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hazelfoureyes · 4 months

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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krewekreep · 4 months

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Baby Daddy Red Flags: Bleach Edition (😜🤍)

This one…this one for the sluts! 😭💕 I’m an old anime bitch like lemme get it out my system! (We gonna tag this #ToxicTalk lmaoo, this is a safe space)

(If you wanna know who we share 😒, I’ll add an asterisk or whatever. ((They still mine first 😂💝🫡)) (will update and repost with new additions, semi-live post)

***ICHIGO: Lemme get my baby daddy out the way. Biggest issues would be his availability before and after the kid. Probably got pregnant in a makeup sex situation anyway. Ichigo doesn’t seem to type to breakup but will say let’s break. Based on how selfless he is it also can be seen coming from him not being able to save his mom—so he may have a savior complex. It may seem valiant at first like “oh wow you became friends with Chad helping him with bullies? You became closer to Orihime (😒) after helping her grieve her brother? You’re such a good person!” Til you realize seniority is in place and when his friends call he drops whatever he is doing to go help. It’s been time, money, etc and increasingly his selflessness comes off as codependent. Like he can’t stop trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault.

He will also randomly reserve to right to become reclusive. Not necessarily secretive but less energetic, talkative, or engaged. (You def realize your baby got some functional depression going on. Iykyk). Might not annoy you but the random times he doesn’t want to be touched or seemingly avoids you does hurt…but he sincerely comes back letting you know he was in a weird space etc.

Ichigo’s biggest yes or no is if you’ll be able to sometimes come second or third (likely til you marry and/or have kids with him.) His father and sisters are absolutely #1, his friends are #2, and his oath to the Soul Society and humanity at large is a consequence of him protecting the first two so that’s of course #3. See where I’m going? Even on your best days you might be upset he runs off to Rukia’s or Orihime’s aid. That he has to “save the world,”to save you too. Jealous types might really become frustrated with Ichigo. And tbh I don’t see him breaking out of his ways. He won’t see a need to because there’s real results of his good deeds in his life. He knows he’s saved lives, so he knows he can continue to—so will you be able to handle the fact his duty and mindset will be self sacrificing? I don’t know I think I’d tie him down with a baby and move on.

**KENPACHI: I fully accept and am attracted to his animalistic tendencies. I absolutely can admit that about myself 😭 but…realistically you’d def have to tell him he’s too rough during sessions. He’s grown up wayward, defensive, survival mode, stomach touching his back— during a time so seemingly historical and old who knows how bad the conditions of poverty were—most kids died if they simply weren’t rich and able to eat. Or turned to crime at extremely young ages or exploited….That’s just global history in real life. And the soul society is that much more complex and arduous. Kenpachi will be a man of few words but immense action. If you want someone who will open up even eventually that is not Kenpachi Zaraki. You will highly likely never know of his past because he will never say he is excruciatingly doing everything to never have to. And no, he won’t communicate ever if anything terrible is on his mind. Although kenpachi is coded as barbaric he really is just that protective—he’s as angry as he will be based solely upon someone’s proximity to him emotionally. You and Yaru will be so exclusively held in a regard he won’t even understand. Just the black hole of his awareness he’ll surpass anything to save y’all. He won’t speak on why Lady Unohana isn’t around anymore (new anime, manga lore). But again, when he ends up rough too many nights in a row you distance yourself from him. He can’t admit to you he disassociates and goes back to bad times. He can’t tell you your comfort and warmth makes him remember the times he needed it before—he doesn’t mean to hurt you but he lives for a fight. But he wants to stop making everything and everyone something to “conquer.” He’ll be a real deal handful and it will solely up to you to either tell him you can’t be with him until he figure shit out or you’ll stick beside him and work through it together. (In this case Yaru is the “kid” yall share, I see him being weary of birthing a child and being a dad in such a “visceral” way. Will have total abandonment trauma and just can’t see him getting over it completely to bring new life into a world he already sees the worst in tbh.) but in terms of “baby momma” treatment? Or your prioritized and protected best believe. 💕 he also will force you to learn combat cause you should be able to take care yourself too. Which might either be hot or burdensome. You’re gonna know how to fight. And tbh he might try to bring it into the bedroom on some weird let’s play fight shit so watch yourself. That’s a BIG MAN! 😭😂💕 “HA! Now that you know how do a few things why don’t you test it on me?” Big cheeky sneaky ass grin girl don’t fall for it!

BYAKUYA: This is the guy who will match your freak everywhere but in public. No PDA—actually don’t even look at him or try to talk to him in public…be professional. He will be joking with others and you’ll get upset saying “Hey! You let the other members of the society tease you?” And in private he’ll admit it’s just to keep up appearances and he hates it all. 😭 I think his biggest issue will be coming off fake or disingenuous or you’ll have a hard time sincerely seeing him cause he’ll be so different depending on where y’all are. People wouldn’t know he’s like a mom boyfriend who makes sure you eat, sleep, and keep up with yourself. Yes, he will absolutely unintentionally say something insulting like “This doesn’t suit you. Find something else.” And yes he will be very clearly on guard when in public. People will openly wonder why you’re with him tbh. Which will frustrate the both of you of which neither of you ever bring up to the other. Byakuya has lost a love before—he won’t talk about it ever. You MIGHT get something out of Rukia about it cause it was her sister but I doubt she’ll go super intimate about THEIR relationship cause she respects both his and her sister’s privacy. So you might be stuck on an eavesdropping side quest with Renji that amounts to nothing cause he’ll sense yall. He’ll be amused and somewhat touched you wanted to watch him work though. He’s usually the one keeping check or track of things so he’ll never say he likes that you peep on him and mind his business. You care about him and he knows he’s a bit unfair not allowing any PDA. But he so openly loved on Rukia’s sister he couldn’t help the shameful self imposed embarrassment once he had to walk the halls alone…Byakuya will be a very intentional, quiet lover. I doubt he’ll moan very much tbh unless he’s exhausted and allowing you to take care of him. Sometimes he’ll absolutely disappear all day into work. Other times he’ll be sure to direct his underlings to wait on you in his stead. He’s more manageable if you can accept his sometimes snarky, distant, super private ways. As a father he’ll be annoyingly big on exceptionalism and them being smart and talented. You’ll have to be sure he isn’t burdening your kid when you aren’t around. And you’ll have to be sure he doesn’t inadvertently impart his insensitive habits too. Likewise, you’ll ABSOLUTELY have to “deal or no deal” him about giving affection to your kid in public. You will absolutely have to go off and tell him it’s y’all or his image. And yeah now he’s holding both yall hands albeit defeated. 💕😭

AIZEN: Shit…girl (im black my “girl…” is gender neutral don’t be annoying 💕) you already know what it is. Yandare, selfish, self righteous, MEAN, EVIL…but fine and rich as fuck. 😔🫤 it will be a doozy to be with this one. You literally have to know and accept what you getting into bestie. I can’t even warn you, you know! 😭 but seriously if your an aizen bias you accept him as is 😭 psycho ass. So I wanna just write how’d he be as a baby daddy. Now not to get…too mature…but if you happened to be someone captured/kidnapped by him and pregnant…baby you is a victim! BUT ITS FANFIC SOOO if you were the captured baby momma that’s in his realm with him…well girl you in the realm lord you stuck. “Can I go to the human world?” “For what?” “Uh, sun?” “Humph what do you need sun for…” He’ll look down at your crying child and be like “Ugh okay whatever but Grimmjow is your chaperone.” And you won’t care cause Grimmjow lets you run off and live life. Which Aizen knows but the minute you aren’t overtly scared and submissive to him he’ll lose his weird sense of “power.” You’re man crazy bestie. He’s definitely someone you won’t talk back to until you’re a parent and equally going to advocate for your kid. He’ll realize and laugh to himself “Their not really submissive at all…little minx…” and hold you in completely new regard. “So you took me as is because you wanted to?” He’ll start thinking shit that confuses him and decide to randomly kill a grunt to distract himself like no he’s not gonna reflect into a better person. 😂 you’ll have everything you want cause you can’t go nowhere 😭. Mind you yes the sex is mind blowing so you sadly do take what positives are there…his eyes don’t fall sexually to anyone but you. His body doesn’t respond certain ways to anyone but you. And as you stand next to him more and more he’s leaning into you and your baby’s energy rather than tryna to overtake yall with his. Just don’t speak about the change and it’ll be fine. The minute you tease or openly acknowledge his becoming softer and less controlling you’ll ruin all the progress you made. Let him feel like he’s in control or whatever.

New Additions (1):

Hitsugaya: (adult of course) Hitsu will be a blend of Byakuya and Ichigo. The best aspects of him will be how attentive and actionable he is about his love for you. But — he will shy away from PDA and sometimes have moments of separated solitude. Unlike Byakuya, he will absolutely open up to PDA, just will never be the initiator of it. Maybe grab your hand at the end of the day to hurry back home or stare at you as long as he can while he observes your dutiful working. He’ll be shy always which keeps your love feeling young and refreshed. You’ll always be able to make him blush and unlike Ichigo, he’ll warm up to you imposing yourself on his alone time. He’ll be big on love making and planning when to have a child so it will be less spontaneous. He’ll have the baby registry and wishlists prepared, printed, and passed out to members of the Soul Society. He’ll enjoy trips to the human world to acquire new toys and trinkets for your baby.

As a baby daddy he’s almost too protective. You wonder what he’s been through as he’ll have a firm grip of your hips as you cradle your child. He’ll have a habit of looking at your baby and then between the both of you stunned at how he can see the perfect blend of your features on your child’s face. He’ll be very close to a simp honestly (which I’m a fan of) and be at your beck & call no matter the hour. Definitely the dad to tell you don’t worry about tending to the little one, keep resting cause he knows how tired you get. He’s honestly the perfect idea of a new father as he’ll be bumbling a bit but with so much to prove. I realize I kinda didn’t write red flags cause I truly see Hitsu adjusting to parenthood and a long term relationship the best. Only thing I can think is that he’ll be overtly willing to sacrifice himself for your family’s safety. So any massive issue in the Soul Society will make your heart sink a little because while he’s capable he’s been in enough life threatening predicaments to cause ample, appropriate worry. He’ll be hard to break out of working I think until your child starts schooling which could be frustrating cause he’ll overcompensate parenting in lieu of his work commitments. Overall, I think he’d be the baby daddy with the least to really worry about.

Renji: Oh lord— all tea, all shade this man will STRUGGLE. « What do you mean the baby is hungry AGAIN ? You just breastfed! WAIT DO NOT PULL YOUR TIT OUT IN PUBLIC WOMAN ! » He’ll have a hard time adjusting to your freedom as a breastfeeding mom for sure (if you choose to). Work ? What’s work? One thing you can count on is that he will absolutely commit to being a family man and even a stay at home dad. He’ll take all his PTO or even « quit » (basically will say don’t call me to help unless the Soul Society is about to die.) He will wait on you hand & foot because he can’t imagine how much your body and mind has gone through and the strength it takes to be so tired but smile and laugh with him and your kiddo. But, he may end up a bit controlling about you leaving the house without him. He’ll either become a sad puppy or an angry old man. « Baby…what do you mean you want me to stay home ? 😓🥺 » or « Woman, what did I tell you about going out without me ? What if a crazy person tried to rob you ? » You laugh at him always being some level of dramatic but it may get annoying how clingy and worried he’ll become. You’ll have to remind him you lived this long for a reason…and plan to live longer, so he can chill out sometimes cause his worried nature worries you…you might benefit from guilt tripping him into apologizing and giving you a breather on leaving the house. But just know someone is watching over you. Renji would be a great cook or a terrible cook who improves over time. He might be great at catching the baby right when they poop or…end up shat on rushing to a sink. I really see him either being weirdly good at being a dad or definitely suffering from the learning curve.

Your baby will definitely be conceived in a wild love making, (maybe rough, passionate sex) session. And you’ll catch him blushing when he holds your baby and looks at you remembering the night you had. You’ll be the type to walk in on them sleeping crazily on the sofa, his arm instinctively holding your baby firm. He’ll be grateful to not have to jump up to go to work honestly. His biggest red flags will be being overbearing, needy, and likely requiring a lot of overt reassurance. (Which isn’t necessarily a red flag given he just will want to be a really good dad and partner.) Otherwise he’ll become a stubborn dad who will try (and fail) to « put his foot down. » Which will likely result in him sleeping on the sofa…💕

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slimmestofshady · 2 months

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Bad Habits Kill You

Summary: The 90s in Detroit wasn’t exactly easy to live in with two kids and a boyfriend who redeveloped a bad habit.

