#thanks for everything Savage Garden

[seattlesellie]

e. williams — moonflower.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s ellie’s birthday, and you have three gifts for her. a moonflower bouquet, the latest savage starlight, and a pin from joel. maybe, you even have a fourth one.

warnings: smut (mdni), established relationship, dom!ellie, sub!reader, inexperienced reader, loss of virginity (r!), first time everything, loads of praise, loads of romance, cute little slaps, and as weird as it is to include this in these warnings; mentions of joel and ellie’s complicated relationship.

an: finally finished it. this is very very fluffy, as smutty as it may be. if you love flowers this one’s for you <3 i truly could have made this longer but i was super self conscious so i might post a little blurb instead!! constructive criticism and all comments n discussions are very much appreciated. thank you for being patient and sweet i love u 💗

enveloped up in a baby blue ribbon, it sits pretty on top of your duvet. the latest edition of “savage starlight” — ellie’s favorite comics series, and a bouquet of flowers. when you picked them out just for her— forehead glistening under the radiant june sun, you noticed a singular flower that set itself apart from the others. blinding white, trumpet shaped— it’s lemon fragrance wafted through the thick air. it's petals were curled up, but you decided to keep it nevertheless. you’ve never seen one quite like it. when you brought it to your house, along with the fresh daisies and the garden roses, you noticed something bizarre, and oh so beautiful.

the odd flower bloomed underneath the moonlight that snuck itself inside the big window of your room. as the white petals unfurled, there you stood— awestruck.

⋆˙⟡♡

you decided to bring it over to louisa, the frail old lady who ran the jackson community garden.

“s’quite beautiful, isn’t it?” you told proudly, taking a whiff of the flowers creamy white petals. louisa ran her fingertips delicately over the flowers green stem, and just like you— louisa was awestruck.

“oh dear, it certainly is. how did you… manage to find it?” louisa probed, and your heart skipped a beat. your relationship with ellie was new, and fresh as a daisy. your face flushed, but you told louisa— your precious confidant, nevertheless. “ellie’s birthday’s coming up soon… so i, was picking up some flowers for her. s’not much, i know… but,” you scratched your arm, feeling extra timid. “i think ellie will like them. i… hope”

louisa smiled soft heartedly, the aged skin around the sides of her eyes folding itself and forming three little lines. somehow, it felt like the old lady knew more about you two than you did. “she’d be a fool not to”, she assured, and pressed tightly on your shoulder.

“i would have asked you if you were in love… but, no need to.”

“how come?”

“it simply shows, pumpkin’”

louisa sighed deeply, and began guiding you towards the humble old basement, where she stored all of her gardening books.

ipomoea alba, the tropical white morning-glory, jimsonweed, or for those of us who are a tad scatterbrained— moonflower. the moonflower, is the most romantic flower of all. it is dreamy, and mysterious, and it yearns for the warm embrace of the sun, but it also requires a cold caress of shade. it slumbers amidst the daylight, closing and hiding its delicate petals up, but during the night— it blooms, and it’s magnificent. as wispy and precious as the moonflower may be, the bloom may also be deadly.

it reminded you of her.

⋆˙⟡♡

ellie and you had numerous conversations about things that were… hypothetical. if you were a planet, which planet would you be?, if you were an animal, which one suits you best, would you say?, make it more specific, even— if you were a bug, what bug would you be? ellie told you were a butterfly, and that she would be a spider.

“don’t… spiders eat butterflies?” you probed, your head resting on top of her shoulder. it was a quiet, chilly night in jackson, and for some reason, being around ellie made you feel scorching. ellie huffed and chuckled, “yeah, think they do”

“well… that sucks” you noted, as a loose strand of ellie’s auburn hair tickled your cheek. ellie thought for a while, and then chuckled again. she did it quite a lot, chuckle to herself without saying a word. “i wouldn’t… eat you though. i’d… build a little web around you. protect you from the other spiders. you could be my personal butterfly… pet, thing”

you hummed, being caged in ellie’s spider web didn’t actually seem all that bad. in fact, it had a certain charm to it. but, wait… “wouldn’t being around me make you hungry?”

ellie’s breath caged in her throat.

it already does.

“guess i’d have to fight against my urges” she rasped, and you nodded.

if you were a butterfly, ellie would be the brave spider who protects you.

if you were a lily; who blooms during the daylight, the resurrection of spring, the goddess oestre, enlightened and wise, ellie was your missing piece. the moon to your sun, and the darkness to your light. the universe thrives because of it’s harmonious balance, and so do you.

⋆˙⟡♡

sugar, flour, cocoa powder, salt, two fresh eggs, a cup of milk, and one cane of sweet vanilla. the chocolate cake was damn near perfect. writing her name on the cake with a thick layer of vanilla icing was extremely precious and necessary to you. woefully, the can was nearing on empty, so— the cake read; “happy birth, el”

you impishly giggled to yourself. sounds like ellie’s going to give birth. with one more dip of your finger inside the rich ganache, you came to a firm and final conclusion— it was heavenly, the perfect balance of sweet and chochlaty bitterness. the secret ingredient that must have made it as amazing as it was, was the espresso powder you traded for a bargain. or maybe, maybe it was love.

“ugh, quit it. cheesy” you silently mumbled to yourself.

⋆˙⟡♡

the weather was hot, and the air felt thick. you always deemed it funny, ellie being a june baby and hating the heat. the town bustled with noise of chatter on a busy monday mornin’, and maria stood with her arms crossed against her chest in the corner. she seemed to be in the midst of scolding a guilty looking tommy, and next to them, were a handful of children giggling in the background.

balancing the chocolate cake, alongside with the gifts sitting inside the brown paper bag (with the pretty blue ribbon you clasped onto it), and the flower bouquet was hard. waddling around the town, on your way to ellie’s house, no wonder you nearly dropped it all on the floor when you bumped into a large man, that hit your front like a stone.

“oh— uh, easy there, kiddo”

you could recognize that rasp and that texas twang everywhere, even when your eyes were squinted, avoiding the rays of the sun.

joel.

you hastily managed to balance it all together again, apologizing profusely to the middle aged man— whomst you almost smashed the entire cake onto. he wore a black button up, it seemed… festive. huh. “headin’ to see ellie, i assume?” joel rasped.

you nodded and smiled politely. you’ve never been completely alone with joel, and most importantly, you’ve never talked to him about ellie. things between them were… complicated. you didn’t know why, and sometimes— you were too afraid to even ask. it all seemed too sensitive. ellie would nearly wince when his name was mentioned, and her eyes would fill with something that seemed like sorrow, or regret, or anger. usually, all of those emotions— all at once.

“that her gift?” he pointed towards the brown paper bag.

“mhm! savage starlight. s’the latest edition… i think”

joel smiled softly, and hummed in response. his eyes too, were filled with something that seemed to hold a droplet of sorrow and regret, but no anger though. different than ellie’s.

“she’s still into it, huh?”

“she’s obsessed” you giggled. truthfully, she had a good reason to be. savage stralight was fucking awesome, you grew to realize. it was even more awesome when she read it to you in the dark, cuddled up in her squeaky bed, holding a flashlight to illuminate the written words. when you dozed off, she’d continue reading out loud, maybe to herself, or maybe for your subconscious to absorb.

“i have… this, thing, uh—“ he shifted awkwardly, and began searching for something in his pockets. joel took it out, and showed it to you while holding it in his palm. the thing he mentioned, was a golden, diamond studded pin of the fallen apollo 1. it was beautiful, highly detailed, it’s unmistakable shine reflecting the rays of the sun.

“found it last week while i was patrollin’”

“it’s… woah” you marveled, running a delicate finger over the polished metal.

“is she… still into the space thing?” the stony man asked with a slightly shaky voice. something in you had to physically fight the urge to pull him into a warm hug.

“yeah… we… well, we went to look at the stars the other day”

joel placed the pin in your hand, and wrapped your fingers around it. “could you give it to her? don’ gotta say it’s from me. tell her you found it”

you nearly choked up.

“joel… you should come with me”

joel sighed, and smiled softly again. joel wasn’t into smiling, but you made ellie smile, and that made joel smile.

“maybe next birthday, kid”

joel, just like louisa, knew ellie loved you before she did. and joel, saw his girl turn from a sulky, sullen teenager, to someone who looked like she had something, someone, to live for.

⋆˙⟡♡

12:00pm, and exactly three knocks on ellie’s wooden door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t filled with anxiousness. being anxious around ellie wasn’t a strange new feeling. you had butterflies swarming around your belly when she looked at you, had butterflies when she talked to you, especially when she used that one tone, when she got out of the shower with only a small towel wrapped around her glistening body, you had butterflies, or better yet— a painfully lage bee colony growing in your tummy. when she kissed you softly, the bees calmed down and were a little more subtle, you could imagine them having black oogly heart eyes— but when she kissed you roughly, forcefully against the wall (or against the concrete floor that one time), the bees buzzed uncontrollably, and somehow flew down to a lower part of your body. when she grabbed your waist and gave it a squeeze, as she ravished your mouth with her wet tongue, they went even lower and…

well, anyways— ellie made you nervous. handing her her gifts made you nervous and having her first birthday with you made you even more nervous. you were a fuzzy ball of nervousness and anticipation, and now ellie opened the door and you nearly dropped the cake on the ground.

again.

usually, ellie would greet you with a shy “hey”. exactly a week ago, she added a “babe” to it. (the belly bee colony buzzed and they were tremendously loud, you thought ellie could possibly hear them — so you had to hold on to your tummy) today, ellie greeted you with blown out eyes and a gasp. “oh…”

“happy birthday” you mumbled adorably as if it was a hushed little secret, too shy to look her in the eyes. ellie was too shy too, a coy smile painted on her lips, rosy cheeked, with her hands clamped in two fists inside her oversized grey sweater (it’s june, she would not let that hoodie go). her pupils were glued to the “happy birth, el” written in white icing.

when she felt bold enough to look you in the eyes after not speaking (just staring) for one whole minute, as soon as she caught your gaze— your orbs began dancing around everything you saw, purely avoiding her look but with a huge grin plastered on your sweet, overly excited face.

would it be stupid for ellie to tell you that she loved you right now? because it was getting incredibly hard not to.

instead of a (perhaps) misplaced i love you, ellie decided a pure “thank you” would be have to suffice. she held the door for you, and you shyly tiptoed in. when you placed the chocolate cake on top of the oakwood counter along with the paper bag, you felt ellie’s hands shyly creeping up to your waist, pulling you in a tight hug. “you really… really, shouldn’t have” she whispered. her voice was still groggy, lazy, raspy.

it was her morning voice.

funnily enough, this was your first time hearing it. you never stayed over past 2am— the night was dangerous in your eyes. the night meant going to sleep, it meant staying in her bed, and it meant sleeping with her inside of it. the idea of a night with ellie felt as if the bee colony in your stomach was about to erupt and explode and splatter everywhere.

“you know i don’t… celebrate these things” ellie rasped again, breaking you off from your idle thoughts. you placed your hand over hers, and giggled. “s’not a thing, el… it’s your birthday”, ellie hummed in agreement, and you continued. “besides, it’s an—“ she planted a soft, chaste kiss on your neck. it made you shudder and it made your voice break. “an… excuse to eat some cake”

“just cake?”, ellie sighed, her raspy voice tickling your cheek.

“mhm” you nodded, distracted as ever.

“whats in that paper bag then, huh?”

the flower only blooms during the night, and savage starlight was meant to be consumed with the help of a trusty ol’ flashlight, under a thick blanket. the sun was still out, so the moonflower slept. for the comics, you wouldn’t need a flashlight, and that would simply demolish all of the fun.

the sun was still out so unfortunately, ellie will have to sit and patiently wait.

you pull yourself out of her hug, and waltz away slowly. “well… paper bags for later”, you tilt your head, drawing out your words just to tease her and then some. “so, not gonna show you what’s in there”

ellie raises a brow, a slight half smirk creeping up on her face. saying ellie was a patient girl, would be similar to saying a cat doesn't walk on four. technically, it could… be biped, but— well, wouldn’t quite work. so similarly, patient and ellie couldn’t quite work either.

“you gonna say no to me on my birthday?” she jests, pulling her arms and crossing them over her grey hoodie ridden chest.

“oohh…” you nod twice, “so now you do celebrate these things?” you teasingly raise an eyebrow, mirroring her stance. ellie chuckles and it comes out from deep within her throat. she squints her eyes, “you’re such a tease”

she must not know one of the bee’s just stung the insides of your own stomach and dropped dead. or maybe it’s not dead yet, because you can still feel it’s erratic buzzing and the venom makes you feel as if you’re about to pass out.

“mhm… it’s okay, i’ll wait, babe” — there’s that babe again, and the little bee is definitely dead by now.

“can we eat the cake outside? s’nice, warm… we could do a picnic!” you chirp, each and every single one of your words laced with that syrupy sweetness that makes ellie melt.

ellie smiles and feels a little blush creeping up on the apples of her cheeks. “could do… whatever you want, it’s your cake” she states, and you roll your eyes at her sweet humility. “s’not my cake, it’s yours” you mutter serenely as you point towards the vanilla icing. “see? has your name on it and all”

ellie tries plunging a slender finger into the icing, a foolish attempt to taste it, but you slap it away, a faux pout forming on her face.

“can’t taste my own cake?”

“nope. outside” you speak, popping the p’.

“yes ma’am”

⋆˙⟡♡

you take a sip of the freshly squeezed lemonade, a droplet of sour and sweetness flowing down from the corner of your lips. ellie— propped up by her elbow, brings her thumb and wipes it away. “so messy” she jives playfully, putting the pad of her thumb in her mouth and joyfully sucks on it. she’s squinting her eyes, attempting to avoid the rays of the sun, and you giggle impishly. “can i finally taste my cake now?” she drawls.

impatient as ever, ellie doesn’t even bother pulling out the white plastic fork. instead, she shoves her hand into the cake and takes a big bite. her eyes shut as she devours it, humming at the taste. with her mouth full, she utters “happy birth, el, huh?”.

you breathlessly laugh and nudge her arm away so she almost falls on the checkered, red and white picnic blanket. “sounds like… mmh, fuck, this is good”, she licks her finger — “sounds like m’giving birth”

“i didn’t have any more icing left!” you raise your tone brightly. ellie looks you in the eyes and swallows a sly smirk. this time, it’s your turn to wipe some residue off the corner of her lips. you taste it, and god damn was she right— it’s finger lickin’ good.

“i think that like, when we have babies, you’d be the one to give birth… not my thing. don’t want some… little intruder in my stomach”

before you have time to answer, ellie bites the insides of her cheeks and feels like slapping herself in the face or burying herself 7 feet in the ground. she’s talking about having babies with you?!

she’d smack herself so hard right now if she could.

for you, however, it’s becoming insufferably hard not to start jumping up and down and ripping your hair off in excitement.

“let me get this straight…” you begin, and ellie’s convinced you’re about to tell her that she’s too much and leave. “an intruder, as you put it, can live inside my belly for nine whole months, but not inside yours?”

ellie has to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. “it’ll suit you, is all i’m sayin’”

ellie manages to eat half of the creamy chocolate cake all by herself. she was never one to have a big appetite, did you sneak something inside of the batter, perhaps?

maybe it’s love, ellie wonders. she scolds herself internally, quit being such a sap. it’s definitely the espresso powder her taste buds managed to pick up on.

laying face to face with her eyes closed, you manage to count some of her splattered freckles. one… two… fifteen…, some of them grew darker, tanner. ellie’s chest rises up and down, and you almost think she must have dozed off like a little kid having a post—dessert nap, until;

“hey” she whispers.

“hi” you whisper back.

ellie opens her eyes, a soft, lazy half smile adorning her face. she bites her bottom lip, “can i open my present now?”

impatient.

you shake your head softly. “nuh uh, sun’s still out. sorry, els”

she wants to scoff but she loves it when you call her by that little nickname. “but…” you look down shyly, reaching out for your pocket. “i ran into… joel, on my way here” you speak quietly, afraid of saying the wrong thing. ellie blinks twice, and clears her throat. taking it out of your pocket, you place the little precious pin in between ellie and you. ellie only looks at it, doesn’t touch. you can’t quite describe the expression on her face. surprised? dreadful?… doubtful, maybe, and a tad curious perhaps. “he wanted me to give you this… s’the fallen apollo eleven, i think”

ellie let’s out a quiet chuckle.

“apollo one”

she lifts herself up, taking the pin in her hand. her green eyes begin examining it, brushing her fingers on the golden metal. you sit quietly for a while, allowing ellie to be one with her thoughts. she doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, really. sorrow? regret? tears threaten to fill the brim of her eyes, so with her back to you, she sighs deeply and swallows them up. you bring your hand to lay a small caress on the small of her back, and ellie gazes to the side. she grabs your hand, and plants a small kiss on to your fingers. “ellie…” you silently whisper, and ellie sniffles.

“it’s alright, m’okay” she assures, and lays herself on top of the blanket again. her hand still holds your fingers, and you bring them around her thumb and squeeze. “thank you” she voices. before telling her that you’re not the one she should thank, a small tear flows down her cheek. you’d wipe it away, but ellie grabs your other hand and interlocks her fingers with yours. “sometimes it… fuck—“ she laughs, it occurss to both of you you’ve never quite seen her cry. “it’s okay” you comfort. keep going, you got her. ellie deeply sighs, “feels like i don’t deserve any of this”. the tear is hanging from her chin now, then flows down to her neck. you don’t ask her why, because now is not the time, but you’ll ask her one day. for now, all you do is assure her that she does. and for once in her life, she actually might start to believe it.

⋆˙⟡♡

apparently, chocolate cake, raspberry jam and some bubbly champagne (that you stole borrowed from the tipsy bison) can really get you two going. after hours of aimless giggling, tummies hurting from all of the fine delicacies, it’s time for your favourite past time— ellie and yours hypotheticals corner. naturally, with your head laying on top of her firm chest, you’re the one who starts. “okay, so… plants”, you gush. “mhm, so plants” ellie repeats, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your half covered shoulder. “which plant would i be?”

ellie thinks for a while— you two really take this seriously. she hums before responding, puffing some air from her nose. “chocolate plant, for sure”

interesting. you thought she’d say a certain flower, a delicate one, a soft one, one that blooms in the day. chocolate plant. “intersting… why chocolate? — ellie doesn’t quite know either. perhaps it’s because she loves chocolate and she loves you, and the champagne is making her feel giddy and silly and you’re her little chocolate bean, plant thing.

“cause it’s tasty” she responds, and you almost settle on that except… you seem to have an important anecdote you have a blinding urge to point out.

“well, it makes zero sense. you’ve never even tasted me”

that she hasn’t. yet.

ellie’s breath hitches inside her throat and she nearly chokes on her spit. do you know… what you’re doing? you muttered that sentence so innocently, so absentmindedly, and of course she hasn’t tasted you, but did that thought occur in your mind like it did in hers? you’re still smiling, patiently waiting for her response, and ellie can’t help but feel so… well, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling. her cheeks however— light up in a shade of dusty pink.

“imagine if you like, ate me! i’d probably taste so…”

sweet? intoxicating?

“gross!” you exclaim, exaggerating and blowing your eyes out. ellie’s cheeks calm down a little, the pretty pink diminishing slowly. “thank god you’re not a cannibal…”

nah, she thinks she might be something worse.

slowly, ellie pushes her body closer to yours. you feel her faint breaths on the tip of your nose. “tickles…” you murmur, and ellie huffs out and smiles. it’s that smile she gives you before saying something. the way her eyes dart from your lips to your eyes… it makes you feel vulnerable, coy, and it’s as if she’s studying you, taking in your features one by one. perhaps, she loves seeing the way your eyelashes flutter like small butterfly wings when you feel her gaze on you.

