#the only thing lovelier than this dress is her smile

[alwaysmoncheri]

heyyy <3 I was wondering if you could write something a little softer for rafe?? it’s that kind of day😞

of course, honey! I hope this makes your day better <3 thank you for requesting

cw: implied fem!reader, soft!rafe, mentions of alcohol, tooth rotting fluff, 1k

<3

You smooth down your dress, applying more pressure to the stubborn ends that keep folding up. For an expensive dress, it was pretty cheap. Or maybe you didn’t iron it correctly. Either way, you aren’t going to let it ruin your night. Your hands shift to the straps, carefully adjusting them to ensure they sit right. And as you look at yourself in the mirror your shoulders soften and warmth fills your chest. Your hair sitting just right—yet still, so imperfectly you. Emerald green dress flowing elegantly, its silky fabric comfortably gliding over your skin, embracing your figure.

Rafe waits for you, already mingling among guests. He knows you like to take your time. More time than you need, but it’s your process and you love it—then so does he. 

Another moment passes before you slip out the door, and Rafe spots you immediately. Like he’d ever miss you. Not when you’re always exuding the kind of loveliness that lures him in. He finds it endearing, your eyes sifting through the crowd to find his. It’s like you’re nervous, though, you’re anything but. Still, you find your way back to him, even if it’s a glance through the crowd. Even if it’s a slight tug of a lip—a hint of a smile. Even if it’s for a moment. Before someone takes your arm, drawing you into a circle of people. 

You’re stunning. Rafe knows if he were to ever drop dead, now would be that moment. The drink he’d been nursing is long forgotten and his eyes don’t leave you. 

“He’s not even pretending to be subtle,” Sarah whispers, slightly leaning across the table. A smile playing at her lips. You don’t need to turn to know who she’s referring to. 

“And?” you ask, hiding your smile with a sip of your drink. Sarah tilts her head, raising her eyebrows, silently asking, “seriously?” You shrug causing her to laugh. Though, you can’t help but turn over your shoulder meeting your boyfriend’s gaze once more. A hand clasps his shoulder in greeting, and Rafe only offers a tight-lipped smile in response. You slump onto the table, forehead touching the cool glass as you let you a huff. You’re working with Rafe on his social skills. It isn’t going too well. 

Sarah, having followed your gaze, only laughs, “He looks like he’s going to die if you don’t go over there.” 

You lift your head from the table, and Sarah gives a subtle nod toward Rafe, silently urging you to go talk to him. He’s standing there, among guests—friends, looking like he could use some company—and maybe some encouragement too.

You straighten and smooth out your dress. A quick press to the fold at the hem, and after offering a quick goodbye to Sarah, you turn on your heel.

Rafe isn’t standing very far, he never is. 

“Hi,” you smile, soft and sweet. His chest hurts. He needs to sit down, he thinks, before he makes a fool of himself. 

“Hey,” he responds, his voice low and rough. He smiles back, but he’s holding his breath. Rafe knows you’ve noticed when your smile widens—he wonders how your cheeks don’t hurt. Maybe they do. He’s never asked.

Without a word, you shuffle into his chest, arms wrapping around you instinctively. Arms around your waist, and palms pressed flat against your back. You tilt your head up leaving a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rafe’s heart pounds, overwhelmed with love. Every time your lips touch his skin, it burns into memory. So, if you ever slip away, he’ll have one forever thing. 

A hand leaves your waist, quick to brush your hairline, and rest on your jaw. You blink slowly, waiting for him to kiss you. Then, he does. It’s sweet, unhurried, and now it’s your turn to be overwhelmed. You smile again, finding his lips mirroring yours. It’s rare from Rafe. It makes you want to kiss him again, but you can’t when you’re smiling this hard. 

Though, it doesn’t take long for Rafe to move back in—lips meeting yours. This time, leaving you dizzy. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he sounds breathless as he plants firm kisses along your jaw, “Every time I see you, it just keeps getting better.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, a playful lit in your voice, but there’s a spark of sincerity in your eyes, as if you’re searching for him to prove it. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Rafe replies with a wide grin, before kissing your neck again. He’s intoxicating—placing his lips everywhere from your jaw to your collarbone. He’s forceful enough to almost knock you off balance, but he always anticipates the moment he’ll need to steady you. It makes your heart soar.

“Okay.” you almost snort, hand touching his cheek—a silent signal to calm down. 

He leaves a soft kiss on your pulse before one arm slips from your waist—grabbing his drink, the other keeping a firm hold to keep you close to his side. 

It’s funny how much something so simple—just being near him—could make you feel like the center of the universe. Maybe that’s because you are to him. You’ve opened him up to so much love he never thought he’d be capable of. And your love is his favorite—not grand gestures or dramatic moments—it’s just this, the quiet comfort of being with him, and it’s enough. 

The two of you stand in the crowd, occasionally speaking to the people who approach. With glasses of champagne in hand, you savor the closeness and warmth of the night. 

“I didn’t see you making any new friends earlier,” you tease, tilting your head up to look at him. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Eyes taking you in, as if he hadn’t gotten a good enough look earlier, “Too busy looking at you.” 

You laugh softly, “Trying to charm me?”

Rafe looks at you, insulted, “Trying?” he asks, straightening up, his posture shifting into something a little more smug, “Baby, I don’t have to try.”

Your mouth falls open. You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “I can’t wait for you to be humbled.”

The hand on your waist that was drawing small circles on the fabric of your dress stills. Your stomach flutters when he leans down, lips brushing on the shell of your ear. 

“And I can’t wait to take this off.”

You burst into laughter.

<3

masterlist . rafe cameron masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[comfortless]

what if König does see his knight being more ladylike? or maybe even in a dress? sorry they’re just so cute i love this au lol

you are never getting her into a gown… not ever.

except at a special event (:..?

There’s a summons for König and the lady knight to attend a ball. At the castle, no less. The sheet of parchment dents weighty in her hand as she tugs it free from the message board at the center of town— a list of names, hers and König’s included; quite high, too, above even dukes and duchesses from foreign kingdoms and a wonderful knight who had braved an attempted siege and won the King victory.

It makes no sense… they’re essentially hired thieves, roaming through caverns of filth filled with the dead, stealing what’s never been their own and never will belong to them for profit. There’s no honor in their work, despite the way she puffs her chest in pride and so often declares that one of these expeditions will earn her a seat at the royal table.

Still… they had retrieved that object for the Queen, and it seemed the materialistic royalty deemed that well and good enough to consider them worthy.

König is unperturbed— he’s never been one for these formal affairs, dressing up in a tight fitting suit of ruffled fabric, chest adorned with a shimmering brooch and his blade kept tucked away far out of reach. His knight on the other hand… Her face is practically glowing, he’s never seen her smile so wide or so sweetly.

Of course… she doesn’t have some silky gown to her name, only cold steel and endless straps… not even a proper corset. König can’t help but notice her pout when they begin to prepare. Though he thinks she’s pretty, perfect even as battle-worn she is, it’s clear she wants to be more so as she stares longingly out of the window of the inn at all of the beautiful ladies riding on horseback to approach the castle gates, their gowns each as intricate and immaculate as the braids and curls and lengths of their hair.

He doesn’t get it- he’ll just go in his normal clothes, but like any proper suitor would do… he buys her a gown from the tailor a few buildings past the inn. The most expensive one he can get his paws on with the hoard of gold they collected from their last adventure. (Who knew slaying a few reanimated skeletons to give a cursed femur and jaw bone to an old witch could count as a job?!)

The dress is certainly… tailored to his preferences: it’s a lacy thing, dyed a shimmering bluish gray, creamy lace trims along the cuffs and hems, the collar dipping down into a ‘v’ to properly frame her tits. He didn’t expect it to be any lovelier than what his imagination supplies when she does put it on, and yet he finds himself utterly stifled by the sight.

He’s seen her nude, pawed at and groped her hundreds of times, but as she stands before him shyly lifting the dress at her hips and glancing at the wall, the floor, anywhere except from directly at him… his pulse begins to race. Of course, he picks her up and buries his face against her neck, whispering about how pretty she is, how much he adores every new side of her, and promptly ruins it by detailing how he would like to tug her laces loose with his teeth later in the evening after the dancing is all over. She shoves him away, hissing like a startled kitten but he’s certain she casts him a little smirk the moment that he does relax his grip.

The ball is no less extravagant than she had expected. Food and luxury wine adorn every table: cheeses, fresh baked bread, smoked meats and pies, fruit of many kinds, and the wine all sweet and bitter and so very unlike the thick mead that burns as it goes down that they’re accustomed to. The dresses, the elaborate dances, the beautiful sounds of music feathering through the air- all of it. She even gets to drink from a goblet made of silver, and her eyes light up when a servant fills it to the brim.

König despises it all.

He tucks himself away, flooding himself with food and the few gilded pitchers of actual ale he’s managed to threaten a servant into retrieving. He notices the eyes on her always, as she dances with the other ladies and smiles adoringly over at him each time their eyes meet. Her grace translates well here from battle, each step taken with some extracted precision that she’s learned from flailing her blade around in the darkness… her partners giggle against her ear as they curl their arms around her, many adrift to either side waiting for a turn.

It’s only when a man does approach his lady knight that König’s had enough. She’s tipsy and far too cute, stands out like pure treasure amongst this adoring flock, and the bastard’s eyes are on her breasts when he asks her to dance. The other man is yanked back by his scruff and tossed to the marble floor, eliciting startled gasps and even… some sweet sighs from the women surrounding as they fawn over how romantic it must be that a brute like him wouldn’t allow another man near her.

His knight only smiles at him when he leads her away, out of the grand hall and down the corridors of the castle until they find themselves before a window that seems to overlook the entire kingdom. The music still plays, the voices still chatter, but they’re all muffled and subdued someplace far away… and König only feels the world seem to come to a grinding halt when she asks him to dance with her here.

He doesn’t have the same tact or skill as the others when he moves: swaying her in a grip like iron ‘round her waist, dipping with her when her back arcs that almost leaves his face flush with her chest. It’s clumsy at best, far less flowery and sweet than when she danced with the other women, but he tries his best to not entirely ruin her night— unaware that she’s far too drunken and giddy to care. She wouldn’t have batted an eye if he had snapped that man’s neck, if only he rewarded her patience with a dance like this.

They meld together, a perfect fit when she stands on his boots and drapes her arms around his neck to press her chin to his chest. The frolic comes to a quiet end as they whisper back and forth about what happens next, after tonight. When the sun rises and they’re back on their feet… He swears to her that they’ll buy a horse, subtly hints that the offer to settle will always be present and she only shushes him with a kiss, one that she laughs into as she tastes the ale on his tongue.

Those strings are, in fact, loosened by his teeth as she lies on their shared bed with him later into the evening. He traces every dip and curve of her body through the silk as he works away at relieving her of the gown, then the corset with slow, precise movements and tugs. She laughs again when he hisses praises from behind her, licks and nibbles a hot path along her skin, rests his head against the smooth flesh of her back when the corset finally lays to either side of her.

His fingertips graze from the back of her neck, to her shoulder, further along the middle of her back before he stops himself. Despite the near constant ache, this isn’t how or where he wants this done: in some rundown inn outside of the castle, her veins flooded with red wine. Instead, he only pulls her close in a cuddle, massages at her tits as she thanks him for accompanying her, for dancing with her despite his gait being more like a newborn foal than a proper stallion.

And when the moon finally reaches a peak in the night sky, her breathing slow and soft while she rests her head against his chest, he kisses the top of her head and pulls her in closer. Tells her that he likes either side of her, knight or lady it mattered not, so long as she remains at his side like this.

She nods to her own damnation, contentedly swearing her oath to him with one word, “Forever.” It comes in a soft murmur, eyelids already fluttering as he squishes her closer against him.

[lorei-writes]

Certainty

Yves x OC (Beatrice; @bicayaya's OC) Fluff ~600 words

Happy Birthday, love! >:) I hope this year treats you well, as any that will follow <3

Content Warnings: none

There is one thing, one thing only in the entire universe that Yves is absolutely certain of: he loves Beatrice and he’d do anything for that love.

Dazzling light skips off the surface of the waves, molten gold pooling over the water. Seagulls cry as they lift above the rocking plains, white wings batting away at the gentle breeze, perhaps willing themselves to leave the comfort of its embrace. The shore hums in its entirety, from the white sand to the seashells, the finely polished glass… Boats sway somewhere towards the horizon line. They too do not realise how irrelevant they’ve become in a blink of an eye.

Beatrice has crouched down, gusts pulling at her long floral skirt and threatening to undo the ribbons in her hair. However, she hardly seems to mind; the pumps slip off her feet, warmth seeping into her body from the ground. Her back straightens. Off she walks. Sea foam encased in human form, Beatrice herself seems to float, an aquatic fairy about to return home. Sunlight combs its fingers through her honey hair, rouses the embers in her eyes.

“I’ve never seen the ocean before,” Beatrice laughs, hand hoovering above her lips to conceal her smile. The ocean washes over her ankles in reply… And so, it is made right, for Yves has forgotten his words, his sentences, or plainly put, how to talk.

There is only one thing he knows: Beatrice is lovelier than the whole ocean and all its marvels combined.

***

Stars shimmer over the endless darkness of the night sky, little different from gemstones scattered within an appropriately padded jewellery casket. Alluring, they seem to temp the human eye, testing the limits of greed one may reach… Yet Yves is both the greediest and one fully devoid of greed. A pout twisting his lips, he marches out onto the veranda, shoulders squared as he clutches onto a shawl. The heels of his shoes clack against the wooden boards. Crystallised salt crunches as he shakes away any of his awkwardness and indecision.

“Bea?” Yves inquires, in a voice softer than the finest silk.

“What is it?”

“You’re dressed too lightly. You can’t stay here like this, you’ll catch a cold,” he murmurs, just barely containing the pout attempting to bloom over his lips yet also fully unable to erase it from his tone. Beatrice’s eyes widen at his words. She mouths a silent “oh”, and the shawl wraps itself around her shoulders, the fibres still holding onto his residual warmth. It is only now that it becomes apparent she’s been cold all along.

“Thank you,” Beatrice says, sowing blush over his cheeks. Yves averts his gaze.

“O-of course! Silly… What man would let his lover get ill…” A smile curls his lips, his brilliant blue eyes lighting up. “I’ll always look out for you, you know. That’s a promise.”

His arm resting around her waist, they lean against the railing, cocooned safely in this private fragment of their universe. Beatrice hums, reminding him of a little bee… Yet there is only one thing Yves is absolutely certain of: the stars, the stars could perish and he’d be none the wiser for as long as Beatrice is with him.

***

First rays of sun sneak inside, as brash as to dare disturb the shallows of sleep… or at the very least, such is their intention. Little do they know that Yves is no longer asleep. Propped on his elbow, he watches Beatrice, her chest raising rhythmically, deeply, peacefully. Not a frown crosses her brow, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he combs his fingers through her hair.

There is one thing, one thing only in the entire universe that Yves is absolutely certain of: he loves Beatrice and he’d do anything for that love.

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[bella-goths-wife]

The first dance of the night

Volturi x reader, cullens x reader, alec x reader

It was jaspers night, but it felt more like yours.

It was jaspers official introduction to the volturi as a vampire of the clan, just as the rest of your family had done.

The morning was filled with Jasper standing before the kings thrones and telling them of his abilities and how he intended to help his clan. He had done better than most and received a pass from aro

But the night is where all the fun was going to start. It was tradition for passing vampires to have a ball thrown in they’re honour where vampires who were involved in the volturi’s court could be introduced to the clan.

It reminded you very much of your debutant ball, where you were shown with other girls to many suitable lords to find a husband. Only Jasper wasn’t looking for a partner as he had alice so the entire thing was very boring for him, until he spotted a member of the high guard looking at you.

“My sweet girl” aro said as he appeared in front of you “how I’ve missed you so”

“She has missed you too aro” Carlisle spoke for you, jealousy clear in his eyes at someone being paternal towards you

“Why, you have grown as protective as ever Carlisle” aro comments with a fake smile as he looks back to you “but you have grown lovelier my dear”

“Thank you aro” you say with slight blush of embarrassment

You were dressed in a baby pink gown which reflected your time period. Aro had picked it especially and ordered for you to wear it and no other dresses. You were relived as rosalie wanted you to wear a pinker dress which was full of bows and thrill.

As you and aro chatted with your family close behind you, alec approached.

“Lady (y/n)” he speaks and you tilt your head to him

“She’s no longer a lady, she’s a cullen now” Edward corrects rudely but alec doesn’t look at him

“I was wondering if you wanted a dance” alec said as he held out his hand, Jasper growled at him

“She’s staying here alec” Carlisle says with a fake smile while his hand goes to your shoulder “sorry”

“Come now, let them dance Carlisle” aro says with glee while looking at the two of you “it’s just some fun for them”

“No aro we need her near us” Carlisle says firmly

“Are you defying an order of a volturi leader at our own event?” Caius scoffs as he comes from behind aro “that’s quite rude don’t you think?”

Carlisle realises the silent threat and hesitates before nodding at you. Alec takes you to the dance floor and leads you to the centre. He grasps your hand in his while his other goes to your lower waist as you begin to dance

“Have you missed me?” He asks with a playful grin as the two of you sway against each other

“Of course I have” you joke “who wouldn’t miss your charming personality”

“You may jest, my dear” alec laughs out “but many newborns have craved the company of a high guard and I seem to be a favourite”

“And yet your dancing with me?” You say playfully with a brow raised

“And yet I Dance with you” he repeats with a grin “the only unattainable woman here”

“How very Romeo of you” you say sarcastically

“Only for you” he says back with adoring eyes “my sweet Juliet”

Your dancing increases pace as your feet move incredibly fast. You loved dancing like this, it reminded you of your human life where your dance card was frequently used. Alec seemed to enjoy it too.