Warnings: Drug Addiction, relapse, toxic relationship, abusive on both sides, accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, swearing, mention of smut, mention of drug dealing, breast feeding, robbery

6 calls, 13 text messages later and you found yourself driving home with your 3 year old daughter strapped in the carseat, livid that Marshall hadn’t picked up the phone. Working two jobs and trying to live life comfortably was becoming difficult as you felt like you were the only one here trying to keep the family afloat. This had been the fifth time this week you had to leave early and pick her up due to your boyfriend not showing up. Two write ups later with the check engine light on the car, hardly any gas in it and needing an oil change that you couldn’t afford you unbuckled her, carrying Ellie inside only to hear your newborn screaming once again.

Scoffing, you pushed open the broken screen door, the object squeaking when it was pressed back only to find Marshall’s blonde head fast asleep on the couch, a bowl of weed sitting right out on the rickety table next to Sara’s play pen.

“Mommy, why is daddy always tired? He never eats with us either.” You knew what this was, rehab hadn’t been working and it wasn’t just the sleeping pills he was taking. What were you supposed to say to her?

“Daddy’s just been very busy, why don’t you go play with your toys? Okay?” You smooched her on her delicate little head, ruffling her hair. A child at that young of age shouldn’t even have to ask those questions or ask why other kids have more than you did. Even in a relationship it felt like you were a single mother just trying to make ends meet.

Picking up Sara from her crib you kneed him lightly in his side in irritation, causing him to moan and groan, mumbling something about being cold in the process. You kneed him again to which he turned around and shouted in his groggy state, his baby blues eyes dilated with dark circles shading his white skin.

“What?!” His temper was not in the slightest controlled, only pushing you farther past your limit of being civil or concerned for his well being.

“You were supposed to pick Ellie up, and do you hear that? That’s your other daughter crying to be taken care of which I can see you’re doing a great job at.” He clenched his jaw, folding his hands together, rubbing them. He got up, closing the distance between the both of you pointing an accusing finger directly in your face.

“I know how to be a fucking parent Y/N. Besides you’re one to talk, did Andre fuck you yet cause he been blowin up the phone all god damn day.” Taking Sara to her room, you rolled your eyes from having the same argument every fucking day while laying her in the crib, but he followed.

“At least he offers to watch the kids, more than you’ve ever fucking done! Tell me how many pills did you fucking pop today and don’t lie to me because I can see you’re clearly stoned. Fucking blanked out and shit.” You closed the door once you layed her down, refusing to argue with him in front of the kids but that didn’t mean they didn’t hear.

His hand wrapped around you arm pulling you back until you were pushed against the wall of the tiny hallway, giving you no personal space as he spat his venomous words.

The tensions was rising, only fueling your immense anger. This was the same old song and dance as every other fucking day. Why didn’t you leave? Well it’s easier said than done when you loved someone.

“I’m not fucking stoned babe I’ve been working on a new song and just fell asleep. Besides I don’t see you bringing any money so where you been if it ain’t work?” He pulled out a red piece of paper in his pocket with the words “EVICTION NOTICE”. Snatching the paper out of his hands, you noticed they only were giving you a week to pack your shit and get out due to being nearly three months behind on rent.

Scoffing you shoved the paper at his chest, trying to walk away but he didn’t let you shoving you back against the wall again.

“Marsh, don’t start your fucking shit okay?! I’ve been working my ass off but god forbid I work a full fucking shift because your ass has to be sat on this fucking couch, smoking dope and taking your fucking sleeping pills and xanax!” As he started cussing you out, you didn’t think before slapping him harshly across the face when he accused you of cheating once more based off the basis of no money coming in yet you’re always “at work.”

“What the fuck y/n! You don’t want to play this fucking game with me aight?!” Right before you could spit fire back, Ellie walked out of her room crying, causing you both to stop. She was just a child and didn’t ask or sign up for any of this. A sympathetic look of sorrow washed over Marshall and yourself the tension dwindling ever so slightly when you saw her teary, beading eyes, her cheeks reddened from the hostile situation.

With open arms, he picked her up cradling her against his chest as his hands rubbed her back gently.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Mommy and I will stop arguing okay?” You crossed your arms, huffing from this constant fighting but seeing how quick he was when he was awake to console her, and ensure those crybaby tears stopped was heart warming. He had the potential to be such a good dad if he would just set the drugs aside but maybe that was too much to ask.

“My-my tv is gone, all-all my stuff is gone!” With frantic eyes, you both pushed open the door to see the room a wreck, and multiple items missing. Some of her blankets on her bed, her stuffed animals gone, even her piggy bank that had nearly $500 in it. It had taken over a year to save it, in hopes of starting a fund for her when she was 18, and now it was just gone.

You couldn’t hold back the tears, feeling like everything was just crumbling down. They flowed freely down your cheeks, Marshall noticing and trying to pull you in to his side with his other arm but you waved him off, walking into the bedroom and closing the door. How much more of this could you take? There were shootings at least once a week, you were barely able to afford food, living off food stamps that barely covered shit. Whenever it seemed to be going great or a little better than before, everything would just turn to shit.

As you slumped down onto the bed, you couldn't help but notice the bathroom light still open, the shattered mirror from the night before slightly ajar.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you walked into the room with a dreadful feeling, hoping you weren't right. Taking a deep breath, you opened the object only to find the 3 pill bottles completely empty with their lids off, how much shit did he fucking take.

There was a knock at the door pulling you from your thoughts, but when you heard his voice asking if he could come in your blood boiled. When you didn't respond he pushed the door open, Sara no longer in his hands. When he saw you had found the empty bottles, he had a guilty look on his face but not remorseful.

There was a dead silence as you stood with your arms crossed shooting daggers his way.

"Tell me again that you're not fucking using. I'm not fucking stupid. How do you expect me to become closer with you when you can't even own your shit! This is getting old, and I don't know how much longer I can do this!" A switch like the atomic bomb flipped inside of him and he wasn't thinking before he pushed you on the mattress as you pounded against his chest, but you were never a match compared to his strength.

He folded his hands around the warmth of your neck, shaking you in place but not squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.

"You don't know what it's like! Who the fuck are you to judge me huh? We're livin in this broke down piece of shit fuckin trailer, I'm tryin to fuckin write songs and start a good life for us, while you bring some dude around our fuckin kids when I'm not home, actin like you perfect, you ain't perfect either!" The tears welled in your eyes in a mix of emotions. He was right neither of you were but how did you get to this point. You had a plan, a good one, but everything kept getting taken away from you. It was like playing ring around the rosey but always falling down. You stared into his ocean eyes while sniffling when he finally released your neck.

"Fuck!" He screamed with profound irritation. You were both tired of fighting nearly every day, it was draining but the love was still there even if it was minuscule at times.

"Can you tell me truthfully I'm not being replaced by your fuckin' boss at work?" His eyes settled for a moment, just needing to know the truth.

"Marshall there is nothing there, nothing has happened. I'm just trying to find someone to watch the kids and I clearly have to even when I'm not home." A sorrowful look of hurt and guilt crossed over his face. You weren't wrong that he wasn't trustworthy to his own god damn kids and he wasn't wrong that you should've at least asked him about Andrei watching the kids. He was a private man, he didn't like strangers around the house let alone his kids.

As your breathing steadied, Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, allowing a singular tear to slip from his eye and land on your skin. He wanted to be better a father, a better boyfriend but it was so difficult during times like these.

"You need to get help baby..." A choked sob escaped you. You hated seeing him like this, he was better than this.

He had gone five months sober and when you noticed the signs he was using again you hadn't asked again after how irritable he was with you the first time, until today at least.

This wasn’t all on him though, the relationship issues anyway.

in his own head he felt there was no going forward, there was no escaping the impending, disastrous thoughts in his mind. The drugs soothed those intrusive thoughts, how could he lose himself inside his own head if he was asleep?

“I know, I know…” You both layed there for a moment in each others company. Neither of you calling the cops about the break in since they never seemed to actually do anything given where you lived.

“Maybe we should take the kids out for dinner or something, get Ellie’s mind off her things being gone.”

“Well how much do we got in the account?” You shook your head, sitting up and waving your hands up in the air with defeat.

“Not enough. I think altogether for the month we have around $120.” Fuck. He couldn’t do shit for his kids but somehow had enough money to get drugs? His mind twirled, the stress and realizing his priorities weren’t straight pressing an immense weight on his shoulders.

A thought crossed his mind of what if he started to sell only using every now and then? That would surely bring in money, especially around this neighborhood and keep you afloat for the time being but he didn’t say it.

He also had to worry about the kids. He refused to let them be homeless.

“Let’s take them we’ll figure it out. We aigh’t now?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll get help. I’m here to support you, okay?” Your hand caressed down his cheek as you stared into his baby blue hues, he nuzzled into your touch nodding before helping you out of bed.

Ellie was sat coloring with the crayons she still had on the living room floor wrapped in a blanket. That was another thing you were behind on, the fucking heat bill but that was a concern for another day. Luckly the electric and water seemed to still be on for the time being.

Marshall swooped her up in his arms peppering her face with loving kisses while ruffling her hair. He was always so good with her, such a caring dad and the sight made your heart melt. Moments like these made the fights seem almost pointless.

“Are you and mommy done fighting?” Her voice was so sweet and innocent, her small fist clenching and grasping at Marshall’s white shirt. The small gesture warning his heart. He just wanted his daughter to be happy.

“Yes baby. Daddy loves mommy we just have a lot going on, adult stuff you don’t need to worry about. Let’s get you and sissy some dinner, okay?” She nodded against him, perking up when he mentioned McDonald’s. It wasn’t the healthiest but it was affordable and it made her happy and that was all that mattered right now.

Passing her to you, Marshall went out to the car throwing a raggedy, old gray sweatshirt on before lighting a cigarette as he started the car. It took him about three times for the car to turn over, rickety old piece of shit, he was just grateful the heat was working for his angels. Checking the glove box, he ensured his gun was still there while a car passed by slowly, music blaring. He was skeptical of everyone and everything in this neighborhood, especially when something like today happens for the fifth time this year.

Pushing the door open, Marshall rushed to your aide to help Ellie down the stairs, avoiding the section with a nail sticking out of the wood while you carried Sara in your arms.

“Should we get gas?” You shrugged, nodding and informing him you still had work and Ellie had daycare to attend.

“How much we’re paying for that again?”

“Nearly $100 a month.” He hasn’t realized how expensive it was, scoffing and mentioning how the government expects people to live off minimum wage jobs and take care of their children.

Dinner seemed to be going smoothly, Ellie was making friends and playing in the play pin section of the restaurant while you and Marshall sat with Sara near the window in a close distance, sharing a milkshake while laughing over the memories of the past.

“Be careful sweetie!” Marshall yelled after Ellie noticing how close she was to slipping a falling off a plastic cube. She nodded to her dad, going back to her activity.

He couldn’t help but glance down at your tits, they’d gotten so big from the swelling of breast feeding. One of the things he loved that happened when you were pregnant. He bit down on his bottom lip intrigued, making a comment about how even after giving birth he still would take you right here right now over this table had their been no kids around.

Smacking him playfully with your cup, you giggled. It was about time she needed to be fed but before you could excuse yourself to the restroom, Ellie came up to have a drink break, not wasting a minute before she blurted out,

“Mommy, when is Andre coming over again? He likes to color with me and he talks about you a lot…” You we’re at a standstill for words, being left speechless by your toddler. Marshall’s jaw clenched, his hand forming a fist as he held his composure. He simply said, “Believe me now? Hows that for truth?” Ellie yanked on her dads sleeve, asking for a refill on her drink giving you the perfect way out of the situation.

“I’m going to feed Sara, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.

“Yeah, aight. You do that.” Arriving home, the car ride was mostly silent. Marshall laid Ellie down in your bed as she fell asleep in the car, too worried about her being in her own room and the same for Sara moving her crib for the night near the back corner of your room where the light wouldn’t be in her face but she’d still be close.

While you were still in the living room changing laundry, he stumbled into the back of the closet, reaching for a small box that was hidden under a flap in the carpet, popping a pill or two in his mouth, rinsing them down with water from the sink.

He closed the door lightly to not wake either of your kids, walking out into the living room and not hiding that he was not in a good mood, slouching down into the couch.

“So when the fuck did you plan on telling me that he been coming over into my fucking house with my fucking kids? You didn’t even ask me.” You sighed, knowing that resurfacing the topic if anything to with Andre would end badly, especially after the comment Ellie made.

“It was only one time babe, you were out with your friends, I was working late, Nate was out of town. I didn’t exactly have a choice. Those things Ellie said, I understand you are upset but until we can find someone else I don’t know what you expect me to do or what we’re going to do come next week.” Closing the dryer, you accompanied him on the couch, not looking for a fight but a resolution, but he loved to fight.