“i have tasted you though” she rasps, her voice low and husky. her eyes are focused on your lips now, as hers slightly part, and then close up again. “you have?” you mumble, shy under her gaze. she hums, bringing the pad of her thumb to your lips again and pulling on your bottom one slightly. this time, you don’t have lemonade juice running down your chin. this time— the gesture is truly just for her. those lips… she thinks.

“you taste… good. and sweet, like…”, your lips curl up to a smile. “chocolate?” you complete. ellie hums again, her palm cupping your cheek. you feel warm, how are you always so warm? — even when you’re shivering cold, warmth is all she can feel.

“and vanilla… and coconut” she caresses your cheek with her thumb. you giggle, “you’ve never even had coconut”

“nah, but i can imagine…” — and oh, imagine she can. is this the champagne talking? it must be it, because that fizzling bubbly voice in her head would not let her go. funny, she doesn’t even feel drunk. “you taste sweet too” you state, nearly purring into her hand as she keeps delicately caressing your skin. she chuckles, “no i don’t” — and she’s right. she doesn’t taste sweet, in fact, she tastes minty and earthy and it makes you feel dizzy each time.

slowly, ellie gets her face even closer to yours. she sees your eyes twinkling, and she swears they shine brighter than every star she’s ever seen. back in the old times, nasa would have a field trip exploring your orbs. they might even find new galaxies in there, and ellie wishes she could explore each one. she really should have been an astronaut.

“ellie?” you quietly whisper. ellie nearly gets lost in the way you say her name, but responds to you nevertheless. “yeah babe?”

“can i taste you? to prove how… sweet you are?” — she knows you mean her lips, regardless, that dusty pink turns a deeper shade of crimson. she thinks it’s absolutely adorable, how you still feel the need to ask. however, she forgets that she asks you that question each time as well. can she… kiss you here? right below your ear? that feel good?

she doesn’t respond with words, but with actions. she cups your cheek harder now and with fervour, and she knows she needs to be romantic but she’s famished, so as soon as she feels your lips part— she plunges her tongue deep inside and you surrender to her domination. almost like a waltz, your tongues dance together, swirling around each other and tasting— and she still doesn’t taste all that sweet, but you do, and it makes her brain feel like mush. you whimper into her mouth and it almost sounds like your “els”, and she knows she needs to come out for air soon and break off the kiss but how can she? how can she when you’re so damn sweet?

her hand dips lower, placing itself on your throat, and she gives you that little squeeze (that she realised must have made you feel good, because you always had chills when she did and she could feel them), and this time— you really did whimper out her name. ellie groans, but you abruptly break the kiss, holding on to your stomach. she pants slightly, before releasing your throat from her grasp. “did i do something?“ she asks quietly.

thing is, she truly didn’t. in fact, it was that damn bee colony that did. she must have heard them buzzing and flying into each other and bumping into your stomachs walls and dip even lower and— “can you hear them?” you question— and you’re panicking slightly, she can tell.

“hear who?”, ellie looks around, but nobody’s there. intruders? clickers? you must have drank too much, but you really hadn’t so…

“it’s so fuckin’ stupid…” you whine, lowering your head and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. ellie still thinks you must have heard something for real— and by all means, it is real, just not… like that. “hey” she encourages, placing her hand on the back of your neck. if she dares to even move it to the front of it, you’d panic again and be totally screwed. ellie notices you’re holding on to your lower stomach, “does it hurt?” she questions, worrisome.

“no… no, s’not that…” you voice, an octave higher than a whisper. “just when… when you kiss me? like, when you kiss me like that, you know?”, you hide your face again, and ellie’s worried sick— oh god, you hate it. you hate it when she kisses you.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, you can explain this.

you breathe deeply, and ellie still holds the back of your head. “you know how people say… that you have… butterflies, when you’re around someone you like?”

“uh huh” ellie sighs. she gets it now. you don’t have those butterflies. you get sick when she kisses you, it makes your stomach hurt and you hate it and hate her and she knew you were too good for her and fuck.

“well, mine feel more like… well, they feel violent. it feels like i’m going to explode. i call them my bees, my bee colony, it’s so fucking stupid and i feel like they’re everywhere—“

oh.

ellie laughs (finally), breathlessly so, and she giggles and squeezes your body closer to hers and you continue to ramble, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric of her hoodie. she’s going to squeeze you so hard you might die, and you start banging your hands on her chest and you’re embarrassed, mortified at your little confession and the bees are so mad! they're calling for a conference call and you nearly explode.

“babe, babe—“ ellie calls out, forcing your head out of her neck and nearly begging you to look at her. you don’t though, you shut your eyes tight as she looks at you and thank god you do because she looks so amused but so enamoured she nearly doesn’t even want you to look.

“you wanna know what i have?” she probes, and you finally open one eye to take a peak. “no!”, and immediately— you shut it again. “i don’t have butterflies either” she calmly states, playfully pressing on your nose so you can huff out and look at her. when you do, you expect to see a smile— but instead, you’re faced with a serious expression, ellies eyebrows furrowing.

“i have wasps”

“wasps?” you doubt her quietly.

“mhm…” her lips part and she licks her bottom one before she speaks. “more like… tigers, or like, lions. way worse than yours. i mean, i’m in terrible condition”— she chuckles, and she just might be.

her words don’t comfort you, in fact, they make you buzz even louder.

doe eyed, you look up at her. “lions?”

“mhm” she nods. lions that might just tear you apart on the grass if you keep on looking at her like that.

this time, when she kisses you again— you don’t hold on to your stomach, you place your hand on hers. as the bees grow even louder, crashing into each other and ruining your slippery insides, you swear you can nearly hear her own lions roar alongside with your buzzing. she grabs your neck and squeezes it again, you nearly shriek, and ellie groans into your mouth and she’s the one to stop, but for an entirely different reason now. “inside?” she murmurs, staring at your glistening, kiss swollen lips and at the drool that runs on one corner. “please…” you whine, and ellie’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. please…? she repeats in her mind— and oh fuck.

⋆˙⟡♡

so she takes you inside, your hand in hers.

with the chocolate cake and the bottle of champagne and it’s glasses far forgotten, the sweet raspberry jam slowly melting away, the chocolate cake growing into a chocolate… pudding, the ants are sure to come. how pitiful, that bees will always triumph over them, and the wasps— or the lions, well, they triumph over everything.

what ellie wants to do right now, is take you up to her bedroom and ravish you in all your glory, but you’re no forgetful fool. with everything else washed away, how dare you forget her presents?, her moonflowers?

“ellie!” you exclaim, squeezing on her hand. “it’s nighttime! your birthday presents…” you wiggle out your eyebrows.

shit— she nearly forgot, she’s pretty sure that if someone placed an actual living and breathing dinosaur in her living room she wouldn’t even notice because you keep on rendering her a distracted mess.

besides, its your own fault, because how do you do that? how do you go from driving her crazy and making her want to eat you on the grass, to making her heart flutter and burst inside of her chest the moment after? you’re a magician, a witch, what the fuck are you? not a fairy— that’s for sure, fairies are scary.

“so… you wanna open them up or not?”

she wants to open you up. no, no! bad ellie! that’s definitely the champagne still talking (it’s long gone.)

“fuck yeah”

you grab the paper bags (with the little blue ribbon), and drag her upstairs. you physically drag her, because for some reason, opening her presents is making her incredibly nervous. you expected her to be more eager, to snap the bag out of your hand as soon as you allowed her, but instead— she sits on the bed and just waits. she’s waiting for you to hand them out to her.

the nervousness seems to eat you up as well, tummy aching (still the bees, but also some normal excitement)— and as you hand her the bag, a few questions start to arise.

what if she hates it? what if she hates flowers? what if she’s allergic to the ipomea alba, what if she starts sneezing and coughing and dying?! or what if she already managed to get over savage starlight? (in a matter of two days…) what if the cake sucked and she was lying all along and you’d disappoint her and she dumps you and—

“HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!!!!!!!!!” — she yelps, you didn’t even notice she opened the damn bag!

“this is…..” her eyes are bright and she smiles so big it nearly damn hurts the apples of her cheeks. “savage fucking star— fuck! s’the latest fucking one! how did you even manage to, fuck— gotta fuckin’ kiss you right now or i’d die”

ellie practically pounces on you, kissing you all over your face. cheeks— two kisses on each one, your nose, your forehead, your chin, both of your earlobes, “close your eyes, gotta kiss ‘em too”, your jaw, your neck…

“are you into me or something? cause it looks like you’re super into me, giving me this fuckin’ gift… dude. if you have feelings for me…”, she places her pointer and her middle finger on your chin and makes you look up at her. you stifle a giggle, “you gotta just tell me, might be into you too” she pecks your lip slowly and you instantly melt.

“we have to read it today… but only eight pages! gotta save it up”

she nearly buries her entire face in the comic book pages. she sniffs, “shit… even smells new” — a layer of fine dust adorns it, so you know it doesn’t.

“rented it from the library!” you chirp, the concept of libraries being one you merely only read about.

“there’s… something else in there too…” you begin. for some reason, giving her those flowers you picked makes you even more nervous. she curiously looks up at you. “there's more?”

you bend down to grab the paper bag off of the wooden floor. the moonflowers’ petals opened up, and there you were— awestruck again. “you can’t give me more things… it’s too much i don’t…” deserve it? you know she thinks so. regardless, she looks up at you adoringly, as your hand tremors and you lift the flowers out of the brown paper bag. you look at them, trying to decide if maybe you were just being delusional, maybe they’re not nearly as pretty as you thought they were when you came across them for the first time. perhaps they’re…

“woah…” ellie gazes at them, wide eyed. she doesn’t even know the meaning of them but yet she is nothing but mesmerised. “wh… what flower is this?” she asks, running her fingers on their dark green stems. when she reaches their creamy white petals, she moves her fingers even more delicately. caressing it, her knee nudges yours.

“moonflower” you reply silently, watching ellie’s digits adoring the bloom. “it’s… it’s really pretty”

you take a deep breath. “i picked it up cause… it reminds me of you”, you exhale, fiddling with your fingers. when she notices, she puts her hand, the one with the flowers in it— on top of yours. the room is quiet, except for ellie’s shallow breaths.

“it um… well… first of all, it’s beautiful, like you”, you flush, and ellie flushes as well. she swallows deeply, and involuntarily, a small “fuck” escapes from her throat.

“and… they’re not supposed to grow in jackson. it was purely by accident, so they’re special… like you, and uh… well, they only bloom during the night, which is why i waited. they’re strong, and they’re deadly, i mean— the venom is… so don’t… eat it, i guess.” you chuckle, and you barely even notice two fat tears streaming down your cheeks. “they remind me of you because they’re the prettiest flowers ive ever seen, and when i saw them… i was kinda of like… woah, just like what happened when i saw you for the first time, remember?” — ellie sniffles, and ellie’s crying. “so… you’re my moonflower”

ellie doesn’t know what to do. she looks up, covering her face with her hands. she wipes away a stupid tear, and then wipes away your precious one.

one whole minute passes.

“if i ever…” she begins, swallowing hard. “if i ever lose you? i think i might die” — because the moonflower needs sun to live, and you’re her sun, her lifeline.

you take her face in between your shaky palms. ellie’s lips hold a slight tremor, and then she laughs.

“i’m in love with you”

you don’t have to say it back. you really don’t, because again — actions speak louder than words. your soft lips meet her slightly chapped ones, and ellie hums into the kiss. different than the one before, this one is gentle, dim, the lust hasn’t disappeared— it’s still there, but it has something more to it, not diminishing it, just hovering above. could you guess what it is?

“i love y…” you whisper out, attempting to break the kiss, just if you could simply say this one thing, but ellie knows, she knows. she pulls you by the back of your neck more forcefully now, deepening the kiss. because you couldn’t finish your sentence, you pout— but ellie suckles on your bottom lip and wipes your silly pout away. her hand goes lower, from the back of your head to hold on to your waist, and she squeezes the covered flesh. you moan into the kiss, tasting her spit and her tongue, and oh god— the bees. you think you might have just another precious gift for her. one she’s been waiting for, one she’s been fantasising about, one that you’ve been fantasising about. when you moan into the kiss, ellie breaks it. she’s staring you down, panting again. “think i… have… one more gift” you whisper, and ellie— her lips parted, nods once. “one more?” she rasps, squeezing your waist again and pulling you up to straddle her. “mhm”, you hiccup as you feel yourself snugly pressed up against her.

she places one hand on your thigh, simply caressing it back and forth. the more up she goes, the more your breaths become uneven and so do her’s. it’s not entirely an unfamiliar territory— you've been seated on her lap a few times before (seven, but whos counting? she is), but this is… different. “whats your gift, huh?” she teases. you? are you going to be her gift? you always have been…

you whine when she traces small circles with her slender fingers on your clothed inner thighs. you whine and it makes ellie throb— you’ve never quite made that noise before, and she yearns to pull every single noise you could possibly make out of you. a whimper, a moan, god— a scream. she feels like she’s about to explode and christ, you’re still fully clothed.

like a hunter examining it’s prey, ellie moves her face forwards, and then downwards, towards your neck. she places a few chaste kisses, “ah! tickles…” ellie chuckles darkly, yearning to “tickle” you once more. she plants two more delicate, tickling kisses before suckling on the flesh. at first, her tongue meets your skin and she laps up at it. then, her teeth bite into it, and you nearly jump. “sorry… that hurt?” she asks, and really, she’s not sorry at all. “feels…” ellie cuts you off and sucks again. this time, she’s determined to leave a mark. “oh… feels…” you continue, shuddering in her arms like glass. she hasn’t even touched you, not really, and yet everything feels damp. your face, from your tears and from her tears and from spit, to the flesh of your neck that’s being sucked on and played with, down to the small wet patch inside your panties that you’d be mortified if she noticed.

when she finishes the assault on your neck, she moves up to your lips again and grunts when she sees how your lips were already parted, just for her. the kiss is slow, wet, her tongue kitten licking your own. it’s nasty, really, wet smacking and sucking noises filling the air. almost involuntarily, your hips start moving and grinding up against her thigh. ellie moans deeply. “mmph… yeah?” she teases, or at least tries to, because her voice is shaky and turned on to the max. she helps you move slightly, and my god she needs to take your pants off and feel your naked heat against her like this. when she thinks about what it must be like for you— she imagines your fat pussy lips squished up inside your panties, grinding on her thigh and she nearly loses it. she wants to help you grind harder… could she make you cum just from that? cum inside your pants whilst using her thigh? “fuuuck”, ellie groans and lifts her hand up, nearly smacking your ass but it ends up just landing on her own leg.

“s’not fair… what you’re doing…” she murmurs in your ear, “what did… what did i do?” you respond back, your voice high and needy. ellie doesn’t even know what she meant to say. all she knows is that it’s not fair. it’s not fair how you make her react and feel like this, the way your eyes glisten isn’t fair, the way you grind up on her thigh and make those sounds isn’t fair, the way you make her feel sticky and mushy and wet — without even taking your clothes off, isn’t fair.

still moving with fervour on top of her legs, her hand is dangerously close to where you need her the most. she nearly cups it, flips you over and ravishes you whole, but she stops herself. “can i please… take your fuckin’…” she rasps, running her short fingernails on your sides. she’s not scratching, but it’s not an entirely gentle movement either. she doesn’t know where to start, should she ask you to take your top off? your pants? — maybe she should just ask you to go completely naked. she settles on the little top, however.

you lift the fabric up slowly, but you do it out of nerves. as much as ellie wants it off, she lets you take it slow. you peel it off, exposing your skin inch by inch— do you even know how bad you’re teasing her right now? “ah, fuck” ellie groans out. when the shirt meets the top of your head, it gets stuck there for a second. you giggle nervously, your lacey bra on full display, and ellie considers just leaving you there to struggle by yourself. if your eyes are covered by the material, maybe you won’t notice how hard she’s staring. “need some help there, babe?” she teases as she leans back on her elbows. your laugh is muffled, and ellie chuckles. how are you so goddamn sexy and adorable at the same time? after ten whole seconds of struggling, ellie lifts it up for you. “there, good girl… wasn’t that hard, right? just needed my help?” she teases, and god is she mean— that little twinkle in her now much darker green eyes making you feel like your ears are about to melt off.

swiftly, ellie begins planting soft kisses all over your collarbones. her hand isn’t touching your breasts quite yet, but it’s hovering on top of them, and then you realize— she’s waiting for your approval, for your yes. you put your hands around her neck and push her forward, which makes her hands land on top of your breasts. ellie moans as soon as she feels them, and even though they’re covered by fabric — the lace is thin and she can feel your hardening nipples. she runs her thumb over the swollen buds and you shiver. “knew you’d be sensitive…” she murmurs to herself against your skin. “what did… uh, what did you say?”, you stutter, and then she looks up at you. “said…” she flicks it and you buck your hips. “fuck… knew you’d be sensitive”

she knew… you’d be? “you’ve, uh… thought about this before?” — and ellie chuckles, fully laughs nearly. if you only knew how many times she’s thought about this you’d probably crumble like a danish biscuit. “too many times” ellie confesses, and she almost gets too embarrassed to admit, but she swears she can feel a little wet patch on her jeans so she knows you must have thought about this as well, perhaps more than she has — but not likely. “i have too” you murmur shyly, and there it is.

“oh, really?” she asks, kissing right in between of your tits and making you jolt. if her lips feel this good on your chest… your eyes roll back to the top of your head. “so you’re just as filthy, huh?”, her right hand lands on your ass with the smallest smack, she knows she could make it hurt if she wanted to (and she does), but not yet. you jump and squeal, and in a random burst of confidence — “m’filthier…” you whisper.

with that, ellie grunts and takes your tits in her palms, she kneads the swollen flesh, pushing both of your breasts together and kisses right between the formed cleavage. “bet you’re filthier…” she whispers, opens her mouth so her tongue can stick out and lick between your cleavage line. when she does so, she brings her hand to your back and unclasps your bra with just her two fingers. she lets it cascade down, and she notices how shy you get, trying to bring your hands to cover yourself up. ellie is faster than you, and grabs both of your wrists so you can’t. you’re fully exposed, and ellie’s all pants and heavy breaths. when you try to wiggle yourself out of her grip, your tits move and bounce in the slightest, and ellie’s in trance. “you’re so… fuckin’ pretty” she takes your hard nipple in her mouth and you wince as soon as you feel her pink muscles wetness. “that feel good huh?” she takes your other breast in her hand and toys with it, palms it and making it shake.

with hungry kisses, she lays you down on her bed. you buck your hips forward, and ellie parts your legs with her own. she runs her hands all over your body, and before kissing you again, she stops. “els?” you ask, but ellie ignores you. ellie takes her top off, and fuck you’re nearly drooling. she wasn’t even wearing a bra, and her pretty pink nipples are just as hard as yours. you’re staring, and it’s ellie’s turn to go shy. “you like… ‘em?” she giggles, “shit, nevermind”

you don’t expect it, but ellie grabs the brown paper bag and pulls the moonflower bouquet out of it. “wh… what are you doing?”

“don’t worry about it” — she places the flowers on your chest. for some reason, your ears start to burn. “hold ‘em like that for me?” she asks, and you do. with ellie straddling you, it almost looks like she’s about to pull out a camera and take a picture. “perfect…” she murmurs, “feels like i marked you. s’over for you, you’re mine, y’know that?”

you think you’ve always known. “yours” you whisper coyly, giving her that toothy grin that makes her melt into a puddle. she leans forward, kissing the tip of your nose. “yours who?” she kisses your cheek, and then below it, and then on your jaw. “yours… ellie” — and she must be smiling, because you can feel her lips curl up on your skin.

she kisses you everywhere, on every scar, every blemish, sometimes she bites, but then soothes it with her tongue. you’re growing impatient, the pressure down your panties becoming insufferable. before she unbuttons your pants, she unbuttons her’s. she pulls them down, to sit right below her boxers covered ass. she comes up again, kissing on your tummy, and then — she puts her ear to it. “m’hearing them…” she murmurs. “they're… talking to me, the bees are begging me to fuc—“

“ellie!” you call out, embarrassed. you try and muffle your giggles with your hand but it’s all for nothing, because when she pulls your pants down you gasp. she takes a moment to stare, she could just stare at you forever, she thinks. ellie toys with the waistband of your panties, running her pointer finger on the line. she’s breathing heavy, and you’re nearly wheezing. she bends down to kiss your sopping covered cunt, “oh fu— wait!” you call out.

