusing to close her mouth Y/N could feel the bubbles on her tongue and angrily tried to kick her (usually) beloved father. Tommy caught her leg, looking her in the eyes, and from his pocket pulled out a small flask with a thin green ribbon around the cap. It also had a few small flowers on top a train engine carved on the metal sides.

"Yeah yeah, I know it sucks and I'm sorry but it's almost over sweetheart. I'm gonna pour some of this in your mouth and then you're gonna close your mouth, but NOT swallow it. You're gonna shake your head and then spit it out. I repeat you WILL NOT swallow it, it's only to rinse your mouth."

The flask didn't contain alcohol. It was actually filled with juice, and he carried it around with him most times incase Y/N got thirsty on an outing. Polly and Marie had disapproved of him getting it for her, but Y/N have been delighted to receive the "small can" like she'd seen her father carry around. It had taken two months to find a jeweler willing to etch the odd design on it too, but it was worth Y/N's smile as she lit up seeing her gift, and began immediately talking about where the flower train could be going. He also carried one for Finn, but that one was currently in Arthur's jacket. It had also been etched, but with the image of the deer and turtles Finn liked to watch by the pond the family took picnics at occasionally.

"Y/N swish and spit it right now."

Narrowing her eyes, but knowing she had no other choice, Y/N stuck out her tongue letting her father pour a small amount of juice inside the mouth. Then after shaking her head twice she purposely spit the liquid back out.... right onto the toes of her father's feet. Crossing her arms, Y/N glared at her father wondering why he had to go and ruin a perfectly good day.

Tommy looked at his shoes and then back up to his daughter's hurt face. Shit. Taking his jacket off Tommy wrapped it tightly around the dripping Y/N, who now looked to be on the verge of tears. Wincing, Tommy realized that maybe he should have explained what he was doing first. Here she was, a thinking she's won a game, and he had to go and practically punish her for it. Tommy had never washed her mouth out with soap before, but he now remembered Polly half threatening to do it to him before, while Y/N sat playing on the floor. She probably didn't realize Tommy was just briefly panicking about her getting sick from whatever had been in the water.

"Y/N?"

The mentioned girl averted her gaze looking down at her feet as small sniffles began to come.

"Y/N, sweetheart I'm sorry I just did that," Pulling his daughter closer, Tommy, fully on his knees now, gently placed a finger under her chin so she'd meet his eyes. Tommy's heart sank seeing the tears beginning to form. "I'm so so sorry I did that sweetheart, I was scared that you put your head in the water yeah? It's dirty and I'd don't want you to get sick."

"I ...I didn't... I didn't know that though."

Y/N looked to the side whimpering slightly as Tommy's hand came up to wipe away any remaining tears.

"I realize that sweetheart and I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you to do that, and it surprised me yeah? I reacted badly and I'm sorry I didn't tell ya why I was doing it before I scrubbed your mouth. I promise it won't happen again yeah. Do you think you can forgive me sweetheart?"

It wasn't often Y/N was mad at Tommy, atleast not over big things. But it still didn't stop the pain in Tommy's heart everytime he made his daughter cry, even if he was mad at her for something else at the time. It hurt anytime he saw her cry, but knowing he'd been the cause made him feel that much worse. Staring at her father a bit longer, Y/N shuffled her feet and wrapped her father's jacket tighter around herself. Her father really did seem sorry and besides he'd never done anything like it before so maybe he was telling the truth.

"Do you promise you won't do it again?"

"Yes, Y/N, sweetheart I promise I won't do it again."

She dragged her feet in the ground for a bit, watching the mud seep in to her father's pants.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

Time and time again, Tommy was often surprised by his sweet daughter's willingness to forgive and put the past behind her. It certainly wasn't a trait she'd gotten from his side of family. But then again, her and Finn always were a bit different. They were the family's chance to be raised better than the rest were. Especially since Arthur Sr. wasn't around anymore to cause the pain he always did. Maybe Y/N and Finn were a bit softer than the rest, but Tommy didn't think that was a bad thing. He didn't necessarily want the youngest two involved in the darker part of the growing family business. The one that meant he had to swap out his caps in the garage after work before coming inside to see the kids, lest they hurt themselves grabbing the blades sewn inside his usual one.

"Yeah it's ok Daddy. I'm not mad anymore. You said sorry."

Relieved he hadn't totally ruined his relationship with her, Tommy pulled his daughter close, not caring that his other clothes were getting wetter by the second. Y/N wrapped her arms around her father in response as they remained that way for a few minutes. Then Tommy let go and stood up, ready to rejoin the family.

"Wait!"

Looking back down to his daughter, Tommy saw that she was holding not only the duck, but the small bar of soap. Tommy chuckled.

"What love? Do you want to clean the duck before we go back?"

"Yes, help me please."

And so he did.

Tommy Shelby helped his four year old girl wash the small yellow duck, making her laugh with the terrible duck impressions he did. Tommy was much better at neighing like horses than quacking like a duck. Once finished, she dried the duck off with her father's coat and held it close to her chest.

"Alright? Now are we good to go," Tommy asked again. Y/N began to nod and then stopped. She smiled innocently, but Tommy recognised the look in her eye. Tommy thought his daughter had the face of an angel, but he couldn't quite deny the bit of devil in her angel eyes. That was the part she got from him. Y/N offered the small bar of soap to her father once more.