“should I expect another visit at my window tonight?” You ask while eyeing up those are you to see if anyone could hear

“Of course” he says with a smirk “how else would I enjoy the pleasure of your company”

“That’s true” you confirm “my captors are not very fond of you”

“How long are you staying this time?” He asks thoughtfully and eager for an answer

“Only two days” you confessed with a sigh as he drew your body closer to his

“When will you be able to stay with us forever?” He questions almost sadly but he covers it up with a sigh

“When the cullens let me go” you say with a frown

“And when will that be” he holds you tighter

“When they’re all dead” you say quietly as the song comes closer to its end

alec smiles before leaning his mouth to your ear as your family look on with deadly glares. He pulls you closer with a smirk

“I promise you” he whispers “I will kill then one day and set you free, little bird”

“And how will you do that?” You question doubtfully

“Just wait for me little bird” he says vaguely “I’ll come for you”

The song ends and alec pulls away. Jasper comes closer but before he can yank you away, alec brings your hand to his mouth and lays a kiss to your knuckles.

The action makes you blush, in your time period this would be considered courting but you took it as him sealing his promise.

Jasper pulls you back to your table and you think about Alec’s words. Were they truthful? Would he lie? One thing you did know was…

You prayed that he would keep his promise.

Wrote this for my alec girlies who wanted a bit of fluff

Hope you enjoyed :)

Love ya ❤️

[paintdlady]

A Long Engagement (pt. 1)

Wyll Ravengard x Tav / Arranged marriage AU

Word count: 5,225

Tav stared at the robe laid out across their neatly made bed, its navy color easily drew one’s eye to the embroidered constellation of silver stars stitched along the collar and across the sleeve cuffs. At the center of each star was a small white gemstone, twinkling in the soft candlelight. By sight alone, they could tell that it was truly a lovely garment, so subtly intricate and so unlike anything their parents would select.

It made Tav’s stomach twist in a sharp knot because nowadays such an intimate gift could only mean two things:

One: another suitor had come calling.

Two: Tav’s parents liked this one.

Most gifts were left in the reception hall to be personally hand delivered to an impassive Tav, and it always took everything in them to not look completely disgusted or bored.

But today’s gift was terrifying because it was grand and only grew lovelier the longer they admired it.

Swallowing thickly around the tight collar of anxiety, Tav finally dared to take a step closer and ran a careful finger along the constellations. Quickly, they were drawn towards a certain diagonal line of stars, the third of which was flanked by two smaller stars and created the shape of a dagger. Jassa’s Dagger.

Precious few knew this, but that was their favorite constellation. Was it also one of the few they could identify with ease? Yes. But that didn’t lessen their excitement. Whenever they found themself beneath the night’s dark blanket, Tav always looked for the dagger first.

From behind them, Tav could hear their bedroom door quickly open and close. Their hand flew to their bathrobe, clutching the collar close to hide away their once exposed chest.

“What are you doing just standing about, dear? Supper is nearly finished, and you should’ve been out of the bath ages ago! Please don’t tell me you were composing ballads in the tub again, you really ought to take more breaks from songwriting, it’s becoming an obsession-”

“Who sent this?” Tav asked, glancing behind to find their mother and her handmaiden, Estella approaching. “It’s a bold gift…”

“As bold as tonight’s guests. You should wear it, I believe it’ll most please them to see you sporting the beautiful robe.” Mother’s delight emanated from her, from the twinkle in her eyes to the hop in her step.

“Mother-“

“Don’t you agree, Estella?” Mother suddenly asked, cutting Tav off.

“Yes, ma’am,” the handmaiden nodded, she was just as eager as her lady if the look in her eye was to be trusted. Estella had always adored dressing Tav up, and delighted in any given reason to do so. Today was no exception. “If I may add, it would pair nicely with the young saer’s satin slippers and the silver chain belt Master Agustin gifted them just a tenday ago.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. My husband does so love spoiling Tav with the finest accessories.”

“Let me rephrase, mother,” Tav huffed. “What is the name of tonight’s most generous guest?”

But no answer came, not immediately. Mother’s smile remained as level as usual, reaching out to their child just to smooth the wrinkle from their brow.

“Must you always be so scrupulous, my pride and joy? Nobody would think less of you for just enjoying the gifts lavished upon you from time to time. Nothing pleases the eye so much as a pretty flower in full bloom, I daresay it’s even good for the heart,” she told them.

“Must you be so vexing?” they grumbled, begrudgingly accepting the powder blue tunic and a pair of black trousers from Estella.

“You will thank me for this someday,” Mother cooly replied as she turned to where Tav kept their jewelry box, more interested in finding the right gems for her child to wear tonight than fight the same old argument over again.

Tav ducked behind the folding screen to change into their clothes. Future spouse or not, Tav didn’t think it appropriate to greet their guests in nothing but their undergarments.

“You know the Beartails just handed their child away to the first bidder. Some…” Mother paused and her face scrunched as she waved her hand, likely thinking of a polite way to say ‘ass-hat’. “Some precocious cartographer, I believe. He teaches at an academy to actually make ends meet. You should be so glad your father cares for your comfort that he’d never settle for such a low earner.”

Personally, a cartographer seemed a fine career to Tav. Had they had the freedom to do so, they would’ve loved exploring the lands and drawing maps with nothing but their own skills and the silver lady, Selune, as their guide.

“A cartographer is not a stable career,” their mother said with such sharpness that it was almost as if she could read Tav’s very own thoughts.

“I didn’t even say anything!” They snapped back with a roll of their eyes, rounding the privacy screen.

“Would you like to fix your tone for me, Tavana?” Her cold and even voice made Tav stiffen. Their gaze dropped to the ground at their feet, not daring to look at her as she continued. “I think you’ll be far happier if you had a better attitude and were more kind to your parents who just want the best for you. Imagine being grateful for having people who care about you, wouldn’t that be nice?”

A heavy, oppressive silence filled the bedchamber as mother waited for Tav to answer her. But first they had to swallow the lump in their throat, neatly tucking away the ugliness that quelled within them. The unthinkable thoughts could not surface now.

“I’m sorry, mother.” Tav finally said. They didn’t want to be ungrateful. And mother was right, they didn’t have to hold off on promising Tav’s hand to anyone. It was an act of their love that they sent away any of the suitors who were too old or capricious, allowing Tav to even say no so long as they met their would-be spouse at least once and tried.

There were families who did not mind who their children wed so long as their coin purse was heavy or their reputation gilded enough. To marry for love was a rarity, it was a privilege that nobility sacrificed for the greater good of society - their allegiances had to be made with the politics of the world in mind. Tav’s tutor had done well to impart this knowledge upon Tav constantly throughout the years. In turn, it was their duty to weigh all the pros and cons of each suitor and settle with someone who came close to their most important ideals.

“I forgot myself,” they quietly added.

With a huge sigh, mother pulled Tav close enough to put the selected diamond earrings on for them. And then she took a moment to examine her child’s face. “You are my pride and joy, my little gem. I take no pleasure in pushing you so hard, you know this. But your father and I want to know you are well taken care of, and this is a good opportunity.”

“I do, I know,” they quickly assured. “You and father do me a great kindness, I shouldn’t react so hastily.”

“Good. Now be a good child and let Estella help you finish dressing. You must look good for our guests tonight,” mother paused thoughtfully, taking Tav’s chin in her hand, “for the Ravengards.”

She took only a moment to revel in the gobsmacked expression on Tav’s face, smugly grinning at them before she swept out of the room to resume her duties as hostess.

While still processing this information, Estella slipped the robe on Tav, adjusting the collar so it would sit properly and better show off the embroidery.

“Is it true, Estella?” They asked. “Is it really the Ravengards?”

The amused smile on the handmaiden’s face was all the answer they needed.

Of all the houses Tav would have guessed, the Ravengards were not within the first seven they would have thought of. That wasn’t a slight upon them, it was only that they were still new to high society. The family conformed in some ways, and took liberties where they pleased.

On the rare occasions Tav had been in the same room as the patriarch, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard had an air of stern propriety and intimidated them with just a passing glance. From his bones to his armor, the man was a warrior and leader tried true. Tav never would have guessed he, nor his son, would have interest in building alliances this way, nor such fine taste in garments. It just didn’t seem the sort of thing they would have put much thought to.

But perhaps the patriarch’s work with the Flaming Fist and later as a duke had brought him into acquaintance with a dressmaker who did care more than enough for everyone, because this robe was truly a work of wonders.

While cotton was an accessible fabric for everyone regardless of their wealth status, the cotton of this robe was so incredibly soft. It had been woven with such great care that Tav found it just as pretty as silk, but thankfully more breathable - they appreciated the fact their body heat could escape and not leave them on the verge of a sweating mess as Estella sat them before the vanity table and fixed their hair and makeup.

If they wanted, they could probably steal away to the training yard and take a few good wacks at a practice dummy to blow off a little steam after supper while the adults moved to the parlor. Tav wasn’t dedicated to the blade, but they did enjoy the occasional opportunity to release their pent up frustration and hit something every now and then. So the practicality of the garment was probably what Tav liked best about it if they were honest, thankful for something that didn’t limit their movement and require stillness. Many did not think of such things when ordering clothing for them.

“The young lord… this Wyll. I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him in person, it seems we’ve always just missed one another at social events. I hear he’s good with the blade though,” Tav mused, tilting their head up so Estella could line their eyes with kohl.

“Oh, he’s splendid! A real prodigy if I ever did see one - and I have, mind you. In fact, I saw him in a lower city tournament just months ago.”

“The lower city?” Tav asked, quietly amazed. Their own parents were so strict about letting them wander the lower city streets, there was no way they’d allow them to do that sort of thing. “How old is Wyll again, Estella?”

“He turned ten-and-six but a month ago.”

“So he’s a year younger than I,” they mumbled, brushing their fingers along the small gems at the cuff of their robe in thought. Sixteen years of age and the Ravengard heir was running through the streets like some sort of commoner. How reckless. As the marshal of the Flaming Fist, Tav thought Ulder would understand the dangers of the city best. And yet he allowed his son liberties that Tav’s strictly forbade out of concern for their safety. The mere idea of such a thing made Tav’s stomach twist with… with jealousy.

“Worry not, little gem. With Sir Wyll, you’ll hardly feel that year’s difference. He’s a clever child and already quite tall.” The handmaiden assured, misinterpreting the meaning of Tav’s words. Truthfully, they could hardly care about something like height. No, instead Tav wondered if they agreed to marry this Wyll Ravengard, could they play in the lower city too? Would he permit his spouse to follow him through the crowd, or would Tav only be exchanging one cage for another?

For ages, Tav had dreamt of exploring all the shops they passed on their way to Stormshore Tabernacle. Prayer was the only occasion when their parents would allow them out with only Estella by their side, and so Tav found freedom between incense, devotions, and lyre strings plucked in the name of Oghma himself.

“Careful, you’ll loosen them,” Estella warned, pulling Tav’s hands from fiddling at their finery.

“Right. Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,” they confessed.

“What kind of thoughts?”

Estella’s question made Tav glance at her in the vanity mirror’s reflection while pushing thoughts of open air and cobblestone streets from their mind for now. Instead, they would speak of something light - something inconsequential and happy.

“Well, like if he’s handsome,” they answered with a coy smile.

An amused look crossed Estella’s face, interrupting her concentration just long enough to chuckle a little bit.

“A subjective matter, but yes. I suppose he is, that’s the common consensus. You’ll have to tell me your thoughts after you greet him.”

“Of course. It’d be nice to have someone to talk about my future husband with,” Tav conceded. The two shared a look, a moment of fleeting camaraderie not as employer and employee, but as two people who enjoyed swooning over the sweetest love songs and the most heartbreakingly doomed romance novels.

“Anytime, little gem. Now smile, we’re all ready!” Estella cheered as she gave one last final brush of iridescent powder to Tav’s cheekbones.

Rising to look at themself in the floor length mirror, Tav glanced at the handmaiden and could see she was quite proud of her work - and thinking of something.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself tonight,” they complimented, waiting to see what had the cogs in her mind turning so ferociously.

“I have, but that robe did most of the heavy lifting if we’re honest. When you have the time, could you perhaps ask Sir Ravengard who the tailor is? I think their work suits you well, we would do well to commission them for more pieces.” Estella said, for she had always had a keen eye for the latest fashions.

“I’m certain mother is already on it,” Tav assured, taking the offered silver chain belt and fastened it at their waist.

“She is most enterprising,” Estella smiled. “Now let us be off, saer.”

Giving the completed look one last gander, Tav quietly smoothed down their robes and then turned from one side to the other. They were, admittedly, quite pleased with their reflection. A flower in full bloom as mother had said. Now, it was off to see the hand that would pluck them if permitted.

“Right.” Withering with a wave of anxiety, Tav drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. This was for the best, mother and father would never endanger them.

“We already missed the initial reception, it’d be unseemly if we missed dinner.”

“Late for dinner? Oh my, now that’s a scandal that’ll shake the city itself,” Tav teased, following the handmaiden.

“It would,” Estella soberly agreed. “I pray they pardon your tardiness.”

“In my defense, I shouldn’t have been blindsided with this visit. Had I known, we would’ve had more time to prepare. Hells, I might’ve even been able to plan an impromptu trip out of the city,” Tav chuckled.

“Hush, this is an important matter at hand. I’ll hear nothing about running away, my poor nerves are dreadfully thin as it is,” Estella chided and then frowned when she received a delighted laugh in return.

All gleeful tittering came to a harsh stop when they rounded a corner and found a young man admiring one of the many paintings displayed in the hallway.

“M-Master Ravengard,” Estella stammered, giving a respectful bow of her head.

“Do forgive me for overhearing, but I hear Amn is lovely this time of year,” Ravengard said, slowly turning from the painting with his hands neatly folded together behind his back. His boyish smile faltered for a second as they made eye contact.

Oh. This was mortifying. Tav could not have dreamt a more embarrassing scenario than this, this was a nightmare. They had one objective tonight, and it was so damn simple they couldn’t have messed it up if they tried. All they had to do was charm their suitor and have them coming back, eager more than ever to make Tav their spouse.

And they had messed it up before they had even properly laid eyes upon him. Tav burned hot in embarrassment, bereft of any glee after being caught acting so uncouth.

“Tavana Silverwing?” Sir Wyll Ravengard guessed, eyeing them with an unreadable expression upon his face.

They looked to Estella, but the handmaiden very, very conveniently turned her head in the complete opposite direction at the very same time. The message was loud and clear: ‘you’re on your own, kid!’

“That is I,” they meekly replied finally, bracing for an offended lashing. They would deserve it after all. He’s gifted them a dazzling robe and they repaid his kindness with mockery. “Please, disregard what you heard, I was merely jesting. I truly appreciate the time and effort you’ve spared me, I just… I had no idea I was to expect company tonight and find myself… querulous.”

It was frustrating to be pinned beneath Sir Wyll’s gaze in such a horrible situation. On one hand, they wish he would get the confrontation over with, call them a spoiled brat and tell them he never wished to see them again. They would deserve it, Tav did not deny that. It was logical in the face of not being taken seriously. On the other hand, as this slow passing nightmare lingered, Tav could not stop themself from realizing how unbearably rich and lovely his eyes were. They were nearly the same shade as the dark tourmaline pin upon his lapel, glittering beautifully.

Finally, the young lord opened his mouth and he gave a hearty laugh, his amusement started Tav. But their befuddlement seemed to only egg him on more, which in turn made their body burn hotter.

“I’ve heard that your tongue is more silver than your wings, but to see it at play is a delight in itself,” the young Sir Ravengard chuckled as he watched Tav in all their bashful glory.

“You will have to forgive me for neither confirming nor denying that, sir. I- I’m not in the habit of talking about my tongue’s skill upon first meeting,” they replied with a humble bow, hoping to make him laugh more to salvage his impression of them.

From the quick raise of his eyebrows, he likely hadn’t expected such words to leave the mouth of the precious little gem of the Silverwing house. And yet he laughed, and Tav found he had a wonderful smile. “Apologies, saer. It seems I’ve gotten ahead of myself.”

“You’re forgiven so long as you can find it within yourself to accept my own apologies, Wyll Ravengard; student of the blade and, if my eyes do not deceive me, a connoisseur of the arts.”

“Then bygones are bygones,” he said. “I don’t know if I’d consider myself a connoisseur though, I merely stop and enjoy the flowers as I pass them.”

“And which flower has caught your eye so vehemently that you are out here in the hall while the party is inside?” Tav asked, looking across the wall that held many of their mother’s favorite pieces - an arrangement of ancestral portraits and historical events or landscapes.

“You.” Wyll’s voice was so soft, so painstakingly tender as he looked at the large family portrait. A confusing emotion nestled in Tav’s chest as they tried to discern his intentions and he continued. “I’ve admired your music for so long, but I don’t think I’ve ever been able to get a good look at the musician who can pluck so sweetly at the lyre that even the songbirds stop to listen. It’s nice to put a face to the melody.”

“You’ve heard me play?” It was the only thing they could think to ask in the midst of pure surprise.

“A few times. I’ve always wanted to come pay compliments to you whenever we were at the same social events, but you were always gone by the time I could peel myself away from the dancefloor.”

“Ah, yes. I’m not much for staying too late at such events,” they admitted. As much as they would love to participate in festivities, mother had them on a strict beauty regimen that included a full night’s rest. And Tav did not care for all the leering, the attention paid to them was so hungry at such events.

“Then allow me to compliment you now,” he said, pulling a flower from himself.

“Were you holding that the whole time?”

“Yes. I thought I’d give it to you when we first met, but then…” he slowly trailed off and Tav could feel their face burn.

“You overheard me talking about escape plans,” they groaned as they pressed their palms to their cheeks.

“I did mean what I said about Amn though,” he grinned.

“Ha. Ha. I’ll have you know I didn’t think you were just around the corner when I made that joke,” they whined.

“I suppose I have no choice but to believe you,” he continued to tease.

Suddenly, a roar of laughter came from further down the hall - the dining room. Tav could just faintly hear their father regaling a story from his old days, back when he sailed the sea and visited distant lands, trading goods and outwitting bad guys.