“i’m… i feel, i’m too shy i can’t…”, ellie smiles and kisses it again. she knows you are. “feels like i might—“ you cry out, feels like you might what?

“explode!”

“you might… but i got you, yeah?” ellie coos, and this time, she doesn’t kiss it, she runs her tongue along the wet patch. she wiggles it from side to side and fuck, she can taste you already and she thinks she might be addicted. your thighs tense and they involuntarily wrap around ellie’s head. she chuckles, and parts them apart. to soothe you, she runs her fingers on your inner thighs and caresses you gently. she kisses your clothed clit and she swears she just felt it pump. “awh… yeah?” she coos again, and it feel like she’s talking to your pussy and not to you. you whimper and drop your head back, and she sucks on it. she’s making the fabric grow nearly sheer with her tongue, and when she sees the outline of your pussy lips she moans deeply. “so wet…” she murmurs to herself, “this all for me, huh? did i do something?” she looks up at you, and your eyes are tightly shut, not even in a place where you feel like you can talk.

you’re fuzzy everywhere.

“can you answer me?” she warns, but chuckles when she sees your back arching as soon as she pulls your soaking wet panties to the side. you hum, “all f— for you”, but ellie doesn’t even hear it, because she’s faced with the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

your glistening folds, the tiny swollen button on top, and your hole practically clenching in and out over nothing and she thinks she might just die. she spits on it with a small “ptu”, watches as her warm saliva cascades down from your clit to your inviting hole. when you clench, your hole absorbs some of her spit and she groans deeply. “fuck that’s cute”

you’re panting, a sweet harmony of “please, ellie!” escaping your lips, and when you accidentally muttered a pathetic, squeaky “puhleaseee!” ellie scratched the idea of slowly, butterfly kissing your cunt till you’re begging and began placing an open mouthed kiss on it.

as her tongue meets your clit for the first time, you clutch your thighs around her head. it happens twice before she forces them open, “quit that, gotta see you” — she warns, and you listen because you just do. “look at me” she instructs, her voice muffled by your sweet pussy in her mouth. her tongue laps up the wetness from your hole, brings it to the top of your clit and sucks. ellie hums, she was right — you really are fuckin’ sweet. “so good…” she murmurs, “doin’ such a good job”, truly, you aren’t even doing anything, just squirming and whimpering under her touch. she moves her tongue around and you swear you just felt her spell something with it, “ellie!” you cry, and ellie’s breath hitches down her throat so she comes out for air and spits on your cunt again. she rubs the wetness with her fingers, then separates your pussy lips with her thumbs so she can see all of you.

you’re just like a flower, she thinks. slowly, she places her tongue on your clit again, but with her fingers on it still, she begins toying with your tight hole. she merely teases it, probing your entrance with her ring finger. “gonna put it inside, that okay?” she asks, but you’re unresponsive, a blabbering mess who doesn’t even remember her own name. ellie chuckles, she could probably do anything she wanted. she slips it inside, feeling your gummy walls squeezing her in, and she moans right when you do. “oh… gosh, ellie!”

“so fuckin’ tight” she whispers, returning her mouth on your clit and suckles deeply. she adds a second finger and now you’re gone, fully consumed by this filthy, pleasure filled monster. “i think m’gonna!” you cry and ellie whimpers out, nearly going cross eyed when she notices you’re toying with your nipples just like she did. “explode?” she breathlessly says. “c… cum!”

“good fuckin’…” she wants to complete that sentence, but instead her tongue dips lower and her hands push your thighs so your knees are pushed up against your chest. it goes even lower, licking your tightest entrance, the one that’s never been explored, not even by your own hands, and when she flicks her tongue upon it and then immediately goes back to your swollen clit you’re—

“cum’… m’cumming! m’cumming!” and yeah you are, ellie thinks, and slaps one of your thighs. you're jolting when you do, her name leaving your mouth like a prayer, and pray as much as you want but heaven will not be the one that accepts you, perhaps it’ll be purgatory, but with her in it it’s more than perfect. “uh huh… cum for me”

when you do, you see stars, and ellie sees moonflowers.

she laps up your saccharine juices, sucking them off her fingers one by one. you’re feeling faint, buzzing everywhere, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. ellie looks up at you, eyelids half shut. when you see the index finger that was deep inside of you just a moment ago, go inside her mouth, her pouty pink lips around them and she’s lapping it up and she’s greedy— you cringe a little. she’s tasting and tasting and humming, “told you… you’re sweet”

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Stolen Fruits

warnings: 18+! suggestive/fluff

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader

summary: A strange man kept stealing from your lands.

word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

Thank you to @foxyanon & @sihtricsafin for everything, I'd like to dedicate this one to you two.

Spring had been good this year, for the Gods had been kind. Your lands had flourished during the soft and sunny period, resulting in an abundance of vegetables and fruits. You made some good coin with a successful harvest, and this year was looking promising. You already earned a fair amount by selling fruits all year round, from sweet apples to perfectly sized strawberries, everyone knew you had some of the best in the country and even the royal families wanted a piece of it. Loads of money had been offered by various men to buy your lands, but you always declined the offers. You loved being a successful lady, especially since most ladies weren't as lucky as you to be in control of their own money and workload, so never would you even consider selling your business to a wealthy man.

It was now the middle of summer and the fruits you had in stock to sell to the townsfolk were all sold out already, meaning you had money aplenty and could take it easy until it was time to harvest the crops to sell later in the year. Therefore you now simply enjoyed the warm days and short nights, making all kinds of delicious treats with the fruits you had kept for yourself. Well, for yourself and for your livestock. You had a herd of goats, sheeps and chickens that provided you with milk, eggs and also some company, as life on a farm at the outskirts of town could get a little lonely. You also owned a beautiful white horse named Tristis, who was an important part of your trade as the horse was strong and well taken care of so he could pull the carriage full of fruits and vegetables when you travelled to sell to the towns and villages that surrounded yours.

Your day started just like every day. You woke up, had some tea and breakfast, then went to feed the animals, did a routine check of your lands on horseback, and after that your day was just you doing whatever you wanted or what needed to be done in or around your cottage. You noticed nothing odd during your routine check, and you ended up tidying the living area in your home. And it was only when you stepped outside, to rid your floor of the swept up dust and sand, that you suddenly saw movement near your apple trees. You quickly hid behind the greenery that surrounded your cottage, pushing the thick leaves slightly aside to spy on the thief who was shamelessly picking apples from your garden. There was quite some distance between you and where the apple trees flourished, but you could see enough to make out that it was a savage looking man greedily collecting your fruits. You sighed, for it wasn't uncommon that a peasant came looking for some food, and by the way the man's hair was looking wild and how he was fast to devour an apple, you figured the poor soul was just hungry.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you decided to not chase him away but continued to keep an eye on him. And it wasn't until the stranger suddenly neared your goats that you became alarmed, as the savage pulled a knife from his belt as he approached the bleating herd. You held your breath and clenched your fists around the broom you still held, but just as you wanted to jump out from the bushes and chase him away, you saw how he cut an apple in several small pieces and fed them to your animals while giving some a pat on their heads. You exhaled with relief and then watched how the man walked off your lands, seemingly oblivious of your presence, and he disappeared into the forest.

The next morning you found tracks in the sand from the man who had helped himself to your apples the day before. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered how alarmed you became when he had unsheathed his knife, only to be a kind stranger and fall for the begging eyes of your livestock. You couldn't blame the savage, who seemed to have a soft heart, for you always fell for the trickery or your own animals too.

Hours later, when you were baking bread with apples and cherries inside, you looked out of your kitchen window and felt your jaw drop when you saw the savage had returned. Completely frozen you watched how he stole apples again, even more than the day before, and you were absolutely baffled by the nerve of this man. You huffed in anger and wanted to storm outside, chasing him away this time as your lands were not a free for all feast, but when your eyes landed on the battle axe the man had attached to his belt, you decided it was probably safer to not confront him. At least, not confronting him by storming towards him while waving a broom angrily and ordering him to leave at once. 

You managed to get a better look at him now, as the man became more bold and even wandered further upon your lands, seemingly out of curiosity or perhaps wanting to find out what else he could steal. You saw how he was well built and, surprisingly enough, looking quite well taken care of for a savage. In fact, it was only his wild haircut that made him look like a savage, his dark and wavy locks falling upon his shoulders while his facial hair seemed well kept from a distance, and it seemed he wore leather armour, and not the cheap kind either. 

You kept an eye on the man as you became concerned of his motives, because why was he on your land two days in a row? Was he one of the men who had offered money to buy your fertile ground and couldn't handle the fact he was rejected? Was he here to spy in order to find a way to steal your land? All kinds of thoughts went through your head while the man seemed rather unbothered, and you saw how he made his way to the animals again, giving them a few pats on their heads and sharing the stolen fruits with them, just like the day before. And just when you thought he was to leave, he suddenly turned to face your cottage and locked eyes with you as you still stood there looking out your window, and he gave you a curt nod before he turned on his heels and disappeared once again into the forest.

You felt the heat on your face after the man had left, and you couldn't forget the way he had looked at you for the remainder of your day… and night.

The unknown man, who you now called "the handsome stranger" after you had gotten a better look at him the previous afternoon, kept returning to your lands to eat some of your apples and to seek the company of your animals. After a few days you became less wary and trusted the man did not have any bad intentions. You weren't happy about the fact he still stole your fruits, but the weaponry attached to his leather belt kept you from telling him off. As the weeks progressed you kind of became fond of the brief eye contact you had with him daily, at a safe distance, while leaving each other alone for the rest of the time as he wandered around your lands, and even your animals became used to him visiting and enjoying a delicious treat with him day after day.

The weather had always been nice since the handsome stranger came around, but today the rain was pouring down, for autumn had officially arrived. Your crops were harvested and you were making yourself some delicious pumpkin soup, which would keep you warm and fed through the rainy and windy season ahead of you. And when you noticed the handsome stranger still came around that gloomy day, all soaked and visibly shivering while he made his way to your apple trees, you felt for the man and made a bold move.

'E-excuse me?' you called out from your doorstep.

The man looked back over his shoulder, his long and wet hair sticking to his clearly confused face while the rain poured down on him, soaking the thick fur cloak that was draped over his shoulders.

'Lady?' he called back out, a little hesitant.

'Would you,' you suddenly paused and became unsure, but then found your courage again, 'would you like to come in for some warm soup?'

The man pondered about your offer for a moment, and then gave you that curt nod he gave you every day before leaving your lands. Except this time he didn't step off your lands, this time he stepped into your home.

There was an awkward silence when he sat down while you hung his cloak next to the fire that burned in the hearth, and you put his drenched boots in front of flames so they could dry quickly. You hadn't forgotten about his axe and that knife he seemed to carry with him at all times, but to your surprise he had taken off his belt and left his weapons at the door, showing you he meant no harm. And the only scare he gave you was when he suddenly spoke as you brought him your homemade soup.

'Thank you, lady,' he said, his voice was warm, just like that summer day on which you had very first seen him, 'my name is Sihtric,' he continued.

'Sihtric,' you repeated with a light blush, and then proceeded to introduce yourself as you took a seat across the table.

You observed him while he enjoyed your soup, and you were quickly drawn to his charm and his rugged look. His scars didn't make him any less handsome, and his mismatched eyes were easy to get lost in. And Sihtric eventually told you he was from Dunholm and scouting nearby lands, after you had asked him why he came around every day at the same time.

'But the lands are not at war?' you frowned, 'what use is there for scouting the lands if there are no enemies?'

'I'm afraid it is an old habit,' the Dane smiled softly and looked away from you, as if somewhat ashamed, 'it keeps me busy. I stumbled upon your land some time ago and,' he stopped talking as he wasn't sure if he should confess his theft, even though he figured you surely had been aware.

'And?' you asked, aware of what he was thinking, and you tried to suppress your grin while you waited for him to answer.

'And… I… would like to apologise for stealing your apples, my lady,' Sihtric said with a blush on his cheeks, 'I will compensate you for it, I promise. Tell me how much you need,' he said and reached for the pouch he kept hidden under his tunic.

'How much I need?' you asked, confused and mildly offended while Sihtric counted his coins, 'I don't need anything.'

'My lady?' the apparently self proclaimed Lord of Dunholm looked up at you, bewildered.

'I am wealthy,' you said with pride, holding your chin up high, 'I do not need the coins of a man who steals out of habit.'

'I did not steal out of habit,' Sihtric retorted as politely as he could while he shoved the pouch underneath his tunic again.

'Are you sure about that, Lord?' you grinned.

'You dare to doubt my word, my lady?' he questioned, failing to hide his own grin now as he leaned in on the table.

'I wouldn't dare to doubt the word of a man who is clearly in need of a battle,' you taunted, 'or at least in need of a good brawl at the alehouse.'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak but he had no comeback to your remark, so he licked his lips and smiled slyly before he finished the soup. He thanked you quickly afterwards and said he should get going again, and after he had stepped off your land and you cleaned up the table, you found he had left you some money which covered far more than the apples he had stolen.

The weather during the days after your first conversation with Sihtric continued to be grey and wet, and so it became a routine for him to stop by and have some of your delicious homemade meals as he needed a moment to warm up again. And where he first took his leave immediately after having devoured your food, he began to stay a little longer as he enjoyed your company and the warmth of your cosy home. The fact that you were a blessing to his eyes also made it all the more tempting to stay longer, so he could get to know more about you. You started to trust each other over time, you even felt comfortable around Sihtric while he had access to his weapons as one day he forgot to take off his belt at the door, and ever since that moment you both felt you could open up more about your struggles, but also about the happier moments you had experienced in your lives.

Sihtric was impressed with the trade you had built for yourself and the money you owned, but he was even more impressed with your talent for making the most appetising foods he had ever seen and tasted. You never charged him for your meals, which Sihtric appreciated, but it didn't take long before he started to ask if he could perhaps help you out with certain tasks as a way to thank you. As independent as you were, you wouldn't deny the help of a strong man when offered, so you made good use of him and had him fix up the barn in which you kept your livestock, and he also fixed a leak in the roof of your cottage. You became fond of each other and, after it happened a few times, you were convinced that the way he looked at you and the occasional light brush of his fingers against your skin wasn't entirely meaningless.

And your gut feeling would be confirmed only a few days later after you had started to fantasise about him at night. You began to long for his visits, missing his voice and his scent whenever he left your home to continue his day, and you were ashamed that it made you break things on purpose, just so you can ask him to fix it and have him around a little longer.

Neither of you had never said the words, but you both knew that the lives you lived separately had been rather lonely as of late, despite the riches you both possessed. Wealth couldn't silence the way you yearned for each other, and when another rainy afternoon came around, you both couldn't resist each other anymore.

Sihtric knocked on your door, soaked through and through due to the rain, and as soon as your eyes met his you knew this afternoon would be different. His face was bruised, as he had finally caused a fight with a stranger he encountered as he scouted the lands, before he had made his way to you.

And the tension in your home was thick once he stepped inside and kicked off his boots, which you placed in front of the fire before he handed you his heavy cloak to hang so it could dry too. You hung the beautiful fur next to the fire and then turned around, finding Sihtric towering over you while drops of water trickled down his face and from his long hair. His breathing sounded unsteady while he was usually a wave of calmness, and his hands trembled lightly as he began to take off his leather belt. You both didn't say a word as your eyes remained locked while he dropped the heavy leather with weapons on the floor. His cold hands then began to work his tunic, pulling it off and leaving him in front of you in only his breeches as he threw the wet attire next to his belt. You reached out to cup his bruised cheek and you gave him a saddened look, but Sihtric also caught the faint hint of a smile on your face, which told him you were accepting of his sometimes impulsive and reckless nature. 

You then took a step back and stared at his impressive body while he took off his necklace, leaving his damp hair looking even wilder than before. And after you both heard the dull thump of his necklace falling onto your floor, his tattooed hands suddenly reached for your face while you grabbed onto his broad shoulders, and you crashed into a steamy and passionate kiss while the fire crackled behind you and the rain tapped on your windows.

You both gasped with need when the kiss was broken as you pulled Sihtric down on the floor with you, and your lips attacked his neck and shoulders while he impatiently pulled at the laces at the front of your dress. You felt his hot and ragged breaths on your parted lips, sneaking into your mouth before he let out a desperate whine and pulled you closer with his hand on the back of your neck, kissing you deeply until your lips felt bruised. 

He loved the way you tasted and how your warm skin felt against his own damp and cold body once he had rid you of your dress. You kissed desperately while you straddled him, and moans of relief sounded from you both when you finally sank down on his length, feeling him inside you the way you had been longing for all this time already. His hands warmed as he caressed your body while you placed your hands on his chest, riding him slowly and relishing the feeling of being together like this for the first time. You made love and kissed each other everywhere possible until you both felt that sweet release.

He then pulled his already dried and warmed up cloak over you both while you laid in front of the fire, holding each other while you shared some of the apple pie you had baked, stealing kisses from each other in between each bite. And when you looked up into his love dazed eyes, you both knew you'd never feel lonely again after this day.

Because Sihtric hadn't only stolen the fruits of your land, he had also stolen your heart.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama

@lexeirikrleif @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a

@verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777

@urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50

@hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305

@carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @reidsbookstore @thenameswinter99

@deathbluestar113 @ladyinred2248 @zaldritzosrose @legitalicat @maryelle-cats @penumbrie

@solinarimoon @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @yungpoetfics @stupiddarkkside @sleepjam @ewanmitchellfanatic @itbmojojoejo @lady-targaryens-world

if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 5: Resolve

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, all! I know, it’s so soon! But this one is a cobbled-together piece of stuff you’ve already seen, just padded out a bit more. I figured I might as well push it on out now, so here ya go! Featuring Jason Lannister for the very first time, to finally bring all this shit together a bit more cohesively. As always, thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reading though this and reassuring me it isn’t total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, age gap, general Daemon grottiness, allusions to non-consensual sexual situations.

According to most, Daemon Targaryen is a man in possession of little capacity for feeling beyond what is required to partake in lechery and barbarism. He knows himself; his disparagers are not entirely wrong. Except for one important, essential truth—he would die for his family. He loves his family.

Love, as he understands it, is what he has always felt when looking upon his brother, upon Rhaenyra. No matter the strife that has torn him from his kin time and time again, he can freely acknowledge that such sentiments will remain everlasting.

A kicked hound is one most loyal, he thinks with no small degree of bitterness. Or perhaps the meanest hound is more loyal. Either way, I am the hound—and my master, the king.

Love is what has wrenched harsh and twisting in his heart whenever he laid eyes on you, a toddling girl-child eternally eager for the cossetting attentions of your uncle, your kepa—and he had always been kepa, never Viserys, no, your father had never received an honour beyond being called ‘papa’ like any common pauper—now a stranger in so many ways.

The garden and the morning repast had served to ignite the wellspring of all his wildest desires, delivering to him seemingly all he had ever wanted in a prospective bride—young and beautiful, obedient and good-tempered, Valyrian of colouring and of status. But you had seemed smaller than your younger self, trapped in a prison of your own making, hidden beneath layers and layers of chaste courtesy and painstaking banality. And then, accompanying you to the Dragonpit had given him a curious glimpse into the power you kept hidden, the ancient strength of your lineage slipping through the cracks in your genteel veneer.