"I want you to try it."

Tommy's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Daddy, I want you to taste the soap since you made me try it. It's only fair."

Tommy's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to come up with a reason why he shouldn't have to try eating the soap. Besides the fact it was SOAP. But his daughter was right. He'd made her try it, and so logistically it was only fair if he did too. Damn himself for trying to teach her about taking responsibility for one's mistakes. Good parenting evidently had some drawbacks. Tilting his head, Tommy tried appealing to Y/N one more time.

"Are you sure I have to try it? It doesn't look too good."

Y/N shook her head.

"It's not. At ALL. That's why you can't swallow it. Now here."

Sighing in defeat, Tommy took the soap. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he did as his daughter asked. If only to teach her a lesson about making up for her mistakes. Lord knew he needed to get better about it himself, instead of ignoring them or making more problems to hide the small ones. Breaking off a small piece, he stuck it on his tongue, nose immediately wrinkling at the taste. Y/N's eyes never left his face, watching intently as he closed his mouth and rolled the soap around like it was a piece of candy. All of the sudden, Tommy inhaled though his nose and the piece of soap shot to the back of his mouth. Gagging, Tommy spit out the soap, grabbed the flask and desperately tried to swish out the taste.

"That is fucking disgusting....Don't tell Polly I said that word."

Y/N laughed at the small bubbles coming from her father's mouth with each spit. And despite the lingering taste it was enough to turn Tommy's own lips upwards. She clapped her hands at her father's problem, satisfied with the fate he'd been dealt. Rinsing his mouth one more time, Tommy straightened up again and brushed Y/N's hair back from her face before moving to fix his own too. Thankfully, no one else saw the dangerous gangster almost meet his end.... choking on a piece of soap.

"Now can we go back? You still haven't picked your prize yet sweetheart."

Y/N grabbed her father's hand and began to lead him back towards the booth.

"I know exactly what I want."

Hand in Hand, father and daughter walked back to the tent where their family was waiting. As they got closer, Tommy could hear Arthur threatening the vendor.

"When that little girl comes back you are going to give her whatever fucking prize her little heart desires, I don't care if it's the shirt off your fucking back, do you hear me? As far as she's concerned she won anything alright?"

Nodding fearfully, the game man accepted Arthur's words. Finn was the first to notice the pair's return, smiling wildly as he held his new stuffed deer.

"Y/N look what I won!"

Eagerly, Y/N raced over to Finn, lightly running her hand off the top of the soft stuffed animal.

"Finny he's so pretty!"

"I'm gonna let him sleep by my stuffed chicken I think."

"What's his name?"

"I'm naming his Deery because he's a deer."

"Ohh that's perfect!"

Eager to loose the threatening gaze of Arthur, the vendor cleared his throat nervously, gaining the attention of both children.

"If you like the deer you can have one too kid. You did win the game, so pick any prize you like."

Y/N looked to the pile of prizes the man displayed to the side of the tent. Turning over the duck in her hand she saw a circle which was a medium prize, the same size as Finn's deer. Pointing to the pile she looked at the vendor.

"My duck has a circle under it so I got to choose from there right?"

Arthur glared harder and Ada nudged him to tone it down a bit, but the vendor already noticed.

"Actually you can pick anything you see from the tent just like this lad did. You two are my best customers today, so you can have any prize you like. Even the big ones."

"Anything?"

"Anything you want."

Y/N didn't even hesitate, beaming as like she told her father, she already knew exactly what she wanted. She stuck out her hand.

"Can I have this?"

"......You want the duck?" Tilting his head, the vendor was confused. He'd given the girl any choose of prize she wanted even the big ones, and she choose the rubber duck she'd grabbed..well bitten... from the water. Truthfully the man knew the ducks weren't the cleanest. He figured it didn't really matter about keeping them super clean when people only picked them up for a few seconds with their hands. The vendor had never seen anyone use their mouth to grab a duck. He'd have to put that in the rules now too. Y/N only grinned, holding the duck close to her chest.

"Yes please, I really like him. He's really cute and cuddly. My daddy already helped me clean him too. So can I keep him?

Still confused but not about to reject the sweet child the vendor conceded.

"Alright then girly. If you want the duck you can have the duck. Congratulations ... I think?"

Happily, Y/N bounced up and down, pleased with her duck. It fit perfectly in one hand and in her small pants pocket, which meant he could go with her everywhere. Racing back to Finn, Y/N was quick to show him her prize.

"Finny, LOOK! I got a rubber duck!"

"What is its name?"

"Ducklores, it's like Dolores but with duck!"

".....I like that! Do you think he wants to be friends with Deery?"

"YES! They can be BEST friends, Finny. Just like us!"

Eagerly the children dove into conversation over their new toys as the family walked back to the car. Despite a few bumps and bubbles it really had been a great day for the fair. Tommy's mouth still tasted like soap and he was holding the rope by Y/N's pants again but she didn't notice. She was far to distanced talking about the fun they'd had and showing off her duck to Katie. But Tommy didn't mind, because his daughter was smiling. And that's all he ever wanted. If the last thing Tommy saw was he daughter's smile, he knew he could die a happy man.

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

"Y/N? Why did you stick your head in the water?"

"I thought it was like bobbing for Apples, Finny. But with ducks."

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

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

#tommy shelby x child reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby

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