When Tav was still small, they had delighted in such tales, eagerly begging to hear them just before bedtime.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“Your father has a real knack for storytelling, I don’t think I have ever been painted a more vivid picture. He makes one feel like they’re there on the journey with him. Is your home always this warm and cheerful?” Wyll asked, intending to compliment but must realize he hit a sore spot from the little furrow of Tav’s brow.

“It used to be…” they mumbled, but then quickly cleared their throat. “It’s no matter though, father is often away on business. Sacrifice begets privilege, and what matters most is that I know he loves me.” Whether their father liked them was a whole separate issue.

“That’s true,” Wyll nodded. “It’s a bit like me and my father. Sometimes he brings me to work with him, but sometimes he’s quite busy and I don’t see him for days on end.”

“Between the Fist and his ducal duties, I’m quite amazed he’s even found time for something like, well, this.”

Wyll chuckled with deep amusement. “That would be Counselor Florrick’s doing.”

“Ah. She is a woman with the most discerning eye.”

Of course Florrick would see the appeal of engaging Wyll and Tav together. The Silverwing family had a fair few merchants in their pocket and the respect of more old-fashioned houses. What sort of political move were they hoping to make? And how did it align with father’s interests? Tav tucked the query aside to mull over later when they had a moment’s peace for themself. For now it was important to play along with what they could infer their parents wanted from them: ensnare Wyll Ravengard’s attention, and seriously consider his hand in marriage.

“When Florrick first suggested this arrangement, I confess I wasn’t so sure what to think. But this… this has been both enlightening and a delight I will not soon forget. Do all courtings all begin like this?”

That amused Tav, making them quickly hide their mouth behind their hand when they couldn’t help but snort.

“Please, most first meetings with admirers bore me to tears. I shouldn’t say this, but the last admirer who came calling before you was so in love with the sound of their own voice, it made me want to swan dive into the ocean and never return,” they told him, making them both laugh.

“Sounds like they missed out on a lovely discussion, and I pity them for it.”

Tav paused then, surprised not by his compliment but his sincerity. It was laid out so plainly across his face and not hidden behind the usual snark or double entendres that Tav typically had to navigate through.

“You flatter me, sir-”

“Wyll. Just Wyll, please.”

“Oh. I-I couldn’t possibly, we’ve only just met,” Tav flustered between the beautiful robe and the idea of using his first name so soon. “It wouldn’t be proper, if someone overheard us-”

“What about in secret then, when it’s just us,” he suggested in a whisper, just low enough for them to hear. His warm breath against their ear made Tav smile despite themself.

“Very well then… Wyll.” His name slipped so slow and sweet from their mouth like honey.

“Thank you, Tavana.”

“Just Tav, please. I’m only Tavana when I’m in trouble and getting a scolding.”

“I’m sure we could find a little trouble if you’d like. Maybe a cliffside to practice our swan dives?”

Tav smiled back at him, “I would’ve taken you up on that offer last month. Tonight I’m quite keen to stop and admire the flowers.”

With a small step closer to him, Tav’s fingers ghosted over Wyll’s as they carefully plucked the flower from his hand. Somehow, they felt more flattered by this single bloom than any large bouquet previous suitors had pushed into their hands. At first glance, it was a humble offering. At second glance, it was as thoughtful as the robe he had gifted them.

“How did you manage to get such a beautiful flower from Lady Marie’s garden?” They asked. The old woman was so protective of her rare and exotic flowers, Tav wouldn’t have believed this gifted bloom came from her. But there was nowhere else in the city that could produce such a rare species as this. They knew this much because she had just been boasting about it at last week’s tea party she hosted to show them off.

“It’s not a very interesting story,” but his eyes beget a hint of mischief. “More importantly, your hands pluck only the finest and most perfect notes, I knew the same should be said of the petals that may find themselves between your fingers.”

“You… are an astoundingly good sweet-talker,” they chuckled as they rolled the stem between their fingers. “I fear my tongue is nothing but tin in comparison to yours.”

“If I recall correctly, it’s too early to be comparing tongues, Tav.”

If Wyll was truly like this all the time, so witty and charming, this was perhaps the best hope Tav had in regards to marriage for the longer they spoke with him, the fewer cons they found to his proposal. They didn’t need love at first sight, but to have his friendship? His good opinion? That could sustain Tav even better than what the bard songs promised.

“Wyll? How- please, pardon my curtness, but how do you feel about courting me?” Tav asked as they hand fiddled with an inlaid gem at their cuff, unable to phrase it more delicately. “Is this something you also want? Or is this just a formality, a favor for your father or Counselor Florrick?”

Wyll wasn’t expecting that, his smile twisted in confusion. “Do you not believe in my sincerity?”

“No, I do. But I also understand being willing to compromise for duty, to make the best of a situation. Courtship is… it’s more than flirty banter, it’s a serious matter to me and I want us to be on the same page.”

He quietly nodded, turning their words over in his head for a moment.

“I’ll speak clearly then. I never envisioned myself taking part in an arranged marriage, I have always envisioned taking a spouse out of love and still wish to do so. But from the first moment I heard your music, my heart was yours. And, well, I couldn’t bear to see you engaged to someone else before I could even confess my admiration.

“In a way, I’m even thankful this arrangement allowed me to come to you with all my intentions laid bare: I wish to get to know you, to better understand my feelings for you. So, I hope you don’t mind the idea of a long engagement… should we proceed together.”

There is a moment of silence as it sunk in that they were truly the precipice of forever. And his honesty deserved honesty in return.

“I would love that, a long engagement would be perfect. I just had to ask because I only want this if you do too. I couldn’t bear to be to you what others have been to me, you wouldn’t deserve that.” And in Tav’s experience, a forced connection could only ever become a target of misery and contempt.

He seemed to understand as his brow unfurrowed. “Tav…”

“I won’t lie to you and say I really believe in love at first sight, Wyll. That is a privilege I could never afford, that’s my sacrifice for my family. But, I can confidently tell you that I feel there is something worth tending to here. But beyond the good we could do together, I only want it if you want it too. Not your father, not my parents. You.”

“I do, I want this,” he assured and reached for them. “Not just for duty, but for myself.”

“And you understand the seriousness of this? People will be watching us, so it will be my duty to protect your honor as you protect mine.”

“Even if we weren’t courting, I could never allow someone to besmirch you,” he told them - a sentiment Tav had just been thinking to themself about Wyll. “I truly want to take my time winning your hand until the day our hearts know there will never be another for us.”

Appeased with his answers, Tav permitted him to take their hand. His palm was rough and calloused and that of someone unafraid of hard work - dedication. They felt proud that they were only nominally flustered when he kissed their bare knuckles.

“Well. I believe we have good news to tell our parents,” Tav said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze before they let go, fingertips slowly sliding away from his and yet neither really moved.

Tav found themself lost in his eyes, thinking about the fact Wyll’s friendship was the greatest gift they had ever received, even better than the lovely robe. Sure, they only had it for mere minutes, and yet it had steadied Tav in ways no gold or art or jewelry could.

“Shall we head in then, Tav?” Wyll extended his arm out for them to take, ready to escort them in. And who were they to deny him? They linked their arm over his and took a deep breath, letting the reality of the moment sink in.

Come morrow, news of their courtship would make the rounds through society. The race for Tav’s hand would come to a wonderful halt, and they would have more time to focus intently upon that which they wanted. Their music, their daily trek for prayer, and - as it turned out - Wyll Ravengard.

Whatever their parents had planned would come later, a discussion for future Tav to deal with. Tonight they simply wanted to enjoy being treated like an equal and basking in Wyll’s beauty, his joy and laughter.

[imaginelovewrite]

A price for peace part three, Madoc’s POV

Eldred, the high king of elfhame has a magnanimous smile on his face, as he says: “Now each of you is assigned a room.” I’m stunned. He plans to keep each of us prisoner then.

Jude’s hands shake. There are unshed tears in her eyes. I give her small hands a squeeze and whisper “it’ll be ok.” Though to tell the truth I doubt it.

I notice Prince Cardan is giving her a jealous stare. I unsheathe my sword more with my other hand. He looks away. There is a troubled expression on his face. I wonder what he must be feeling. He was banished from here as a child, now he is to move back.

Nicasia looks at me. And I know what she’s thinking “I have to marry him?! Her eyes are filled with disgust and hatred.

Her disgust stings. It’s a stab to my pride. I know I am not one of the prettier faeries. In fact humans consider me ugly. Buy ugliness is considered to be loveliness in faerie. Only humans found me ugly. And apparently the princess of the undersea

“I’ll send envoys to gather your things, you four are dismissed.” The high king says, waving his hands to dismiss us.

We all bow to Eldred, though the sea princess’ hands shake.

Meanwhile, In Madoc’s estate, a fine palace that houses numeral servants. A messenger asks for the lady of the house

Orianna appears. She is as lovely as the moon though her milk white skin makes her look like a ghost

The messenger is dressed in a fine green hat and doublet. His pants are black though. He is a handsome faerie who has longed admired Lady Orianna. He looks at her with longing.

if only she had not married such a brute!” The messenger thinks. “My poor lady Orianna she must have suffered so much!

Orianna addresses the messenger “Casper.” There is surprise in her voice.

Casper, the messenger brightens. It seems his lady has not forgotten him at all. He bows to Orianna. “My lady.”

Orianna gives a tight lipped smile. “Where is my husband?” She asks.

Casper’s features darken. He wonders if has this brute hurt his fair lady to the point she is afraid of him. “Worry, not my lady.” He says. “The king wants him to stay at the palace.”

Orianna sighs in relief. Casper however thinks she fears him. Fears to have to give in to his bodily lusts. For Casper, and the whole of faerie society thinks Madoc ravishes Orianna against her will. But in truth he has never touched her. “Worry not my lady, The king has given Lord Madoc a new bride. You are free.”

At this Orianna pales. “What will become of Oak?” She thinks.

Orianna gives the messenger a sweet smile. the messenger is so besotted with Orianna he ignores how worried she is. He just assumes she’s scared for the girl.

How kind lady Orianna is! Casper thinks

It then occurs to Orianna how happy Madoc is to have a new bride. A killing aura begins to erupt from her. that bastard…. She thinks

The messenger is completely oblivious to Orianna’s murderous aura. How kind and gentle the lady, no matter what hardship she has faced, the messenger obliviously thinks.

The servants, noticing Orianna’s murderous energy back away slowly from their lady

I am in a room in the palace. It is a nice room, with diamond tiled floors and flowers curling around the walls. The bed is made of mahogany and the blankets are of satin and silk.

It is a room even finer than my chamber. But it is not a room for him. As a warrior who had stayed with his men through the rough desserts, the freezing winters and the raining temperatures, I saw this room for as fit for a coward.

There was a reason I had fewer servants than most of the gentry. Despite being one of the most revered faeries of the gentry and the wealthiest? I held a minimalist type of lifestyle having grown up as a soldier.

My father, a revered grand general himself had fathered seven children with seven women. He made it clear only a soldier would be his heir. Only I had survived through father’s brutal training.

I had become a soldier through and through and father’s heir. To me this room was gaudy and ostentatious.

There was a knock at the door.

I was shocked to see my wife Orianna. There was murderous energy coming from her. I am ashamed to say I backed away slightly. As a soldier I do notfeared death but right now the murderous aura coming from Orianna makes me very afraid of her.

I ashamed to say my voice was squeaking when I first spoke. “Orianna” I bought to force my voice back to normal. “Orianna what are you doing…”

“ Is it true you will be married to someone more young and beautiful?”

It seems like rumors travel quickly. “Yes.”

Her voice is sweet when she next speaks. “I see, I see” she appears to be the picture of calm. I can’t ignore the bloodlusts erupting from her though.

Orianna gives a sweet smile, before erupting “You think I’m going to put up with this?” She roars.

To say I’m shocked in an understatement. Orianna is usually so sweet and calm. I am ashamed to say that if I were less brave my pants would be filled with piss right now. Sweat drops from my. brow. “Hhhold on dear.” I am ashamed to say I stammer at first. I am very afraid of my wife right now. thankfully no servant is here to witness this moment. “It is the king’s decree”.

There is a pout on her lips, did you fight tooth and nail to escape this decree?” I cannot say yes.

her eyes narrow “I see.” She turns her back towards me. “I will be expecting you and your new bride at the Mansion. She turns to look at me, her face blank. “I trust you won’t throw me and Oak out.”

“No! Of course not I love Oak.” The fact she could think such a thing, hurts and shock me.

Orianna nods. I want to say more, want to pull her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings. But this is not a marriage of love. So Instead I clench my first and say nothing more. Orianna closes the door and leaves.

[art-is-a-line]

The cold choir of the endless white waves ignores the monster on its side. The sand wrestles with the saltwater to become a brown sludge that holds him on the shoreline. She has made him. He is painted into the middle of the canvas with only one witness other than us who watch him living or dying or breathing or not. The particles of his beard stretch longer than a sunset underneath him.

The mouth of the sky kisses the lips of the earth. We are productive. We point. We gather. We crouch. The cool cold air rustles through the long grass. And the black patches of paint creep through the skin of the planet. Are they anxious? Are they worried? Should we be worried? Is she worried that she makes this thing? This work of art. This endless plane. This flatness. This exhausting search for danger.

There is stillness in the underground, and the beast has not yet traveled. And so we are safe to cross over. And we are hidden in our protective skin. And we are here for every reason and no reason. And the texture of the air is stale but it is cool and it is wet, but it is a wetness that is old. It is wetness that has been trapped down here for as long as people need to travel. And these tracks take us everywhere and nowhere. And she will not bring the train. They will ignore fear because the train is not coming. Not in this painting. Not today.

Human beings are here even though they are not. You can see the remnants. You can see the things they have left behind. The basket is old. And you know that the space is old. And the people who live here are even older. Outside of the window is the lie of light. It is the fog of disembodiment. It is the gray inner coat of vital organs. And we are trapped inside trying to stay alive. And sooner or later we will be here to do the work. The ancient work. The work that she has left for us. And we will find the work in the browns and the tans and in the bruised blues of the implements that she has left for us. And we will do the work. We will do the work. We will do the work again.

There is the side and the other side. And the other side is multiplied. And there are not more than three. And between us is the frozen river. The frozen, unfrozen river… because it is not cold enough or still enough or strong enough to bring us together. And yet being apart is exactly what we want. And she has put us on each side. And there is danger. There is the chance that someone might be hurt. There is the chance that someone might hurt someone else. Because we are already hurt. We are already feeling the pain of the gray blue that falls on us. There is no snow but the sky is still falling. You can see it behind us. You can see it around us. This is the saddest state. The saddest country. In the middle of the saddest season. And we ignore the sadness. But we group tightly to the weapons of our own gray blue sadness.

She breaks the winter with a sky that could make anyone smile, and yet here we are in the corruptible dead shell of our bodies. A body that once housed the bodies of the happy, but now it is a body that is diseased. It is a body that has been touched by all of the danger of nature. And she is angry. She is frightened. And she holds her fear up to her eye. And as lovely as she looks in her dress, she is not aware of her loveliness. Because this is the endless plane. This is the country that is so flat and so cold even in the spring. Even under the teardrop blue sky. This is the country where violence can easily happen daily.

Once we could escape. Once people did. Once they traveled from one end of the earth to the other. And then back. And then back and back and back and forth. Until travel was no longer possible. Until escape was just someone's memory. Someone who no longer exists. And now we stare at the hulk. We stare at the Leviathan. We stare at the monster like a dead whale on the edge of the ocean. And we see it's black tarnished blood streaming from underneath it like a shadow or gunpowder. Because this is also a weapon. This is something that could have killed. It might have killed. And it still could kill. And we sit on the edge of winter and we cry and we howl and we mew. And we wait for a winter to run away and possibly crush us under the weight of the cabin.

Nature has made it inconvenient and yet still we have found a way to collide through her and find the golden glowing palace of convenience. She makes us this way. She wakes up and she sees us from a dream that she had that might have made her happy and yet as she stares into her mind, the dream becomes this wintry nightmare. And while her children are off at school, her mind is left to explore the sorrow of our home. The collective sorrow of the people who live here in her home. And she is able to feel it. She can feel it in the colors that she uses to create this oasis. And they are parked. And they are stalking. And they are shopping for the things that they think they need. When the things that they truly need are lost and embedded in their frozen and broken dreams.

[itsalwayswellattheworldsend]

Chapter 2 - They Break Their Fast in the Wildwood

Text Audio

Synopsis:

Ralph and the Lady travel northward through the woods, flirting as they go.

Summary:

“Sooth to say, Knight, I am no weakling dame, who cannot move her limbs save in the dance, or to back the white palfrey and ride the meadows, goshawk on wrist; I am both well-knit and light-foot as the Wood-wife and Goddess of yore agone.”

When it was almost noon and they had been laying for a long time in the grass, Ralph got up and stood as though listening for something. But the Lady looked at him and said: “There are nothing but deer in these woods, though it may still be best for us to move along.”

“Yes,” said Ralph, “and it may be that my ‘master’ will get a group together to search for us.”

“No,” she replied, “he would see it as an insult to himself if he would need a whole group to find just one man; if he comes, he will be alone. When he found us gone, he no doubt sought Silverfax, my horse, hoping that he could follow our trail.”

“Well,” said Ralph, “if he does come alone, there is still my sword between him and you.”

She was standing beside him now with her hand on his shoulder, “Listen to my darling, the champion! He trusts his heart and his sword-hand. But no, I have taken care of this for you. Listen, if you will not be upset when I tell you of all the things I do, both good and evil. Before we left, I said a word in Silverfax’s ear, and now the good horse knows my intentions and will lead the Knight of the Sun astray for a while, but not so much that he might become suspicious and pursue us alone. Indeed, I left Silverfax behind for this reason, or else you would have ridden through the woodlands with me, instead of tiring yourself by going afoot, what with your weapons and armor.”

He looked at her gently and said, smiling: “And you, my dear, are you not a little tired by what would wear out a knight who grew up running through fields?”