Regal. Arcane. These are the words that had come to mind watching you interact with your mount, none other than the famed Cannibal himself. Something of the majesty of the Conqueror lay within you, waiting for the necessary spark to kindle the flame. Your exchange with Athfiezar—your silent fearlessness, your devotion to your savage beast, your unassuming poise—reminds him that, for all your equally meek and mild-mannered nature, you are still Targaryen. You are still his sweetling.

It is this that elicits a consuming curiosity to know more.

You are an interesting puzzle, a strange contradiction, one whose buttermilk skin and pert teats and spit-shine lips should herald as a welcome to sample the delights hidden by the fabric of your darling little gowns. Yet, you act not as a silly young thing learning of her sway over men—teasing with fluttering lashes and bit lip and lilting tone as Rhaenyra had—but as a docile girl disinclined to press the limits of propriety as all maidens do. You ride the most savage dragon in the known world, and yet there is no such quality in you that echoes your mount’s disposition; instead, a loveliness that is near to cloying, pure and unadulterated and surely too good to be true. You are a fucking princess, and yet you are perfectly content to fade into the periphery, drawing little notice to yourself and seeking none from those around you, not even your own blood. A scholar, quick-witted and erudite, but somehow still so sweetly unknowing of the depravities that rule the minds of men who lay eyes on you.

You fascinate him. And his newfound realisation does not lessen his temptation to fuck you—to ply you with praise and charm and no small hint of avuncular affection (the reminder of your shared blood thrills him to the bone as always) so that, over time, you might be swayed to give your maidenhead to him—but, rather, that it results in a metamorphosis, a muddling, his longing mingling the base needs of the flesh with a rekindling of his fondness for you.

Which is why he cannot stand the presence of Jason Lannister.

“Why are you entertaining this farce?” Daemon asks, fists clenched at his sides. “A pompous fuck like him has no business anywhere near her.”

“Whatever is the problem, brother?” Viserys says distractedly, hunching over his miniature of Old Valyria and studying the replica of the Targaryen manse on the outskirts with intent. “Jason Lannister is Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. By any standard, I would think he is the best contender for her hand.”

That fucking model of his. Daemon resists the urge to smash the king’s stone city into rubble, though doing so might grant him the attentiveness he is sorely lacking from the man. “Are you not hearing me? He’s an arrogant cunt. He’d bore her in a sennight, let alone whatever hellish span of time an entire marriage would last.”

Viserys hums noncommittally. “She will make do”—he waves Daemon off—“as all noblewomen must when their fathers command them to marry. That is her lot in life. Besides, Lord Jason is one of the wealthiest men in the realm, and I am told he is rather pleasing to a lady’s eye. She could do worse than he.”

His brother’s remark is a fair one—of the trio, Jason is the preferable choice. And what a fucking miserable choice it would be.

He rolls his eyes. This is going nowhere. “And Tyrell? Your idiot son? Are they the ‘worse’ you speak of?”

Between that foppish peacock, his spiteful little twit of a nephew and the prancing lion, the latter just barely scrapes by as the best of the bunch.

“Enough, Daemon.” The king sighs, finally deigning to look up from his pile of rock. “These are the suitors she herself has chosen. I care not for the particulars, only that the girl should be wed before her eighteenth name day. Each of them possesses some quality I am sure she finds worthwhile…” At that, he pauses, brow furrowing. He squints up at Daemon. “What is your interest in the matter, anyway? It has naught to do with you.”

Shit. Daemon makes an evasive comment—something about sullying the purity of their noble lineage—and departs as quickly as he can, eager to escape the risk of Viserys’s suspicion falling on him. It would not do for the man to suspect his intentions toward yet another of his daughters.

He does not intend to seek you and the lord out, truly, but it nonetheless does not surprise him to realise that, upon freeing himself from the wrathful spiral of his own musings, his feet have taken him to the very same garden where he had first laid eyes upon you again after so many years, where you are now enduring the attentions of the insufferable Lannister patriarch. On this occasion, Cole is nowhere to be seen, and the entry is instead guarded by one of the Cargyll twins.

Daemon spies you on the path just inside, a careful distance placed between you and Jason. Though he cannot make out your expression from his vantage point, he observes well enough the flourishing bow the lord proffers in your direction, the polite curtsey you extend in return, his smug prancing step as he leaves your company. He sees the manner in which your shoulders droop, your head bowing as you turn to wander past the great tree and out of sight. My poor girl.

And then his view is blocked by a garish wash of red and gold.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason says with a haughty simper. With a curt nod, Daemon wordlessly returns the salutation. His lack of warmth is noticed. The Lannister lord hesitates for a moment before returning to his condescending civilities, forcing a relaxed stance. “I was most glad to hear of your return.”

He doubts that. There is little love lost between him and the lord. Jerking his chin toward the garden, he asks, “Leaving so soon, are we? I had thought the entire afternoon was devoted to this little outing.”

Jason chuckles awkwardly. “Well.” He scratches his beard. “The princess has another engagement to attend to. Something about a tutor.”

Thank the gods for that Lysan fellow. They had never met, but Daemon is certain he’d like the man well enough.

“Doesn’t concern you?” he asks, scarcely bothering to conceal the scepticism from his tone. At the confusion on Lannister’s face, he clarifies. “That she’d rather spend time with her tutor than with you?”

“Why would it, my prince?” is the answer, self-assured as ever. “He is old, and frail. Best for her to spend as much time with him as she can before she leaves for Lannisport.”

That genuinely irritates him, and not simply the notion of you being shipped off to the lurid monstrosity that is Casterly Rock. Even he knows that your meetings with your tutor are less obligations and more gatherings of friendship—your spirit would surely crumble if you were denied your dearest companion after being coerced to marry.

Daemon suppresses a sneer. “Your confidence is… admirable.” If misplaced, he wants to add.

“There is little competition to be found,” Jason says with a toss of the head. His tawny hair rustles in the gentle breeze, giving him the appearance of the sigil his house has claimed. Fucking ridiculous. Then, the man has the audacity to clap a palm against his arm. “Never fear—I shall take utmost care of her. She’ll want for nothing as my lady wife.”

He shrugs off the over-familiarity, stepping out of reach. “For a time, perhaps. And in a decade? Two? A princess of the realm has no business playing nursemaid to her husband in his dotage.”

He is older than I, he thinks. And if she is truly considering him above the others, then…

“I might be the eldest of her suitors, yes,” the man says, a tense smile disguising his offense poorly. “But I have a rather substantial inheritance, unlike the Prince Aegon, and my constitution is more… pleasing than the Lord Tyrell, I’m sure.” His mouth curves into a knowing smirk at that, leaving Daemon with no uncertainty as to what he really means. That little— “I would not dismiss Jason Lannister from the competition just yet. She will choose me. I suggest you accustom yourself to reality, Prince Daemon.”

He grunts dismissively, incensed. There is no reply he can give in this moment that won’t incite the Lannisters to break faith with House Targaryen; and so, he chooses to remove himself from the odious man’s presence entirely, stalking past with nary a word of farewell.

You sit where your younger half-sister had a scarce moon’s turn ago, eyes fixed toward your lap, turning an ornament about with your small fingers. As he nears, the lion salient glimmers in the sun, gold against gold in dazzling vulgarity. Of course, he’d gifted her something with his own fucking sigil on it. What a worthless bequest.

When he calls your name, you hardly react. Your gaze flickers up to him for a mere moment before falling once more, resuming your surveyance of the item in your grasp. There is a pensive expression lingering in your frown, the crease in your brow. It tells him all he needs to know of your true feelings for the Lannister lord, regardless of the man’s own delusions.

“Why—you look positively miserable, sweetling,” he says, settling himself beside you. You glance up at him again, sullen pout puffing out your lower lip. Though your disposition is so downtrodden, it is tempting to press his thumb to that lip, to push inside and feel the wet warmth of your tongue pulse against his flesh in a coquettish tease. “Not enjoying being courted? The gifts, the attention, the romance…”

You take the bait beautifully. Starting at his reference to the pendant in your hold, your nostrils flare exasperatedly. “No. No. I—I just—” You stop, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

“Go on,” he cajoles gently, lowly. “Tell Uncle Daemon.”

It is all the encouragement you need. “There is little romance to be found in this—this charade.” You sigh, eyes fixed on some minute detail past his head. He’s struck by the melancholy in your voice. “These men—Lord Jason, Lord Denys, Aegon—they do not want me. They want an idea of me. A Targaryen bride with pale hair and Valyrian blood. One who will give them children they shall make little effort to raise, a silent doll to clasp onto and show off at feasts and balls… as though possessing me is somehow meaningful. They do not—they do not see me.”

It’s here your voice cuts off strangely. He wishes it hadn’t, for he finds himself enthralled by the mournful monologue that paints a picture of the loneliest girl in King’s Landing. There is something yearning and haunted in that saccharine stare of hers, he thinks. A babe with her arms held out, wailing at the world as it leaves her abandoned in the crib. It’s an eerie echo of a conversation that took place a decade prior, though the lead role lacks the infantile petulance of the previous star.

He finds himself retracing those steps almost without realising.

“Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa. Dīnakson toliot, gaoso gaomagon kostas.” He is testing, prodding, waiting for what might result from his efforts. Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like.

The words make your cheeks flush fetchingly and your brow wrinkle once more, glancing back at him apprehensively. Pretty pink girl with a pretty pink blush; how far down does it spread? You swallow—pause—look away, wrestling with a thought. You peep back up at him.

“Se skorverdon jessivo aōt kesrȳsi jiōrtas?” you ask with surprising cynicism. You exhale loudly, staring at some fixed point in the distance. “Ābrazȳri buttā, riñar daor, mērpāves… Tolī jaelan.”

And how much joy did this bring you? you say. A wife you hated, no children, loneliness… I want more. The quiet longing in your voice is palpable.

He grimaces at the mention of his bronze bitch—he’d rather not know how widespread the knowledge of the circumstances around her… accident… had been in the wake of his departure.

“What is it you want, then?” he asks, switching back to the Common Tongue, the corner of his mouth already contorting in anticipation of the naïve response. True love, a happily ever after… We don’t get to have happy endings, he thinks to himself.

“I want someone who loves me,” you say, pressing on crossly at the huff of laughter that escapes him. “I never said I would love him!”

The pessimistic elucidation takes him aback. Again, it is not exactly what he had been expecting. Full of surprises today. He tips his head consideringly at you, inviting you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment.

“I… They say my father loved my mother. I believe it, but—” You swallow, the corners of your mouth turning down as you mull over your words. “They say he had a choice when baby Baelon was born. That he could cut her open to get the babe out, but that it would mean her certain death.”

Gods above. Where in the seven hells had you learned that piece of information? Viserys had kept the circumstances of Aemma’s death under tight wraps, never even deigning to mention it to his own brother. It was pure happenstance that one of the maids he enjoyed fucking at the time had been present on the unfortunate day.

Your eyes glisten as you speak, limpid pools of lilac glowing like fire in the light. “I do not think I could ever choose my own life over my child’s—but they say he did not even ask her, that he just… held her down while they—How could I ever trust a man to raise the babe I bore him if he would be willing to butcher his own wife in her childbed?”

He watches as you clench your eyes tight, set your jaw and exhale a few shuddery breaths. When they blink open, they are no longer so tear-bright. Daemon suddenly admires you for it, for the way you so ruthlessly suppress weakness. He wonders how often you’ve been made to force back your pain for the good of your family.

“What happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, sweetling.” He reaches forward to finally grip your small, pale hand in his. It is cold and dwarfed entirely by his own. “But you cannot live in fear forever.”

You make to pull your hand away. He closes his grip tighter upon it, coercing you to look up at him properly.

“When hope is gone, what choice left is there but fear?” It is a whisper, carried on the breeze, and the thinly veiled misery pains him in the chest, right in his heart.

I thought that beating thing was black and dead by now, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head, smile. The picture of the melancholy maiden fades from view as you affect an appearance of energy once more, gentle and muted as it is. “I know my father loved my mother, and so love is no guarantee of loyalty. But it would be helpful, I think.”

“You see love and loyalty as intertwined, then?” he cannot help but ask. He is intrigued by this rare showing of spirit, of vitality, a resurrection of his baby niece from long ago. It is you, finally—his little girl, only now you possess the curves of a gold-gilded whore and the thousand-year gaze of an ancient, arcane being.

“Do you not?” Your head is tilted like an inquisitive bird’s, artlessly assessing. “You cannot have one without the other. Loyalty without love makes for an easy traitor, and love without loyalty makes for an unhappy marriage.”

He laughs again at the latter part of your pronouncement. A sweet, trusting little filly waiting to be broken in.

“There are many ways to love someone, princess.” He ogles you shamelessly, savouring the affectation of outraged bewilderment painting your countenance. “I imagine you’ll find few of them in the marriage bed.”

He waits for you to question him—to ask him what he means, to ask him to explain, to teach you, show you—but instead, you pull back, taking all the warmth from his palm with you.

“I dislike your implication, Uncle,” you say stiffly, returning your hand to your lap and nestling it between your thighs to retain the heat.

Fuck.

He backtracks raising his hands in a jesting show of defeat. “I meant nothing by it, gevivys.”

Beauty. It is an apt title. An underwhelming one, even. Surely there is little else more beautiful than the sight you make here, now, a rich blush spreading along the unblemished expanse of your chest—regrettably enclosed by pale damask just above the protrusion of your tits—the planes of your throat, not quite travelling up to decorate your cheeks.

You sigh. “You never do.”

Daemon lets the conversation lull, deciding to instead look upon the little revelation before him. You are an interesting puzzle, one whose decorum in the face of his gentle compulsion—that same persuasion he had so often utilised to get fetching girls to strip bare for him and show off their equally-as-fetching cunts—had instead left him lacking. The body of a slut and the mind of a scholar, all wrapped up in wide eyes and honey-sweet words and wild hair the shade of Old Valyria. Of home.

A wild thought seizes him. If he leans forward, he could do it. He could grip you by the back of the neck and pull you to him, press his lips to yours and coax you past your panic and fear and into a hot, sweeping rhythm, a push and pull of tongue and teeth that would set you both alight. And from there, how simple would it be to murmur pretty praise as he lowers you down, raises your skirts up, cleaves you open until your blood wets his cock with the proof of his claim, incontestable, not even by the king himself? The deed would be messy, perhaps distressing and no doubt painful, but it would solve several issues at once. He would be free to do as he likes with his lascivious desires after you are made to wed him, and you would be free from your pitiful suitors and given a husband worthy of you. In time, the hurt and shock and fright would fade, he knows it.

He could. He could. He—

The spell is broken. Your attention is diverted by the yells of a dark-haired boy as he bowls his way to you, throwing himself across your lap with a cry of your name. Daemon tries not to glare at young Lucerys as he tries to roughhouse with you. Having somewhat learned the schedules of his family, it baffles him somewhat that the child is not at his daily lessons. Should Laenor not have him now?

The thought must conjure the man himself, the Velaryon scion appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Laenor’s expression is forbidding as he strides over to you and his son, silver locs swinging with the velocity of each step. With his glare affixed to his face, he reaches a hand down to you in silent command, staring daggers at Daemon all the while.

What the hells is his problem?

You take hold of your goodbrother, bewildered, and allow him to tug you gently from the bench beside Daemon. Lucerys slides from beside you with a rustle, easily revolving around to dart toward the grass. You are already grabbing at the boy’s wrist to stop him running off.

Daemon watches Laenor attempt to rearrange his countenance into something less violent. “Would you take Luke off to the training yards, sister?”

A look of vague incomprehension crosses your face at the question. At least she senses the oddity, too, he acknowledges.

Laenor’s head turns down to where he sits, and it is then that it dawns on him that his nephew-by-marriage has very possibly been watching him stare at his baby niece’s tits for longer than he can claim plausible deniability of.

Ah, shit. The darting, mistrustful gaze suddenly makes sense.

“Of course, Laenor,” you say sweetly, biddably.

Daemon cannot help but wonder what else you might comply with if gently persuaded. He glances up at you from where he sits, smirking as you turn to him.

“It seems we must part for now, sweetling,” he tells you. He ignores Laenor’s grimace from behind you.

“It does.” You shift lightly. It is clear to see that there is something about your shared conversation that has unnerved you. The notion sends a trail of perverse excitement through him. He wonders what other reactions he might prompt out of you with gentle teasing. “I—thank you, Uncle. For listening.”

The words are honest, free of artifice. It is surprisingly warming to hear. When you make to depart, he calls you back.

“What—no goodbye kiss for your beloved uncle this time?” he asks, hoping he’ll bait you into action. He determinedly disregards Laenor’s huff, eyes trained on you as you swallow with trepidation before quickly making the short few steps back to him.

Your knee settles on the seat beside him, clearly meant to be no more than a brief resting place so that you may carry out his implicit request and leave—if not for the way in which your skirts gather around your leg in a manner assured to result in your toppling over should you attempt to rise without fixing them. Daemon turns his head to yours as you free yourself from the tangle. Up close, closer than he would ever dare get usually, he can see each lash that frames your eyes, the hairs that sprout from your brows, the slick cherry bloom of your mouth—a whisper-sweet gather of plump, plush fruit he wants, needs, to take a bite from.

Would you let me, little girl? he wonders.

You gasp, a short little breath of surprise, and lurch away lightly at the closeness. A brave little thing, you return to him, pressing those precious petal-soft lips to the skin of his cheek. Your covered breasts press involuntarily against his arm.

Fucking hells.

“Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Good evening, Uncle, you say in that light little accent of yours, an unintended provocation of his basest yearnings.

With that, you bundle the boy up in your capable little hands and make for your destination, the Cargyll knight falling into formation behind you.

“Care to explain—well, all of that?” Laenor asks.

Oh—yes. Daemon pushes himself from his seat, deliberately stalling while he thinks of a response that isn’t what the fuck how the fuck when the fuck and why.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says idly, slyly, glancing over at him.

“No!” His goodnephew leans forward into his space. He is taken aback by the vehemence in his tone, uncharacteristic of the bumbling, affable man. “You don’t get to do this to her. Not this one. Not this time.”

“Whatever do you think I plan to do to her?” Daemon laughs, wondering at the answer himself.

Whatever would she let me do to her?

Laenor sighs, steps back.

“Look.” He nudges him to walk alongside as they make for the garden’s entry. “She’s not one of your whores, Daemon. She’s just a girl. She’s not the type to play your twisted little games, so leave her be—please.”

He is warmed by the defence of your goodbrother, an admission of familiarity and care that is sure to have flourished since the man’s entrance into the family some years ago.

“What makes you think I have any intention of—how did you put it—playing games with her?” If he were a little less honest with himself, he would be affronted by the manner in which Laenor has jumped straight to an accusation. But Lord Flea Bottom’s reputation is inescapable, even after so many years. “Perhaps my objective is pure and wholesome.”

“Right.” Laenor snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands behind his back. “You’re far more likely to fall in with her horde of suitors than to believably claim familial interest.”

True. And yet… why not? He’s conceived all manner of plots to satiate his wants, from drunken fumbles in the dark to his half-baked impulse from but a moment ago. Unlike his previous conquests, though, he doubts the need will dissipate after a single fuck. You are too important to him—his precious girl turned darkest desire, the only woman he could ever deign to carry on his line with.

Viserys has been pressuring him to seek out a bride. He mightn’t be happy with the prospect of his brother asking for his daughter’s hand, exactly, but there is surely no debate that he is the best contender. Not Jason. Not Denys. Not fucking Aegon. Daemon. And, well, if the asking should go poorly—how simple would it be to whisk you away to Dragonstone, to speak the vows and seal the deed before it can be undone? There is no risk this time, no Iron Throne to lose, no treaty or agreement that cannot be broken…

He can see it now. Your sweet little face peering up at him, marked with his blood, lip dripping red with the pledge of entangling your souls together in savage Valyrian custom. Your pretty little eyes wide with maidenly shock as he breaches your untried cunt, tight and pulsing and hotwetwarm, binding you to him irrevocably. The slow waddling of your gait as you round with child, his child, his sweetest babe bringing forth life of her own, belly ripe with seed and leaking his spend—

“Laenor,” he says slowly, eyes glinting as his lips upturn in a wide grin, “I do believe you have the best ideas.”