“I don’t want some strange, douchebag guy that wants to sleep with my girl around my kids Y/N. Plain and simple. Don’t worry about next week I’ll figure it out.” The way he ended the sentence meant there was no room for any other decisions. He wouldn’t allow it and quite frankly he was ready to choke this bitch out and arrange a little meetup in an ally to beat the shit out of him “And I don’t want a boyfriend who is high all the damn time yet here we are. Your bad habit isn’t just killing you, it’s killing us.” Yeah maybe you were right but maybe his trust issues got in the way of that cause as far as he was concerned if he saw Andre or even heard about him being here again he was gonna call up some of his buddied and make him a dead man.

This constant back and forth bullshit was getting you nowhere and frustrating the every living fuck out of him.

“I promise you I’ll go into rehab again once we get this shit figured out. But you gotta promise he ain’t coming around our kids anymore, and tell him to get rid of this fuckin number.”

“ And I will okay? No more Andre. I promise.” He nodded still not believing this guy was going to leave you alone but for now he wanted to relax, the pills already taking effect and making him drowsy he just hoped you couldn’t tell. Trying to avert attention from himself, his hands grasped your thighs pulling you into his lap and caressing your ass cheeks making you giggle.

“What’re you doing?”

“What I cant feel my girl up? C’mon the kids are asleep. We could get in a round or two.” That would be nice and a big stress relief, you could already feel his large bulge growing beneath you, causing your pussy to throb in anticipation while you rolled your hips down against him before pulling your shirt off, revealing your breasts.

“What’re you waiting for then?” You leaned in closely to his ear, lips just brushing over the bottom lobe and biting playfully.

“Fuck me.”

#Marshall mathers x reader #Eminem x reader #eminem imagine #Marshall mathers imagine #Slim shady #slim shady x reader #Slim shady imagine #Eminem #marshall mathers #ranaewrites

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wishesofeternity · 1 year

Text

“You toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?”

A couple of things:

1) Alicent is a queen consort and is a Hightower by birth, so no, she cannot imagine herself on the Iron Throne, because Targaryen succession does not work like that. This is basic knowledge that 5-year-olds would presumably be expected to know, and I am astounded and embarrassed that Rhaenys, with her age and experience, lacks this fundamental bit of common sense.

2) Alicent has been the functional regent of Westeros for the past six years. In the previous episode, we see her actively governing the realm and overseeing all royal matters (while Rhaenyra sits on her ass with her loser husband in Dragonstone). We also literally hear Vaemond tell Rhaenys “It’s not a king who sits the Iron Throne these days, good sister. It’s the queen”, so I can assure you, Rhaenys, that Alicent has physically sat on the Iron Throne just fine. She lacks authority, obviously, as she is the consort and not the king, but she certainly did not and does not lack power, to say nothing about influence. This ridiculous show, however, does not seem to be able to differentiate these terms.

3) Does this show not understand that Alicent installing her son as King is not just beneficial to him (which the show acknowledges) but also directly beneficial to her? This is a patriarchal and patrimony-inclined world; Alicent’s son being King would not only mean immense prestige for her family; it would also mean the ultimate peak of power and influence for her (which we see her unapologetically wield in the books). In Westeros, we see Visenya Targaryen supporting her brother and her son’s kingship rather than angling for the throne in her own right, and wielding absolute power and authority in their reigns. Historically, Empress Matilda (the female claimant to the throne in the Anarchy, the war this story is based off) relinquished her claim in favor of her son, Henry II, presumably because she recognized he stood a better chance at gaining the throne (which he did) and continuing her legacy. Joanna of Flanders, who commanded troops in battle, did it to support the cause of her husband in direct opposition to the claim of his niece. Yet according to this show’s logic, every single woman who has fought for their fathers and brothers and husbands and sons subscribes to internalized misogyny rather than, idk, supporting their families and gaining power, security and status in the process. Not to mention, Alicent relinquishing her children’s claim and stepping aside would not only be utterly humiliating and degrading for her from a political and personal standpoint, but also legitimately life-threatening for her children and her family. More competent writers would understand that she did not have much of a choice.

4) “You desire not to be free but make a window in the wall of your prison” is the MOST SICKENING PIECE OF VICTIM-BLAMING BULLSHIT I have ever heard in a long, long time. Alicent was a teenager when she had to marry the much-older King (her best friend’s own father) because of his desire for her. He repeatedly raped her and forced at least four pregnancies on her that she did not want. She was utterly isolated at court after her marriage, lacking comfort and friends (including Rhaenyra, who abandoned Alicent for three years after learning that she was being made to marry her father and, based on the comments she made, did not even stop to consider the awfulness of Alicent’s predicament). She had to endure the humiliation of her father being fired and made to leave court, leaving her even more alone than she previously was. She had to endure her husband constantly favoring his firstborn and his grandchildren by his firstborn rather than Alicent’s children who were a direct result of her rape by him. Her son was maimed and bleeding and her husband chose to defend his firstborn’s moronic decisions rather than bring him justice. She is not a Targaryen, she does not and cannot ride a dragon. WHAT WAS ALICENT SUPPOSED TO EXCEPT TRY AND SURVIVE? HOW ON EARTH IS SHE BEING JUDGED FOR IT?

(And this ridiculously condescending comment is coming from Rhaenys of all people, lmao. A dragon-riding Targaryen who was an actual claimant to the Iron Throne, unlike Alicent. So, what was stopping HER from seizing power, pray tell? After all, she even has the Velaryon forces to back her claim. Instead, in her own words, she made peace with her sidelining. She constantly disagreed with her husband’s ambition regarding her claim and her family’s power. She volunteered her 12-year-old daughter as a child bride for her own aging cousin. The hypocrisy and double standards here is pathetic, and the lack of self-awareness on the part of the show is even worse)

Alicent was legitimately terrified for her children and her family’s lives, and she was entirely justified in doing so: if Rhaenyra ascended the throne, Alicent’s children would inevitably become threats to her whether or not they directly opposed her. This is unavoidable. Look up any historical usurpation, and that’s the inescapable result - and that’s not even going into the fact that Rhaenyra and Daemon are people who are reckless, cruel and indifferent to violence, and would not hesitate to kill any opposition to their reign. The show’s so-called claim that Alicent is upholding the patriarchy falls apart when you consider the fact that this is the only solution that guarantees the security of her children and herself. How is Alicent’s perfectly understandable motivation written as internalized misogyny?

And moreover, from a writing perspective ... why give her this arc at all? Fire & Blood was badly written, but it doesn’t change the fact that they looked at an ambitious woman who wanted to enhance her power and improve her family’s standing, who directly defied her husband’s wishes in terms of succession in favor of her own, and rewrote this choice into one borne from internalized misogyny. They wrote her as a child bride, a rape victim, an abuse victim and a teen mother and then used this backstory to say that she was conditioned to become the so-called agent of patriarchy (which they do not support with believable evidence) who opposes their so-called feminist protagonist (whose primary enabler is Alicent’s rapist and abuser, btw, not that his abuse is acknowledged nearly enough by the narrative considering how heavily he was romanticized in the last few episodes) It’s a heinous, disrespectful, absolutely terrible writing choice, and I cannot emphasize this nearly enough.

(Oh, and speaking of Rhaenyra, let’s talk about how her queenship solidifies Viserys’s claim over Rhaenys’s. Let’s talk about if she truly cared about women inheriting the Iron Throne - as opposed to just herself - she would have considered this. Let’s talk about how she disregarded the claims of Baela and Rhaena in favour of her son when it came to Driftmark. Rhaenyra is not challenging the patriarchy, her ascension to the Iron Throne will not change anything for anyone except for herself, do not make me laugh by claiming otherwise)

ON TOP OF THIS, the show can’t even decide on a consistent motivation or characterization for Alicent. They repeatedly show us her visceral and justified fear for her children’s lives, which is somehow forgotten in episode eight in favor of her saying that Rhaenyra will be a good queen. Her desire to see her son crowned and thus ensure her children’s safety is disregarded in favor of her actually wanting to fulfil Viserys’s half-baked wishes on his deathbed. They have her say that everyone knows Aegon will be king, and then act surprised when the Green council plots to install him as King. They do not care about Alicent’s personhood and individual character; what they care about is her position as a foil and antagonist to Rhaenyra.

In conclusion: this show sucks. It shows absolutely no understanding regarding the politics of its own world and our medieval history and is a parody and a travesty of respectful storytelling. It has inconsistent and baffling character motivations and downright misogynistic writing, and this is not acknowledged nearly enough by the fandom.

#hotd #anti hotd #alicent hightower #team green #anti rhaenys targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #not really but kinda #hotd critical #anti viserys i targaryen #does anyone even care about that shitshow anymore? idk and idc. i've wanted to rant about this for a long long time #mine

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katsu28 · 25 days

Note

hi there! i absolutely lovee your writing, it's so cute and beautiful!! i hope you're having a good day/night <3

can i make a request for Carlos + holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, before leaning in for a kiss?

thank you so much, and please take your time, there's no rush! thank you for writing so well, and feeding into F1 fans' delusions! :) sending lots of love and hugs! 🤍

you are so sweet, thank you!! hope you enjoy <3

carlos sainz x reader, 1.2k.

You can’t sleep.

It’s four in the morning and you should be asleep because you’re exhausted and you have a flight in a few hours, but you’re so nervous that you can’t for the life of you bring yourself to close your eyes.

You’re flying to Madrid with Carlos to spend the first week of summer break with his family, and to say he’s excited is an understatement. He hasn’t seen his family in ages. The first thing he did when you told him you got some time off work during the break was propose that the two of you take a trip to his home city for a little bit.

You, on the other hand, well, you feel like you’re about to shit a brick. This is the first time you’ll be meeting his family. You’re not typically a nervous person, but this has got your stomach tied up in knots.

It’s not something you can really talk to Carlos about either, not without bringing up your hesitation. Realistically, you’re probably just overthinking things, but as you stare up at the ceiling for what seems like forever and glancing over at the clock to see that it’s really only been a few minutes, you give up on sleep.

Beside you, Carlos snores like there’s no tomorrow, barely moving a muscle as you slip out from under the covers and leave the room as quiet as you can. He’s always been a heavy sleeper.

You pad out to the living room, sinking onto the large sofa with a defeated sigh. It’s quiet this time of day—too quiet for your liking. The city of Monte Carlo is asleep. Not even the birds are awake right now, but then again, neither should you.

This trip has gotten you all out of sorts lately. When Carlos had first confirmed it with his family, you didn’t think it would affect you that much. Meeting people was nothing new to you, and not to toot your own horn or anything, but you always did well with past significant other’s families.

As the trip grew closer, however, you started to worry. This isn’t just anyone’s family you’re meeting, this is Carlos’ family. The family of the man you know you want to spend the rest of your life with. The family who made that man into who he is today, who loves him just as much, if not more than you love him.

Making a good first impression with them is an immense amount of pressure, and you’re definitely feeling it.

Absentmindedly, you switch on the TV. You don’t even want to watch anything, you just need something on so you don’t think yourself into the ground before the sun comes up. Nothing good is on at this time either, so you settle on some nature documentary about sea turtles to drown out the noise.

“What are you doing?”

You startle, tearing your eyes away from the TV to see Carlos standing in the hallway, half shrouded by darkness, squinting at you through sleepy eyes. His hair is flat on one side from his pillow, and he’s scratching his chest absentmindedly as a yawn rips through him.

You’re not even sure how long you’ve been watching turtles swim, but one glance out the large windows across from you tells you that it’s been a while, because the sky is starting to brighten beyond the horizon.

You mute the channel, pressing your lips together guiltily. “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, Carlos.”

“You didn’t,” He mumbles, shuffling towards you. “I woke up and you weren’t next to me. Got worried. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.” There must be something different in your voice you don’t hear that Carlos does, because he cocks his head, suddenly looking wide awake.

“Something is bothering you,” He says matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes at you. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to fill the silence before you can even utter a word. “You can’t tell me it’s nothing because if it was, we would not be having this conversation right now. We would still be asleep.”

He’s looking at you like he sees right through you, so you know there’s no point in trying to make up some excuse. You sigh, shoulders sagging. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos crouches down in front of you, tilting his head. “If it’s bothering you this much, it isn’t stupid. Talk to me, corazón, let me help you.”

“What if your family hates me?” You blurt, fidgeting with the blanket across your lap. “What if they think you could do better, what if they think I’m not good enough for you, or—”

“Look at me,” He says softly, holding his hands out to you, palms up. You sigh, but oblige anyways, sliding your hands into his outstretched ones. He squeezes once, twice, then a third time. “You are thinking too much into it.”