“No,” she said, “do you see how lightly dressed I am, having left behind my cloak and coat?” Then she gathered up her skirt away from her legs as though ready to run, and she smiled as she saw him admire the loveliness of her feet, and she stepped lightly over the flowering grass as she spoke: “In truth, Knight, I am no weakling whose only exercises are dancing or falconry on horseback. I am strong and agile as the Nymphs and Goddesses of the ancient people. A lot of work has gone into that, which I will tell you about soon, but for now we���d best be moving on. Yet, before we go, I will at least tell you this: there is no sorcery to my knowledge of these woods. I was born and raised in the woods, though not these woods, and it is in the woods that I am at home.”

They went hand-in-hand through among the hazel trees, and soon the woods were thick about them, but—as before—the Lady led him unerringly through the covered paths. Then Ralph said: “I’m happy to go wherever you lead, but it is clear to me that we are not going to the Castle of Abundance.”

“That’s true,” she said. “Indeed, if I had met you there as I had planned, I would have quickly brought you along this path, or one close to it, which is the way to Hampton under Scaur, and the Fellowship of Champions who live there on the cliff.”

“That’s good,” said Ralph, “Though I must say that I would have preferred the Castle. I would have liked to see you in the ivory chair, atop the dais and surrounded by yourself in tapestry—will you tell me the story those pictures show? And also about the book I read, which spoke of you.”

“Ah,” she said, “you have read the book—well, I will tell you the story very soon, and all the more because there are things written in the book which are wrong.” She then sped up, and she seemed to never tire, though Ralph was beginning to grow weary.

She stopped him then, and laughed sweetly, saying: “It has been a long time since this June day began, and I think I know what you need, and it lies a bit closer than Hampton under Scaur—which we will not reach for two days, if we continue afoot.”

“What I need?” He said, “I need nothing now, now that I have you.” He then put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her to himself, but she struggled and broke free, laughing.

“You are a bold man, and hasty, my knight, even by my standards. But I must see to it that you do not die of hunger.”

He said cheerfully: “Yes, by St Nicholas, that’s true. A while ago, I was not hungry at all and had forgotten that people eat, for I was troubled by longing and doubt about my life. But now I am free and happy, and hungry as well.”

“Look,” she said, pointing up at the sky, “it is now two hours past noon—almost two hours after we left the grass among the hazels, and you are hungry—as you should be, so young and lovely as you are.Also I want to answer some of the questions of have asked, and it is now the hottest part of the day—so hot that even Diana, the Wood-wife of of old, might falter if she had been going afoot as you and I have been—and there is little risk if we rest a while now. And there’s a place nearby where we can rest well. It is only a little ways off the path, and I think that we can take an hour or so to sit and eat, and likely make it up before nightfall. Come, my champion!”

Then she led him north through a thicket of trees until Ralph heard running water, and then they soon came to a little place by a brook, grassy and clear of trees except for a few big thorn-bushes, with a green ridge or bank on the other side. There, she stopped and said: “Take of your armor, knight. There is nothing dangerous here, less than there was among the hazels.”

So he did, and she kneeled down and drank from the clear stream and washed her face and hands, then went and kissed him and said: “Lovely imp of Upmeads, I have some bread from last night’s meal in my bag here, I will forage under the bank for some things as well. Wait a moment, and the tale and food will come back to you together.” Then she stepped lightly into the stream and stood there a moment to let her feet feel the cold water (for she had taken of her shoes as she first came to the water) and then went here and there gathering strawberries around the bank, while he watched her, nearly crying with happiness.

 She came back after a little while with a good number of strawberries gathered in the lap of her gown, and they sat down on the green lip of the brook, and she took the bread from her bag and they ate together. She gave him water from her cupped hands and kissed him and wept with joy and the eagerness of her love. But at last she sat down quietly beside him, and she talked to him, speaking as though she were telling a story in a cozy room on a wintry evening.

Notes:

Once more I have simplified more arcane words for specific subtypes of deer to simply “deer.”

The reference to the Knight of the Sun as Ralph’s master is because the deal they agreed on was for Ralph to go as his slave/prisoner. I added the scare quotes for better clarity.

I do believe the implication is that the Lady used magic to cause Silverfax to lead the Knight of the Sun astray, though the original text just says she “said a word in the ear of Silverfax.” That said, it follows directly after her saying that she’s going to tell Ralph about what she does—both good and evil. We’ll see more of people’s opinions on magic going forward.

This story does magic in a way which I really like, which is also how it’s done in The Lord of the Rings. It’s subtle magic. Everyone knows magic exists and agrees that it’s a thing, but it has no impact on everyday life. It’s rare and special and strange. It’s how magic was seen in medieval times; magic was real but it happened elsewhere to other people, or else it showed itself in coincidental occurrences, strange weather, strange behavior in animals. When real magic is shown, it’s not someone throwing a fireball or raising the dead. Magic was a knowledge of secret things—how to find water, locate buried treasure, communicate with animals, appear in people’s dreams—many of our words pertaining to magic (like “arcane” and “occult”) refer to secrecy or hiddenness. In modern fantasy, magic is often far too common, and I feel like it loses some of its mystery.

“Nymph” is once more a translation of “Wood-wife.”

The keen reader will note that the Lady says it is June. This is incorrect (assuming their calendar is the same as ours) because Ralph set out on St John’s Eve (June 23) and has passed 10 nights since then. Therefore, it’s actually July 3rd.

I did not convert “Wood-wife” to “Nymph” in the reference to the goddess Diana, because (although she was very much associated with Nymphs and Dryads), she was not one. The term refers to women who are at home in nature and the woods, agile and skilled, and it refers to these attributes through allusions to mythological forest spirits. I should also probably mention that while modern readers undoubtedly associate Nymphs with sexuality, in myth they actually vary widely in regards to that, and many (especially those associated with the virgin goddess, Diana) may have been the objects of desire, but were chaste. Therefore, when the story mentions Nymphs (or Wood-wives), your thoughts should be on the forest and wild things, not sex.

When the Lady says she’s going to forage, what she originally said was “under the bank I shall find some woodland meat” which is a very unpleasant phrase, but I bring it up to point out that “meat” in this story is a word fairly interchangeable with “food” or “meal” and I have been changing it in situations where appropriate.

Map:

[ophelia-jones]

New Hope wasn't as big as Cheyenne or any of the other towns that had grown closer to the railway, but it had its charm.  There was a general store for dry goods and clothing, and in one corner of the store was where the chemist dealt in his cures and remedies. There was, of course, the barber's shop which doubled as the local surgeon. They had a gunsmith, a jail, a church, a schoolhouse, and a stagecoach station which served as a newsagent and telegraph office. There was a small bank, a trading post for furs, and the a restaurant . 

Then we're of course the staples of the western Cowtown, a gambling saloon, a pool hall, an Inn, and Lena Blackburn's dance hall. It was what one might call a high-class bordello. If you wanted a guaranteed fast and easy woman who'd fulfill a lonely cowboy's needs for a dollar this wasn't the place for you. There was a row of shabby houses outside of town for the 'soiled doves'. 

No, Miss Lena's was a place where men would come for good company, hard liquor, music, and dancing. The women were pretty, and if the men were respectful and had enough coin the girls may just provide services beyond a dance and a few laughs. They were not obligated by Miss Lena to do so - though of course they paid a commission to her for each evening's work and it was easier to earn that by allowing a man to hire them for some private attention.

Lena was proud to boast not only a luxuriously furnished facility and the best music around, but she even offered hot baths for the cowboy fresh in from the trail.  This was, perhaps, more for herself and her girls than the men but it was a popular service nonetheless.

The only other place in town that offered a bath was the inn attached to the stagecoach station, and you had to let a room for the whole night to have the privilege of using that bath. 

It was fine for the respectable women who would rather die than be seen near Lena's place, but most men preferred to pay a quarter and soak within earshot of the piano and the sound of friendly chatter or song.

So while the respectable women looked down their noses at Lena Blackburn, she only felt pity for them. 

Truth be told Lena couldn't see the appeal of being a respectable woman in the first place. They seemed to have dull, joyless lives of toil. They cared for their husbands, their children, and their houses and often helped with the livestock as well. They were required to go to church every Sunday and say the right things to the right people. Worst of all, if the men who liked their pillow talk were to be believed, they weren't allowed to enjoy sex. It was to be tolerated, the men were to quickly fulfill the need to distribute their 'seed' and its sole purpose was for procreation. 

An obligation to carry children was perhaps the worst thing she could imagine. 

On this particular day, when Lena emerged from her room, she found the parlor a clamor with the news of another stagecoach robbery. This one not twenty miles from here, and its occupants had been inbound for New Hope. Perhaps even more exciting to the women already dressed in their finest, brightest colored gowns for an evening of entertaining, there was a notorious gambler and known gunslinger aboard the coach. 

Lena did not join in the conversation but listened keenly, hoping to piece together the truth of the tale despite the many different versions which had already begun to spread.

"Miss Lena, you look lovelier than a spring meadow this evening," a velvety voice purred from the doorway. She did not need to turn to see who her early arrival was, she would recognize that voice from her grave. It would probably still wake the butterflies in her belly, even then.

"Mr. Smith," she replied without turning to face him. She did not need him to see the smile his presence brought to her face.

"Negan, please. You know me too well to be so formal, Lena. I mean, I don't know how we could know one another better," he grinned as she turned to look up into his deep hazel eyes. There was something about the way he gazed down at her that was mesmerizing. It made her feel like a cornered animal, but in the most delicious way.

"Negan, then. Whiskey?" she offered, gesturing to the bar.

"I'll take that in the bath, today. And I will require a little assistance if you're free." he reached up with the back of his fingers to stroke her soft, pale cheek.

"I'm not presently occupied, but I'm never free, darling," she replied, her face angled up toward his coyly. Negan grinned at her, her favorite devilish grin. He wrinkled his nose and bit his lip; as he did and let out a throaty chuckle.

"No, I suppose not," he murmured. Just then, one of her girls walked in to investigate the source of the chatter in the foyer and smiled when she saw Negan, who flashed her a smile and a wink.

"Whitney, are the baths full and the warmers below them lit?" Lena asked the woman, who confirmed that the two bathtubs were ready for bathing. 

"I have some lovely lavender soap in my room I received as a gift. It came all the way from France, or so he said. I'll meet you in the bathhouse shortly, go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Lena said to Negan, ignoring the disappointment on Whitney's face.

Negan was a favorite customer, known for paying well and having a variety of appetites which rarely left his partner bored or dissatisfied. As proprietor of the business, however, it was Lena's right to pick and choose her customers. She often chose to service Negan herself.

Negan was undressed and resting comfortably in the warm, fragrant water with his head back and eyes closed. He was thinking he might call into the barbershop for a shave when the door opened. He didn't open his eyes but he smiled in anticipation of Lena's tender attentions. 

"That was quick, are we feeling a bit eager today?" he asked playfully.

"Not particularly, acushla. Though I am in dire need of a washing,' came the reply from an unfamiliar voice with a lilting Irish accent. Negan's eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, reaching for the sidearm he had on a table close at hand.

The stranger smiled at him, her steel blue eyes reflecting the soft light from the lanterns. She had a mass of unruly red curls which fell over her shoulders as she removed her hat and hung it on the hook beside the door, then removed her duster and hung it there as well. 

She was a tiny little thing, maybe 5'2" by Negan's estimation, with pearlescent white skin, spattered here and there with light freckles. She reminded him of a sprite or other fairytale imp. She removed her empty holsters and boots as he watched, stupified.

"What… who ARE you?" he demanded. She most certainly was not one of Lena's ladies, not dressed like some reject from Wild Bill's wild west show; though she was undressing with no modesty whatsoever. 

"Kate Byrne, and you, if I'm right, are exactly the man I came to New Hope to find, Mr. Smith." she had shed her blouse now, revealing a pair of small but perfectly shaped breasts, also spattered with freckles and peaked with the lightest pink buds of nipples he had ever seen. 

He was finding it a challenge to remain focused on the matter at hand - finding out who this woman was and what she wanted from him.

"Well, Kate Byrne if you're looking for Negan you've certainly found him," Negan informed her, not bothering to hide the way his eyes washed over her body. He had meant to say something clever but found himself at a loss for words as she slipped out of her skirt to reveal a lovely round ass. The only thing she wore now was a thigh holster with a derringer which was not a particularly dangerous gun at any distance - but up close, as the tubs were - could still be deadly if used right. She turned to see him.     staring at the gun.

"Oh, don't ye worry, I'm not here to kill you. Certainly not like this. I have some respect for fellow gamblers, and wouldn't shoot a man with his willie out for all the world to see unless he deserved it. Do you deserve it, Negan?" she asked, standing at the foot of the bath facing him.

"Depends who you ask," he told her with a smirk. The sound of her voice saying his name made his already stiffening cock jump. She laughed at his response and placed one delicate foot up on the edge of his tub as she removed her thigh holster, and Negan was no shyer about examining the fiery hair between her legs than she was shy about showing it off.

The holster was placed on the table beside the unoccupied bath, she slipped into the water with a sigh. The tubs were close enough together that if Negan reached out with his long arm, he could touch this woman's shoulder. He refrained from touching but continued to stare.

"So if you aren't here to kill me, and you aren't one of Lena's women, why exactly are you here?" he inquired. His deep, slow tone was almost as silky as the perfumed water against her skin and Kate smiled as she dipped her head beneath the water. She wasn't one to seem too eager. Especially with a man like this.

When she emerged, her hair smoothed back away from her face, she leaned her head back against the tub, turning slightly to smile at Negan.

"For the sport. I came to see if you live up to your reputation at the tables," she told him finally.

"At the… you're a gambler?" he asked, the disbelief and amusement clear in his tone and written all over his expressive face.

"I'm a bit offended that you haven't heard of me, t'be truthful. Wildfire Kate Byrne?" she glanced to see if her nickname registered. Negan bit his tongue and smiled at her, shaking his head slightly to indicate he had not.

"Sorry, that took me so long," Lena was saying as she entered the bathhouse, a fancy bar of pretty purple soap alongside two shots of whisky on a tray. She stopped short when she saw the second tub was occupied, arching a pretty chestnut eyebrow at the scene.

"Miss Lena, this is Wildfire Kate. She's come to our modest little cow town to take me for everything I have at the faro tables." Negan introduced the woman with a smirk.  

"Including our private time, it would seem," Lena quipped.

"No, not at all! Have at it. I'm just washing the road dust off meself," Kate told them as she scrubbed with the simple bar of soap which was usually included in the price of a bath.  "I'm the firstborn of 13 children from a poor Irish family. Ma didn't make 13 of us in a one-room cottage without us knowing what a man and woman got up to from an early age." 

Negan laid his head back against the back of the tub and bellowed with laughter.

"You are SOMETHING?" he declared with a whistle as he shook his head at her.

"Or maybe I'll just call that bluff." His eyes flashed with lust at the thought, and Kate smiled as he licked his lips and let his mind wander.

"Just as long as I don't get charged for watching, ye won't hear a peep of complaint outta me," she said nonchalantly. Negan sucked his teeth as he pondered whether she was truly bluffing. Lena placed the tray across Negan's tub and moved to kneel beside him on the side opposite the firecracker who had burst in uninvited on what could have been a very long, very pleasant afternoon.  Lena had a feeling Negan's attention would be difficult to recapture now.

She lathered the soap and washed his chest and arms, up his neck and then down the back of it as he leaned forward to allow her access to wash his long lean back. He took his first shot and then grasped the second between two long fingers and reached across the gap between the tubs to give it to Kate.

"Bend an elbow?" he asked, and she accepted by throwing the nasty western liquor back without a grimace. 

"She can take her liquor too. My my my, you are FULL of surprises, aren't you?" Negan purred, bending his knees to allow Lena to scrub his legs. 

"This?" Kate said, lifting her empty glass, "This is mothers milk." 

Negan found himself more intrigued by the minute. Lena could feel just how intrigued he was as her hand dipped below the water to scrub his thighs. 

Kate stood and stretched, her milky skin glistening with water as she stepped out of the tub and dried herself off. Negan reached down and caught Lena's hand and guided it to grasp his throbbing cock, his eyes on the redhead as she dressed and excited the room with a wink.

Once she was gone, Negan lay his head back against the tub and closed his eyes. He hummed a note of approval in response to Lena's firm grasp and rapid strokes - she knew him well enough to know he was almost ready to come before she'd even touched him. He thrust his hips up into her fist and let out a low grunt, his lips parted slightly and eyes still closed tight. 

"Fuck, that was good. I really fucking needed that," Negan sat smiling for a moment, then rose from the tub.

"Damn, girl, looks like your evening just freed up. I'm going to spend the rest of mine over at the tables." 

Lena hid her frustration behind a sweet smile as Negan sat his payment down on the side table but she made a mental note to have a word with this Wildfire Kate about poaching her clientele.

[gunslingd]

If he were honest with himself he never pictured himself being content with settling down again ever since his last marriage, as it had ended in quite a horrid way which made the Ghoul skeptical to ever try again. He did fine on his own and liked the solitude, only picking up the occasional companion if it benefitted him in some shape or form.

That was, until he met that peculiar Vaultie and Dogmeat. In the beginning he had harbored only slight contempt for Lucy, a big part of him hating everything she stood for and believed in as it reminded him of before. However as the days turned to weeks and then to months the pair had grown closer, sharing more than just the occasional friendly word.

He'd began to find things he thought she'd appreciate on his excursions, from little things like trinkets or jewelry to bigger things like dresses and finally after a few years a place to call their own.

Lucky it was that Cooper had done a previous job for the founder of The Slog, a predominantly Ghoul settlement with the occasional human residing there, so that when he and Lucy needed a place to stay they were welcome. They had even managed to acquire a decent home, one they fixed up together as the weeks passed.

Within a few months the home was more than livable, and sorted quite a nice garden which was Lucy's pride and joy. Oftentimes he'd go out on his little 'hunting trips' and return to find his partner kneeling in the dirt in front of some sort of plant, looking absolutely breathtaking as she spoke to it or simply tended to it.

Tonight was no different.