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/120880855

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in the comments!

To be on the taglist:

Click here to apply for the general taglist! Click here to apply for the terms of endearment taglist!

[hirunoka]

"You're My Angel"

for @incidentale (Thank you so much for that ask and the inspiration ❤🌻 )

Words: 1323

(Ao3 link in reblog)

Characters: Simon (Dinner in America 2020), Patty (Dinner in America 2020)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, They love each other so much, and I love THEM so much oh God we NEED a sequel, Also we need more fanfictions wtf, inspired by a song

“You know that I’m no angel, right?” Simon half-teases with an arched brow after she is done singing, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close on the bed.

“You’re a fucking angel, you’re my angel. All mine, mine, mine…” she sweetly sings into his ear this time. He can feel her smile against his ear and fuck him if it doesn’t make his heart race and ache like crazy.

Just like every time.

He decides that he’ll die a happy man if he can feel her smile like this every day.

“I’m no angel,” he insists.

“You are. To me. You saved me. You can’t deny that. No matter what you do and say, you’ll be always my angel,” Patty says as she nuzzles his neck and that’s what breaks him finally because fuck, he was no one's, and I mean no one's favourite person before: let alone an angel.

Sure, he had a few loyal fans maybe: fans who thought he was amazing and cool, but what the fuck did they know? They only knew John Q.  And they sure didn’t think he was an angel. Not that he wanted them to. He knew he was no angel, and he wasn’t aiming for being seen as one by anyone. That wouldn’t be very punk of him, right? Right. Fuck angels, anyway.

Simon is not sure who saved who, actually, so he just lets out a dry chuckle and swallows the lump in his throat as the tears he was holding back gently roll down his cheeks.

It’s a weird and holy feeling; being loved oh so much.

He doesn’t think he has been ever loved like this before; so truly, madly and deeply. Yeah he is quoting Savage Garden okay, sue him. Not even by his parents who were supposed to love him. Because that’s what parents did, he used to think. They would love and accept their kid. Well, apparently that was such bullshit.

Patty, on the other hand, loved him without trying to change him: she accepted him as a whole, loved him as a whole.

Being loved by her was a miracle. She was a miracle in his eyes.

Patty, Patty, Patty…

Kind, funny, sweet, sexy, patient, honest, and just his-kind-of-crazy.

They were living together in their small but cozy apartment for the past seven months and nine days, and yet she never ceased to amaze him every single day.

He buries his nose in her soft hair and sighs.

“I’m sure you would figure something out by yourself to save yourself from that pathetic shit that you used to call ‘life’, eventually. You are punk as fuck and smart as hell, after all. I just… made the process go faster. Diamonds don’t stay hidden all their lives. They can’t. They find a way to shine sooner or later somehow.”

“I don’t remember allowing you to make this about me,” she complains and slightly pulls herself away to look at him. Seeing his tears makes her frown, but she doesn’t mention it or asks if he is okay. She leans her forehead against Simon’s instead, her thump caressing the side of his cheek as he closes his eyes in content. “But hey, at least you didn’t deny that you’re mine.”

“I don’t remember askin' for permission. Everything is about you for me now.”

‘There is no me without you anymore,’ he thinks.

“Is that so?”

“Hell yeah,” he nods. When he opens his eyes, Patty looks at him like he has given her the whole wide world. “You see that streetlight?” He points at the streetlight across the street from their window. “Even that is about you,” he whispers. “It helps me to see you better when you’re sleeping. Big fan of that one, I swear. Beautiful warm yellow. Maybe I should write a song about it later. And of fucking course I’m yours, music girlfriend. Always. Hell, I was yours before you even knew it.”

“Ew, babe, you’re sooo cheesy right now. You’re like, as cheesy as mac and cheese, even.”

That makes Simon laugh. Teach Patty a word and voilà, just watch her start using it all the time.

“I’m just fuckin' with you,” she laughs back. “And I’m yours, too, angel,” she adds as she starts pressing soft kisses on his body: first on his naked chest and then his collarbone, shoulder and jaw.

“This better not become a thing,” feeling his cheek heat a little, he mumbles, his hands wandering up and down her sides.

“What? Me calling you ‘angel’? How about… ‘Punk Angel’ ‘Angel of Punk? But nah, I think I love calling you just ‘angel’ more. Sorry not sorry,” she says with a cocky smile that suits her so much that Simon falls in love with her all over again.

He is utterly captivated by her and her affection.

“Did I ever tell you that your voice is as deep as an abyss that I wouldn’t mind falling into for the rest of my life, angel?”

That sounds like a promise somehow and Simon’s heart suddenly skips a beat. He hopes and wishes it’s a promise because he would give everything for Patty to stay by his side for the rest of his life.

It makes him feel selfish to want her that much even when he has her now, though. He cannot help but feel like one day she will realize she can do better than him and then decide to leave his sorry ass because God knows she deserves better.

Even imagining that makes him feel like dying so he tells his brain to stop thinking such things and focus on the moment they are in instead.

“And you call me cheesy. Oh God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Goddess, you mean, am I right or am I right?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, you adorable and sexy Punk Goddess.”

Satisfied with his answer, she locks their lips together finally. Simon kisses her back like her lips are oxygen and he is a dying astronaut.

“Don’t be surprised if I steal your idea about that The Streetlight song,” Patty lets him know when they pull away eventually. “I think I can pull it off before Saturday and sing it for you at my concert.”

“I have no doubt you could,” holding her close, he yawns and agrees as she lies on his chest.

“Now hush, I gotta watch you sleep while the streetlight accompanies me.”

“Whaa— You creep.”

“What can I say? You’re my inspiration, angel. And don’t act like I don’t catch you watching me sleep nearly every morning.”

“Who? Me? You can prove nothing,” he denies.

“Uh-huh, sure. Sweet dreams.”

“Being with you is like a sweet dream anyway, I need nothing else.”

And with that, he let himself start falling into the warm embrace of sleep. At this point he cannot even remember how he used to sleep alone before he met her.

“He sleeps soundly by her side, without a care,

While she traces his features with a loving stare.

In the quiet of the night, they're alone,

With the streetlight as their silent chaperone,” just when he is about to fall asleep, he vaguely hears Patty singing quietly.

“Sweet streetlight, keep shining bright

As I watch my angel through the night.

Guide him with your gentle light,

In this moment, everything feels right.”

“Wow, you’re fast. That terribly sounds like a gospel for some reason though,” he makes an honest comment, ignoring the way how it made him feel warm inside despite it really sounding like a gospel.

“Shh, I’m just warming up, ignore it. Sleep.”

Simon chuckles and does as he is told after planting a kiss on her forehead and whispering: “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my angel,” is the last thing he hears before falling asleep with a slight smile on his face.

He thinks he can get used to that.

[writerpey]

Regressor!Ellie Williams Headcanons

I’ve loved tlou literally forever, and I decided to finally write something about little ellie because tlou 2 remastered just released! I wanted to write about how ellie first started regressing & how the people in her life embraced that side of her. I have more of 17-20ish yr old ellie in mind, but if you only like the show there’s no major spoilers in here for season 2!

After David, Ellie was never the same again. He took the last of her childhood and innocence from her in the blink of an eye, and she was left with an unexplainable hurt that settled deep within her chest. As Joel scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead after everything happened, she had a longing to feel that way when everything felt like it was too much.

Getting used to living in the safety of Jackson was tough for Ellie. She was used to being on guard for all of her life, the QZ a gruelling place to grow up for a little girl, let alone the harshness of the journey her and Joel took across the States.

She first started regressing a year after settling in Jackson. Things were different when she began to let go of the guard she constantly had up, and movie nights with Joel were one of many instances that made her feel small. When he put an old VCR that played cartoons on one night, she sat in quiet awe, eyes wide and sparkling at the images onscreen. Joel noticed, of course, his heart lifting with bittersweet memories of Sarah cross-legged in front of the TV on Saturday mornings.

Cartoons became a regular basis for the pair, and as the weeks passed Joel noticed a pointed change in Ellie. Her familiar humour and giggles, which he hadn’t heard since David, made a noticeable return. Ellie started to show up on Joel’s back porch, fingers twisting in her shirt, asking if he had found any more to watch.

As time went on, Ellie became less hesitant about this part of herself that she had tucked away for so long. Sometimes Tommy would show up to her little shed in Joel’s backyard, new Savage Starlight comics in his arms as she practically vibrated on the spot and thanked him with a hug that nearly knocked him over.

Her regression is in general is a very unspoken but known thing. Ellie doesn’t have any word for it, but as she grows into her inherent little-ness, she is always aware of how much Joel, Tommy, and Maria encourage and help her through the way she’s feeling. That’s not to say every moment is perfect— for one, she felt like Joel was watching over her too much as she got older. She started ranting to Dina about how there was some secret plot between Joel and Tommy to keep her away from Jackson’s regular patrols, and it turned out she was right.

Just because I get… That way sometimes, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself! You need to trust me.

Then Ellie, you need to tell me when you’re feelin’ younger. I can’t be sure unless you make it clear to me.

After a while, Ellie learned to tell Joel when she felt small. Once she was busy on her gardening shift at the greenhouses and couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Jesse was in her ear talking about Dina, the shift manager was frowning at how slow she was repotting tomatoes, and Ellie threw her gloves off and left in a frazzled hurry. She found Joel at the Tipsy Bison eating lunch, and practically threw herself into the chair across from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

I’m all— I’m all… My head’s all fuzzy today.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at her and set his fork down. Y’need some takin’ care of, then?

Ellie sunk low in her chair as if to physically escape from the conversation. If she wasn’t so conscious of how small she felt, she would’ve slid all the way down and hid under the table to get away from the fact that Joel was making her admit to her regression. … Yeah.

Ain’t you supposed to be workin’ your shift right now? C’mon girl, let’s get you back there. I’ll help and then we can read some of those comics you like so much together.

Ellie reached out and took Joel’s hand as they went back to the greenhouses together, tucking herself in close to his side. Jesse ruffled her hair upon her return, and she slapped his hand away and shot daggers at him with her eyes.

Maria and Ellie took to cooking together at times when the girl felt small but Joel was busy with town duties. Ellie wasn’t allowed to measure any ingredients—not after she assumed salt made everything taste better and dumped a whole bunch into the soup Maria left to simmer. But Maria, ever patient and kind, tasked Ellie to stir and mix whatever they cook or bake.

Ellie loves to spend time with Tommy, too. When her anxiety spikes and she’s full of energy that has her bouncing on the spot, Tommy is the best person to help her work out her energy. Little Ellie loves a good game of tag, the simplicity of chasing Tommy around outside bringing a warm and happy flush to her cheeks. Competitive in nature, Ellie really makes him run, catching on immediately if he’s let her win on purpose. She also gets very pouty and fussy when Joel refuses to join their games of tag, saying he’s too old for that kind of thing anymore.

Dina, on the other hand, brings out a softer side of Ellie when she’s regressed. Tender touches from the girl and kisses on the cheek make Ellie’s heart race, and she catches herself feeling small when she doesn’t expect to around Dina. Dina gifted Ellie a plush giraffe when they started dating, and Ellie immediately started sniffling, touched by the gesture and unaware that Dina had known about how she felt small sometimes.

Hey, hey, don’t cry. What, you don’t like it? Should I take it back? Dina had gently teased, only to be met with a teary and insistent sentence that no, Ellie loved it!

Ellie brought the giraffe to her next movie night with Joel. He wanted to cry too, but smiled warmly at her and kissed the crown of her head, pulling her into an embrace that she had gotten used to over the years.

Now ain’t that somethin’, Ellie. Y’give it a name?

Ellie gasped. You can do that?

[heavyhitterheaux]

Cold Water Part 3

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: There's only so much that First Lady can take before she breaks

Synopsis: You and Urban are still at odds and you try to occupy your time to take your mind off of it. Everything gets to be too much and you find yourself needing not only your husband, but your best friend. The question is does he want to reconcile with you too?

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Read part 1 and part 2 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

As promised, Jack had taken you to both London and Paris to get your mind off of everything that had been happening around you as of lately. He was being supportive as always and was trying to do everything that he could possibly think of in order for you and Urban to apologize to each other. He admits that the argument that he had with Urban had him at a loss for words and he couldn’t quite understand why Urban wasn’t trying to hear you out and give you a chance to explain yourself. That wasn’t like him at all. 

You had not only distanced yourself from Urban, but from the rest of PG as well. You knew that anywhere that Jack went, Urban would be following right along with him and PG and you were trying to ease the tension as much as possible. So that resulted in spending more time away from them as much as they wanted you to be there with them. As of lately you had been spending more time with your sister since she was now a part of your management team, your best friend Saweetie when she wasn’t in the studio or performing, Lil Nas X, Druski, Drake, 21 Savage, and EST Gee since those are people that your husband would approve of. People such as your fans were also beginning to notice the tension between you and Urban. The two of you would always be together and all of a sudden you weren’t. 

Most recently, Jack, along with Urban and Private Garden went home to Louisville while you went to 21 Savage’s birthday party along with Lizzo.

When PG saw the pictures and videos on your instagram, they couldn’t help but to feel some type of way about it. They would constantly be asking for you to go to places with you and you steadily declined.

Liked by jackharlow, privategarden, saweetie, champagnepapi, estgee, lilnasx, druski2funny, 2forwoyne and 3,493,028 others

y/ninsta: Freak Nik 2022! happy birthday honey 21savage!! 😘

jackharlow: y/ninsta I swear I love when you rock the short hair 😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow thank you my smush 🥰

saweetie: MY BITCHES ATEEEEEEE!!!!

danivalentine: I’m surprised you didn’t upload the twerk video lol

jackharlow: danivalentine WHAT TWERK VIDEO? y/ninsta WIFEYYYY SEND IT TO ME NEOW! 

y/ninsta: jackharlow sending it now baby 😉

druski2funny: y/ninsta send it to me too!

jackharlow: druski2funny I’ll kick your ass, go away

21savage: appreciate you for coming mamas!

2forwoyne: y/ninsta we miss you!

shloob_: y/ninsta there is a short rib with my name on it. I’ve been starving!

druski2funny: y/ninsta thank you for my personal pan of mac and cheese

lilnasx: druski2funny WHAT? y/ninsta why does he get one and I don’t?!?!

y/ninsta: lilnasx I got you baby

champagnepapi: y/ninsta I see why jackharlow hides you along with PG, that cooking is top tier

quiiso: y/ninsta still waiting on my strawberry cheesecake! I put my order in weeks ago!

y/ninsta: quiiso soon lol

claybornharlow: y/ninsta your baby misses you. are you coming to Louisville?

jackharlow: claybornharlow yes her baby does miss her and I am NOT talking about you

y/ninsta: Now, now. There’s enough of me for everyone my loves

jackharlow: y/ninsta do I need to remind you what happened the last time you said that? 😐

y/ninsta: jackharlow but you know I only have eyes for you 😘

And to make matters worse, Urban was flat out ignoring you.

Every time that you would attempt to call him or send him a text, he never answered but you could see how he was reading them.

So, you stopped trying all together.

You didn’t tell Jack because the last thing that you wanted to happen was for more tension to arise since the two of them were now kind of at odds as well. 

It was now reaching the end of October, and you had flown back to Atlanta so that you could visit her.

Her as in your best friend, Autumn.

Every year you made sure to celebrate her birthday and to visit her to update her about your life and what had been going on.

You just wished that she was here to see it and experience it with you.

The drive to the cemetery was a short one and when you and Jack had bought your house in Atlanta, you had done that on purpose. In order to be close to her.

From the time you were three, you and Autumn were inseparable. She was two years older than you and you looked at her like another big sister. You lived next to each other and that was all she wrote. The two of you did everything together, walked to the bus stop in the mornings and in the afternoon, did your homework together and she would help you, and when people would tease you since you happened to be the smallest in your class, Autumn was always quick to defend you. You were always quiet and didn’t bother anyone, Autumn made sure that she quickly put a stop to people messing with her best friend. 

You had no idea what you would do without her until well… you had to do without her.

You had just parked your car when you had gotten a facetime call from Jack and you immediately smiled. Even though it seemed like you were going through actual hell at the moment, he could always manage to put a smile on your face and you were thankful for that.

“Hi smush” You answered while attempting to give him a small smile. Jack could tell that it didn’t reach your eyes and you were putting on a front for him. 

“How’s my baby girl doing?”

“I’m okay. Did you have fun last night?”

“I did, and I could ask you the same thing, I saw the pictures, but I just wish you were here with me.”

You didn’t even answer the last part.

“I need to borrow that Louisville sweatshirt, it looks so comfy.”

“The red and black one? Here you go stealing my clothes.”

“Yes, and how is it stealing when what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine?”

“I’m not even going to fight you on it, mamas. I already know when I get certain things that I’ll only be able to wear it once and then it somehow mysteriously ends up on your side of the closet.”

“Exactly because you know that you’ll lose and they just wander over to my side. Not my fault.”

“What are you up to? Where are you?”

“Oh, I just wanted to take a drive. It’s really nice outside today.”

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yes, babe. But I’m fine. I’m aware of my surroundings, I promise.”

“Just be careful, you know I don’t like it when you don’t have someone with you.”

“I know, but I’m meeting up with Danielle and Nicole later.”

“Okay, you let me know when you get back home, okay? I love you.”

“I will and I love you more.”

After hanging up with Jack, you grabbed the balloons and teddy bear from your backseat and started to make your way over to where she was buried. 

You placed your blanket down to be able to sit and then set everything on top of it.

“Autumn, it’s been a while but I know you understand why I don’t come as often. It seems like all I do is cry when I do anyway and I know you don’t want that. I always make sure to come on your birthday though. That’s never going to change. So life update, Urban is pissed at me and not speaking to me because he doesn’t understand why I’m so protective of him. I feel as though if he did, he wouldn’t act that way towards me. I have already lost one best friend and I refuse to lose another one all because I didn’t speak up when I noticed that something was wrong. I love him and care about him so much, but all he is stuck on is me ruining every relationship that he has been in. I wish I would have gotten you away from him when I had the chance. I know that you don’t blame me for what happened, but I still can’t help but to feel guilty about it. I just…. I would do anything for you to be able to experience this life with me. I always say that you and Jack would have gotten along and had been best friends. In a way, I think that you sent him to me to protect me seeing as you wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. The timing is literally crazy. How is it that I meet him on the first anniversary of you leaving me? But, no one really knows about you. Not even Jack. I feel as though I should tell him about you since he noticed that every year around when October is about to end, I get sad and there’s a day where I don’t do anything but spend time with you. He has no idea that I even come here. But anyway, I went and did our usual! The mani-pedi, the whole spa treatment day, I went and bought all of our favorite snacks and I’m going to watch our favorite movies and eat them later. I just, Autumn, I don’t know what to do and I wish you were here to make all of this better. You always had an answer for everything and you were always so wise beyond your years. I could really use a hug from you right now, you did always give the best ones”

Just then there was a small gust of wind and you could have swore that you caught a whiff on Autumn’s favorite perfume that she would always wear.