“I know, I know, I just—I can’t help it. I really want them to like me.”

“My family will love you, I know it already.”

“How are you so sure?” You whine, shoulders sagging. Your chin drops down towards your chest only for a second before Carlos tuts, bringing your gaze back to his with just a sound. Big, beautiful, melty chocolate brown eyes stare back at you, perfect lips turned down into a frown. “What? It’s possible.”

“No, it is not. I’m very happy with you, and if I am happy, they are happy. They only want the best for me, and that is you.”

“Carlos…” You whine, pouting at him with teary eyes.

“What? What did I say wrong?” He looks panicked, brows flying up in immediate concern. His hands squeeze yours again, though a little tighter this time. “I thought I was being quite romantic.”

“You’re so sweet to me.”

His face melts into a fond smile. “That’s my job as your number one fan, no?”

He grabs your chin gently between his index finger and thumb, studying you for a few beats before pressing his lips against yours gently. You sink into him like you always do, letting your eyes flutter shut as you kiss him back wholeheartedly.

Carlos loves you, and that’s all you need to reassure yourself.

“Now that we have settled that, will you come back to bed? You don’t sleep well on planes, and I know how grumpy you get when you are tired.”

You let him pull you to your feet in lieu of an answer, falling against him as he pulls you under his arm and into his side snugly. “I don’t get that grumpy,” You huff, nudging him in the side. The sharpness of your elbow into his ribs has him letting out a grunt, one that he masks with a snort of laughter.

“You don’t get that grumpy?” He repeats, sounding more than amused. “I seem to remember on the way back from Miami in May when you nearly bit off Lando’s head for waking you up because we were about to land.”

“He dragged us to seven different clubs until five in the morning even though our flight was at six. Were you not grumpy?”

“Yes, but I can hide it well. You are an open book, mi amor, one I know very well.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#requested!#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot

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ihrtsevyn · 8 months

Text

— PRETTY BOY . . . 𖤐 | j.g x reader

genre fic, fluff, slight angst, hurt to comfort, oneshot.

warnings no smut, no use of specific race/age/gender. no pronouns used. no use of y/n. lowercase intended. loosely proofread. reader and johnnie are both emotional in this lmao.

summary after countless weeks of being cramped into your studio, you finally reveal the reason of your absence to a worried johnnie with one of your songs from your new album.

requested by anon you can find the link here !!

wc 1.6k

masterlist | main page <3

[ 03:46AM ]

your eyes continued to drift back and forth from your computer to the digital clock. you couldn't keep doing this. johnnie had already chewed you out earlier in the week for working so late.

you needed to get your sophomore album out before the deadline came and unfortunately the date of your release was set much earlier than you expected, meaning you had to cram yourself into your studio practically all day and night until you were finished.

it's hard to admit but your time spent in the studio had taken a toll on the relationship. johnnie didn't like it at all. he knew you weren't properly taking care of yourself in there, any time he'd peek his head in to check on you his worried state only increased.

your eyes were red from crying in frustration and staring at a computer screen all day long, your movements slow as a sloth because of the immense exhaustion, as well as boxes and bags of food discarded to the side, some untouched and left to rot while others remained half-eaten.

when you and johnnie got together you had vowed to each other that you'd be reliable to one another and help each other out in all situations. you wouldn't bottle things inside and you'd speak about your problems to each other. that was a promise. a promise you had seemed to forget as you ignored his countless advances to take care of you for your work.

johnnie quietly shuffled into your studio, trash bag in hand as he started to grab handfuls of wrappers and water bottles. you wouldn't have even realized he walked into your studio if the doorway wasn't left open.

you wanted to say something to him. a simple 'i love you' or even a 'thank you' but you couldn't build the strength to turn your head away from your screen even when he rested his hand upon your shoulder and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head. and before you knew it, he was gone just as quick as he had arrived.

[ 5:33AM ]

you sighed in relief before plopping your head onto your desk. a watery almost pathetic laugh escaped your lips before you brought your hands to your face to muffle your sobs. you were finally done. so much work and effort had been put into your first independent album and the solace of being finished was the final nail in the coffin for you to burst into tears.

your eyes drifted drifted over to the digital clock on your desk again. you double-checked that you had your files saved and prepared to be sent out the following week before closing your laptop shut and stretching your limbs.

johnnie was either still awake or had fallen asleep by now, you were hoping for the latter as you made your way out of the studio and into your shared bedroom.

quietly you opened the bedroom door, peeking your head in only to see johnnie fast asleep on your side of the bed. you carefully shuffled into the bedroom with a small downturned smile on your face until you were standing over johnnie.

you crouched down in front of him to get a closer look at his face. he had been crying. his cheeks were rosy and puffy and around his eyes looked red and irritated as if he had been harshly scrubbing at them.

you resorted to giving him a quick and soft peck on the top of his head before evacuating to the bathroom. you felt so bad for neglecting johnnie the past few weeks. you truthfully hadn't meant to. work had overpowered your schedule and demanded all of your focus which meant there was no time for anyone and anything else.

you took to the shower to clear your thoughts. letting the warm water cascade down your body and relax your muscles. finally getting the chance to wash off all filth and grime from your body.

everything around you felt lighter and less depressing. you finally had the time to properly take care of yourself and not rush the routine because you had a pile of work to get to.

when you finally exited the bathroom you were surprised to be met with a dazed johnnie, fully sat up in bed and unconsciously picking at his cuticles. you could tell he was still tired but was forcing himself to be up, was he waiting for you?

"hey, sleepyhead." you murmured softly before making your way towards your shared bed.

"hey, taking a break?" he asked softly, his eyes wide and hopeful.

a knowing grin grew on your face.

"i'm all done. i just finished my final track an hour or so ago."

it took a full 10 seconds for it to fully registered in johnnie's head, his face contorting in confusion before settling on a blissful smile and wrapping his arms around your body.

his arms hugged around you tight before he tugged you on top of him. "you're not leaving my side for a month." he whispered in your ear, a serious tone in his voice but you knew he was joking.

you laughed lightly before settling comfortably on top of him. "i don't plan on leaving anytime soon."

a comfortable silence relaxed over the two of you as johnnie's hands smoothed over your waist, gently dragging his hands up and down.

you felt your eyelids get heavy before you suddenly jolted awake, rising above johnnie with wide eyes.

"are you okay? what's wrong?"

johnnie had a sense of urgency in his voice as he had slightly risen up himself, his now wide eyes trailing over your body to see if you had hurt yourself or if he had hurt you.

"before i get too comfortable i need to show you something." you quickly muttered. before johnnie could even respond you hopped out of the bed and grabbed one of his arms, dragging him right behind you and into your studio.

you were very private about your music, usually not letting anyone else listen to it besides another producer or composer, so johnnie was surprised when you plugged in a pair of headphones to your computer and handed them to him.

he slightly hesitated before taking them with wide eyes. "really? .. are you sure?"

you only nodded in return, eyes not straying away from your screen as you set up the audio for him to listen to.

he waited patiently next to you with the headphones secured on his head. he looked around your studio silently while fiddling with the wire.

"this was the last song i was working on...i made it for you so, it'd only make sense for you to hear it first, right?"

you voice was quiet and timid. you were nervous even though you shouldn't be. you've jokingly experienced with different instruments and vocals in your studio with johnnie right by your side joining in on the fun.

"you made a song about me?"

you nodded slowly, unsure eyes failing to keep in contact with his.

"it's basically a thank you to you as well as an apology."

"an apology? for what?"

"for not being an attentive significant other and just..being cooped up in my studio all day. that's not fair to you and..i'm sorry. really, i am."

he grabbed your hand softly before bringing it up to his lips. "don't be sorry, baby. work gets overwhelming sometimes. i know, just please...let me take care of you."

you nodded your head bashfully before whispering a quiet 'okay.'

"i can tell you're nervous, don't be. i already know im gonna love it." he murmured before pecking your fingers individually.

because you didn't want johnnie to stop being so affectionate with you, you resorted to using your other free hand and clicking play.

your eyes would nervously trail over to johnnie to gage his reaction at certain lyrics.

you could feel your palms getting sweatier as you waited for the song to end. writing love songs for people wasn't easy, but it was even harder to sit and watch johnnie listen to it with an unreadable expression.

you watched as his jaw clenched before he looked down at his lap, your hand still resting on his lap while he toys with your fingers.

you didn't know if he was loving the song or absolutely hating it which caused you to tense up.

you could hear the song slowing to an end in his headphones.

you watched as he slowly took the headphones off, his voice soft and slightly watery as he continued to avoid eye-contact with you.

"you think i'm pretty?" he asked, a small smile growing on his face.

"of course i do, johnnie. you're the prettiest boy i know."

he quickly wiped the stray tears that had fallen from his waterline before letting go of your hand to pull your chair closer to him, not that there was much space in between you two to begin with anyway.

without warning he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling your body into his once more.

"i love you so much, you don't even understand."

his sentence was muffled as he rested his head on top of yours but you were still able to fully understand his affectionate words.

"i love you more, my pretty boy." you whispered, rising your head from his chest to be able to look into his eyes that had already been trained on you.

he brought his hand from your waist to the side of your face. gently caressing the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

adorning eyes watched over you before he brought his lips to yours making your eyes flutter closed before leaning your full body into his, creating no room in between your bodies. you had forgotten how much you missed this feeling, the feeling of unabashed love and soft kisses.

johnnie was your safe place, your pretty boy, and you couldn't have been happier to be in his arms than in that moment.

a/n: i'm kinda shit at writing fics which is why i choose to write headcanons lol, hope you guys enjoyed it tho and ty for reading :D <33

#johnnie guilbert headcanons #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert imagine #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert scenarios #johnnie guilbert

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jessoloslemons · 8 months

Text

Been thinking...

So, because of the absence of brozone's parents in the 3rd movie, we assume that they either were killed or terrible parents, so comes in John having to raise his siblings (presumably) by himself. Their grandma probably not being much help.

We usually talk about the stress and impact it probably had on John, suddenly having to step us as the leader of the household at such a young age, but what about Bruce - the second oldest?

Bruce probably witnessed the change of character of John, watching his brother force himself to mature. From being a goofy and playful older brother who loved to sleep in, to someone who'd already be busy in the morning and somehow always tired, a sad look evident in his eyes. Especially when their younger brothers started to enter the picture.

He would notice how there would already be breakfast on the table once he awakes, how JD would immediately take action whenever either Clay or Floyd would start to cry or throw a tantrum, immediately running to their side cheering them up, and how the eldest would always be the last to sleep and the first to wake up the next day.

He'd also witnessed John start Brozone, and he'd do his best to help, just wanting to see his brother genuinely smile again. All he wanted was to see the brother who would give him piggyback rides every morning as their mom would make breakfast, the brother who'd easily laugh at his jokes and make funny faces all the time, the brother who'd chase him around the pod then proceeding to tickle him relentlessly once he caught him. He just wants his older brother back. To see him again.

But after years passed, and his younger brothers started to get involved in the boyband and a new baby arrives (Branch), that hope started to feel impossible. John was now annoying, controlling, and obsessed with being perfect. Barely thinking about the well-being of others at this point, his only goal is to please the fans and make sure Brozone is in top shape.

Bruce hated this. He hated the toxicity weighing down their relationship as brothers. He hated always being told to do better because it's always never enough. He hated John, and it hurts him to feel that way towards his first friend, and now first enemy.

And so you bet it broke his heart immensely when the boyband broke up, and that John was the first to leave. Not even leaving with a proper goodbye or a guarantee that he's coming back. Not even bothering to look back at any of his brothers, not even to him.

But even if he was so angry and tired of his shit that night, a distant part of his heart sobbed when John left the pod. If he didn't have self-control and pride, he'd probably just break down there and then. But instead, he also walked out, desperate to leave and finally be able to breathe again.

Fast forward to 20 years later, you bet it took every bit of Bruce's willpower not to tackle John in a tight hug once he laid his eyes on him again. Despite the heartaches and tears JD had caused in the past, he was still his brother, and he may not admit it out loud, but he still loves John, so much, and he missed him, so so badly.

Hi! So i just had an idea and knew I had to write about it right away!

John and Bruce's dynamic as siblings is totally underrated and smth we need to talk about more often ^ i love them both sm and i'd love to see them together more often and know of their relationship with one another <3

[Also i headcanon that Bruce called John Johnny as a kid, and when he calls him that now that they're older, JD is smitten and moved to tears]

Thxs for reading! Thoughts?