While he wanted to sneak up and surprise her Dogmeat had already gave him away, with the dog happily barking and running up to him for overdue pets which the Ghoul happily obliged. Then his gaze fell to Lucy, and he returns her smile. She got lovelier everytime he saw her, he felt.

"Evenin', Darlin'," he replies as he sets his bag down, which very likely contained even more pretty things as well as some sort of meat for their supper, and opens his arms to her. "For once, no. Everythin' fit well in my bag this time around. How are you and Dogmeat? Did you have a good day?"

      After all the fighting and the vengeance, it was nice to settle down. Even if people in the wasteland weren’t particularly welcoming of the twosome of a ghoul and a smooth skin. Lucy and Cooper were lucky enough to find a nice ghoul settlement, that allowed her to stay as well.

        Due to Cooper’s lucrative prior job as a bounty hunter, the house they were able to obtain was still in a surprisingly decent condition. Only required some tender love and care to get it up to what may be considered ‘Vaultie’ standard. For starting out as horrible as they did, he certainly made up for it in the present. They turned an old house into a home.

        When it came to clothing, Cooper spoiled Lucy if she promised to never put on another vault suit. A request she could easily comply with. So, she wore one of the many pretty dresses that he had scavenged for her.  It felt nice to have her own clothing for once. It made her feel more like an individual than a small part of a whole.

        Lucy was in the garden, Dog Meat by her side as she waited for Cooper to return from hunting. Picking various vegetables that she managed to grow for dinner that night. First, it was Dog Meat who heard him approach, let out a happy bark, and ran up to him. Lucy looked up with a smile, “Welcome home….” With a gentle hum, she removed her gardening gloves and made her way up to him aswell. “Need help bringing anything in?”

PLOTTED STARTER ! | @wasteturns

[ltbelanna]

Jeanine Mason attends the Mercedes-Benz USA Awards Viewing Party, 24 Feb. 2019

[criminalamnesia]

Matchmaker

warnings: not proofread, she/her pronouns used, no use of Y/N, reader is Rhaenyra’s lady-in-waiting, part 1 of a miniseries ( part two here )

summary: You and harwin fancy each other, but neither of you will make the move. Rhaenyra decides to play matchmaker.

author’s note: the urge to just make this a reader x Rhaenyra fic was strong, but I’m still missing Harwin. also this is going to be a miniseries!

“I believe someone fancies you, my lady,” Rhaenyra grinned knowingly at you as you helped her dress for the day.

You rolled your eyes, your fingers making quick work of stringing together the laces of her dress.

“Must you bring this up again, Princess?” You asked tiredly, pulling the lace tight. Rhaenyra gave a breathy chuckle.

“It is my duty to bring it up until you act upon it.” The Princess moved a hand up to gather her hair to the side, giving you better visage to complete your work. It was in vain, however. You had been doing this for so long, you could do most of your duties blindfolded.

“As you wish, Princess.” You replied resignedly. You finished tying the laces, moving your hands to smooth down the her arms. Rhaenyra smiled, breaking herself free from your touch as she turned to face you.

“You are helpless, and an awful liar. It is clear you fancy him as well. Must I make the move for you?”

“Absolutely not.” You replied quickly, wagging a finger at her in protest. You knew Rhaenyra well– it was your job. You’d been her lady-in-waiting for years, and the time had made you into close friends.

So you knew she was absolutely not joking about setting you up with her sworn protector, Ser Harwin Strong.

She fell quiet, and you hoped against your better judgement that she had dropped the subject. You moved away from her to grab a hairbrush, gently placing your hands on her shoulders to turn her back to you once more.

“He has spoken very highly of you in your absence,” she told you, matter-of-factly.

“At your insistence, I presume,” you huffed a laugh, slipping the brush through her silken hair.

“Of his own accord, if you must know. Ser Harwin and I have very few things in common. Our love of you is one of them.”

You rolled your eyes once more, continuing to run the brush through her hair.

“You spend far too much time worrying over me,” you told her, setting the brush back down onto a nearby table. You ran your fingers through her hair, and felt satisfaction at the absence of tangles. You stepped back from the Princess as she turned to you once more.

“I think I do not spend enough. You are on a path to dying a lonely woman, withering as you brush my hair,” she jested, but you shook your head.

“I will not be lonely if I am by your side, Princess.”

She waved a hand in dismissal, reaching past you to grab a goblet of water.

“I fear you will outlive me– politics are so boring they may lead me to an early grave. And then what will you do?”

“You are so dramatic,” you couldn’t help but give a small giggle at her words.

She grinned at you before taking a sip from her goblet. When she was finished, she set it back on the table before placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Jesting aside,” her voice was softer now, more intimate. “You are the loveliest person I have had the pleasure of knowing. It would be a shame for the only person to experience your loveliness be me.”

“You flatter me, Princess. Are you sure you are not the one who fancies me?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes now. Over the years, the pair of you had grown familiar with the whispering around the keep. More than once had you heard of rumors circulating that you and Rhaenyra were lovers– but you paid them no mind. Rhaenyra was famously taken with Daemon, and you– well, you were too taken with your job.

She breathed a heavy sigh as she removed her hands from your shoulders. “You are hopeless.”

A knock sounded at the door to her quarters, causing both you and Rhaenyra to turn towards the sound.

“Come in.” Rhaenyra called, and the wooden door swung open to reveal a knight you knew well.

“Ser Harwin, to what do we owe the pleasure? It is not yet time for your watch,” Rhaenyra spoke, and you could detect a hint of glee in her tone. As they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Apologies, Princess,” he said, eyes flicking between you and Rhaenyra. You felt your cheeks heat as his gaze lingered a second too long on you, and you silently cursed for Rhaenyra for being right, as always. “The Queen has summoned you to her quarters. I am to escort you.”

Rhaenyra sighed, hands smoothing down the skirts of her dress. You gave her a knowing look– a be nice look– and she stuck her tongue out at you.

“So childish,” you muttered, waving her off and walking towards Harwin. Rhaenyra followed leisurely behind.

“Shouldn’t you be in front of us, Princess?” You asked as the three of you entered the corridor, turning you head over you shoulder to glance at her. She was grinning mischievously, and you narrowed your eyes at her.

“Of course, my lady. My apologies,” she said as she skipped forward, placing herself well over a foot in front of you and Harwin as the three of your walked.

Harwin chuckled quietly at your side, causing you to turn your head towards him.

“Is something funny?” You questioned, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“The Princess is quite determined to push us together, it seems.”

Your face reddened, eyes widening in shock as you whipped your head back to face forward. You had never imagined Harwin to be so… forthright.

You saw him grin out of the corner of your eye, his gaze locked upon you.

“You look lovely today, my lady,” he told you.

You cleared your throat, clutching your hands together behind your back. You were sure you looked like quite a sight– face beet red and hands ghostly white.

“Thank you, Ser.” You managed to get out, glancing quickly at him to maintain some air of politeness.

He chuckled once more. “Are you alright, my lady?”

“Fine,” you spoke with a weak nod of confirmation. “Just planning a regicide,” you muttered that last part, but Harwin heard you loud and clear. He barked a laugh, causing Rhaenyra to turn her head. She grinned widely in triumph before turning back around.

“Treasonous words, my lady. They could have your tongue for that. Perhaps hang you if they so pleased.” He told you, his armored arm brushing against yours as you walked.

“I only jest, Ser.” You replied.

“Mhm, I should hope so,” he hummed, leaning his head down so he was level with your ear. “It would pain me to no longer see your beauty around the keep.”

You felt like you were standing in fire, the way your face burned. Harwin seemed satisfied with himself as he stood straight once more, hastening his steps slightly to catch up with Rhaenyra.

You silently cursed to yourself as you jogged to catch them.

—

“What did he say to you earlier? You never told me,” Rhaenyra smiled toothily, her head resting in your lap as you sat under the Weirwood tree.

You had been reading notes she had written for you the other day, all in Valyrian. Rhaenyra had spoken about teaching you for years, and you had learned a handful of words and phrases– but the two of you seldom spent your leisure time poring over scribbles and pages.

You mostly spent your time speaking whatever came to mind– and right now, that happened to be Harwin Strong.

“Nothing,” you spoke, placing the parchment you’d been holding on the ground beside you.

She shook her head, sitting up to face you. “You dare lie to your Princess?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at her shoulder. She laughed, grabbing your hand and holding it in hers.

“I hope he did not embarrass you. You looked almost like a tomato.”

You groaned, reaching your free hand up to cover your face in embarrassment. “I knew it!”

“It’s alright,” Rhaenyra smiled, intertwining her fingers with yours. “I think you look quite cute as a tomato.”

“This was your doing,” you lowered your hand, pointing a finger at her. “You caused this.”

“Caused what? Did he tell you he fancied you? Are you to see each other tonight?” Her eyes widened in excitement, clutching your hand tightly.

“No, nothing of that sort. He only called me beautiful– well, not explicitly, but–”

Rhaenyra swooned, falling back to rest her head in your lap once again. She still clutched your one hand, and you chuckled at her antics.

“I cannot wait for the wedding.”

You huffed, slipping your hand from her grasp. “It is almost as if you concern yourself with my suitors just to escape your own.”

She bristled at the mention of her suitors. The King had been attempting to set up matches for her, but Rhaenyra had turned every single one down.

You frowned, placing a hand in her hair. “I am sorry, Princess. I did not mean–”

“It is alright,” she assured you, her eyes locking with yours. “Forgive me if I have made you uncomfortable.”

“You have not,” you confirmed, and she nodded. The two of you fell silent for a moment, both caught up in your own thoughts.

“He always asks about you when you are not with me.”

“Rhaenyra,” you began, but she continued.

“I do not jest when I say he is fond you. I see you are fond of him, as well. The pair of you always walk side by side when we are together. You whisper to each other constantly. It’s quite annoying, really.”

“We speak of nothing you think of. Goings on about the keep, what’s for dinner, the visiting families– dull things, really.”

Rhaenyra hummed, obviously casting aside your answer in favor of her more interesting one.

“I shall leave it alone if that if what you wish. But I beg of you, put yourself and me out of both our miseries and speak to him.”

You sighed, running your fingers through her silver strands.

“If it pleases the Princess.”

“Oh, don’t start!” She cried, sitting up. You grinned.

“As the Princess commands.”

She laughed, moving to stand. You followed, gathering the long-forgotten parchment in your hands.

“I’m to be at the dragon pit soon. I take it you do not wish to join me?” She cocked an eyebrow.

You shook your head. “I fear the day I join you is the day you pull me atop Syrax.”

She laughed. “One of these days I will have you join me for a ride.”

“One of these days,” you conceded. She gave a nod and turned, making her way towards one of her guards. He followed her without question, and you watched them until they disappeared into a corridor.

You inhaled deeply, making sure you had grabbed all of the parchment before beginning to make your way back to your own quarters.

“My lady,” a man’s voice caught you off guard in one corridor. You turned, hands clutching the parchment to your chest.

“Ser Harwin. I’m afraid the Princess is not with me–” you began, but he shook his head as he approached you.

“I was not looking for the Princess.”

“Oh?” You asked, surprise clear in your tone. Harwin gave a small chuckle at your expression.

“I was just on my way to the stables. Would you care to join me?”

Harwin held out an arm for you to take. You glanced down at it before looking back at his face. His smile was genuine, his eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite place– adoration, perhaps?

Slowly nodding, you shuffled your papers to one hand, looping your free hand around his arm. He began to lead you down the hallway, slowing his pace so you did not have to strain to keep up with his longer legs.

“I confess, I have not visited the stables in some time. The Princess prefers dragonback to horseback.”

He nodded absentmindedly, as if in thought.

“Ser Harwin?” You prodded, breaking him from his stupor.

“Hm?” He hummed, glancing down at you.

“Why have you invited me to the stables? I assume the commander of the city watch has more important things to do.”

“Nonsense, my lady. I am right where I need to be.”

You blushed, turning your head away in hopes he hadn’t seen. It was a futile attempt, but Harwin didn’t speak on it. Always subtle, he was.

The two of you made idle small talk as you walked to the stables. When you finally entered, your nose scrunched up at the smell of horse. It had been a while since you’d been around so many.

Harwin laughed, untwining his arm from yours so he could approach a beautiful chocolate mare in a nearby stall. The horse whinnied as he brushed a hand up its muzzle.

“Is the smell too much for you, my lady? You could wait outside–”

“Oh, no,” you assured him, moving to stand beside him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, my lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him before turning your attention to the mare. You smiled up at the creature, reaching your free hand towards its mane. It neighed, causing you to tear your hand away as if burned.

Harwin laughed once more. You glared at him, “It’s not funny.” You grumbled.

“Of course not, my lady. Here,” he removed his hand from the horse, reaching down to grab your hand instead. You froze, watching your joined hands as he reached back towards the horse.

He placed your hand gently onto its mane, his hand remaining atop yours.

“You can pet it now,” he whispered.

“Oh! Right,” you laughed sheepishly, moving your hand slightly. When the horse didn’t object, you exhaled deeply and began to stroke its mane. Harwin’s hand stayed on yours, following your movements.

“Horses have never been very fond of me,” you told him. He hummed in thought.

“It just takes patience, my lady. Dealing with the Princess, I’m sure you have plenty of that.”

“Ser Harwin!” You gasped, surprised at his words.

“I only jest. But you know as well as I that the Princess Rhaenyra can be a handful.”

You giggled as you thought of Rhaenyra, how she was so headstrong and stubborn. Harwin was certainly not lying. And although Rhaenyra could be tiring at times, you wouldn’t trade your time with her for the world.

You both fell silent for a moment, gazes falling back onto the horse. You smiled as you gained confidence, running your fingers through the horse’s mane.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” Harwin spoke, causing you to turn to him.

“Now?” You questioned disbelievingly. You had much to do before Rhaenyra returned from the dragon pit.

He nodded, finally dropping his hand from yours. You almost frowned at the loss of touch, but you caught yourself.

“I’m not sure that’s wise–”

“Just a short ride. We won’t be gone but an hour at most,” he assured you, and you swore you could see a bit of pleading in his expression.

You inhaled deeply, slowly nodding. Harwin’s mouth widened into a large grin as he began to ready your horses.

You turned then, looking for a place to leave your papers. You were sure they would not survive a horse ride, so you settled for placing them atop a nearby barrel. Hopefully no one would take them.

“Ready, my lady?” Harwin called, causing you to turn. He had made quick work of saddling up the horses. He held a rein in each hand, one horse a deep black, the other the chocolate mare you’d been petting.

“I confess, Ser,” you spoke as you followed him out of the stables. “I haven’t ridden in some time.”

“No worries,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was true to his word.

“Do you need help?” He asked as you neared the mare. You shook your head, grabbing onto the saddle and hoisting yourself up. Harwin watched, clearly impressed.

You grinned at him. “You look shocked, Ser.”

“Not shocked,” he replied, mounting his own horse. “Impressed.”

Your hands gripped the reins of your horse as you settled atop the saddle. You hadn’t lied– it had been a while since you’d ridden, but you hadn’t forgotten everything. You were just a bit rusty, and so you nodded your head at Harwin, silently telling him to take the lead.

He asked no questions, moving his horse into a slow trot as you followed behind. He led you to a gate, calling to the guards to open it. They obeyed with little question, and you soon found yourself leaving the red keep.

“Where are we going?” You called to him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder and pointed a finger at his ear, acting as if he couldn’t hear you.

“Oh, really?” You muttered to yourself as he turned back around. A second later, he had kicked his horse into a gallop, and you were right on his tail.

You paid no mind to anything but him as you urged your horse to catch him. He remained ahead– much to your frustrations– until eventually he slowed to a stop.

You blew past him, only slowing once you realized he was no longer moving. Turning your horse back around, you watched as Harwin dismounted his own.

“What are you doing?” You called to him. It was only then that you noticed your surroundings.

He had led you to a small, secluded, rocky beach. The waves lapped gently at the shore, and as you slid from your horse, you relished the calming sound.

“Have you been here before?” He asked, moving to stand beside you. You shook your head.

“No. I’m afraid I rarely leave the keep.”

He nodded in understanding. Your duties kept you busy, and unless Rhaenyra needed you on a journey, you didn’t have cause to leave.

“Perhaps one day I’ll take you to see Harrenhal.”

You smiled at that, turning your head to look up at him. He was already watching you, your eyes meeting his.

“I would love that.”

“It’s settled, then. I’m sure the Princess can live without you for a week.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Rhaenyra would live– but I believe she would never forgive me for leaving her to her family for a week.”

“Then she’s welcome to accompany us.”

“I think she would rather us be alone,” you told him, alluding to Rhaenyra’s earlier scheming.

“Fair point. Well, then I suppose it would be the two of us. I hope I prove to be decent company.”

“You are the best company I have had in a while,” you spoke, turning your eyes back to the sea.

It’s not that you didn’t love Rhaenyra– you did. But when you were constantly attached to her hip, people rarely spoke to you for you. Whenever you were approached, it was typically about the Princess.

But that wasn’t true with Harwin.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he spoke, his voice soft. You felt his hand brush against yours in a phantom-like touch.

“I speak only the truth, Ser.” You replied, turning to face him once more.

He nodded. Then, his hand came up– slowly, as if he was afraid he would scare you off. He reached towards your face, brushing a wind-blown strand of hair back behind your ear, his fingers linger a second too long on the skin of your cheek.

You cleared your throat, turning back to your horse. “We should head back. I’m sure the Princess is wondering where I am.”

“Of course, my lady.”

If he was disappointed, he did not show it. He mounted his horse without question, waiting for you to mount yours before setting off the way you’d came.

[cevansbrat0007]

Merry-Go-Round Magic: Andy's POV

Summary: Told from Andy's POV. Andy and Reader’s finally have their first date, but what happens when things don't quite go as planned? Andy Barber x Black!Reader 

Read the original Merry-Go-Round Magic.

Read Morning After Magic.