“I… I know that was you. That was always your favorite perfume and I actually bought a bottle of it. But, I only wear it on special occasions. I think the last time I wore it was when me and Jack got married and that was almost five years ago. Just so I could have a piece of you with me that day. So, what else is happening? Well I’m nominated for a shit ton of AMA’s and so is Jack, I recently finished my tour and Jack finished his too. We’ve also been trying to figure out where we want to spend most of our time when I get pregnant. We’re leaning towards Kentucky since it seems like that’s where everyone is, but I’ll still come and visit you. Don’t think I’ll forget about you. And we’re also going to have our big wedding in December and I cannot wait for that. Oh and I came with gifts! I got you some balloons and I got you a teddy bear. Can’t believe you’ve been gone for ten close to eleven years now. But, I promise to keep going no matter what because I know that’s what you would have wanted me to do. I’ll be back soon, okay? I love you.”

—

“Urban?” Curse said while trying to get his attention. She hated the tension that was being the two of you and was trying to do her best to get you two to forgive each other. She felt that if she had never come into the picture that this would have never happened and didn’t want to be the cause of the two of you not being friends anymore. 

“Yes?”

“You need to talk to your best friend.”

“No, because I don’t have shit to say to her.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Yasmin!”

“No, no and NO! The two of you have been friends for ten years and you need to give her a chance to explain why she’s so protective over you since uh NONE OF YOU HAVE. All of you just jumped down her damn throat and cornered her and that was not fair! How can you be mad at her when you don’t even have the full story?”

“There is literally no excuse for her acting how she does.”

“And you know that, how?”

“Like I said she always acts as if the world revolves around her and if she doesn’t get her way she has a damn fit.”

“But how can you get mad when you would literally go right along with her shit too? You would always be right there in the thick of it. You and Jack. And oh, the way you talked to him on the phone a few weeks ago? What the fuck was that? Like the level of disrespect you were showing to her and to him are unacceptable. THEY’RE YOUR BEST FRIENDS.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Well, newsflash Wyatt, I’M NOT. Because you’re the one that’s in the wrong. Jack should have kicked your ass for disrespecting her and I just might do it myself!”

“So it doesn’t bother you that we probably wouldn’t still be together if left up to her?”

“You are so dramatic and you need to give her the benefit of the doubt. So here’s my thing. Do not talk to me until you have talked to her first and have made up because the last thing that I’m going to do is come in between a friendship that has lasted as long as the two of you have.”

“WHAT?!”

“Your phone is right there. Call her.”

“But…”

—

Jack had convinced you to come to Louisville to spend time with him and PG and you had finally agreed. 

You just didn’t want to have to run into Urban even though you knew that it was inevitable.

All of PG was staying at you and Jack’s house and since it was so big, you kind of had a plan in order to be able to avoid him.

You had been there for a few hours and PG had been excited to see you when you had walked in the door. Shloob actually didn’t let you go for several minutes earning Jack to be annoyed with him.

All of you would be going to a football game later so you were simply laying down in your room trying to distract yourself with watching videos on tik tok when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You replied and Urban slowly walked into the room.

“Uh hey.”

“Hi.” You responded while barely glancing at him.

“Can we talk?”

“Not if you’re going to yell at me and dismiss me. If that’s the case you can turn right back around.”

“I want for this to be over with and I want to give you a chance to explain since I literally never did and Yasmin threatened me. I already talked to Jack so the only one left is you.”

You sighed before responding and Urban sat down next to you.

“I had a best friend before you when I lived in Atlanta and before I moved to Louisville. Her name was Autumn.”

“Was?” Urban asked while looking at you.

“She was two years older than me. We did everything together and we were very protective of each other. People would tend to pick on me in school because I was the smallest and of course Autumn would be right there to kick their ass. When I was 13 and she was 15 she started seeing this guy who happened to be a bit older than her. He always rubbed me the wrong way, but she was happy and I didn’t want to ruin that. Long story short, she wanted to go to a party with him and I said okay and she wanted for me to cover for her and say that we were having a sleepover at my house. They went to the party, he got drunk, she was tipsy herself so didn’t think too much of it as they were getting ready to leave. It was a head on collision and he was going almost 120 miles an hour. It literally happened a block up from our street. If I would have said something then she would probably still be here. That’s why I’m so protective of all of you, especially you. I’m not losing anyone else.”

“I… why didn’t you tell me?” Urban asked in disbelief trying to comprehend what you were saying. 

“I don’t like talking about it for obvious reasons and you really didn’t give me a chance to explain, you just shut me out.”

“But that’s important, Y/N. You’ve carried that for eleven years! Does Jack even know?”

“No.”

“Then who does know?!”

“Danielle, Nicole, my parents, and now you.”

“Y/N…..”

“It’s fine, Urban.”

“No, it’s not fine!”

“What are you going to do? Bring her back? Nothing will ever be able to fix this and it’s all my fault.”

“But, it’s not your fault!”

“Yes it is. Because I didn’t say anything. The look that her parents gave me when I was explaining everything to the police? They would have rather seen me dead because of what I did or in this case what I didn’t do.”

“You were a literal child, thirteen.”

“They didn’t care. Her mother looked at me in actual disgust and said it. ‘It should have been you instead of her’. Of course my parents weren’t having it and it was just a mess. I’m done talking about this. I can’t…”

You felt your eyes watering and immediately hopped up to lock yourself in the bathroom and Urban was quick to follow behind you.

You had closed the door and locked it before he could get to you. 

“Y/N, come on just…”

“No, Urban. Just…. I hope you forgive me but I need to be by myself right now.”

“Of course I forgive you and I’m sorry for how I acted. That is literally the last thing you need! I’m always here for you, you know that!”

“As of lately you haven’t been!”

“I.. I know and I’m trying to do everything I can to make it right. I’m sorry I shut you out when you needed me the most. I hope you can forgive me for that. I am always ready to kick someone’s ass when they make you cry, but I’m the one that has been the cause lately.”

You didn’t answer and Urban could hear your faint cries from behind the door and couldn’t help but to feel like shit. 

The football game was underway and you were hanging out with Danielle and Nicole as Jack, Urban and everyone else was on the sidelines.

Jack knew that Urban was going to attempt to talk to you and decided to ask how it went since neither of you had told him anything.

“Urb?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you and baby girl good now?”

“Yes I think so, but….”

Urban was hesitant, but he knew that he had to be honest with his other best friend.

“But what?”

“I… it’s not my place to say what she told me. Just.... you need to talk to your wife.”

“Okayyyy is it good or bad?”

“Jack, you just have to ask her about it but I will say that I’m really worried about her. She’s been holding onto that too long and shouldn’t have had to carry that by herself. Safe to say that I felt even more shitty when she told me and she is definitely putting on a front right now. She’s hurting.”

“I’ll make sure to talk to her tonight after we leave and I can tell. She keeps saying that she’s fine, but I know better.”

Meanwhile, you were trying to stay warm as the sun had gone down and regretting your outfit choice. Jack noticed and quickly embraced you.

“Too busy wanting to be cute and not thinking about being warm, huh?”

“Shut it, Jackman. You like the view so stop it.”

“I admit that I do.” Jack responded while leaning down to kiss you.

“Ohh, I need another one.” You said reaching up to meet him halfway.

“Will you two stop trying to make children in front of my eyes?”

“Nicole!”

“Did I lie?!”

You rolled your eyes and simply ignored her as you wrapped your arms tighter around your husband.

“Mmm, you’re so warm.”

“Baby girl?” Jack leaned down to whisper in your ear so that only you would be able to hear him.

“Hmm?”

“I think my wife deserves a nice warm bath when we leave so she can sleep better.”

“Only if you join me.”

“Say less, my baby. I’ll make sure to warm you right up.”

“HEY! WHAT ARE YALL WHISPERING ABOUT OVER THERE?”

“GROWN FOLKS BUSINESS, NICOLE, DAMN!” Jack yelled back at her and she rolled her eyes.

“You got one nosey ass older cousin. I swear she has it out for me.”

“As long as you don’t mess up she’ll leave you alone.”

“I highly doubt that and tell Clay to stop making faces behind me.”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW?!”

“We’ve literally been brothers for how long? I’ve learned your tricks and back up from my baby.”

“Y/N, you know I can get the divorce papers drawn up right now so you can sign them.”

“CLAY! REMOVE YOURSELF!”

“Leave my favorite Harlow child alone!”

“Mamas, I flew you down here to see ME, not him!”

“Oh, I thought it was a 2 for 1 type of situation.”

“BABY!”

“Love you smush.”

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t.”

“Lies you tell and oh can you make me some hot chocolate when we get home?!”

Jack couldn’t make a lot of things, but knowing how much you loved hot chocolate, when he was eighteen he perfected it for you. If he doesn’t make it, you don’t drink it and yours was never as good as his.

“You want me to do what? After you, Clay, and Nicole want to terrorize me? See yourself out Mrs. Harlow.”

Just then you leaned up to whisper in Jack’s ear.

“I’ll let you facefuck me.” Just then Jack’s eyes went wide and he got a small smirk on his face. 

“What flavor you want? Caramel? White chocolate?”

—

As promised, Jack had made your hot chocolate and you requested caramel tonight and white chocolate tomorrow. Now your back was resting against Jack’s chest in the bathtub of the master bedroom in a comfortable silence until Jack broke it.

“Baby girl?”

“Yes, smush?”

“I asked Urban earlier if the two of you were okay and he said for the most part yes, but that there was something else. He wouldn’t tell me because he thought that it wasn’t his place to do so and that he’s worried about you.”

You were quiet and didn’t say anything.

“Mamas? I want for you to be okay and I know that you aren’t, I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

“Her name was Autumn.”

“Was?”

“She was my best friend in Atlanta before I moved to Kentucky. We lived next door to each other, although she was two years older than me we were inseparable. I was the smallest in my grade and if anyone said anything about it she would be quick to defend me. We were extremely close and did everything together. I remember us planning out our weddings and how we would be each other’s maid of honor and name our first born after each other. We were going to go to college together, have an off-campus apartment. Literally everything was planned out. So, when I was thirteen and she was fifteen, she started seeing this guy. I didn’t really like him and he was a bit older than her. I never said anything because she was so happy and I didn’t want to ruin anything for her. So, one night there was a party and he had invited her to go. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him so I declined. I would cover for her saying that she was sleeping over my house so that she would be able to go. He got drunk and so did she and he made an attempt to drive back to my house to drop her off. He was going 120 miles an hour and crashed only a block away from where we lived and she died on impact, while he lived. That is why I am so protective of all of you, but especially Urban. I lost one best friend before and I don’t plan on losing another one, all because I didn’t speak up when I could tell that something was wrong. Our house in Atlanta is close to where she’s buried and I did that on purpose to be close to her. At the end of October every year, I go and visit her and do all of our favorite things and watch all of our favorite movies. That’s why I go missing and you see that I’m sad. That’s where I was when you called me the other day. I talk to her and update her about what’s going on and I just wish she could have gotten to experience this life with me. You have Urban and all I want is to have Autumn.  I mentioned the other day that I feel that she sent you to me to protect me when she no longer could. We met on the first anniversary of her death. And remember that dream I had? When I mentioned that it showed our wedding and we hadn’t even met yet? Autumn was literally in it smiling at me. Sorry to put all of this on you. Danielle had been encouraging me to tell you, but I wasn’t ready. I hate talking about this and you obviously understand why. Her mother actually looked at me after I got done explaining what happened to the police and said that she wished that it was me that got killed instead.”

“Y/N, first of all never apologize. I’m here for you, always here for you. You’re my wife and I want for you to be okay. I can understand why you never mentioned this because it’s a lot but keep in mind that I’m always here to listen to you and I’m never going to turn you away. You were thirteen and the fact that an adult is wishing death on you? It makes more sense why you’re so protective and why when certain things happen you blame yourself even if it had nothing to do with you. I see why Urb said he was worried about you and he mentioned feeling even more shitty after you had told him.”

“I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know, mamas.” Jack answered while placing a kiss on your temple.

“I know she doesn’t blame me or anything since she visits me in my dreams periodically and has told me herself but I can’t help but to blame myself.”

“Knowing what you just told me, that is probably the last thing she wants. She would want you to pursue all of those promises that you made to one another.”

“I know.”

“How about this? You make Autumn your maid of honor for our wedding in December and we’ll have a special place for her.”

“Really?”

“Of course, baby. She’s important to you so she’s important to me.”

“The next time I visit her I have to thank her for bringing me to you.”

“How about I come with you?”

“I know she would love to meet you.”

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, privategarden, lilnasx, saweetie, danivalentine, sza, theestallion, and 5,283,032 others

y/ninsta: my sweet Autumn, I hope I’m making you proud. This is one of my favorite pictures of us. I promise to keep pursuing my dreams and to keep the promises that we once made each other. Not one day passes when I don’t think of you and think about what the future would have held for us. It’s getting easier to talk about you, but eleven years feels like yesterday to me. Thank you for sending jackharlow and privategarden to protect me when you weren’t able to do it yourself anymore. 

Continue to rest in peace to the best friend that I could have ever asked for.

I love you and hope it won’t be too much longer until we see each other again 💖

Comments on this post have been disabled 

Taglist 

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow 

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jacksmoviestar

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@tynesharandolph8633-blog

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@jackmansbabymama

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@toocriticalharlow​

@meyocoko​

[nikethestatue]

The Agreement

Chapter 4

Azriel, Lord Night, Duke of Velaris

For fuck’s sake–she is so beautiful, he is having trouble thinking straight.

Those magnificent brown eyes and the lush pink cheeks, the ugly, ill-fitting dress and the cheap hat–it was the whole package. She is mesmerising. Addictive. Beguiling.

For someone who blushed at every turn and knew nothing about carnal fornication (her words), Elain Archeron could tempt a saint.

Trying to control his breathing, his nonchalant appearance and his detachment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her even for a moment, no matter how he tried. The more she talked–and is she mouthy!--the more he craved. More questions, more challenges, more arguments. Definitely more antiquated terms for sexual activity. He wanted everything. He wanted her adorable attitude and her confusion and her uncertainty. 

She was magical.

As Goethe once said ‘Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen’, and watching Elain Archeron in action was proving that sentiment to be correct. This was a strange, fearless, stupid girl, who believed in herself and her course of action so firmly, she was willing to risk everything.

Did Azriel want to stop her? He was rich. He could give her the ten thousand, no questions or agreements needed. He could just make it all happen for her.

But he was selfish.

So selfish.

And he did not want to stop her. He wanted her for himself. 

Borderline deranged now with his desire for her.

He seriously considered taking out his cock from his trousers and plunging inside of her, virginity be damned.

Pushing her down on all fours, holding her neck to the pillow and fucking her ruthlessly.

He wanted to bite her.

Mark her. 

Claim her.

Sink his teeth into her neck like a savage. Like a beast. 

He needed for her to scream his name, as she climaxed for the first time in her life. When it was he who was giving her pleasure. 

He wanted to come deep inside of her womb–the womb he already thought of as his.

Dominate her.

Make her submit.

Slow down, Lothario, he willed himself. This poor girl has no idea what she is getting herself into. 

“I want kissing, flowers and pastries.”

Azriel turned his head and looked at Elain, who stood with her hands on her small hips. She was blushing, as usual, her cheeks like two blossoming roses, and her eyes were blazing with defiance.

“Pardon?” he frowned at her odd words.

“Yes, those are the things that I want,” she declared firmly. Then, she waved a stack of papers, which he recognised to be their agreement. “I added them, and I want them to be on here properly.”

“Tell me again, what is it you want?” he requested, his heart jumping with elation. If she was wanting to add something to the agreement, did that mean that she was considering it?

“I am entitled to kissing,” she told him. 

“Mmmm, alright,” he nodded, trying to hide his smirk. She was so insistent about it, but little did she know that he was planning on kissing her. A lot. Everywhere. “How much kissing?” he pushed.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “but a lot. I think that I should like kissing.”

“I don’t see a problem with that. Kissing it is. What else?”

She came closer, still blazing with embarrassment and excitement, but went on,

“I would like flowers. The same as you gave me today…I like flowers very much, and I would like for you to give them to me,” she glanced at him hopefully and he patted himself on the back internally. He was right to bring her the bouquet, and her interest in flowers was obvious, considering that she decorated her hat with them and wore a little brooch too. 

“It would be my pleasure to give you flowers,” he agreed, his expression soft. She was his own pretty little blossom. His flower.

“Thank you,” she breathed happily.

He extended his hand and took hers, clasping her fist in his. He’d noticed a plethora of various scars on her small but firm little hands and he figured that they were probably from gardening, unless she was terribly unfortunate with her cooking knives.

“Do you like to garden?” he asked then, skimming his thumb over the pale skin of her hand. His own hand seemed so much rougher than hers; massive, dark, scarred. But, somehow, at least in his opinion, it looked fitting wrapped around hers, holding her protectively.

She nodded once, her eyes downcast.

“I love it,” she murmured. “It’s one of my pleasures in life–watching things grow, toiling in the soil, seeing the fruits of my labour. It’s been a hobby of mine since I was young…Now, we don’t have much space for flowers. And everything I grow, we sell at the market.”

He didn’t offer any comments, or pity, or promises. He simply stated,

“I have a fine garden at the house. If you wish to garden, it’s yours.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she grinned at him happily and bit her lower lip, trying to stifle her excitement. In turn, it did all sorts of exciting things to him, but of a more….carnal nature. 

He wanted to see that same excitement directed at him. Wanted that lip biting to happen when he entered her. Wanted to hear the sweet noises that she would make when he moved inside of her. 

“And did I hear pastries?” he cocked his brow and then smirked. She tried to pull her hand out of his, but he wouldn’t allow it, and kept it securely in his grasp. 

“I like pastries very much, and I would like to have them,” she jutted her chin out, proud and adorable. “All sorts of pastries! With cream and berries and chocolate,”

“Oh?”

“Not lardy cake or trifle, but French patisserie.”

He kept his amusement to himself, “Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord. Baba au Rhum is my very favourite! But I love eclairs as well, and of course a fine millefeuille is divine!”

Azriel was watching her with delight–he enjoyed seeing her light up, become enthusiastic about something–even if it was just pastry–and speak passionately about it.

“You ought to know, Miss Archeron,” he went so far as to thread their fingers together, for which he received a small, but audible gasp of surprise and maybe even pleasure, from her. “I am a man of simple tastes, but I do love a pudding,”

“You do, my lord? What is your favourite?” she asked immediately.

“I enjoyed Eton Mess, if I am being honest,” he said, a bit shyly. “When I was in Eton College, it was traditionally served during the annual cricket match against Harrow School. Are you familiar with it?”

Elain nodded and recalled, “My father is an Old Etonian. I believe he predates the pudding, but I know it’s meringue, cream and berries.”

“It is indeed.”

She chewed her plump lower lip again, her brow furrowed with some concerning thought, until she offered,

“Would you like me to make it for you?”

He was taken aback, something he didn’t expect to happen during his conversation with her.

“Miss Archeron, you are not required to cook for me!” he protested, though somewhere, deep down, the idea of her cooking their meals very much appealed to him. It was something domestic and he hasn’t had a real sense of family in a very long time. He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe never.

“But what if I wish to? I am a good cook,” she began pleading her case, needlessly, as if he had anything against it. “I cook all our meals at home. And I enjoy baking, though it’s not something that I can do frequently as we have no stove.”

“If that is your wish, then so be it,” he decided simply. 

Glancing at the stack of papers in her hand, he nodded towards it and asked,

“What have you for me there, Miss Archeron?”

She exhaled and handed him the agreement.

“It’s signed,” she told him. 

There was a veritable jolt of excitement and thrill inside his chest at her words. 

He actually couldn't believe her words, so stupidly, he looked at the pages and saw her signature.

“I want you to sign,” she ordered primly, “and I want a copy.”

“Of course, Miss Archeron.”

He reached for the pen and ink on the desk and immediately signed, making sure that she didn’t change her mind. He hurried through the document, initialling where needed, signing off on her ridiculous additions, and agreeing to everything. Was this because he was lonely? Attracted to her? Smitten? Needing an heir? Fuck if he knew, and he didn’t want to analyse his need either, but whatever it was, he didn’t feel miserable for the first time in a long time. He felt hopeful. 