#brozone #john dory #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #john dory and bruce need to talk more #trolls bruce #siblings #trolls headcanons

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rekisgay · 2 years

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HIII IDK IF U WRITE FOR MULTIPLE CHARS OR NOT IGNOTE PLEASE IF U STATED IT IN UR RULES I DONT REMMEBWR SHIT WELL

adult trio hxh platonic headcanons with a reader whos very chaotic in general, not in the hisoka way. but in the way where "how did you even get to that amount of power and be so stupid???" they rival in power ig!

hello! yes if they are max 3

and uhh I read your request wrong and didn't write them as rivals💀 but i think it's better like this. kinda cute

Adult trio hxh with a chaotic person

hisoka:

-hmm yk he has a thing for powerful people

-you are a person who has piqued his interest, bc you're both powerful and at the same time so dumb??

-flirts with you, but you're so dumb to realize

-he found you so funny and entertaining, can't take you serious at all

-he likes hearing you say the dumbest things he has ever heard

-i mean, if he wants he CAN kill you even if you're so strong, but something stops him bc he feels like wanting to see how far you can get with that little brain.

- you once were fighting and stopped bc you saw a bear and wanted to pet it??!

" HOW CUTE!!" you had a big smile on your face too , fearing nothing. hisoka was like 🧍🏻🧍🏻🧍🏻

illumi:

-he hates you. tries to go away from you bc you get on his nerves

-how can someone so careless have such a power. it must be a divine gift.

-kinda envies that bc he had a rough past training every day bc he was raised an assassin.

-tried to kill you but you didn't realize and thought he was playing with you bc you dodged so easy. you were like 😁😁 and he was like 😑😑

-doesnt need help , but if you wanna help him he doesn't say no. he doesn't care anymore ,you would become even more annoying.

-after all you're really strong

- you're probably the only person (apart hisoka) who can talk with him without being killed immediately.

-gets used to you by the time and talk a bit more. only a bit, maybe now he doesn't say a single word but a whole phrase.

chrollo:

- rivals? not at all , he wants you by his side.

- i think he sees you like his little sister, part of his family

- 100% you are a member of the Phantom Troupe bc of your immense power and everyone is shocked that chrollo asked you to join.

-they initially didn't take you seriously, but after a mission where you killed everyone in 2 seconds without a blink they all start to respect you more.

-but now chrollo , he sometimes can't stand the fact that you're so noisy, but yeah he's a a really patient person, he'll just tell you to compose yourself.

-no matter how old you are , even if you're the same age he probably sees you like a little girl/boy.

-smiles at your dumb action, you're so cute to him

-yes, he has a heart , but only for the troupe members.

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merakiui · 1 year

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Meraaaaaa Geppie has been holding me trapped in a brainrot lately...

Insatiable Geppie who gets soooooo damn horny and pussy drunk!

"I'm sorry dear! I'm sorry darling! Pleaseese let me go for another round! I'm sorry I got hard again! You just look so cute like this... You'll let me go for another round right?"

(It wasn't a question, you don't have a choice.)

Man is gonna go for his 15th round tonight <3 he is just soooo horny! His horniness could be compared to a teen boy who just discovered a p*rn magazine, but unlike a teen boy, our man Geppie has a stupid amount of stamina! His libido is absolutely unmatched, he works out regularly so his fitness strengthens his sex drive even more!

I bet Geppie has been so pent up these past few years, he wasn't aware on how pent up he was until he met Darling <3 oh so very cute and breedable! He is just horny gripping! He apologizes soooo much but he isn't really sorry if that soppy cunt is begging for more!

You can yell no! Or tell him to stop, but he will pretend he can't hear and continues~ he is insatiable!

"Geppie go for any longer and I will die~ it's hurting Geppie! Geppie stop I'm tired!" You whine.

"Shhh shhh one last round honey(it won't be), you can do that for me can't you?" He just coos the entire time... It felt kinda patronising. Your cries fall on deaf ears.

You probably won't be conscious during after care, but he gets really soft! (As long as his dick stays soft and his balls are emptied) he will run a bath for you and treat you gently. Get angry all you want once you wake up, he will apologize profusely but we all know he would do it again...

Hmmm maybe a Yandere Gepard? Who only comes out after dating.... Yan!Geppie who ignores your safeword and babytraps you!?!

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

(btw Mera! Take care of yourself, stay hydrated!! Xoxo)

AAAAAAA IZUNA, YOU FEED ME TOO WELL OMG….. orz he gets the most pussy-drunk, and when he’s like this, dazed out of his mind and focused solely on making you feel good, seeing you cry from sheer pleasure, feeling you squeeze and tighten up around him each time you cum… he loves you so, so much; you’re just the sweetest, cutest darling he’s ever had the honor of loving!

I think, along with Gepard being so secretly horny after he’s fallen for you, that he gets so worked up over the smallest things. Like if you wear something modest. It shows no skin, isn’t tight, and is simply just comfortable on you. Maybe a sweater (even better: one of his sweaters, and it doesn’t matter what your height is because you’ll likely drown in it because he’s just so broad-shouldered and big, so the sweater looks oversized on you)!!! That has him horny gripping so badly omg. Gepard thinks about that all day during his patrols and near the end he’s insatiable. He can’t wait to get home and fuck you while you wear his sweater.

He’s probably preferential to missionary. I feel like it’s his favorite position because it’s just so romantic and sweet and intimate to him. That and fucking you on your side from behind so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you close against his chest. <3 he has so much stamina and since he’s only just fallen in love and started having sex at his age he’s so ready to explore every inch of you and more!!

Regarding Gepard who becomes yandere after dating!!!!! He was the model boyfriend for so long, albeit a little awkward at times. But he’s just so sweet and doting. He cares about you immensely and is the perfect husband material. You’ve been dating long enough that Gepard thinks it would be okay to propose you live with him from now on. And miraculously, you agree! He’s so happy that he helps with the entire process, easily assisting with packing your things away into boxes and lifting and carrying them to wherever you need them to go. He can’t wait to start living with you! And maybe soon he’ll propose… he has the ring; he just needs to wait for the right moment.

He’s always thought of starting a family. It’s lingered in his mind whenever he looks at you and sees you doing anything domestic or anything you’re particularly fond of. He imagines you passing your hobbies onto the children, all of them seated at your feet while you sit in a rocking chair, pregnant with another child, and teach them how to draw or crochet or write or anything else you find fun in doing often. It’s such a vivid picture in his mind that he absolutely must make a reality! Gepard realizes that since you’re still young you’ll likely be very fertile and so he hopes that it’ll only take a few rounds until you eventually, hopefully, fall pregnant.

Even if you’re squirming under him, telling him to pull out, using the safe word, whimpering that you’re scared and don’t want him to cum inside, that it isn’t a safe day, he can’t help it. You’ll have to forgive him. He’s just so in love with you, so drunk on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, so infatuated with the idea of a domestic life, of a house full of children, of becoming a parent alongside you. He’ll be the best father! He’ll help you with each and every pregnancy! There’s nothing to be scared of. Geppie’s here to take care of you, so there’s no need to cry. But then you’re crying because you’re so happy, right? Because you want this, too.

#honkai chit chat #yandere honkai star rail #n/sfw #video-game-luvr #tw: baby trapping #tw: pregnancy #thank you for sending such a delicious concept orz #and i will make sure to take care of myself and stay hydrated!!#please also remember to do the same :D xoxoxo

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onmyyan · 1 year

Text

Sharing is Caring (2/3)

A/N:OKAY BABES ITS HERE AHHHAGGH SO EXCITED THIS TOOK AGES BEC LIFE N SHIT BUT ANYWAY WHOOO SO EXCITED Anyway few things, this chapter gets kinda steamy but all the explicit smuts will be in part 3 its gonna be pure filth, after editing this mf came out to 28.3 pages and 10,275 words so I had to split it up, for those of you disappointed by the lack of horny never fear, the smut chapter is about 60% done and as soon as I post this I'm going back to working at it anyway please enjoy hope you like it!! feedback is welcome. Mi amada = My beloved

TW'S: YANDERE, KIDNAPPING, WEED MENTION, PAST MURDER MENTION

To say your day had been a bad one would have been putting it lightly.

It started out fine enough, you awoke to several of your usual good mornings, each Delmont had their own unique way of greeting you, and after taking the time to sleepily respond to each of them, you started your morning routine, fighting the urge to fall back into the warmth of your bed, your eyes struggled to remain open.

See you'd spent the better half of last night scrolling through your personal feeds, hours upon hours of cute couples blaring their love in your face, blatant affection everywhere you looked, shameless PDA, and grand romantic gestures.

The tooth-rotting fluff didn't usually bug you, but something about this particular onslaught of romance brought out this tidal wave of loneliness and envy.

It felt murky and heavy and you hated every second of it.

The five Delmont boys had grown into your found family, and usually, their antics didn't allow you the space to feel alone, but even that immense affection couldn't fill the hole that had steadily begun to grow in your chest.

Years upon years of no one showing genuine romantic interest in you had slowly but surely carved out a pit of self-loathing in your gut. Something you managed to hold off being consumed by until now.

Falling in love seemed like such an expected life event, from movies to songs and stories, people falling in love were everywhere you looked, and even though the little voice in your head tried to reassure you that you were just a late bloomer, the dark thoughts still haunted you well into the morning.

Brushing your teeth with a focused vigor, your mind began to reel as you stopped to really think about it all, the state of your love life or rather, lack thereof, how you've never been in a relationship, never been on a date, hell if it weren't for Marcos, you'd have to add never been kissed to the pitiful list, the older twin had been your first and only kiss when you were seventeen, but that was just him being a good friend in your time of need, of that you were certain.

You can remember it so clearly, sitting idly in your room, still living at the Delmont house, you'd been silently stewing in your sadness for a few hours by the time he found you.

What brought on this sour mood was a few offhanded jokes at your expense, you know those people you're only 'friends' with in class? Well, one of those girls, Lisa, had teased you relentlessly for the entire hour of biology when you'd accidentally let it slip you'd never kissed someone before.

And while she may have been joking, the words still left the strangest sting in your stomach, it made you feel weird, an odd cocktail of shame and embarrassment, and it wasn't as if you didn't want to kiss someone, you just didn't have many- scratch that, any options.

No one but the boys ever talked to you at school, for some strange reason, everyone else seemed to avoid you like the plague, cruel whispers of your name said behind even crueler stares, the twins usually swooped in before you could think to question the odd looks, but it was impossible not to notice.

Marcos found you curled into a fetal position on your bed, stuffed animals surrounding you in a protective barrier, he'd originally come upstairs with the intention of collecting you for dinner, there was this unspoken rule between the boys that whoever brought you down got to sit next to you at the table, but when he entered he could practically feel your sadness hanging in the air, his brows furrowed at the sight, instantly clocking your upset mood, he quickly switched gears, his face scrunching in visible concern.

One thing about Marcos was his inability to hide how he was feeling.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he toyed with the small silver ball in his ear, his nerves on edge at the sight of that look on your face, he hated seeing you upset, all the boys did, he didn't wait for an answer before rushing the rest of the way inside, kicking the door shut with his foot.

"No Co'- I'm fine, just tired." You used his nickname, trying in vain to put on a brave face but you knew in your heart of hearts that trying to lie to a Delmont was all but impossible. "Is dinner done? I hope she made adobo again god it's so good-" You tried to get up and walk downstairs but he stopped you with a gentle push of your shoulders, gently leading you back into a seated position, he gave a comforting squeeze before letting go, now standing before you with his hands on his hips, the image made you want to laugh, he looked a lot like his mother when she was about to scold him for something.

"Nah- we ain't leaving this room till you tell me what's up."

His insistence caused you to roll your pretty (e/c) eyes at the taller male, the way you crossed your arms, paired with that damn pout on your lipgloss-lined lips was a foul combo that had his heart skipping all kinds of beats. It took all his willpower not to squish your cheeks together.

"Why do you assume something's up?"

"Cuz' I know you dummy." He said so softly, it immediately disarmed you, his hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and you felt your chest tighten at the action.

"I swear I'm good okay? Can we just go eat? My stomach is touching my back." Usually, by this point, your puppy-dog eyes would make him fold, he was, and still is, rather weak to your whims, but he held strong.

Flopping beside you on the bed, he shuffled to lay on his right side, making sure to maintain eye contact, his hand began toying with one of his longer necklaces, his red eyes rolling as he spoke, "Mhm, right, okay. Quick question, how are you sitting there so calmly when your pants are clearly on fire?"

You gasped laughing slightly, "How dare you come into my domain and call me a liar? Have you no shame?" He smiled to himself knowing his plan to cheer you up was working, "C'moooon tell me whats wronggggg- I won't stop whining till ya fess up pleaseeeeeeee-" you threw a pillow at his head, "Okay! okay just shut up! Damn.."

You felt yourself hesitate, as if not speaking the words made them any less true.