*Warnings: Fluff, Slightly Insecure Andy Barber, Andy Barber Cuddles, Annoyed Reader, Confident Reader, Second Chances, First Date Floof, Cursing, Pet Names, Minors DNI

A/N: Please give me your feedback on this one! This is part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series.  As always, please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

—

“Come on, man.” Andy mutters under his breath as he takes another sip of his whiskey. “Fucking talk to her before she leaves.” Trying his best not to be too obvious, his eyes stray yet again to the ebony haired pixie who was chatting animatedly with a friend less than fifteen feet away from him. 

Known for his tenacity In the courtroom Andrew Barber was a force to be reckoned with, but for some reason he couldn’t get his feet to move. Letting out a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his drink, only to be surprised a few moments later when he feels a small hand on his shoulder. 

“Hi there.” Her tinkling voice sounds even lovelier than she looks. “You look like you could use another one of those.” She gestures towards his now empty glass. “If you wanna be my friend, you’ll let me take care of that for you.”

Andy can’t help the smile that breaks out across his features. “Well, beautiful, If you want to be my friend then you’ll tell me your name and maybe have a drink with me. What do you say?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours?”

“Andrew. Andrew Barber, actually. But please, call me Andy.” 

“Okay, Andy.” 

The two continue to chat briefly before Andrew asks if he can maybe take her out some time. 

“You know, my life has been kind of like a merry-go-round lately, but sure. Why not? I think I’m up for one more ride.” She grins, blessing him once again with her sweet smile.

“I promise you won’t regret it.” He assures her, his hand reaching for her own.  

They thankfully manage to exchange numbers before her friend comes over to drag her away. And even though he doesn’t want to, he lets her go. He stares at her retreating form, silently noting how good her ass looks in that champagne colored dress. Then he tucks her number into his pocket and promises himself that he’ll reach out tomorrow. 

You see, Andy was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d felt the zing between them. There was no way he was going to pass this up, because if anyone deserved to feel a little magic…it was him. 

Over the next two weeks, the two chat off and on via text. There was also the occasional phone call, but since they were both busy people, those didn’t happen often. And to be honest, he finds himself grinning like a little schoolboy every time his phone pings. 

Tonight, the two were going on their first official date and he could not fucking wait. Time seemed to drag on and on. All he wanted was to fast forward through the day. The man cared about virtually little else. 

He’d even offered to pick her up tonight but she had declined, opting to catch a cab instead. It was kind of a bummer, but he understood. He was a stranger and she wanted to ensure her safety. Frankly, he was proud of her for being cautious.  

Even if it meant that he had to wait a little bit longer to be in her presence...

—

Later that day…

Andy patiently stands outside of Cibo Matto, a new downtown hotspot. Reservations were booked out at least a month ahead of time, but he knew a guy who owed him a favor. And tonight it was time to collect. This girl deserved only the best, and if he wanted a shot at a second date then he was seriously going to have to sweep her off her delicate little feet.

He bounces on his heels as he waits for her to arrive. She was close, he knew that much from her last text. But he’d been on pins and needles all day. He just wanted to see her, talk to her, hear her laugh…

Was that too much too soon? Maybe.

Did he care? Not really. 

When her cab finally pulls up to the curb he jogs over to grab her door before she can, taking a moment to help her out of the vehicle. And then he motions for her to put her clutch away before leaning inside the passenger window to hand the cabbie a fifty dollar bill. 

“Thanks for getting her here safely.” Andrew tells him. “Keep the change and have a good night.” 

“Um, Andrew, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back –”

He cuts her off with a mock glare. “Don’t even think about it, Y/N.” He kisses her hand and then her cheek, before stepping back to get a good look at his date. Which, in turn, allows her to get a good look at him as well. God, this woman was spectacular. 

“You look gorgeous, baby.” Andrew murmurs softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to tonight. I’m pretty sure I overloaded my poor interns today due to my lack of concentration, but damn was it worth it to see you like this.” His eyes roam over every inch of her, making her giggle. 

“Let’s get you inside, hmm.” He offers up his arm. “And please, Y/N, call me Andy.” She offers him a dazzling smile for his trouble. 

“Okay, Andy.” His responding grin is enough to make her heart stutter. “I’d, um, be lying if I said I hadn’t been looking forward to tonight as well. It was maybe kinda all I could think about.”

Andy grabs the restaurant door and ushers her inside. “Good.” He leans down to whisper in her ear. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.” 

Having anticipated their arrival, the maître d' is quick to lead them to their table. After handing over the menus, he promises that their waiter will be with them shortly. Ever the gentleman, Andy pulls out her chair before seating himself. 

Say something, man. Don’t fuck this up.

“Ah, um, Andy…” She coughs, feeling her cheeks heat all over again. “You’re staring.”

Shit!

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not trying to be rude, I just, uh…” One hand reaches back to rub the nape of his neck. “You’re just so beautiful that I get kind of lost, you know? It’s like I lose all train of thought.” He gives her a sheepish look. 

She reaches over to grab his hand and gives it a playful squeeze. “I didn’t think you were trying to be rude. I was more concerned that maybe there was a spider in my hair or something and you were too afraid to tell me.”

“No, Y/N. No spiders, I promise. Now tell me, have you been here before?”

“Nope. I’ve heard good things though.” The waiter picks that moment to stop by the table. He introduces himself, only to leave and then return with a basket of fresh, warm bread and two dishes of infused olive oil. 

“Ladies first. Go on and grab a piece, Y/N - their bread is fantastic.” Andy nudges the basket towards her. “You like it?” He asks, his eyes shining with amusement at the unconscious moan that escapes her lips. 

“It’s so good, Andy. Like, nothing should be this good. I’m going to apologize in advance, but you’re going to need to get your own bread. This basket is mine.” She giggles before tilting the basket towards him.

He opens his mouth to say something when a man approaches the table. “Well if it isn’t Andy Barber! Good to see you!” Andy offers his date an apologetic look before standing and extending his hand to greet the other man. “Nice to see you, Dale.”

Now please kindly fuck off. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your most recent victory in court. I didn’t see all of it, but I heard you were impressive as always.” The short, slightly balding man vigorously shakes his hand. 

“I appreciate that.” Andy responds, looking mildly uncomfortable. “It was a tough case. But it wasn’t just me, a lot of folks were involved. A lot of hard work went into –”

“Ahh, nonsense!” Dale interjects. “Come with me for a moment. I’ve got a few people I need you to meet.” Andy’s eyes once again glance back to his date’s big brown ones. 

“Look, Dale. Ordinarily I would, but as you can see, I’m on a date right now.” He gestures towards her way. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you two. Dale Matthews, this is Y/N, my lovely companion for the evening.” She smiles and waves.  

“Nice to meet you, dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to borrow our District Attorney for a moment. You understand.” He says dismissively, offering her a placating smile.

No, you pompous jackass. Not tonight. Andy thinks to himself. Tonight is supposed to be all mine. 

“Dale, it’s just going to have to wait. I’m with this stunning young lady tonight and she’s my priority so –” Andy is once again cut off when another man joins them at their table. 

What the fuck? Were they blind? Couldn’t they see that he was fucking busy trying to woo this beautiful woman?

“Hey there, Barber!” 

Argh! If there was ever a time to forget my name, now would be it.

“I’ve been trying to find some time on your calendar to meet with you, but you’ve been booked solid. Dale and I have a couple folks we’d like to introduce you to. They’re right over there.” He points to a table located somewhere in the back, which is partially obscured from view.

Andy lets out a weary sigh. “I’m on a date, guys. Another time.” 

“Nonsense.” The other man waves off his protests. “It’ll be quick. You understand, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

No, she doesn’t. And neither do I. These douchebags don’t know when to leave well enough alone. But he did have a meeting with the Mayor coming up soon, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he just stepped away for the quickest of seconds. 

Andy looks over at the woman across from him, clearly torn. “Y/N, I’ll be quick. I swear.” She nods, trying to hide her irritation. “I’m sorry, okay? Two minutes. That’s it.” Accepting her polite acquiescence for what it is, he leaves the table and walks off with the men. 

She leans back in her seat as she feels the magic that had once surrounded the night begin to dwindle. The waiter stops by to ask if she has any questions about the menu, or if she wants to hear the specials, only for her to shrug and politely explain that her date had to momentarily step away. 

As he leaves, she grabs another piece of bread and aggressively dips it into the oil, downing it in three bites. And then she picks up another. Once that slice is gone, she glances at her phone. She patiently waits another five minutes before getting up to go to the bathroom as she contemplates her next move.

—

Ten minutes later…

The longer Andy waits by the empty table, the more his feelings of panic grow. How long did a woman normally spend in a restaurant bathroom? She couldn’t have left, right? He stops their waiter as he goes to brush by him. 

“I’m sorry, Francois, but did you happen to see the woman I came in here with? Beautiful, short, wearing a black blazer and pink blouse with –”

“Of course.” The gentleman clears his throat. “Apologies for interrupting, but the woman you’re describing spoke with Georgio before taking her leave a few moments ago. Would you like to keep the table?”

No, dipshit. Not unless it comes with my fucking date.

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Thanks.”  

Picking up his phone, he gives into temptation and shoots her a text. So what if he ended up looking stupid? He was a desperate man willing to do whatever it took to salvage what was left of this fucking shitshow. 

Andy: Shit, Y/N. Where’d you go?

Y/N: You seemed busy and my time is precious. Good night, Andrew.

Had she gone home already? No, no, no!  

Andy: Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Please believe me. Just tell me where you are. 

She couldn’t have gotten far. He might still be able to catch her. Andy thinks to himself as he hits the “call” button. 

Y/N: Keep your apologies because I don’t need them 

Fuck! She’d sent him straight to voicemail.  

Andy: Please answer, baby. At least let me know that you’re safe. 

You: I’m a big girl who can take care of herself, Andrew. Now, in case you didn’t catch it the first time: Good Night.

That was it. He was going to track down his woman and demand that she give him a chance to make things right. Andy didn’t care if it took all night. In fact, he would almost prefer that it did. Because he wasn’t ready to give up on the evening just yet. 

Now, where the hell could she have gone?

His eyes stray to Georgio, the maître d'. Yep, he’d start with him. He thinks as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket before striding over to the older man. 

It was time to make some magic happen… 

—

Fifteen minutes later, Andy strolls into Obsidian. His intense blue eyes searching the spot for his little Y/N. His heart begins hammering in his chest when he finally spots her tiny form sitting at the bar waiting to cash out. 

“Put her drinks on here, thanks.” He says, leaning over her shoulder to hand the bartender his card. She turns to face him, not bothering to disguise her fury. Yes, he’d pissed her off, but he could work with that.

He’d take anger over indifference any day.

“Y/N…” He breathes, looking down at her. “I -”

“What do you want, Andrew?” She huffs. “Better yet, how’d you even find me?” 

He shrugs his big shoulders. “I might have bribed Georgio.” And he had, with a crisp $100 bill. His hair is all mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Which he had been. Constantly. Ever since he’d realized she’d up and left the restaurant.

She blinks up at him.”Well, good for you. I can’t believe I have to say this for yet a third time, but goodnight, Andrew.”

“It’s Andy, baby.” His hand grabs her wrist as she turns to leave. “And I meant what I said. I’m sorry. I screwed up, okay? I tracked you down to ask you for a do-over. And…” He trails off when he gets a good look at her face. “Oh, Y/N, please tell me you weren’t crying.”

She tries to pull away. “I most certainly was not.” She tugs again but his grip, while gentle, remains steady. “And even if I did, it certainly wasn’t because of your stupid face, Andy.”

He lets out a deep sigh and uses just a fraction of his strength to pull her stiff body against his own so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry that you maybe, most likely, definitely did not cry because of me.” Her perfume smells like orchids and sunshine. “Let me fix this. I’m asking for a do-over. No, I take that back, I’m demanding it.” 

This time he allows her to pull away. “You demand it? Is that right?” Her hands go to her hips as she gifts him with her most intimidating glare. Which he finds adorable by the way. 

“That’s what I said, gorgeous.” He crosses his arms. “Any man worth his salt can and will acknowledge when they’ve fucked up, which is what I’m doing now. And in return, you’re going to let me feed you and show you the night I had planned for us before things went off the rails.”

She continues to glare at him for a moment as she weighs her options.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Which shin I should kick you in.” She grumbles.

“Why choose?” He responds, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll offer up both of ‘em. The pain will be a small price to pay if it means having you back on my arm again.” Andy responds, wiggling his eyebrows.

Come on, sweet girl. Give me a smile. Just one. 

She tries not to smile and fails. For now, she decides to blame it on the alcohol, not the big man’s charming personality or his swagger. “Argh, fine. But I don’t want to go back to where we were before.” 

Andy offers her his arm, which she hesitantly accepts. “That’s not where I’m taking you, Y/N. I initially took you to that restaurant because I wanted to impress you, but I see I went about it all wrong. The point of a date is to get to know someone, so I want to take you to a place I go when I need to get back to my roots.” His large, slightly calloused hand briefly cups her face, his thumb stroking its way across her brow. “You game?”

Her eyes flutter closed as she nods. “Yes, Andy.” She breathes. “I want you to show me the real you.”

“Then let’s go.”

And just like that, magic had returned once again.

—

Arm in arm, a giddy Andy leads his lady down the street. He had a lot of making up to do, and he couldn’t afford to fuck up. He hoped to God he was making the right decision by taking her to his favorite place… 

“Andy?” He looks down at her with a combination of relief and contentment on his face. “I think I should let you know now that these boots weren’t really made for walking.”

“Huh?” What did she mean? Her shoes looked perfectly fine.

“I mean that, while they’re nice shoes, they’re not necessarily the best when it comes to, uh, traveling long distances on foot.” 

“Ahh, I see.” He chuckles. “Are they hurting you now?”

“Not yet.” She responds. “But I figured I’d put it out there ahead of time.”

Andy pauses mid-step to wrap his arms around her again. God, how he loved holding her. It was like she fit perfectly in his arms. “We’re almost there, but thank you for telling me. If it gets too bad at any point tonight, I suppose I’ll just have to carry you.” His eyes zero in on her lips, as if mesmerized. “I’ll settle for any excuse to hold you, baby.” Her flushed cheeks make him smile. 

Honestly, it was good to know that she was just as affected by his presence as he was hers.  

After another moment of heated silence, the two resume walking, eventually coming to a halt in front of a little hole-in-the-wall joint called Enzo’s. “This is it.” He murmurs in her ear, barely resisting the urge to nip the tempting flesh. “Let’s get you fed.”

The inside of the place is nicer than the exterior lets on. It’s clean and well lit, and it doesn’t stink of stale beer like some bars do. It’s busy, but not overly packed. Andy waves to the bartender, who happily greets him by name. 

“Hey, Mitch. Good to see you, buddy.” He holds out his hand to the dark-haired man. 

“Always a pleasure, Andy. It’s been too long. You gotta start coming around here more often, otherwise Camilla and Enzo are going to start thinking you don’t love them anymore.”

“Ah, well, we can’t have that.” Andy chuckles. 

“And speaking of love…” Mitch trails off, his gaze straying to the woman at his side. “Who is this fine looking lady and what in the hell is she doing with you?”

“I’m Y/N.” She says, introducing yourself before holding out your hand. “Give me just a second, dove.” They both watch as he quickly washes and dries his hands. “Don’t want even an ounce of filth to touch you.” He responds when he returns to shake her hand. “Him I don’t care about.” That makes his lady laugh, a little harder than she probably should.

A little harder than Andy likes.    

Andy just rolls his eyes and tries to keep the tendrils of jealousy at bay. “Speaking of Enzo and Camilla, are they here tonight? I need the works, especially since I already struck out once and really can’t afford to screw up again.” He winks down at her. 

“Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. Your favorite booth is available in the back. I’ll bring you over a couple of menus in a moment.” 

“No need.” Andy tells him. Mitch nods before turning to look at you. “And Y/N, if this man even steps so much as a toe out of line, you come let me know and I’ll throw his ass out the back door.”

“Thank you.” She murmurs with an amused grin. “But if he screws up again I’ll do it myself.”

“Oooh…I like her.” Mitch mumbles to himself.

So do I, pal. Now take your eyes off my girl already.    

“Yeah, well that’s not happening. Let’s go, sweetheart.” He ushers her towards the back and into a booth.

Once they’re settled across from one another, she gives him a smile. A real, genuine smile. “I, um, I like this place much better, Andy. Now what are you feeding me, mister we don’t need menus?”

He reaches for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “Tell me, baby. Do you like lasagna?”

“Of course I do.” She responds eagerly.

“Good, because while it may not look like it, this place has the best lasagna in town. I’ll get two orders if you want, but one is generally big enough to split.” When the waitress comes over, Andy takes the liberty of ordering a bottle of Chianti, as well as the lasagna, the homemade meatballs, and an order of stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer.

“You should have led with this, Andy.” She tells him, her voice suffused with warmth. “This right here is the man that I wanted to meet.” 

He lets his head hang for a moment. It was time for this hotshot attorney, the Bad Boy of Boston, to be honest here. “Y/N…I…I’m not good at this. It’s been a long time. It’s not an excuse, it just is what it is.”

“Hey.” She leans across the table to take his face in her hands. “It’s been a long time for me too. I don’t know what you’ve been through, and maybe if this goes somewhere one day you’ll tell me, but you’re doing fine.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? And it’s not because you demanded it, you ogre. It’s because I want to be, alright?”

He smiles at her then, one of the brightest she’s ever seen. And just like that, he could feel his confidence begin to return. He had this in the bag, all he had to do was be himself. 

Y/N settles back in her seat just as the mushrooms and a set of plates are delivered to the table. Andy is quick to spoon some of the cheesy, sausage filled, bread crumby delights onto a dish. He cuts into one and softly blows on it before bringing the fork to her lips. 

Her eyes never leave his own as she accepts the bite. The bread at Cibo Matto was good, but it had nothing on these mushrooms. She lets out an audible moan as her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

“Good?” He murmurs as he offers her another taste, which she happily accepts.   

“Better, Andy. This is fucking bliss.” He laughs at that. “Just wait for the meatballs, baby. If you’re not addicted to me yet, one bite of those and you will be.” He goes to feed her another piece of mushroom, only for her to refuse it under the pretense of wanting him to eat some too. Which was too bad, because Andy would happily feed his girl whatever she wanted for the rest of the night.