He wasn’t even exactly sure what he wanted from all of this?

And maybe, it was just as simple and as pathetic as having someone to come home to, who’d be there, with a hot meal, glad to see him.

Jesus Christ. This was just terrible–the fact that he devolved so much that he was getting excited over borrowing a pretty girl’s womb and making her live with him for money. He never expected to reach this point, but here he was.

And yet, this pretty girl was the silver lining in this entire deranged affair. 

“Thank you, Miss Archeron,” he said at last and extended his hands to her.

She gazed at him with those chocolate eyes of hers and then shook his hand tentatively.

“You may call me Elain now,” she told him. “You’ve said it a couple of times already. I think you may continue.”

“Well thank you,” he inclined his head, watching her. “May I ask what made you sign it? Was it the pastries? Or the kissing?”

She snorted adorably and informed him breezily, “I signed it last night already!”

“Have you?”

“Yes, but I wanted to add some points.”

“And you came up with flowers and pastries?” He scratched his cheek. “You could've asked for anything and I would’ve obliged.”

“What’s fair is fair, my lord,” she shrugged. “And I got what I wanted.”

Azriel folded the agreement and put it in his jacket pocket, before rising to his feet. 

“Shall we be on our way?” he asked.

Elain stared at him in alarm, her eyes wide with concern.

“N-now?” she mumbled.

He tried not to smile, and said, “yes, now. Or do you prefer we stay at this inn?”

Panicked, she gnawed at her lip.

“Buu-t,” she tried again, but Azriel said, “go get your things, Miss Archeron, and then we can get you settled in quickly.”

Hanging her head, she whispered, “Alright, sir,” and went into the bedroom. Azriel paced the salon, feeling buoyant. Giddy. Thrilled. And amused. Teasing the lovely Miss Archeron was fast becoming one of his favourite things to do.

It took her less than five minutes to emerge from the bedroom carrying her satchel. She was still wearing her hat, and there was no jacket in sight. She didn't dress according to the London fashions. Her dresses were provincial, and most women in the city did not wear dresses in the morning. However, Azriel suspected that she simply did not have skirts or blouses. It was cheaper to buy or make one item of clothing, instead of having separates. He could also see that her corset was stiff and old-fashioned. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a hand-me-down.

Extending his hand, he caught the handle of the satchel and took it from her. Opening the door, he waited for her to exit, and then offered her his arm. 

“Are you sure, my lord?” she asked softly, though she threaded her hand through his offered arm.

He squeezed her hand and left it on his elbow, keeping it there, his hold firm and wordlessly telling her to keep it where it was.

“I am,” was all he said.

They stepped out of the inn, and Elain squinted at the spring sun, lifting her face to the sun and enjoying its warmth.

“Aren’t you wearing a hat, my lord?” she worried.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t wear hats.”

She glared at him like he’d just grown a damn horn on his forehead and he chuckled.

“No hats, Miss Archeron,” he continued, as they walked down the street. “I don’t wear a beard or a moustache,” he added. “I am a walker,”

“So am I,” she piped, though he figured that it wasn’t necessarily by choice. 

“Good. Then we shall walk together.”

Cautiously, she confirmed, “You’ll walk with me?”

“I am, am I not?”

“Would it not be scandalous?”

“You will learn very quickly, Miss Archeron, that I am not one for social obligations. I have very little staff at my home, and I suffer formality only when I absolutely must. I don’t like clutter, or unnecessary things.”

“Such as?” she was curious, hopping and skipping speedily next to him, trying to keep up with his very long legs and his long stride. 

“People. And doilies, Miss Archeron,” he announced flatly. “Doilies.”

“Oh. How odd.”

“I am a man. There is no place for doilies in my life.”

“How old are you?” she asked loudly, and then immediately pursed her lips. “I am sorry, my lord, I didn’t mea-,”

“29,” he answered. “I do enjoy it when you blurt out what’s on your mind. It’s very refreshing.”

“Impolite, you mean?”

“You can ask me anything, Elain,” he offered gently, and looked down at her. “Absolutely anything. I would be happy to answer any of your questions.”

Elain kept slowing down in front of expensive shops, extravagant displays, bakeries, and flower stalls, and he obliged her, stopping so she could gawk and gush. She was clutching her bouquet to her chest, and despite her cheap, inelegant dress she looked like a ray of sunshine. The personification of spring.

She also stopped and petted every single dog that they passed. 

She let the dogs slobber over her hands, but she only giggled, rubbed their heads and bodies and inquired about the dogs’ names and breeds. 

“I take it you like dogs?” Azriel chuckled, when they passed by a pug, which threw Elain into a pure frenzy of elation.

“I do! I would love a dog,” she nodded. “We have a cat at home, so it could catch mice. He is lazy though,”

“Is he?”

“Yes. He is a tubby. His name is Aidas, and he doesn’t do anything we want. But Feyre, my younger sister, is greatly attached to him. So he lives with us and takes up space.”

“Does he kill the mice?”

“Often he kills birds and brings them to us as a trophy.”

Azriel laughed and Elain sighed.

“I wish he’d kill mice. We can’t have biscuits in the house because of them.”

This gave Azriel an idea. He was going to sit on it for a bit, but Elain might be getting a new pet some time in the future.

They passed a shop that sold unmentionables and stockings, hats and bags. They were finely made, of great quality and Elain paused in front of the window, looking at the display hungrily.

Azriel stood silently at her side, before lowering his head and whispering in her ear,

“I also do not like corsets…”

She shot him a bewildered look and asked,

“What do you mean?”

He smiled at her and then gently tucked a strand of her thick hair under her hat.

He watched the sweet blush spread over her cheeks and pressed his chin to the top of her head, saying quietly,

“I like seeing the natural shape of a woman’s body. Nothing cinched or pushed up, nothing that covers the curves or the female form.”

“So, my lord,” she squirmed next to him, absolutely appalled by how close they were to each other, in public, no less, and how intimate he was being with her, “no hair? No corsets? Not to mention naked fornication! Anything else?”

Azriel chuckled and tugged her along. 

“I don’t much care for gloves either,” he told her.

“Should I just walk around naked?” she seethed.

Only that was a mistake, because his handsome, sharp face turned positively indecent with how he looked at her. How his eyes skimmed over her figure. How he paused on her mouth and then licked his lips.

“Oh, I would welcome that in a heartbeat,” he grinned a lascivious smile and Elain just about fainted on the spot.

“My lord!”

“Your lord, Miss Archeron, would have you wear lace and satin delicates, greet him ready and willing when he comes home, bathe with him, allow him to feed you, care for you and protect you. And not argue with him about how and when he wants you.”

“You are despotic!” 

He grabbed her hand and forcefully threaded it through his arm, keeping it there. 

“You have no idea,” Azriel teased. “Shame you signed that agreement…”

“I regret it now!” she cried out, though he knew that she was lying. 

“Too late to back out.”

She kept trying to escape his hold, but he wouldn’t allow it, as they walked down the busy street.

“Goodness,” she muttered, “I am afraid to ask, but is there anything else that I should know?”

“Oh, I am certain of it,” he chuckled. He wanted to keep the conversation going, and keep Elain’s attention away from the passersby who kept glaring and offering judgemental glances. Yes, he assumed that he and Elain made an odd couple–not in physical appearance, because in his opinion, they matched quite well. However, his suit was elegant and well-tailored, and he carried himself with an aura of confidence, authority and determination, while Elain’s dress was poorly made and everything about her outfit bore an aura of poverty and desperation. Not the girl herself, though. No. Elain might have been shy, but she was also quietly self-assured, and did not cower. 

“I am not a passive man,” he told her, as he assisted her in crossing the street. “And neither am I aggressive. You will get what you see with me, Miss Archeron. I speak my mind,”

“Oh, I've noticed it!”

He smiled and thought that not many people would dare answer him in this manner. It was so refreshing. Even more refreshing because she didn’t even realise it. 

“I tell you what I want and what I don’t want–you’ll never have to guess with me. Some people find my manner unsettling and too forward. But it is how I am. 

“I wish for you to be the same with me–speak to me openly and do not hide.”

She looked directly at him and then nodded once. “I will.”

Azriel slowed down his brisk walking and said, “there is a post office right over there. Do you wish to send a telegram to your family?”

“Oh, yes!” 

In a few minutes, they entered a bustling post office, which was overwhelming in its size and the sheer number of people milling about and Azriel gently stirred Elain to a long wooden counter, where he gave her a form to fill out. Her big eyes kept roaming around the vast space, and he smiled softly at her amazement. He propped himself on the counter, figuring that if he wasn’t going to take things into his own hands, they’d be here until tomorrow. Dipping the pen in ink, he began filling out the form, while Elain was gawking around.

“What’s the story?” he asked at last, once the form was completed.

“What?” Elain finally looked at him, a little dazed and disoriented. He placed his hand over hers, atop of her little fist, and tsked to her. “Miss Archeron…Elain…”

“Oh, I am sorry, my lord! This is…overwhelming!”

“It is an impressive operation.” He agreed. “But tell me, what’s the cover story?”

“Cover story?” she asked in confusion.

“Yes, the story you offered your family. I am sure you didn’t tell anyone that you would be travelling to London in order to have my baby…”

She gasped at his words, instantly blushing, but he only soothingly stroked her hand with his thumb, keeping it in place.

“My lord, I…”

He cocked his head and gave her a measured look, noticing her racing pulse and the pinkish hue that kept creeping up her neck.

“You are here to have my baby, Elain,” he murmured, stating it as a fact, his voice husky and as he moved closer to her, he had to encircle her waist in his arm, before she collapsed from over-excitement.

“My lord,” she almost moaned, “we are in public…” though her protestations weren’t exactly convincing him, as she allowed him to pull her even closer to his chest.

“Oh, how aware I am of this unfortunate fact, Elain,” he breathed, his lips almost touching her ear. She shivered in his arms, her hand flexing beneath his own, as he whispered, “I’d much rather be in our home, you splayed naked beneath me, working thoroughly on making that baby of ours.”

“Jesus,” was all she pleaded breathlessly, squeezing his forearm, as she trapped her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Stop doing that,” he growled, “or I’ll be forced to pull it in my mouth…”

“Wha-?” she gasped.

He thumbed that luscious lower lip of hers from behind her pretty white teeth and then brushed his fingers over her mouth.

“Your mouth, Miss Archeron,” he drew his fingertips over her lips again, “is very enticing. Very. And I’d like my mouth to be on yours. But, as you have noticed, we are indeed in public. Therefore, let’s hurry up.”

He handed her the form that he had filled out and she read:

“Arrived in London. Obtained lodgings. Settling in. Will write soon. Elain.”

“Good enough?” he asked, and without waiting for confirmation, took her by the hand and pulled her along. They approached a clerk who processed the telegram, while Azriel was tapping his foot impatiently. Before they were done, Elain spied a leather-bound journal and then picked it up.

“You want that?” he asked simply.

“May I?

“Of course. Do you sketch?”

She shook her head, while the clerk calculated the tally and again, she cringed inwardly, seeing how much everything cost here. The journal was 50 pence. However, Azriel paid and looked at her, expecting an explanation.

“I like to write,” she said, putting the journal in her bag. “Stories and things…When there is little to read or do much of anything, it’s fun to escape into your own head.”

“Ahhh,” was all Azriel said, but it seemed like he understood. 

Once back on the street, Elain squinted at the sun, and cautiously asked, “are you unhappy, my lord?”

“Why?”

“You seem…impatient…” she said, while he brashly threaded her arm through his, just like he insisted on doing and walked purposefully, parting the crowds with his presence alone. Wherever they were, wherever they walked, whoever they encountered–Lord Night’s very essence overwhelmed everything. He was magnetic, masculine to the point of threatening, though his placid personality didn’t seem all too violent, but he definitely was controlling and powerful. Power–it seeped through his pores, bowing everyone to his will and his demands. This power of his was a living thing, an extension of him, which spoke on iron will and uncompromising position.

He looked at her, smiled and said simply,

“I want to kiss you, Elain.”

Elain gaped at him, her pretty, innocent face lighting up with excitement and curiosity. Both expressions made Azriel quite happy. 

“But, as you so correctly stated, we are not alone. Not to say that that would normally stop me,” he gave her a warning look, which only made her eyes pop even wider, “but I don’t wish to give you your first kiss on this busy, dirty street, with peddlers, horses and all these people watching us. When I kiss you, it would be our moment, private and only for you and I to enjoy and relish. Who knows, you might want to have me kiss you again…and again…” he winked at her. “You did put ‘kissing’ into our agreement,” he reminded her.

“Perhaps I do want to be kissed,” she said primly, as if she was allowing him the privilege of kissing her. Which, maybe, she was.

“Perhaps you’ll get your wish. Now, Elain, tell me what story you spun for your family that allowed you to come here?”

“Why do you think I spun a story?”

“Somehow, I doubt that you told your father and your sisters that you were coming to London to meet with a gentleman with whom you could potentially have a child. Now, tell me.”

Elain noticed that they had moved to a much more elegant part of the city now. It was almost as if there was an invisible line that they crossed, where from the hustle and bustle of where they were, they entered a quiet, wealthy enclave which was shaded with trees and parks. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Elain marvelled, seeing palatial estates sprawling along wide streets, not a speck of dirt under their feet. 

“Belgravia,” Azriel said to her, and then waved his hand and said, “the palace is just over there,”

“Buckingham?” 

“Yes. Do you wish to see it?”

“Yes!” she cried out. “Oh my god! May I? Will I…”

“I will take you,” he interrupted her easily. 

“I told my sisters that I was accepted to the Horticulture Institute and I was coming here for entrance exams,” Elain told him at last. “I’ve always had an interest in plants and gardening, and it wasn’t too unbelievable. Besides, it’s open to females now, so it wasn’t far-fetched.”

Azriel was impressed.

The girl wasn’t as naive as he thought. She was imaginative, practical, good enough to fool those who knew her best. That was the most difficult part of any plan.That she was fearless and stupid was another matter that he would discuss with her later. 

“Very smart, Miss Archeron,” he complimented her. “Perhaps, you may even find employment, cultivating a park and a garden…see, that park,” and he waved his hand again, pointing to a private little park in the middle of the street, “is mine.”

“You have a park??” she exclaimed. Her eyes just about bugged out of her head at his blase mention of a park. That he apparently owned. 

“I do. There are four parks on the street–each belonging to a family. One of them is mine. I shall give you the keys to the gate, so you can spend time there, trending to it, if you wish. Once you are enceinte, I think it would be a pleasant place for you to walk and take your exercise.”

A little of Elain’s light left her face, and she looked up at him and didn’t answer, though she offered a small, tight nod.

Azriel understood her reluctance. It was cruel, but he was here to remind her that this was not a companionable pleasure stroll through London or through his life. She had a job to do. She was hired for a reason, and while she was under contract she had access to all the luxuries and comforts of his existence, they were going to be temporary. She was here to produce a child. Azriel was going to humour her and permit her to garden or write or cook, or do whatever she wanted to (within reason), but it was all about making sure that she was healthy, content and receptive to him, and to his seed. And she needed to be reminded of that consistently. 

“Yes, my lord,” she nodded, “thank you. I would love to.”

Azriel didn’t think much of being firm about this. Once women began to show in their pregnancy, they entered confinement anyway, and mostly stayed home and did not go out in public, until the birth. Elain was already promised garden strolls, which she could do in private, not to mention the garden behind the house. 

They rounded the corner and Azriel stopped and announced,

“Well, here we are.”

It was an entire street of perfectly white, stately homes, rows of massive townhomes on one side, and here, on this side of the street, Elain now faced the white edifice of an elegant three-story mansion. It was brilliantly white, the lawn in front of it strikingly emerald, and in front of the stairs grew a stunning blue tree, heavy with fragrant blossoms.

“American Cobalt Lilac,” she muttered stupidly, looking at the splendidly beautiful place.

Azriel chuckled,

“I reckon I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d know the tree. I myself never knew what it was.”

He opened the wrought iron gate and pushed her in front of him, before resting his hands on her shoulders.

Resting his chin on her head, he whispered,

“Welcome home.”

[numberonenat]

i asked chat gpt to make a playlist based on my candy love characters...

here's part 1 and 2: dateables hsl / others

>> PART 3 <<

hyun:

"chasing cars" by snow patrol

"say something" by a great big world

"fast car" by tracy chapman

"boulevard of broken dreams" by green day

"how to save a life" by the fray

"back to black" by amy winehouse

"rolling in the deep" by adele

"hotel california" by eagles

"the scientist" by coldplay

"teardrop" by massive attack

"skinny love" by bon iver

"wicked game" by chris isaak

"let her go" by passenger

"losing my religion" by r.e.m.

"hallelujah" by leonard cohen

rayan:

"you're beautiful" by james blunt

"hero" by enrique iglesias

"truly madly deeply" by savage garden

"just the way you are" by bruno mars

"falling slowly" by glen hansard, markéta irglová

"i'm yours" by jason mraz

"un-break my heart" by toni braxton

"amazed" by lonestar

"everything" by michael bublé

"kiss me" by sixpence none the richer

"latch" by disclosure, sam smith

"all of me" by john legend

"i don't want to miss a thing" by aerosmith

"i will always love you" by whitney houston

"your song" by elton john

priya:

"girls just want to have fun" by cyndi lauper

"man! i feel like a woman!" by shania twain

"toxic" by britney spears

"no tears left to cry" by ariana grande

"super trouper" by abba

"hit the road jack" by ray charles

"meant to be" by bebe rexha

"new rules" by dua lipa

"god is a woman" by ariana grande

"thank u, next" by ariana grande

"break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored" by ariana grande

"dancing queen" by abba

"believe" by cher

"roar" by katy perry

"firework" by katy perry

chani:

"sweet dreams (are made of this)" by eurythmics

"lovesong" by the cure

"bela lugosi's dead" by bauhaus

"blue monday" by new order

"lullaby" by the cure

"tear you apart" by she wants revenge

"personal jesus" by depeche mode

"the killing moon" by echo & the bunnymen

"strange mercy" by st. vincent

"a forest" by the cure

"nocturne" by siouxsie and the banshees

"love like blood" by killing joke

"crimson" by edge of dawn

"cry little sister" by gerard mcmann

"temple of love" by sisters of mercy

honestly this was my second try, the first ones were so bad i had to ask again...it's way better but still not good lmao

i'll make a part 4 if chat gpt colaborates.

[hellameyers]

No Skip Albums: Tag Game ✨️

I was tagged by the lovely @oldefashioned 💕

I love music, it's in my blood 🎶

Rules: Share the albums you can listen to non-stop. Those lightning in a bottle albums that scratch your brain just right. Every single track an absolute banger. You couldn't skip one if you tried. No notes, stunning, show-stopping, immaculate. Your no skip albums!

I'm only upset that it's limited to ten because I could go on. And there are a ton of artists that absolutely transport me but there are some songs that aren't for me. I shall pick my 10 and endure!

1. The Strokes - Is This It

I love all Strokes albums, and can listen to all of them song for song, but this one is extra special to me since it completely rocked my world when it was released. It changed me forever.

2. The Libertines - Up the Bracket

Again, I love everything the Libertines do. But this one specifically I can listen to all the way through and then over again immediately afterwards.

3. No Doubt -Tragic Kingdom

This has a special place in my heart because it's the first album I bought on my own. And it didn't disappoint because love all the songs. There was a time when I couldn't listen to Don't Speak because it was so overplayed on the radio. Thankfully I don't listen to the radio much anymore and nobody really plays that song much either.

4. Darren Hayes - The Tension and the Spark

I love all Darren's work, especially including Savage Garden. Their first album transformed me, but there one song on there I can't always bring myself to listen to. But this album, pure genius, a bit dark, but perfect.