"-Lisa kinda clowned me in class today cuz' I," the words turned to ash on your tongue, the embarrassment flushing your skin with an uncomfortable heat, to be admitting something so childish to someone as promiscuous as Marcos, felt all the more humiliating, and you didn't think you could handle him laughing at you.

"You can tell me anything Mi amada." You could hear the sincerity in the soft way he spoke, all playfulness gone.

How seriously he took your emotions managed to ease your fear of rejection enough to blurt out, "I haven't ever um- kissed anyone, and it made me feel, I dunno kinda bad I guess?" you laughed softly, that uncomfortable wave of shame echoing through your body, "She was just kiddin' around." You added that last bit knowing how overprotective he could get, god forbid he told Manny, you tried again to laugh it off, beginning to play with the ears of the blue stuffed bunny Gabe had given you years ago, the action was a wonderful alternative to holding Marcos's now burning stare.

He was quiet for a moment which was concerning since Marcos was never quiet. Suddenly sitting straight up, he ever so softly took the stuffed bunny from your hands to interlock your fingers. His intense, warm gaze held you frozen in place like a statue.

His tongue poked out to flick over his bottom lip, a nervous tick of his, and he swallowed before whispering,

"Kiss me then."

Marcos spoke it so softly, sounding so breathless. You laughed on instinct, thinking he was teasing, but when he remained silent, smiling at you like you held all the stars in the sky, you felt the heat crawl up your skin.

"Ha ha very amusing Co'-" you threw a pillow toward his chest with your free hand, "Cides' I don't want my first one to be some kinda' pity kiss from my best friend because he felt bad." Once more you played it off, trying desperately to ignore the funny feeling that had blossomed in your stomach, waiting for him to quit the game and stop the joke.

Only Marcos wasn't laughing.

"Who the fuck said anything about pity? You should know me well enough by now- I never say anything I don't mean." He leaned over, close enough where you could see the small constellation of freckles just under his eyes, you'd never noticed them before. He was far enough away not to pressure you, but the invitation was clear.

"But- we, um I-" Your mind was racing with hundreds of thoughts, and as if he sensed this, he let go of one hand to brush the hair from your face, his thumb lingering to swipe across your cheek in a feather-like touch, it felt like he had electricity in his fingertips, he stared into your eyes with an intensity you couldn't quite place.

"Don't think so hard." He smiled as he spoke, the words whispered against your lips, you were so close you could feel each of his shaky exhales, he looked back and forth from your eyes to your lips, waiting on bated breath for your response.

Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, you relaxed your posture and simply fell into the moment, now both of his hands were on your face, pulling you in that much deeper, his lips were soft and tasted faintly of cherry chapstick, one of his hands moved to cradle the back of your neck, holding you against him as he moved his mouth against yours in what felt like a well-practiced dance. His tongue swiped against your plush lips ever so slightly as you pulled away, skin flushed and hearts pounding.

He didn't allow the budding tension to take over, instead, he sat back with his familiar grin. "There, easy fix." he swiped at his lips with his thumb, sticking the appendage between his teeth in a daring display. The way you tasted, how perfect you felt in his arms, he could feel the addiction settling in, and happily surrendered himself to it.

He knew at that moment no one else would ever compare to you, to the way you made him feel. And despite how simple, the relatively innocent kiss you just shared was, it had him the hardest he'd ever been in his life, thankfully you seemed so flustered and dazed he was able to hide the tent in his pants with a well-placed pillow.

You'd both gone down to dinner after locking pinkies and swearing never to tell another soul, you assuming he simply didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about you two, but really he was covering his ass, knowing if any of the others found out he'd gotten to be your first kiss, he wouldn't be walking for a while, Gabe had promised to break both ankles if he ever touched you, a threat he knew was no joke, but to Marcos, it was well worth the risk, he hated seeing you so upset about something he could very easily change, so he did, and he couldn't be happier.

The two of you had matching, knowing smiles on your faces that night, he even shot you a wink before bed, you couldn't get the giddy feeling to go away for weeks, even though you knew it was just him being a good friend, the warmth that had blossomed couldn't be undone.

These spiraling thoughts haunted you like a ghost, that is until you looked down at your coffee pot and remembered the cute guy who slipped you his number a few days ago. Normally you'd just let the small piece of paper go unused, too afraid to make a fool of yourself to actually reach out, but today was different.

Fueled by your melancholy thoughts, you quickly texted him before you could talk yourself out of it, and it seemed to be going well, the banter was flirty enough, if nothing else it would be fun to play dress up, so you began a feverish rush to get ready, and in that time, Manny had invited himself in while you rushed through a shower.

The redhead did this often, so you didn't blink when you heard him enter in his usual brand of loud. "Oh, honey I'm home!"

"In the shower!" You felt rude leaving him out there so you sped through the last of your routine and found him lying comfortably on your bed, face buried in his phone. He offered you a familiar, wolf-like grin before turning his attention back to the screen, you'd known him so long the action of dressing in front of him wasn't anything to bat an eye at, "Sorry- didn't know you were coming over or I woulda' showered sooner, you don't mind if I get ready right?"

"Mmhm" was his simple response so you continued with your routine, rambling nervously about your plans.

He appeared as chipper as usual, that is until you told him about your date, it was as if the energy in the room shifted into something- else.

He seemed to be in this state of disbelief, questioning how and when this happened, ignoring the sting in your chest at the thought of him not believing you, and all the ugly thoughts it brought up, you continued to browse through your wardrobe, hoping the search for a cute set of bottoms would help you push through your nerves about it all before you could ask why he found the concept so unbelievable, you'd heard his rushed goodbye, the slam of the door made you jump in place, nearly dropping the garment because that was weird as hell.

Manny always hugged you goodbye, so his running off made you pause, it was instinctual for you to comfort him when he got worked up in that way only Manny could, so you were just about to call him to double-check but were interrupted by your date's number popping up on the screen.

His name was Michael and he sounded so shy when he called to double confirm your attendance, you found his eagerness cute. you silently vowed to check in with your friend after the date and hyped yourself for the night to come.

As the evening began, you found yourself waiting idly by the table, he'd chosen a bit of an upscale bistro as your meeting spot so you felt the need to dress up a bit, a cute black turtleneck dress covered your body like a second skin, hugging your curves in all the right ways, the cashmere number was a gift from Gabe ages ago, and his flustered reaction to seeing you come out of that dressing room is what pushed you to bring it home, you knew your ass looked incredible in the outfit, paired with the knee length, black crushed-velvet boots, you felt hot as hell and were excited to see your date's reaction.

Only you never got the chance.

Thirty minutes go by with no sign of Michael.

What was supposed to be a fun night out quickly soured into an evening of humiliation as your date ignored your call for the third time since you'd arrived. You felt the shame creep up as you faced the cold hard fact, you'd been stood up.

Feeling utterly stupid for getting all primped and preened for some douche who didn't even have the nerve to cancel, you resigned yourself to the sad reality.

I mean he asked you out! He even bothered to make sure you were coming, all that to so coldly blow you off?

A disheartened breath escaped your lips as you let your head meet the table with a thunk. You quickly excused yourself from the restaurant, tossing the money for the wine you'd had with shakey hands. Tears had rushed to your eye, building at the waterline, but you didn't want to cry, not yet.

You'd done well not to fall to the urge to curl up and sob, kicking your boots off at the door, uncaring of the way they nearly knocked over a plant, it wasn't until a second later when the silence of your home became glaringly loud, did it all become too much.

Throwing yourself onto the couch, you buried your face in the soft cushion and wept like a baby. Shoulders shaking, voice cracking cries left your form. After a good fifteen minutes of crying as hard as you could, you wiped at your flush face and shuffled your way to the bottle of some half-empty whiskey, Marcos had left in your cabinet ages ago.

He'd pitch a full fit if he saw you chasing his 100$ liquor with the Coke you had in your fridge, the thought of the male made a new round of sobs bubble past your wet lips, you'd always held a candle of affection for the tall redhead, of course, you loved all of the Delmont's but you'd always had a little crush on Marcos, you compared it to the feeling of crushing on a celebrity, where your subconscious mind knows they're out of reach, so it feels like a harmless fantasy.

Love came to him so effortlessly, and he discarded it just as easily, the nasty feeling of envy came up and you quickly shook your head, choosing to drown the thoughts in the burning amber liquid rather than face them.

About an hour after your failed excursion, you found yourself resting comfortably on the kitchen floor, back pressed into the cool metal of your fridge, the whiskey bottle now empty, you'd taken to rolling it back and forth between your foot and the wall, allowing yourself to just be lost in the hazy sensations around you.

The shrill ring of your doorbell burst your blissfully drunk bubble.

"Go 'way.." you slurred from your rather relaxed position on the floor, the sexy outfit you'd put on just to show off was bunched at your waist for comfort, the knock came again, this time followed by the voice of one of your best friends.

"Sugarplum? It's us, can we come in?" Manny whined from behind the wood, you could practically see the pout on his face, of course, he had a key so it was really more of a formality than an actual question.

He didn't wait for your response, instead shuffling his way inside, the greasy takeout in his hand had you crawling across the floor to meet him halfway.

A happy and clearly drunk gasp left your wine-stained lips, "Manny! you didn't gimmie a hug earlier what was up with that?-Oh shit is that Taco Bell?" He made a noise of agreement holding the bag towards you. "Sure is, and m'sorry about before Hun, I was in a mood but I promise it wasn't your fault."

His voice was like warm sugar as he spoke, now kneeling beside you, he held his arms out eagerly accepting the somewhat sloppy hug you threw his way. "Now, can you let Marcos pick you up so you can eat baby?" His hands rubbed up and down your arms, bringing goosebumps to the surface.

With a few slow but determined nods, you happily agreed, turning to face Manny's other half.

The older of the two had squatted down beside you, his ring-clad hand moved to brush a few sweat-soaked curls from your head. "Hey princess." He smiled softly at your pretty flushed face, the way you stared up at him, had his pulse thumping. "Heeey good lookin' you come here often?" You threw your hands around his neck which gave him the perfect opportunity to scoop you up, he led you to the couch, setting you down as if you were made of porcelain. He sent his twin a subtle nod as he moved you.

"How was your date?" Marcos's honey-dipped voice cooed from his position beside you, the action sent vibrations down your back making you flinch away from him with an airy giggle. "Wellllll, kinda hard to rate it when the guy doesn't show up." You sighed hastily digging through the bag Mammy had given you.

"What a scumbag- I'd never leave you by your lonesome like that." He cupped your flushed cheek, gently rubbing his thumb along the underside of your jaw. Food momentarily forgotten you dropped the bag in your lap, shoulders sagging with all the weight of the failed night, "Promise?" You asked, getting teary-eyed all over again.

He felt his chest tighten at the sight, as pretty as you looked right now, he was the only one allowed to make you cry, anyone else doing it was basically a war crime in his eyes. "Cross my heart and hope to die, baby." He threw an arm over the couch allowing you space to cuddle into his side.

When you were good and comfy he turned you to face him with the lightest touch to your chin, "You see this?" He slipped the ring on his pointer finger off, and gently lowered the band around your thumb. "This makes my promise official."

Manny had suddenly appeared before you, a small cup in his hands.

"Hey sweetie, you finished off Marco's bottle huh?" He smiled at the dazy way you nodded yes, fighting the urge to gush over your cuteness, "Well I don't want you to be sick tomorrow, can you take these for me? Good girl." You'd opened your mouth without question, having nothing but trust in the two men before you, you let him hold the cup to your lips and swallowed, mumbling a sleepy "thank you." into the skin of Marco's neck. His full body shiver goes unnoticed by you.

The twins watched you fall under with laser-focused eyes, the hardest part would be peeling Marcos away from you long enough for him to do his job.

Once they had both you and your stuff tucked away snugly in the car, Manny insisted on being in the back with you, holding you close to his chest, in your sleep, you held him back, quickly becoming overwhelmed by all the good emotions pumping through his veins- at his love for you, he felt himself get a bit teary at the sight of you finally where you belonged, safe in his arms.

Marcos made good and sure to wipe away any evidence of them being there, and all but ran back to their car to begin the long drive to your forever house.

Back at said home, the eldest of the brothers was doing one last walkthrough to make everything perfect for his Honey's arrival.

Caspian had managed to make the home feel lived in from the few hours he had to prep, a fully stocked kitchen, your favorite scent wafting gently through the air, Ricky had the foresight to install dimmer switches in every room because he knew how you loathed the 'big light', your bedroom had the biggest bed Caspian had ever seen, he'd made sure everything was ready for your arrival, even taking the time to warm your blankets in the dryer.