And the meatballs, when they finally arrived, were positively sinful.  

While they waited for the next course, they talk about…pretty much everything. Their work, their families, what they liked to do on weekends. She talks about her love of cooking and trying new recipes, while he shares that he was hopeless in the kitchen. He confides to her about his love of musicals, while she tells him she prefers plays. 

Andy casually mentions that he had been married once, and that he’d lost a child. He doesn’t go into it too deeply, not wanting to sour the mood. Thankfully, she doesn’t press him on it, but she senses his pain nonetheless.   

They talk about the last books they’ve read. He finds it adorable the way she describes her favorite urban fantasy novel to him, almost as if she’s recounting it page by page. Honestly, if he had his way, he’d listen to her all night. 

She shares her love of corny jokes, her irrational fear of birds, and her fascination with horror movies. Andy winces at that last part, muttering that he much rather preferred a good action flick or a comedy. But inwardly he resolves himself to the fact that if his lady liked horror, he would power through as long as it meant he got to hold her in his lap. 

Why was he suddenly thinking so far ahead? 

And then came the lasagna. Between the two of them, they manage to clean the whole damn plate. 

Stuffed to the brim, Y/N leans her head back against the booth. “Oh Andy…” She moans before she can catch herself. 

He looked forward to one day hearing her say his name like that over and over again…in bed.

After he pays the bill, he smiles and helps her out of the booth. “C’mon, Princess. There’s still one more stop left on this tour.” That has you groaning. 

“Andy, I’m so stuffed I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.” Her hand goes to rub her belly before throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. “Thank you for dinner, darling. It was fabulous. Almost as fabulous as my dinner companion.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Now I guess I’ll try to power through. Where to next, Mr. Barber?”     

—

Andy was having the fucking time of his life giving his girl a fucking piggyback ride…all because she told him her feet hurt. And he certainly couldn’t have that. Not on his watch. 

“Andy.” She whines softly. “Are you sure, I’m not too heavy? I ate a lot of food back there…”

“Hush, baby.” He admonishes gently. “First of all you weigh practically nothing, and secondly, I ate just as much as you did. But let me tell you right now, I love a girl who can eat.” 

She tickles his ears in response. “Stop that! I should never have told you I was ticklish.” What the hell did he care? If tickling him made her laugh, then she could damn well do it all night.

“You’re so strong, Andy. Bet you could bench press me.” She lets out another drunken giggle.

I sure as fuck could, beautiful. Please ask me to try.

“I’d be happy to try that on our next date, Y/N.” He can’t hold back the laugh that rumbles in his chest.    

“Oh? You assume there’s gonna be a second date?” She goes to tickle his ears again, which prompts him to try to shake off her hands. “If I have my way, yes there will be. Now behave or you won’t get your surprise.” 

Oh, who was he kidding? He was going to give her this regardless. He loved that she acted like a little brat when she was drunk. 

His words make her settle down so that she rests her head atop his. 

“Okay, Andy. I’ll be good.” Yep. He thinks to himself. Little brat. 

A few moments later, he comes to a stop in front of what looks like an amusement park graveyard. 

“Andy..?” Her pretty voice trails off.

“Shh, sweetheart. Wait for it.” Thirty seconds later, there’s a loud click and then a buzz as one of the rides comes to life. The merry-go-round is suddenly ablaze with lights, filling the park with a dazzling array of colors and music. And then the ride starts to spin, the differently decorated horses moving up and down.  

“Andy…” Y/N slides off his back, her eyes glued to the spectacle taking place in front of them. “What is this?”

“It’s uh…I uh…” He strokes a heavy hand over his beard. Oh, God. Had his lame ass just screwed up again? “It’s just that when we first met, you mentioned that your life had been kind of like a merry-go-round lately, and not in a good way. And, um, I don’t know…I just thought maybe I would try to give you the fun kind.” He shrugs and looks away. “I’m sorry, it’s corny, I know.”

She continues to stare at him in disbelief, her eyes occasionally darting from him to the amusement ride. And then you look back at the lights. “You planned this…for me?”

“Yes, Y/N.” He lets out a deep breath. “For you.”

You had one shot, man. And you just blew it. What the hell had he been thinking –?

Andy’s forced out of his thoughts when he feels a pair of small hands take hold of his face. “You did this for me?” He nods, her thumbs briefly going to massage his temples.  

“Andrew Barber.” She says with conviction. “I am going to kiss you now. I hope that’s not a problem.”

What did she just say?

“Why would that be -?”

She slants his mouth over his, doing her best to convey all of her appreciation and gratitude with every curve of her lips, every flick of her tongue. It’s not long before a stunned Andy takes over, cupping the back of her head, just in case she thinks about running off again. Briefly gathering his wits about it, he  makes it clear that she is no longer in charge.

His tongue dominates her own, tasting and exploring every inch of her sweet mouth. They both moan into the kiss as she clutches at his shirt. His eager hands go to her ass, lifting her up so that she can wrap her legs around his trim waist.

She pulls away to whisper kisses along his face, his jaw, his throat -  any part of exposed skin her mouth can reach. He pulls her back to his lips again, mumbling something about this being the best “thank you” he’s ever received in his life. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers when he finally lets her up for air. “That was aggressive and -”

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize.” He growls, his breathing heavy. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night. Now how about we go have some fun?” Andy lets out a whoop as she all but drags him over to the ride. 

Together, they spend at least a good hour running round the platform, jumping on different horses - sometimes separately, sometimes together. And Andy is always right by her side, just in case. He’s there for every yip, every giggle, and every “oof”. He’s quick to learn that his lady can be kind of clumsy. 

They dance and sway to the music, laughing as if they don’t have a care in the world. Because right now they don’t. It’s just him, Y/N, and a slew of ornately painted creatures. 

“Andy, come on! Just one more ride before we go home!” Her laughter is infectious. 

“It’s not going up and down.” She grumbles when he joins her on one last horse. 

“It’s because the two of us together are too heavy, Princess. Let me get off so –”

“No, Andy. You stay on. Hold me and I’ll just pretend.”. 

“As you wish, baby.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck and just enjoys the sound of her joyful giggles. 

Eventually it’s time to go. One again, Andy hoists his now exhausted date onto his back. “Thanks, Al!” He calls over his shoulder to someone you couldn’t see. “I owe you one, pal!”

With that, he trots off towards the street where there’s a cab waiting. Andy hustles her inside, barely holding back a smile when she snuggles up against him. “Thank you, Andy.” Feeling possessive, he holds her head against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world. 

And to him she was. 

“Thank you for giving me a second chance, Y/N. Now let me get you home. What’s your address? Tell the driver.” She quickly rattles it off to the man behind the wheel. Andy also makes a note of it as well.

She falls asleep halfway through the ride back to her place, not that he minds. He hadn’t been joking earlier about looking for any excuse to hold her. Andy gently nudges her awake when they finally pull up in front of her brownstone. Once again, Andy pays her fare, shutting down all protests as he does. “Give me a second.” He tells the driver as he goes to escort her out of the vehicle and up the stairs of her home. 

“Andy, tonight was amazing. Thank you. And I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I didn’t realize how tired I was between the wine and the pasta and the horses.” She offers him an apologetic look. He lightly tugs on one of her curls in response. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance. This was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.” He looks a little nervous now. “Can I see you again?”

She pretends to think for a moment, resting the side of her head against the ront door. “That depends.”

“On what?” His brow furrows, his eyes darkening with confusion and a hint of frustration while her hands go to his shirtfront. “Do you like to cuddle?”

What kind of game was this lovely creature playing?

“I fucking love it. Haven’t done it in a long time.” His voice is so serious it momentarily takes her aback.

“Settle down, Teddy Bear. You wanna come up?” 

“Seriously?” He asks, his voice filled with surprise. 

“Yep. You wanna cuddle…and only cuddle, you follow me. But that’s all we’re doing so -” Before she can finish, Andy turns to the cab driver. “Bye, buddy! Thanks for the ride - I’m gonna go cuddle with my girl!” 

“Oh my god, you are ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes at him before holding out her hand, which he readily accepts. “Come on. We can discuss the possibility of a second date tomorrow. Depending on how good you snuggle with me.”

“Challenge accepted, baby.” Andy mutters under his breath as you lead him inside. 

Challenge accepted.

—

Andy can barely contain his grin as she leads him up the stairs to her apartment. Tonight had been one hell of a whirlwind for sure. In a matter of hours, he had somehow managed to have the worst, followed by the best, date of his life. And now the little pixie with wild curls had invited him to stay the night. 

Sure she had said that she only wanted to cuddle, and he respected that. But if she changed her mind, well…he respected that too.

As long as he got to spend time with Y/N he did not give a fuck.

“Well,” she says as she unlocks the door and gestures inside. “This is me, Andrew. Enter at your own risk. Oops - sorry. I mean, Andy. Enter at your own risk, Andy.” She throws him a playful wink over her shoulder.

Her place is a little on the small side and is tastefully decorated in shades of gray and pink. Closing the door behind him, an ever-curious Andy follows his date into the kitchen before gratefully accepting a bottle of cold water she pulls from the fridge.

He can tell she’s nervous. And truth be told, so is he.

“Remember,” she tells him, her determined although slightly shaking hand  goes to rest on her hip. “Snuggles only, Big Man.” She quirks one dark brow as if daring him to protest. “This cookie is off limits until I say otherwise. You good with that?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. If it’s cuddles you want, then it’s cuddles you shall have.” Now it’s his turn to wink. 

“Good.” The tiny sprite mumbles to herself. “So far so good.” But her hand is still shaking.

“Baby girl.” Andy coos softly. “Y/N, are you okay?” She clears her throat and then takes a long sip of her drink. “Just say the word and I’ll go.” Closing the distance between them, Andy reaches out to gently cup her jaw, the slightly roughened pad of his thumb stroking over the curve of her cheek. “So long as you let me come back in oh, I dunno, say five or six hours so I can take your beautiful self out for breakfast.” 

At least give me that much, sweetheart. Please.

He’s relieved when he receives a blush and a giggle for his trouble. 

“I want to do this, I do. I wouldn’t have invited you up if I didn’t want you here. I’m just protective of my space is all. This is my sanctuary, so you should feel lucky to have received an invitation, even though you’re not getting lucky tonight, handsome.”

“I’m a lucky man, indeed, Y/N.” He is quick to agree, lest he accidentally give her the wrong idea. 

“Would you like another drink, Mr. Barber? Or perhaps the private tour of Casa Y/N/L/N? It’s kinda late, so I’m afraid this tour is going to have to start and end with my bedroom.” 

“Water is fine, sweet girl.” He pulls her close, wrapping one brawny arm around her waist. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—

Fifteen Minutes Later…

After stripping off his shirt and pants, Andy sits on the edge of the bed to wait for his girl. Yeah, it was early, probably way too early for him to be thinking the way he was, but so what? Maybe if he played his cards right then his wish would be granted.  

Now clad in only a pair of black boxers, he takes a moment to survey the cozy room, colored in various shades of pink and purples, complete with a matching wicker papasan chair in the corner. A few moments later she emerges from the bathroom wearing a pair of adorable Winnie the Pooh pajama shorts and a cami. 

“Woah,” she breathes. Andy would have to be blind to miss the way she was checking him out. His confidence at an all-time high, he puffs out his chest a little allowing her to get a good, long look at his tattoo-covered torso. 

“Like what you see, baby?”

“Yes. I mean wow. I mean hi.” She clears her throat. “Sorry, Andy. Your tattoos threw me off, I mean, I just didn’t expect you to have them, err, so many of them that is. Not that there’s anything wrong with – oh God. “It’s – they make you look unbelievably hot. Can I say that to you? Ahh, crap. I just said that part out loud didn’t I?”

He watches in amusement as she keeps going without showing any signs of slowing down.

“I have a tattoo too. I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours. But you don’t have to. They just look so intricate and – did that one hurt? Fuck, I can’t seem to shut up. Sorry, shutting up and –”

“Baby, breathe.” Andy is suddenly in front of her, his big, warm hands going to gently grip her biceps. “There you go. Good girl.” He praises as he pulls her down onto the bed. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, unconsciously burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He coos softly before repositioning their bodies so that they’re relaxing comfortably. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Hell, I’ll even talk you to sleep if you want…”

Pulling away slightly, she gives him a soft look. “Did you just offer to tell me a bedtime story, Andy?”

“I did, so get comfy and I’ll tell you all about this one right here.” Gripping her much smaller hand in his, he helps her fingers trace the artwork marking his right pectoral. Her eyelids droop as he begins to speak. “So, I got this one when I traveled to…” Andy allows his own fingers to thread themselves through her curls as he soothes her to sleep. 

“Good night, Big Man.” She murmurs as she drifts off. 

“Good night, Sweet Girl.” He whispers back. 

END  

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Can you please do when there is a gala at the hospital and Steve and the reader go as a married couple and leave the kids with Andy and Laurie.

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader)

part of toxic

Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had to dress this nice. Maybe her wedding day or during her honeymoon, but never after having her kids. Speaking of whom, they were now running around picking which toys they were going to pack to show Andy and Laurie who had kindly taken them in for the night. She had put the triplets in the stroller and was now waiting for Rose to come down. Dropping them off at the Barbers had almost been too easy, easy enough to have her wonder if they had bribed them with sweets. Walking back home, she watched her husband pull into the driveaway.

Steve smiled as he saw her, dressed in a mid length red silk dress covered by a black trench coat which barely hit her ankles due to those matching red high heels. She looked like a vision and if he didn’t have to attend that gala, he would’ve had her in front of his back garden. How could he compete or even look worthy of her when he had to put his tux while in the hospital? She walked up to the car, attempting to open the passenger’s door only to realise it was locked. She crossed her arms as Steve got off the car and went around to open it for her. 

      - That was wildly unnecessary. - she took his hand as she got inside the car.

      - Can’t I open the door for my beautiful wife? - he commented as he got back to the driver’s seat, reversing towards the main road. - You look ravishing, my love. 

      - You better ravish me after we’re done with this. I can’t believe you cancelled date night for a hospital gala. 

     - It is still a date. 

     - I thought you said it wasn’t a date if my mouth didn’t end up wrapped around your cock, honey.

Steve gulped dryly, his mind rushing towards that imagine. With that dress, he could almost see her tits moving as she sucked his cock. Fuck. 

      - There’s plenty of free rooms, baby. - he commented, making a heat creep up her cheeks. 

The hospital had rented for a hotel room in the city centre. They’d been there before, spending a much lovelier time than spending the whole evening dealing with doctors, nurses and his colleagues. Yet again, she’d forced him to go on a dinner with her research students and assistants when she first got a principal investigator position. It’s give and time, she told herself. The car was taken by the valet while the two walked inside the so called gala. Her coat was taken and soon enough someone had offered her a glass of champagne. She had to say, it felt rather cliché to see so many young women in the arms of much older men, second wife club she guessed. Yet again, she was younger than Steve and his second wife as well. Perhaps she’d get an invite to that club.

     - Kemp! - a chubby man approached them. - How are you enjoying the gala? 

     - Hasn’t been the same ever since the 15th one. 

     - And who’s the lovely lady with you this evening? Is this your Ann? - Y/N furrowed her brows at that comparison. His Ann? The only thing she could say he called his might have been her leg. 

     - This is Dr. Y/N Kemp, my wife. She’s the youngest research fellow at Yale University. - Steve looked at her with an adoring gaze, yet he knew she was gonna mention Ann tonight for sure. - This is Dr. James Barley, he supervised me when I first started. 

     - You sure look young. Second wives, they always look better. 

She smiled at him, merely telling herself this was mostly her job tonight. Looking pretty as they walked away, which he gladly did once his wife called him. 

    - Does everyone think you’re still with Ann?

    - I don’t talk about my private life.

    - I had 5 kids in that hospital. - she shrugged. - He visited us.  

    - Don’t be jealous, my love. 

    - You’re gonna spend the rest of the night in the middle of my legs trying to make up for this. 

    - You say it like it’s punishement. It’s my favourite place, baby.

[nyxoholicwrites]

for the requests thing !! could i request a full xyx fic?? anything but angst pls LOL. i feel like there’s so little for him but he deserves the world :((

Heyo Anon! Ofc you can :)

DEFINITELY AGREE, THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH XYX CONTENT AND HE DEF DESERVES THE WORLD

We all love the funny 6'1 cat loving adrenaline junkie king <3

Wrote this while having a massive headache and I thought in honour of the upcoming au wedding ask hour why not a wedding fic?

Will you say I do anon hehe

" Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Xyx x GN! Reader

Prompt: After many years spent together, the couple is finally tying the knot and no one is more excited to see this ship sail than June.

TW: I know some people aren't fond of marriage so be warned that this is very much a wedding fic, we are pulling all the stops luv

Anxiety gnawed at their stomach, sure people said that wedding day nerves are normal, but god it felt as if they were preparing a presentation. They were pacing around the room, aimlessly trying to calm down, but alas that only made them even more nervous. Their outfit was pristine, every hair strand was in its place, secured into a hairstyle fit for royalty. A bouquet lay on the bed, soft pink and pearl white flowers decorated its every crevice. The bouquet was filled with freshly cut peonies, dahlias and garden roses, there was a certain elegance exuded by the flowers, they couldn’t help but sneak glances at it every other second. Though the thought of walking down the aisle was sounding so sweet, they were happy the wedding was only with close friends and family, for they were sure that their nerves would be amplified had it been a bigger wedding.

The couple felt it was best to keep the guest list to a minimum, not because of the expense, oh no, they had that covered from the beginning, it was more so the intimacy of the event that mattered. Wedding ceremonies weren’t light-hearted events, they were the time to let your feelings on display, tears weren’t a stranger either to such occasions, pouring your heart out in front of your beloved can be overwhelming after all. But, no matter the amount of tears shed, both were ready to wipe them from each other's eyes as they had done all these years and still will continue to do so.