5. Operation Ivy -Energy

This album is everything to me! It never gets old. I can pop it on anytime, and it's always exactly what I need.

6. The Hives - Tyrannosaurus Hives

It was definitely a toss up between this album and Barely Legal. But oddly enough, I'm not always in the mood for bratty punk. Weird. This is always a good time.

7. Rufus Wainwright - Poses

Poetic excellence, sometimes snarky, but always necessary. Again, I love everything Rufus does, but this album is just the most special for me.

8. X-Ray Spex - Germ-Free Adolescents

Pop this on when you really want to jam and stick it to the man! It doesn't hurt to yell this at the top of my lungs right along with her.

9. Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker

The man speaks to my soul. He sings his trauma, and it heals me somehow.

10. The Streets - Original Pirate Material

Another banger that has a special place in my heart. It's one that I can pop on in the car with my bestie, he and I can sing every line together. 💕

Thank you @oldefashioned for tagging me, girl. This was fun. I had White Stripes on my list too, but I couldn't fit everything I wanted on here. Like Arctic Monkeys, and Tame Impala, and the Ramones Rocket to Russia. That one hurt, but I had to make executive decisions.

No pressure tags: @thelostpurple @loganwritesprobably @renmackree and anyone else who feels like playing along!

[toadstool32]

DAVE: why does everyone want us knights to go back to training so bad we aren’t even the most fighty kinda dudes if we had a little garden with flowers around we would hold hands while jumping around like idiots all day but nooo we gotta get back in the grind and train 24/7 to get in some gains (fire emoji fire emoji red 100 emoji) in our lanky asses change our diet to be all meat omnomnom thank you for the meal bone and all

DAVE: become some kind of savage macho alpha kinda shit

DAVE: awoo and all that or whatever happens in shitty omegaverse novels

DAVE: our manly musk will be so pungent everyone in this universe and the next will know just how stupidly dedicated to being the worst at attempting to be decent people. It is us

KARKAT: ALPHAVERSE.

DAVE:

DAVE:

DAVE: you

DAVE: holy shit is there troll omegaverse

KARKAT: IF IM PICKING UP WHAT YOU’RE PUTTING DOWN THEN YES. THERE USED TO EXIST BACK IN ALTERNIA A SUBGENRE OF ROMANCE NOVELS WHERE THERE WAS A FICTIONAL BIOLOGICAL HIERARCHY WHERE TROLLS WOULD BE SORTED INTO ALPHA BETA OR OMEGAS AND IT WAS JUST A THINLY VEILED EXCUSE FOR WRITERS TO MAKE LOW/HIGHBLOOD PAIRINGS LESS ABOUT CASTE DIFFERENCE AND MORE ABOUT FATE OR WHATEVER.

KARKAT: IT WAS NOT MY THING BUT I KNOW SOME TROLLS JUST GOBBLED THAT SHIT UP.

DAVE: haha dude I cant believe ther is troll omegaverse this is bonkers

KARKAT: IT IS BONKERS THAT ONE OF OUR CULTURAL SIMILARITIES INCLUDE A VERY NICHE SUBGENRE OF SHITTY SMUT.

DAVE: tell me more

KARKAT: WHY YOU WOULD EVEN KNOW WHAT ALPHAVERSE IS YOU DON’T SEEM THE TYPE TO BE SO INTERESTED IN THIS.

DAVE: listen theres only so much research one can do on furry shit for the ironies up until u stuble ass first into wolf knot

KARKAT: ???

KARKAT: WHAT DO WOLVES HAVE TO DO WITH THIS.

DAVE: oh now you HAVE to tell me about this alphaverse shit I wanna know this, doctor strider is IN we are gonna dissect our cultural differences

KARKAT: AND YOU WILL DO THIS THROUGH SMUT.

DAVE: naturally

DAVE: now tell me about it

KARKAT: YOU ARE SO WEIRD.

KARKAT: BUT I GUESS I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT ONE. IN WHICH A EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED BRONZE OMEGA AND A PUSHOVER INDIGO ALPHA HAVE A HATEFRIENDS WITH BENEFITS SITUATION UP UNTIL ONE DAY THE ALPHA DECIDE HE CAN NO LONGER BEAR THE TOUGHT OF NOT BEING IN A SET QUADRANT WITH HIS OMEGA SO INSTEAD OF CONFESSING HIS FEELINGS HE GOES AND FUCKS OFF ON SPACE TRIP OFF PLANET. THE OMEGA THEN IN HIS MISERY GOES AND PROPOSITIONS HIMSELF TO THE MOIRAIL OF THE INDIGO WHO IS ALSO MANAGING THE MISSIONS THAT GO OFF PLANET AND ALSO AN ALPHA IN A FIT OF JEALOUSLY EVEN WHEN THEY WEREN’T EVEN EXCLUSIVE, THE INDIGOS MOIRAIL TRIES TO CORRAL THEM INTO A CLUBS SITUATION BUT BY THEN IT IS TOO LATE AND THE WHOLE FRIEND GROUP IS ALREADY AWARE OF HOW FUCKING BAD AT THIS THEY ARE, THEN THE ALPHA GETS SHAMED IN FRONT OF THEIR WHOLE FRIEND GROUP BY DOING MORE AND MORE RIDICULOUS ACTS AS PENANCE THAT THE OMEGA CALLS REVENGE BUT EVERYONE ELSE UNDERSTANDS IT'S JUST A VERY WEIRD COURTING RITUAL SOMEHOW, THE ALPHA GETS MAULED IN FRONT OF EVERYONE IN A FRANKLY DISGUSTING ACT OF RED AFFECTION WHICH MANAGES TO MAKE THE OMEGA GO FROM PITCH TO RED, THUS MANAGING TO COMPLETE THE COURTING AND FINALLY EMBRACING AFTER EVERYTHING THUS KILLING THE PAIR AFTER THE INSERTION OF THE EGGS IS COMPLETE.

 DAVE: on second thought maybe we should stop talking about this

DAVE: like. Forever and ever

[sotwk]

Hello my dear friend! 😊 Campfire lyrics time. 🎶

Who do you think would say these lyrics by Savage Garden (this is a loong one, sorry 🙈). My romantic side is head over heels with it, not to mention I've had it as ringtone on my work phone for years.

Truly, madly, deeply

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy

I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need

I love you more with every breath truly, madly, deeply do

I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on

A new beginnin'

A reason for livin'

A deeper meaning

I wanna stand with you on a mountain

I wanna bathe with you in the sea

I wanna lay like this forever

Until the sky falls down on me

Happy Birthday!

I couldn't fit all the lyrics into the graphic, but these words are totally Thorin-coded! In my mind, the King of Erebor is the sort to surprise his beloved with sudden declaration of love, going from complete brooding silence to finally bursting with passionate proclamations of being "truly, madly, deeply", etc.

I know this song is very important to you @aduialel, so I hope you like the imagine. :)

Thank you for the birthday greetings and the Ask! <3

This "Who Would Say That Lyric" Game was part of SotWK's Summer Campfire Sleepover 2024.

[wellhalesbells]

TAG SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KNOW AND/OR SOME OF YOUR BESTIES

Tagged by @kikiroo - thank you, my darling!!! *friendly shark bites at you*

Last song: Probably either The Man or Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift. I just spent a week with my sister on vacation and she had just watched the Eras Tour movie so she was getting both of those stuck in my head all the time, and then we'd have to listen to them ofc.

Last movie: It was Host by Rob Savage (or at least it was when I started this, lol). I watched it 'cause I saw something on Insta about the Top 10 Scariest Movies according to what the average resting heart rate is for it. I didn't find it very scary (got me at the end though, woo boy) but I did love it - but then I love things that use the pandemic well and this definitely did imo. Plus it's all structured around (and shot through) a Zoom interface so it's only, like, fifty-seven minutes long because that's all you get when you don't pay for Zoom, haha.

Currently watching: Goosebumps, Last Week Tonight, The Fall of the House of Usher, Two Sentence Horror Stories, Our Flag Means Death and Ghost Files and I am half-assing all of it. I've either only started the first episode or only watched the first episode on all of those. I have no staying power these days. Though I am only one ep behind on Last Week Tonight \o/

Other stuff I watched this year: Unfortunately for you guys, I write fucking everything down and it is now the tenth month of the year. I GOT RECS. Well, Meg 2: The Trench, which is a cinematic masterpiece and I will take no questions on that (unless they're Joming related). (Cognizant of the month) Here are spooky things I watched this year and liked a lot: X, The Black Phone, The Menu, Terrifier and Terrifier 2 (this is definitely only for gore fans though), Bodies Bodies Bodies, Cocaine Bear (also a cinematic masterpiece, also not taking questions), Interview with the Vampire, Wednesday, Severance, Evil, The Last of Us, Over the Garden Wall, Magpie Murders, What We Do in the Shadows, and Shining Vale (haven't started the second season yet!). Also really liked: Paddington, Nimona, Barbie, Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse, Vivo, Derry Girls, The Bear, The Boys, Mythic Quest, Only Murders in the Building (I haven't watched the new season yet though but I expect great things), Reboot, Tuca & Bertie, Los Espookys, Barry, Extraordinary, Crashing (I literally watched it three times in a row - watching Sam and Fred fall in love 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 plus I fucking love Jonathan Bailey - I consistently find him ridiculously charming), Hacks, Avenue 5 (so sad this got canceled when I feel like it just hit its stride), Staged (I've watched it probably six times now), Abbott Elementary, A Black Lady Sketch Show, Ted Lasso, I Think You Should Leave Now (just for that one sketch, you know the one and, if you don't, I am HAPPY to tell you about it!), Unstable (petition for Fred Armisen to be in everything though, right?), Black Mirror, Central Park, Elite (I haven't watched the new season yet!), Reservation Dogs (ditto), The White Lotus, Good Omens, Letterkenny, Minx (what's ditto but for the third time?), Heartstopper, Sasaki and Miyano, and The Other Two.

Shows I dropped/didn’t finish: I'm behind on everything all the time so I'm only going to answer for shows I dropped and I don't think I've dropped any this year?

Currently reading: The Dead Take the A Train by Cassandra Khaw & Richard Kadrey (about halfway through), House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (I'll be reading this until I die, I think), Cunk on Everything by Philomena Cunk, The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab (nearly finished!), The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith, My Darling Girl by Jennifer McMahon and The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice (decided to do a reread of the IwtV series this year since I never actually finished it and only got to book ten and I read it way too long ago to remember anything that's happening if I just picked it up now).

Currently listening to: My calendar alarm telling me to go to my dog's vet appointment.

Currently working on: getting at least a third of the way through My Darling Girl

Also absolutely no pressure tagging @andavs, @callunavulgari, @piratefalls, @clotpolesonly, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[joes-sha-la-la-la-girl]

Thank you @littlemissheavenonearth for the tag 💖💖

Amazed - Lonestar

Heaven is a Place On Earth - Belinda Carlisle

Turn to Dust - Def Leppard

Creature - Down n' Outz (thanks @elliotts-personal-property)

White Queen (As It Began) - Queen

Bed of Roses - Bon Jovi

Still of the Night - Whitesnake

Since You've Been Gone - Rainbow

21st Century Sha La La La Girl - Def Leppard

When Love and Hate Collide - Def Leppard (my parents were Lep fans)

Another One Bites The Dust - Queen (I'm sorry)

Motivate - Little Mix

The Show Must Go On - Queen (My best friend irl chose that one)

I Believe in a Thing Called Love - The Darkness

Pride and Joy - Coverdale Page

Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen

Stand Up (Kick Love Into Motion) - Def Leppard

Hysteria - Def Leppard (My parents played it to sooth me as a child)

All By Myself - Eric Carmen

All I Want Is Everything - Def Leppard)

Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

Too Much Love Will Kill You - Brian May

Stargazer - Rainbow (idk why)

Animal Song - Savage Garden

Read My Mind - The Killers

[eolewyn1010]

Charité, season 4 - episode 1

Alright. Let's do this. Consider everything past this point a spoiler, and yourself warned.

The dramatic lighting and music (vocalizing instead of the instrumentals that dominated the Charité music over three seasons) make the first scene appear very stylized, like a theater play. I don't hate it, but it sure is something else. I guess they broke with the continuity when they chose this season's setting.

Post-Corona, and she's not wearing a mask in surgery? Consider me unimpressed.

Ew. What did that poor greenscreen do to you?

"fires in Czechia coming closer to Saxony" - 2049 taking notes from 2022, huh? Ever so optimistic.

At least we get pretty lesbians. In fond memory of Therese...

They sure took the fashion choices in an interesting direction. And by that I mean, eurgh.

Who is this slimeball and can I castrate him.

Heritage of the last several seasons: An uncouth but motherly nurse with a heavy Berlin dialect; every generation needs one.

See, if you can 3D-project shiny holographs into the middle of the room, you should adapt your architecture. An auditorium that uses this technology should be built in a circle around the projector so everyone has the same chances of seeing the goddamn things! Logic, anyone?

In about 25 years, colors in architecture will have died out for good. Depressing, but not unlikely. The look of this place is giving me anxiety.

This woman's mouth movements don't fit her words at all. Why is she dubbed, and why so poorly?

"I don't eat sweets." *has sweets standing next to her* Is she dumb, or does she think Doc Safadi sr. is dumb?

Oh, nice, they have a botanical garden!

Super-quick zoom! Do you see our modern technology? DO YOU SEE IT YET!? More zoom! Sheesh, cut it out.

Why is everyone so awkward / impolite to Julia? Because her wife is pushing the health reform?

Poly marriage. Nice. ...and also, Nachtigall, ick hör dir trapsen.

Maral is ever so charming to Dylan. Isn't it nice to condescend to your co-worker from day 1?

Oh, nice, they all have universal translators. I get that they want to put in a lot of international variety, but why does the girl not speak any German when her mother does?

Take out ovarial tissue? From a teenager??? If she ever decides to have kids, can't she start by trying it the more obvious way? Why take it out in the first place? It's well-kept in her body, isn't it?

This mother is the worst.

Julia actress's delivery of her lines is very inconsistent. Some scenes, she plays good; others, she sounds like a third-grader reciting Erlkönig.

Did they steal that shot from Tatort: Der Herr des Waldes?

This concrete house is as fugly on the inside as it is on the outside. Thanks, I hate it.

Ehm. Okay. ngl, Martin's and Otto's PDA looked a lot more believable. Can you at least commit to your gay smoochies?

Why does the Armenian-German kid have a French name?

Brat wants to join the army for his democratic values. What, does he want to bring freedom to the poor savages? Gawd.

Starting to think Nils and Seda aren't a couple anymore, which makes the friendly relationship they have all the nicer.

Rest of the family is bitching. Greeeaaat.

Giving your doctor false medical information before surgery? Sure, why not! Is everyone here an idiot?

I don't really vibe with these extreme zooms.

Now she's wearing a mask - that's barely even covering her chin, nevermind her nose. Why is this so inconsistent?

Really good of you to treat a dying patient in hearing distance to another patient who has the same disease. Like. Just lock down sound transmission to the neighbor quarantine room?? Why is everyone so illogical?

Yeah, fuck. He's only a background character, so we give up after three attempts.

Maral got her self-righteousness from Seda, huh?

Yay, pandemics! Every generation needs one.

This all sounds very negative because I'm not terribly into the speculative future setting, but honestly, I don't hate watching it. My engagement with it is low in comparison to previous seasons Charité, but it still is interesting. And I'm kinda committed to the trash factor.

[gabrielle-de-lioncourt-anon]

Happy Mothers Day Mama 💖💐 Just know that I'm blessed every day to have met you, both as my le Mama and one of my closest friends and confidante. I love you dearly, and you ground me and us, you give us never ending support. Our talks every day mean the universe to me. You are one of the most generous and warm, selfless vampire mama's I know. We often say it was fate that we met and I know now that everything that happened was worth it, if it means we walk the eternal road on the savage garden together. 🧛‍♀️🧛🏻‍♂️ I couldn't and will never ask for a Gabrielle in anyone else. You're my family. All of us, you're family to me. 💖❤💗💓💞💕💟💌💝💘🥰😍🌹

My darling Son....I thank you for this. It brought a tear to my eye. You are so precious to me. You are the most perfect vampire companion to spend eternity with. You are also a wonderful human being, and I am privileged to know you and to be a part of your life. To call it a blessing is an understatement. My life is better because you're in it. The time we share together is invaluable to me, I truly cannot find the proper words. I would not change a thing about this road we've traveled, because it got us here. All of us. You, and this family, mean the world to me. Je serai toujours là pour toi, si tu. 💙💙💙😭😢😫🥰🥰🥰

[azures-grace]

✨Spoilers for TES IV and V if you're reading this.✨

I saw a thing a little while ago that said that Skyrim was darker than Oblivion.

As someone's who's played more Skyrim than Oblivion, here are a few reasons why I think that's false.

Gonna start with some of the dark stuff from Skyrim

So Skyrim has it's fair share of pretty dark moments: Mercer Frey trying to murder the LDB, Astrid trying to murder the LDB but it backfires, everything with Cicero, the Namira and Boethiah quests, the entire concept of Alduin, that one Barrow in the northeast with the necrophiliac, the whole deal with the Falmer and how their souls are no longer black souls, and more I'm sure I haven't found yet.

However, most of those fit with the general aesthetic of the game. Skyrim is a cross between harsh frozen wasteland, dangerous forest, and dragon raids. Also Mercer and Astrid are part of the groups that are well outside of the law. Also also Astrid broke all the tenets already. I don't really like Astrid.

On the other hand, you've got Oblivion, and I think I'll start with the Blackwood Company.

So in the fighters guild questline, the HOK joins the Blackwood Company to infiltrate it and like, see what's going on. They get sent on this mission and have to drink this hist sap that makes them think that they're killing goblins when they're actually killing the townsfolk.

You want darker? It gets darker.

I'm not entirely sure where this next one comes from, but some random dark elf dies in front of you after trying to be crowned king or something. He just straight up gets electrocuted by the Ayleid chair.

additionally, Oblivion has it's main call to fame: the literal realm of Oblivion. If you've played the game, there's really not much need to explain. If not, there's just random corpses hanging around, there's these things called something along the lines of "the punished". It's quite literally just flesh bags filled with loot.

The main quest itself is filled with dark themes, which makes sense-- you're stopping a cult trying to bring about the end of the world. The cave thing under Mankar Camoren's Paradise is full of people being tortured by being submerged in lava but they don't die. It seems that even those who were loyal to the Mythic Dawn are not safe from the Savage Garden.

This one's a random detail, but there's a alchemist in Leyawiin who wants to know the fine for necrophilia. Apparently it's less than Morrowind.

Corvus Umbranox was kept from his home and family because of the cowl of the Grey Fox and his wife almost arrested him when he tried to return to her. Their reunion was very sweet aside from that.

To close this out, I'd like to turn to the Dark Brotherhood from Oblivion. Throw out Astrid and her failed betrayal, let's talk about how Mathieu Bellamont almost succeeded in wiping the entire Brotherhood out. This gets its own group of sections. I really like the Dark Brotherhood and I'll probably go into that rabbit hole later.

To kick it off, let's start with the Purification. I think it's implied that Bellamont was the reason the Purification in the Cheydinhal sanctuary happened. So that's killing off everyone who trusted you.

Secondly, you have the dead drops. After the first two of those, you're just killing off members of the Black Hand.

After that is the murder of Lucien Lachance. I don't think I'll ever forget walking into Applewatch the first time. And then Bellamont kills two more people before getting killed himself.

Random side note, but Ungolim put up a heck of a fight when I tried to kill him. I think he knew he was next.

I've skipped over the Daedric quests, maybe I'll do something comparing the ones in Oblivion to those in Skyrim later, but Namira's was pretty gnarly.

Anywho, if you read all of this, thank you!