He moved around the space with a fluidness surprising for someone of his size, already familiar with the layout, the eldest Delmont made his final rounds around the home, making extra sure all the locks and exits were secure, he knew eventually, you'd come to love it here, but he also understood you'd need some time to adjust, these were just precautions.

He nearly squealed when he got the text from the twins, you were finally here! Finally home. He couldn't wait to hug you, kiss you, and give you all the affection he'd been forced to hold back. But he was a patient man and knew you'd be overwhelmed if he did, so instead, he settled for scooping you out of the car, much to his younger brother's displeasure.

You snuggled into his warmth in your sleep, to which he couldn't help but coo over. "Welcome home Honey," he whispered into the crown of your head, a small kiss left as he gently, but hurriedly rushed you inside and away from the snowfall that had just begun.

Manny nearly tackled his twin when they entered their new house, his energy was off the roof, practically buzzing in place as he took in their dream home. The living room had a 70's style conversation pit where you all could relax and they could smother you in the affection you so clearly needed.

A part of him was still bitter about the date, not at you, never at you, but the feeling was there, and all he wanted to do right now was hold you to his chest and let the lull of your heartbeat calm him down. Marcos plopped himself on the soft cushioned couch with a troubling sigh and waved him over.

"What's up? You got a weird look on your face." Manny couldn't fathom his twin being anything other than elated right now, so the odd air around him didn't sit well with the youngest.

"C'mere for a sec Little man- we gotta go over some ground rules before she wakes up." Manny's smile fell as he complied, sitting with a pout, "Ground rules are how we ended up here in the first place." He all but sneered, arms crossed in visible frustration.

Marcos held his hands up in a show of surrender. "I get it, but this is different."

"I know you're excited, god I am too, but there's a real chance she won't be too happy when she wakes up." The older of the two now sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he tried to find the right words to explain to his other half.

"What do you mean? This house was literally made for us all, we're in the woods like she's always talked about- she's gonna love it!" Marcos sighed taking his younger brother's hand, already he could feel him panicking at the thought of this going anything but swell.

"Think about it like this bud, she has no idea how we feel, this is gonna be the first time she hears it, and we feel a lot, so we gotta be delicate."

Manny felt his face scrunch in confusion, not able to understand why you wouldn't be happy. You'd never have to lift a finger again, no more bills, work or slimy coffee house creeps to prey on your sweetness, he knew you'd be your happiest here!

"Not to mention the whole waking up somewhere she didn't fall asleep thing." He licked his bottom lip, knowing he had to toe the line in fear of causing his younger brother's next breakdown.

"I'm just sayin' this in case she freaks out okay? I don't want you to be caught off guard- if she says anything mean or hurtful you can't lose your cool aight'?" Marcos watched his younger brother as he processed his words. Knowing his reaction could go either way.

After a tense moment of silence, there was a shift in Manny's expression, as if something clicked. He rubbed at his chin, and Marcos could practically see the gears in his head turning.

"..Okay, it's sorta' like when we brought home that feral kitty, can't hold it against her if we get a few scratches right?" Marcos felt himself relax nodding with a smile that mirrored Manny's. "That's exactly right Bud, C'mon when Cas comes out we can go in there, we should be the first faces she sees dontcha' think?"

Ricky and Gabe arrived at their new home at the same time. The ladder immediately headed straight for the shower as whatever it was he did to your date still stained his hands crimson. Gabe couldn't wipe the wild grin from his face if he wanted to, he felt like he'd just won the lottery.

Ricky had done exactly as he said he would and left a convincing trail of evidence that you were feeling a bit free-spirited and decided to take a little vacation, of course leaving out the where and with whom.

He made his way around your new home with a feeling of accomplishment, everything was perfect now.

You were safe, and once you got over whatever adjustment period you needed, he knew everyone would be happier than ever before. Caspian greeted his younger brother with a bear hug, his smile wider than Ricky had seen in years. "You did good Ricky, real good. This place is perfect." The praise made a weight lift off the long-haired man's shoulders, Caspian was the one he looked up to the most, so to hear such positive confirmation made him let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm scared she's gonna' freak out- I don't want her to hate us-" he found his anxieties tumbling past his lips without permission, Caspian had that effect on people.

"She won't. Know why? Because this was the right call, we have all the time in the world to show her just how much we care okay? Don't stress it." He clapped a hand on his shoulder and began dragging him to the kitchen.

"C'mon I got too excited and kinda' made too much food."

Gabe took his time in the shower, letting the perfectly hot water wash away his sins of the night. Scratch that, he didn't consider his acts sins, or that of violence, rather, it was an act of love, putting that bastard in the ground for you was just him speaking his particular brand of love language.

The wicked smile curled upon his lips only widened as he watched the pink water turn clear, he was giddy at the thought of you sleeping peacefully just a few rooms away. You were here, like actually here. Nothing or no one would ever hurt you again, and most excitingly, he didn't have to hold back anymore, once you woke up he was going to spill his guts, and if his words of love weren't enough to convince you, he'd just have to show you how you effected him all these years.

Waking up in a slightly hungover haze in an entirely different place than you passed out in should have sent you into a panic, but the familiar feeling of being sandwiched between the twins killed any fear that may have come up, even half asleep and a little hungover, you knew you were always safe when a Delmont was around.

Before you could try to wrap your head around your new surroundings both Manny and Marcos were pressing a big fat kiss into each of your cheeks. "Morning sunshine." Manny sang sweetly, Marcos gave you a hug from the side mumbling his greeting into the skin of your neck. When they pulled away you were far too flustered to ask all the questions burning in your mind, instead, you returned the greetings and mutely followed behind them as Manny took your hand and began to lead you away from the wonderful room you'd woken up in.

Manny led you to the dining room of the seemingly massive house you resided in while Marcos went to shower (not before inviting you to join him of course), the youngest Delmont was as chatty as ever, rambling about everything and nothing but his words weren't registering, you definitely didn't remember coming to wherever the hell this was, and him acting so normal made you feel even weirder, as you shuffled forward the familiar sounds of the rest of the boys got louder and louder.

"Gabriel Miguel Delmont if you touch that bacon one more time I'm putting you outside like a dog." Caspian rarely yelled, even now when he was scolding the blue-haired giant he sounded more disappointed than angry, but it was his voice you noticed first.

"C'mon Cas I'm hungryyy-" you could hear the pout in Gabe's words, "I wanna' eat, there's no reason to wait it's not like we're running out of food anytime soon."

"Yeah well, people in hell want ice water so tough."

"Gabe shut up- Cas stop readjusting the silverware she's not gonna' notice."

"But she might!!" As you both rounded the corner the conversation fell deathly silent. Each man was overcome with their affection for you, it didn't help that you looked so damn cute rubbing the sleep from your eye.

"Mornin'?" You said after a good thirty seconds of them just staring. This seemed to restart them all as Caspian jumped to pull out a chair, his warm smile was infectious, and you found yourself returning it as you sat. "Holy hell Cas you made enough to feed an army."

The spread before you was truly something out of a movie, from savory grits to big fluffy waffles, he seemed to have made every one of your favorite breakfast dishes, and each looked picture-perfect, he was all but beaming as he stood beside you.

"Hope you're hungry." He laughed a bit, nervously flattening the baby pink apron covering his wide chest, he picked up the plate before you, staring down through his thick lashes with such warmth it made your heart race. "May I?" He gestured to the buffet and you nodded, mouth slightly agape as your brain tried to process the scene.

Ricky sat across from you, his long hair in a messy bun, a few strands fell out, framing his face, which speaking of was fixed in the most peaceful expression, you couldn't recall the last time he seemed so relaxed. For once he didn't look like he was moments away from falling asleep, instead, he seemed refreshed, like he'd caught up on all the rest he hadn't gotten over the years.

He stared at you with the softest look, licking his bottom lip before speaking, "Good morning love, did you sleep well?" He sipped at his mug, the cinnamon coffee scent wafted through the room, that cat-like stare of his never once leaving your form.

"Slept like the dead actually-" You figured now was good a time as any to bring up the elephant in the room. "Probably the best sleep I've gotten in ages- speaking of whose bed did I just wake up in?"

"Sorry for the holdup! Water's still warm if you wanna shower sweets." Marcos cut you off as he entered taking his seat by Manny who sat directly to your right, as he eagerly drank you in, the youngest seemed to be vibrating in his seat.

"You should eat, lord knows the last time you did." Gabe teased from his spot beside Ricky, he was the most unabashed in his staring, it felt as if he was just barely holding himself back from leaping across the table, to do what you had no idea, but the grip he had on his fork was cause for concern.

After Caspian deemed your plate full enough he set it before you, his large frame cast a shadow across the table as he leaned over, it almost sounded as if he smelled your hair as he pulled away to take the seat by your left.

"Okay everyone eat up, after you do I'll answer all your questions okay? No lies. Complete transparency." Ricky spoke as if reading your mind, he gave you that smile of his that always made you feel like everything was under control and you relinquished yourself to the five-star meal before you.

If you could ignore the new location, the scene you found yourself in felt rather familiar. Each man bickered with each other as you all ate, you could almost pretend you were back at their house. Gabe finished first as usual, going in for seconds when he asked you to pass him the eggs, his much larger hand gently brushed over your own, and based on the grin he was sporting after, the move was intentional.

Once everyone was finished you thanked Caspian for the meal and turned your attention to Ricky, who looked a bit nervous now. "Soo. This isn't my house?" Despite your casual and light-hearted tone, the atmosphere seemed to shift at that second.

"Yes, it is, just not your old one. And to answer your question from before, that was your bed you woke up in."

"Right. Okay sure- where exactly are we? It's snowing outside." Ricky took a moment to finish off his coffee before responding.

"We're home. Our new home and it's winter Darling, snow is expected for this area." The long-haired man seemed to choose his words carefully, putting extra emphasis on the word our.

"Okay. Um and how exactly did I get to this area? The last thing I remember was chilling at my place with things 1&2 over there." The twins stared at you bashfully, both suddenly looking everywhere but you.

You flicked your gaze over each of them, all looking rather anxious, Ricky opened his mouth to answer but Marcos beat him to the punch. "I- we brought you here last night." He gestured to his twin who was beaming at you. "We couldn't just leave you alone in the state you were in." He added, not technically a lie he reasoned mentally.

You nodded to yourself, wondering how to ask what you really wanted to know.

"You're wondering why right?" Caspian spoke up, his voice was gentle as if talking down a wounded, cornered animal.

You nodded, brows furrowed in confusion, not trusting your voice.

"Well-" he seemed to look to his brothers for confirmation before continuing, a red hue growing on his cheeks as he racked his mind for the right words, he had so much he wanted to say to you! Everything got all jumbled in his brain causing the eldest Delmont to visibly fluster.

"God I've been thinking about this moment for years but now that you're actually here I'm blanking." He let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing his hand over his face as he stumbled over his words.

"Okay I'll say it since these bozos forgot how to talk or somethin'," Gabe rolled up his sleeves and leaned over on the table all business-like.

"You are ours now-" he gestured to the rest of the men in the room, "Sorry, I say 'now' like you haven't always been, but officially, you're ours." He gave a self-satisfied grin, leaning back into his chair. "Yours? what?" He cooed at your frustration, reaching across the table to take your hand in his much larger one.

"Ours to protect," he kissed your pointer finger, "To love," another kiss, now on your palm. "To fuck." His searing stare was only broken when he took the tip of your finger between his lips, gently sucking as he pulled away.

You felt like liquid putty as if he was the only thing grounding you at the moment.

Marcos rolled his eyes at his brute of a brother, jealousy came off him in waves as he sat on the table, taking your other hand he began laying on a few of his own possessive kisses, between each one he spoke "What that meathead is trying to say is we want to take care of you," another kiss, "-all of you." Another. "In every way." He added as if it cleared up any of your steadily building confusion.

Between the tingling in your lower abdomen to the confusion-headache beginning to pulse, you felt breathless.

"Sorry- just let me get this right. You took me out to some fancy cabin in the woods to take care of me?" Your face scrunched in confusion, and gently, you took back both your hands in an attempt to calm down, fanning your face you shakily laughed,

"Why? I'm okay guys really-"

"No, you're not!" Manny interrupted with a teary-eyed huff. "You feel lonely. I know you do, you told me so! You said you were gonna go out with that loser cuz you felt unwanted! That doesn't sound okay to me." The jealousy practically seeped from his words, his bright orange eyes held this darkness you'd only seen in him once or twice, and while he'd always been rather protective of you, this level of hate for someone else at your expense was new.

He had worked himself up and out of instinct, your hand found his own, immediately it calmed his tantrum down, resulting in him just sniffling instead of screaming which he very much wanted to do.

Brushing your thumb against the back of his hand in what you hoped were comforting circles, you hushed his tears, wiping them away with a practiced tenderness.