“ Y/n it’s going to be okay, it's normal to be nervous on your wedding day, try to focus on the positive! Think of all the cake you will be enjoying and how beautiful the venue is!” June and Lady were a part of their wedding party, both wore a rosy pink dress to match the pink peonies of the bouquet, and they looked even lovelier than the latter. As their maid of honour, June was tasked with assuring that Y/n didn’t pass out from all the butterflies in their stomach, she was ready to get out any butterfly nets she could get her hands on, and nothing was gonna get in the way of this wedding. “ Yea! Don’t worry Y/n, not only can I attest to the fact that you will be the most beautiful one there, but! Everything will go according to plan, plus isn’t that why a wedding planner was hired in the first place?”

“Yes, but what if-” Their many what-ifs were halted when June shushed them with their finger, determination in their eyes, this wedding was more important to them than any bloomic fic in the world, ok maybe save for this one from the other day-

“ Shhhhh, everything will be fine! Plus should anyone even dare to ruin it or object, you have us to protect you both, I swear in the name of any potential future bloomic chapter that everything will be perfect.” Smiles and laughter filled the air, all of them couldn’t help but chuckle at the outrageous promise, but they couldn’t be more thankful to have such an amazing wedding party.

A small ping interrupted their laughter, the driver was ready to go and so were they, mostly. “Oh shit! The driver is here, well I guess it's go time, can’t keep xyx waiting now can I?” With a rush in their steps, the three of them made their way to the limo and off they went to the venue. As they drove towards their location they sang their hearts out to ease their nerves, ironically, most of the songs were about love, hell even “Marry You” by Bruno Mars was on the list.

“ I can’t express how thankful I am for the two of you, you are the greatest friends a person can ask for.” They held June’s and Lady’s hands, fondly looking at their bridesmaids as the two almost broke out into tears. They dove into hug them, careful to not crinkle their outfit, the three of them enjoyed a quiet and sweet moment, although today was for romantic love, even the platonic kind is always welcome.

“ Y/n! You can’t say stuff like that out of the blue! What if I didn’t wear waterproof mascara??” Sappy smiles decorated each of their faces as they giggled at Lady’s response, squeezing them tightly for one last time, they soon arrived at the wedding venue. To say it was simply beautiful wouldn’t do it justice, it was perfect. They thought, to honour their proposal at a beach, the wedding would be set on a beach as well, the very same spot they stood on one knee and pulled out the engagement band as their proposal was heard by the man before them. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone naturally makes good choices, however, asking him to marry them will forever remain the best choice they made in their life. Even a lifetime wasn’t enough for them, if they could, they would give all of their possessions to spend many lifetimes with him, so that their love would truly last forever.

They took a moment to steady their breath, for within the next few moments their life would change, they would take their beloved's hand in marriage, to love and to hold for the rest of their lives. As they glanced through the window they saw friends and family as they sat on the many white chairs placed upon the grainy floor and most important of all, they saw him. There he stood in his suit looking handsome as ever as he fidgeted with his cufflinks, a habit they took notice of ever since they moved in with him.

Lady finally opened the limousine door and, along with June, helped them out of their seat as they set foot onto the sand. Before it was their turn to walk down the aisle, Cat made their way first with rings placed upon their collar, everyone in the crowd loudly awed at the adorable feline. Xyx held a proud fatherly smile, he was grateful they hired a photographer because this moment needed to be cherished for centuries.

As Cat had strutted to their owner and the rings were given to Toasty, the only person Xyx thought acceptable to be his best man. With the bouquet in hand and their trusted bridesmaids in tow, an orchestra began to play a rendition of the famous ‘Wedding March’. Their feet synced with the soft melody as they glanced at the dashing man at the aisle. Their faces held dorky smiles as their eyes were trained on one another, his emerald orbs soon began to water, purely knowing that they were willing to wed him, this mess, it was enough to bring him to tears. Within this small moment, it felt as if it was just the two of them. Every guest, friend or family member vanished in their eyes and the nerves from before had disappeared while pure joy coursed through their veins.

As their walk to the altar had come to a stop, all of them took their places as practised, and finally, the ceremony could truly begin.

As the marriage officiant spoke his lines, they paid it no heed till the part for their vows came, the moment where all of their feelings would be let out before their witnesses, and they were as ready as they will ever be.

“ Now, it is time for the couple to say their vows, let’s have our groom go first.” Clearing his throat, he took their hands in his as he began to speak his vows.

“ My lovely doll, I know I am not the best at expressing my feelings through words but for you, I am willing to write a book the size of the Bible, describing all of the things I love about you. You changed me and my life for the better, you always take care of me even when I feel as if no one should. You have brought me up whenever I was down and for that, I will be grateful to you for all my days. Words cannot describe how lovely you are, from your kindness to your very smile, all of it inspires me to be a better man, if not for myself then for you, because you deserve all that is good in this world. I will never forget the many moments we shared up until this point, from every laugh to every tear spilt, you were always there and as you have always been there for me I, too, will continue to be there for you. Trust me when I say that I have no plans on leaving, not me nor Cat, I hope you are ready for a lifetime of our shenanigans because this is only just the start. I promise to love and cherish you till my last breath, if life is an adventure, doll, I am willing to explore it with you till eternity.”

As he finished the last of his vows, soft sniffles could be heard from them as they tried to contain their tears, his words touched their very soul and they too were thankful that this was all being recorded so that they could play his vows over and over again. As they gave his hands a light squeeze, they readied themselves for their vows and soon the whole crowd joined them in soft smiles as tears poured from their eyes.

“ Now then, do you, Xyx, take them to be your lawfully wedded love, to love and to hold, in sickness and in health, through the bad times and the good, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?” With a soft smile he spoke the words that have been spoken once before, but still rang just as sweetly in their ears, “I do.”

“ And do you, Y/n, take him to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold, in sickness and in health, through the bad times and the good, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?” And finally, it was their turn to speak the very same words, “ I do.”

“It is now time for you to exchange rings. Your rings symbolise the eternal commitment that you make to each other and the never-ending circle of your love. May these rings always remind you of the commitment you are making here today.

Xyx and Y/n, please repeat after me…” And so, Toasty handed them their rings, as they shined in the glowing sun, they placed their rings on each other as they repeated the words spoken by the officiant, and with each letter, word, and sentence, they grew closer to the grand finale of the ceremony.

“ By the power vested in me, I pronounce you a married couple. You may now kiss.” Before the officiant could finish his last sentence, Xyx dipped them in a kiss as the crowd shouted in joy and clapped at the newly wedded couple. Their lips locked with the same passion they had done before so many times, yet it felt as if the love had amplified with every move. Slowly they broke apart and cradled each other's faces as they muttered, “ I love you so much Xyx, now and forever.”

He placed one last peck on their lips as he softly spoke, “ I love you as well my love, now and forever.” As the crowd stood up, with a mischievous grin he took them in his arms and carried them to the car as everyone prepared for the reception to come.

……

After the many meals, drinks, and moments shared, they made their way to the dance floor where they softly swayed along to the music as they were surrounded by all of the guests, holding each other as tightly as they could, never wanting to let go. “ Well then my dear husband, what’s our plan for tomorrow?”

“ I think it's time we started that world tour, how does that sound doll?”

AN: WAS THAT GOOD?? IDK MAN I AM NOT A WEDDING EXPERT

I hope yall liked this fic have a lovely day! And congrats on your marriage!

[sopxhiea]

Invitation

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Drabble

She leans against the doorframe, hair resting on her shoulders as she plays with her dress. Fuck, she’s proper lovely. Her smile follows the lines of her delicate features and he swears he sucks in a breath while waiting for the lad to get his papers in hand.

“You can come in for a bite, you know?”

Oh, he’d like to.

Her voice is soft, playful almost and Alfie images her writhing underneath him like he’s done a dozen times before but reminds himself that there are rules, invisible ones that are formed by the moral compass of the person.

He doesn’t have one.

She plays with the ends of her hair as he looks down at her small form, she gets lovelier by the day, he swears. A soft smile finds his lips and he shakes his head, making a curious noise leave her lips at the act. His eyes meet hers once more and he considers, fucking thinks about going in his employee’s house to have dinner with his housemate.

“‘m good, lass.” he speaks, choking out the words when she starts walking towards him.

Her movements are slow, clearly calculated as she strides towards him. He sucks in a breath and his eyes don’t leave hers. She has her smile on the entire time. She knows the affect she has on the baker all too well, as he’s not the most subtle of admirers but she decides she’ll give him a chance, she wants to after all.

“Have you had dinner, Mr. Solomons?” she whispers and he loses it for a second, mouth agape for a solid second before he gathers himself to look at the devilish eyes of the lass before her.

She says his name in a way that makes him swear there are gods, good ones too. They have given him the gift of her, or more so the gift of getting to ogle her every morning he has the chance to come by. His employee lives with her, a bloke named Ishmael and he makes the lad swear that he’ll take care of the girl.

Although he’d much rather do it himself.

“Nah, I haven’t.” he mutters, no energy left to curse in his system with her so close by.

He sees her face closer this way, even more gorgeous than he’d thought before. He takes his time, too. Eyes her eyelashes under the evening light as she stares up at him, marvels at his bulky form while he eye-fucks the girl. She doesn’t mind it, enjoys it if anything.

“Come on, then.” she says and he can’t find in himself to say no, he can’t even shake his head but to follow the lass.

He shakes his head while walking inside the house, following her like her tail and she smiles at the act. Alfie doesn’t seem like the rough type to her, although she’s sure he’d love to act like it. She doesn’t know enough about him to make conclusions but the more things she hears, the more curious she is about the nature of the gangster.

She sits him down then, on the large table in the dining room with no one but her and him. He figures Ishmael is inside the apartment somewhere still looking for the papers Alfie had asked for and he prays to his gods that the lad can’t find them. The lass pours Alfie a cup of water before filling his plate with warm food.

Fuck, it had been a long time since he’d had warm food at the table.

At any table, he reminds himself and catches the eyes of the lass he’s so fond of. She fills her plate as well, leaves Ishmael’s place empty and sits in front of Alfie before eating. Alfie watches her for a while, a slurty look in her eyes as she takes small bites from her filled spoon. 

He then digs in, swearing under his breath as he realizes that this was just what he needed. “Fuck.”

She smiles at the word, also because just a small plate of warm food was enough to untie the knots he’s keen on carrying. She watches him devour the food before him, the papers he came around for long forgotten as he casts her a peculiar glance every other minute. She eats slower, watches him under a curious gaze and settles that she likes him.

“Another one?” she asks, sweet this time once he’s done but he shakes his head. He’s full and hungry for something else now that his belly was full.

“Nah, pet. Good fuckin’ food it ‘s, though, yeah.” he says, appreciating home cooked foods more than ever now that she’s made some for him.

Ishmael finds the papers in the meantime, realizes his boss is having a meal with the girl he lives with and settles that it’ll be best to just wait in the car. He knows that the boss is fond of the lass, although he doesn’t know her well and he’s interested to say the least so he steers clear, away from the dining room.

“Well....that’s kind.” she speaks after his last words and he realizes he wants something else.

“It’s the fuckin’ truth, innit.” he speaks under heavy eyes. Not because he’s sleepy but because he wants her. 

“Tell me something else that’s true.” she says, elbows on the table once she’s finished. He smirks at her, laughs almost at the request. 

“Where’s the lad?” he asks, knowing he’s playing with fire now and tries to steer clear from fucking a lass a decade younger than him.

But she doesn’t seem to mind. It seems like it’s quite the opposite, actually. She wants it, he can see but she’s not the one to beg for it. He just thinks she’s not properly worked up yet, once she has her panting it’s over. But he knows the blurry lines formed by what’s proper and what’s not.

The way she’s looking at him is definitely not.

“I told him to stay away.” she says, as a matter of fact about the time she’d warned him off about keeping clear if they were ever to be in the same room.

“And he fuckin’ listened?” he asks, chuckling while muttering out the sentence. His own lad who doesn’t always listen to him is whipped by a young thing like her.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d do anything she says without questions, too.

“What do you think?” she whispers, voice breathy and she smiles when he gulps.

He’s in the wolf’s cave as a lone bear.

She can’t tear him up, not yet but she has the capacity. He knows she does from the way she walked towards him outside. She plays with her knife, putting the sharp part against her tongue and he inhales sharply. She’s done this before, he can see but he wonders who was the other player, the unlucky bastard.

“Why haven’t you come inside the house before?” she asks, curious eyes lingering on his lips before landing on his eyes.

“Didn’t have a good enough fuckin’ reason, did I?” he speaks but it’s a lie, they both know it.

“Is me waiting for you not good enough?” she counters the words with another questions and he loses his breath for a second before sucking in a sharp breath of air.

And he knows she’d been waiting but not how.

She’d been waiting with a smile on her face, hands exploring her inner thighs with the visions of him. She was impatient, that was easy to see and he’d die to see her chest heaving the way it had a couple days ago with the thought of his head between her legs. He sees the want, the need in her eyes, mirrored fiercely in his.

“I know you have places to be..” she starts speaking and he knows he’s fucked, she doesn’t need to finish the sentence. “...I’d be willing to keep you company, if you’d like that is.” she speaks and he knows it to be true.

“How old are ya’, lass?” he asks and she retreats for a second. He sees her hesitate, not because she cares about the age difference but because she doesn’t.

She doesn’t give a single damn about how he’s much older than she is or that he’s got blood in her hands. This is mostly due to the many lads she’d been around who were seemingly appropriate, some would even say a catch, for her but they were boring chaps who just wanted a kiss from a pretty girl.

She needs a man, and reckons he’s exactly that.

“I think you already know the answer.” she bites back this time, almost aggressive and he revels at that, marvels at her angry orbs for a second before he realizes he’s been staring at her like his last meal.

“Ya’ know how old I fuckin’ am, hm?” he asks and she chuckles, smiles at his act. She’s lovely, he catches himself thinking as he watches her and she nods.

She fucking nods.

And then she speaks, but with more poise and anger this time. She’s managing her rage well, he can see because he has the exact same one swimming in his very own orbs. He watches her entire demeanor change and she talks without breaking eye-contact, making him shift in his pants.

“I know age doesn’t matter to you....nor me being Ishmael’s housemate. You either want this..” she gestures to herself before putting her elbows on the surface, eyes stern. “...or you don’t. There’s plenty of fish in the sea and I have no problem with hunting some down.” she finishes and he needs an entire moment to gather himself.

He watches her chest heave, a million visions fills his head before he has to shake them out. His pants are tight now, too tight as he groans while adjusting the fabric. She sees the frustration, months of him wanting to make her his and now she’s presenting him with the opportunity but it’s not like what he’s imagined. 

Oh, it’s much better.

“What if I, yeah, do fuckin’ want it? What happens then, hm?” he asks, hand tugging at his beard as he watches her delve from confusion to confidence all in a second. She smiles at him, and he swears he’s about to fuck her on the dining table but she speaks before he can do that.

“Do you always ask questions that you know the answers to? Or is it only with me?” she says and he raises his eyebrows at that.

He does know what this entails.

Sleepless nights in his office, him fucking her against the desk and her getting bruises for it. He knows she’ll spend the weekends if he asks but he also sees the other side of the coin, the one with no fucking and a whole lot of blood. He sees the danger and a flick in his heart tells him to keep the angel before him out of it but he’s selfish.

“Do ya’ know the answer then?” Alfie asks and this is a warning of sorts, telling her that once she’s in, there’s no way out.

She nods, not bothered or threatened but simply knowing. He watches her smile, a wide grin on her pretty lips as she speaks.

“I’m not scared of a little blood, if that’s what you’re asking.” she speaks and he knows she’s not a woman to be toyed with. Sure, she’s young. Much younger than anyone he’s ever been with but he sees the fire in her eyes, the same he’s had since he became a young man. He knows she’s been through less than he, he can see it in her delicate hands compared to his calloused ones but he finds that he doesn’t care.

“‘m a dangerous fuckin’ man, luv.” he says and the pet name makes her smile in a way that makes him lose his breath. It’s so easy for her, he thinks and she knows, she drags the smile because of it.

“A dangerous man wouldn’t warn me off.” she says with a wicked smile.

And he’s sold.

He can’t argue with that logic, he thinks and it brings a low chuckle to his lips. She’s right, in some sick and twisted way and it makes him smile. He wants to take her home, kiss her real good and then explore every inch of her soft skin she’s graciously exposing to him. He wants to mark her and for people to see it. It’s primitive, but primitive can be good.

“When do ya’ have to be fuckin’ home?” he asks, like she’s a school girl or if her parents will check the bedroom in case of a missing daughter at night case.

So she chuckles at the words, shakes her head and offers the gangster the kindest smile she can muster. He wants her to ruin him, to make him beg on his knees and he’s willing to do so, every step of the way if he needs to but she’s taking a step back each time he tries to catch her in his strong arms. It’s frustrating but he’s close, too close to pass up the opportunity.

“Whenever we’re done.” she says, almost in a whisper this time and it makes Alfie get up almost abruptly.

He feels like a young man inside, how he felt before the war as he walks out of the dining room but not before stopping in front of the lass to mutter some words.

“Go on, then.” he says, against her face and she can feel the goosebumps on her skin. It makes her excited, that she finally has the chance to have a go at the scary man and Alfie watches her get her coat and offer her hand.

He takes it.

Her hand is much smaller, softer too and not roughened by the world’s many troubles. He plans to keep them that way, to make sure there’s not a scratch on her in his time of being around promises himself that it will be the case as long as she keeps him around.

Just before she’s about to hop into the car, holding onto his hand, she plants a kiss on the side of his mouth.

And he’s gone.

Because it’s soft, far too good for a criminal like him but he can’t bring himself to say that she should be wary of him. He wants her, like a little kid wants candy and he cannot keep denying himself, he knows this. He also knows she may come out of a bit more mature so sees it as a gain and gain situation.

Then he barks at the driver to take them to his place and feels her hand clasp his. A low fuck leaves his lips and he knows he’s in for trouble.

---

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: This happened and i hope you liked it? Let me knowww and also if you’d like to be tagged.