"It's okay Manny- don't get upset, not for me. I'm just trying to understand all this, can you help me understand?" He nuzzled into your palm like a pup, sighing deeply, he leaned over to rest his forehead against your own.

"I love you- we all do."

"God- I love you guys too, you're my family-"

"No! No! No! Not like that!- we love you." Manny had leaped from his seat, falling to his knees like a worshiper at their God's alter. "I love you like... I love you like the moon loves the sun. I crave you," he kissed his way from your feet to your calves, his hands rubbing patterns into the flesh, "I need you more than I need air in my lungs!" he whined looking up from between your knees.

"I adore you darling- we all do, can't you see?" Bending down, you wipe at his tears once more, and he melts into your touch, muttering this next bit into your skin, "My heart beats for you."

Heat as you'd never felt before rushed through your veins at his bold confession. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears as you looped his words in your brain.

A thousand emotions whirled inside you as you stared at them all, there was a small part of you that thought this was all some dream your lonely mind concocted after a night of getting hammered. But then you felt Manny's tears begin to soak into the fabric of your sweats, and the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your mouth gaped as you struggled to find the right words. "You're in love with me? Like all of you?" Manny had resigned himself to leaning in your lap, head buried in your thighs as you combed through his curls with one hand.

"I don't know what to say." You spoke honestly, staring at each of them, you expected sadness from your lack of response but only found warmth in their gazes.

"And you don't need to, I'm glad you're even hearing us out," Caspian spoke, taking a hesitant seat beside you as if he was afraid to scare you off. "Of course, I'm hearing you out you guys are everything to me, sure you went about telling me in the absolute wildest way possible but I don't know what I'd do without you- all of you."

"And you never have to. I meant what I said, you're ours now, we got all the time in the world for you to catch up." Gabe said, his eyes flickered over his youngest brother, still in your lap, and instead of animosity, he stared with a knowing grin. "Okay little man, you worked yourself up, c'mon let's take a walk."

A muffled shout of 'No!' could be heard from Manny, his grip on your waist had become like iron, but Gabe persisted. He scooped the skinner male up by his arms, much like a cat grabbing their kitten by the scruff of its neck, and dragged the pouting male outside with a well-timed wink. "See you in a bit Ma." And with that, they left.

You offered to help Cas clear the dishes, if only for a sense of normalcy but he quickly ushered you away, sending you off to rest with a quick peck to your cheek.

In an attempt not to overwhelm you, each Delmont was off to their own devices, Gabe and Manny still hadn't returned from their walk, Marcos was hotboxing the basement and Caspian was humming his way around the kitchen, which left you to wander the large estate you'd found yourself in.

Retracing your steps led you back into the room you'd woken up in, the large space was open and seemed almost tailored to your tastes. You took the time to search the drawers and see your clothes, the bathroom connected to the room was fully stocked with your favorite brands, and much to your growing confusion, even had stuff from your wishlist.

You looked for your phone in all the typical places it usually was, purse, nightstand, etc. But came up empty-handed. You had a sneaking feeling this was intentional as everything else you could have needed for this impromptu vacation was accounted for.

Feeling the burn of more questions you sought out the man who swore to answer them.

He wasn't too hard to find, and the sound of soft music coming from a record player led you straight to him, the room he was in looked like an upgraded version of his office, he was writing in a leather-bound journal so intensely he didn't notice you walk up. He always looked so pretty when he was working, chin jutted out just the slightest as his eyes flickered back and forth, you always told him how he looked like he belonged in a modern art museum.

"Hey, Ricky?" His head snapped towards you with breakneck speed. "What's up?" He seemed eager as he snapped the book shut and shoved it in a drawer, his small smile was enough to relax you, quickly turning to give you his undivided attention, he waved you in.

"You know where my phone is? I couldn't find it with all my stuff." He smiled at you, taking his glasses off with finesse as if he was prepared for this question. "The boys must have forgotten it." He said matter of factly.

"Well can I use yours?"

"It's dead."

You scoffed feeling your irritation spike at his dismissive attitude, you turned to leave before he spoke out again. "What are you so eager to do on the phone exactly?"

"Oh my god- nothing, I get you guys are trying to- well do whatever this is, but you can't just keep me from my life Rick- I don't need to be coddled." He leaned back into his seat, brows furrowed at your tense form.

"And what exactly are we keeping you from? An empty apartment? A job you despise that sucks the joy outta ya?" He sighed through his nose, tucking a runaway strand behind his ear, "You don't need to worry about any of that shit anymore okay? Have you looked around the house yet?" He asked changing the subject smoothly, you shook your head no, anger fading as quickly as it had come, and watched as he rose, pausing to crack his back.

"Well c'mon, there's lots to see and you oughta be familiar with your own home."

The two of you walked side by side as he took you along the tour, so far not including the rooms you'd already been in, you'd seen a reading room, but what made you pause was the living room itself. It had a flat screen that took up a whole wall, a working currently lit fireplace, a few hanging plants and well-placed candles, and dead center was what you considered the crowing jewel, a mauve and orange themed conversation pit, one you'd always dreamed of having. You couldn't fight your excitement as you rushed past him to flop on the soft cushion.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven." You mumbled into the fabric, Ricky stared on in amusement, more than pleased you seemed to be enjoying the home he'd painstakingly brought together for you. Every inch of the house was managed with you in mind, he'd kept amazing notes on your likes and preferences throughout the years, but seeing your genuine excitement had to be his favorite part.

"I promise we can come back here but there are literally three floors to this mother fucker." He smiled down at you, holding a slender hand out, he felt his heart swell as you took it, but instead of rising to his level, you yanked him down to your own, pulling him over, he bounced on the couch with shock written on his features.

"No way my guy- tour is officially paused until we test this here T.V. out okay?" His face flushed as you curled up beside him, "Yes ma'am." He laughed a bit to himself, loving how easily you were entertained. He pulled the remote out from a cleverly disguised compartment on the couch and watched your eyes light up even brighter.

"Holy shit secret couch pouch."

"Focus woman, I paid good money for this T.V. and you're more interested in the furniture." He turned on a random movie and let himself relax at the moment. Drinking in the sight of you so at ease, his heart about exploded from his chest when you snuggled into his side, his arm wrapped around you snuggly, hand rubbing patterns into your flesh.

You didn't feel like racking your brain with a million questions about why you were there or where their sudden confessions came from, instead, you chose to focus on what you did know, Ricky was comfortable, and despite everything, you still trusted the Delmont men, as they were all you knew.

Maybe subconsciously you knew this was wrong, that keeping you here was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong. It felt right. Like you were supposed to be here at this moment.

You ended up passing out in the tall man's arms, your small snores and completely relaxed face had Ricky's skin flushed cherry red, he couldn't wipe the grin from his lips if he tried, Gabe and a now calmed down Manny returned shortly after you fell asleep, the older of the two insisted on carrying you back to your room, only he stopped by his room to tuck you snuggly into bed, wrapped in his soft Egyptian cotton black sheets, he felt himself twitch in his pants at the sight of you so safe and sound.

He stood over you for a while, happy to stand there and drink you in all night, only to be interrupted by a text from his older brother.

"Okay so, how do we think it's going?" Caspian asked after summoning them all to the still slightly smokey basement, he held a tablet in one hand, the cameras placed around the house were mostly for his peace of mind, so he could be sure you were okay no matter where he was.

"She seemed chill at breakfast, I say a win is a win." Gabe shrugged, eager to leave this little meeting and cuddle up to you.

"Yeah I'm with Gabe on this one, she seems okay, do we have to keep up with the whole 'give her space' thing?" Marcos asked from his spot on the couch, he was lying on his back tossing a foam football up and down.

"I wanna sleep with her- s'not fair Ricky got to." Manny piped up from his seat on a beanbag, the pout could be heard in his voice.

"I was just in the right place at the right time, not like I planned it." Ricky defended himself, but the satisfied smile on his face made it hard to believe him. "And it could just be the shock, give it a few days before you lay into her, and I'm looking at you three." Gabe and the twins made a noise of disbelief.

The next morning you awoke not on the couch but pressed against the big chest of one Gabriel Delmont. The bluenette had one hand behind his head and the other securely wrapped around your middle, holding you against him, he rarely slept in a shirt so you were used to his statuesque features, but it felt different now, after his bold claim at the breakfast table, it all seemed rather intimate to be face first in his naked chest.

As if he sensed you were awake, he soon started shuffling close toward you.

"G'mornin Mi Amor." His morning voice was husky with sleep, it sent a warm tingle down your spine as he shifted, pulling you even closer. "Morning Gabe." He stared at you for a second before tilting your chin up with his free hand, his pillowy lips were on yours in an instant, warm and cozy, he hummed as he pulled away, his smile turning wicked at the obvious heat on your face.

"I uh- I fell asleep on the couch?" Was all your brain managed to say after the heated kiss, still processing the tingly way it made you feel.

He huffed a laugh, leaning over to place another kiss, this time on your neck, "Yeah I may have stolen you from Ricky but you can't really blame me." He mumbled into the flesh of your neck, the sensation made a ghost of a whimper leave your lips.

He froze against you before his lips turned to teeth, "Keep making those pretty noises for me n' We're never leaving the bed." He sounded breathless as he nipped and sucked his mark into your skin. Breathy little moans left your lips, "Shit- hold on a second-ngh."

Your hands buried themselves in him, one in his hair the other trying to find purchase on his toned back. His chest began to rise and fall, his heart pounding as he fell into the delicious sensations, your hand tugging at his locks, the other digging into his skin so hard he felt the crescent-shaped indents you were leaving, the mental image of your own mark on him had him rolling his hips into yours, his boxers suddenly all too tight, he rolled himself to lay comfortably between your thighs, suddenly, he lifted himself just enough to stare in your eyes. "You want my tongue or my fingers first Ma'?" The sinful smile he sported was enough to short-circuit your brain.

But before you could stumble out an answer, a few sharp knocks came from the door, so hard they shook the wood.

"Put your dick away Gabriel, food's ready." Marco's voice carried through the barrier instantly popping whatever heated bubble you two had been in. Gabe growled something obscene under his breath, his angry stare melted back into a teasing one as he met your gaze once more.

"To be continued Baby girl."

Your second breakfast at your new home was a lot like the first one, only this time before you could sit Manny pulled you into his lap, his surprisingly strong arms locked around your waist, fingers dancing along any skin he could find. "Missed you." He mumbled into the back of your neck, goosebumps exploded across your skin at the timber in his voice. "But you just seen me?" You couldn't fight the giggles that escaped you as he started trailing little kisses along the column of your throat, nosing just below your ear as he knew you were ticklish. "So what? I didn't wake up and see you so it's been too long." He reasoned, basking in the perfect way you fit in his arms, how soft and warm you were.

"Oi, let her eat." Ricky pointed his fork at the youngest, his tone full of accusation. "Hmm that's fair, my baby does need to eat, hey Cas, little help?" Manny asked hiding his wolfish grin by kissing your nape. He knew what he was doing.

"Well of course." The eldest Delmont was quick to bring a fork full of food to your lips, the heat in your stomach only worsened as he stared down at you so lovingly. Being hand-fed was embarrassing, but with each passing moment the electric feeling of Manny's wandering hands paired with the downright lustful way Caspian was staring at you, and each of the little proud noises he made whenever you took a bite, quickly wiped away any embarrassment.

You managed to usher Caspian to his seat so he himself could eat, Manny seemed much too preoccupied caressing your body to feed himself, so you cleared your throat, it was almost comical how each of their heads snapped towards you, like a pack of puppies waiting for their next command.

"So- uhm, what's on the agenda today?" It was hard to keep your voice steady, Manny's fingers danced up and down your sides in an addicting manner.

"I've gotta head into town with Manny and Gabe, pop needs us for a few hours but when we come back I'll make it up to you okay love?" Ricky spoke first seemingly genuinely upset at the prospect of leaving you, the other two mentioned visibly deflated at the news, and the younger twin tightened his hold on you.

Once those three departed Marcos loudly announced he was taking a bath and how lonely it be, oh if only someone would help him, only leaving when Caspian launched his slipper at the devious Twin.

Which left you with the gentle giant of the house.

You helped Cas clear the table no matter how adorable the pout on his face was. It felt so normal, drying the dishes as he washed, a soft song playing in the background.

"How are you doing? I mean really doing." He spoke so gently, so earnestly, the truth couldn't help but come out of you. "I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I'm gonna wake up any second and all of this will have been some strange concoction by my lonely brain." You laughed as you spoke, but it was true.

It was as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Why do you say that Honey?" He seemed so concerned, enough to set the plate he had in the sink, dry his hands, and turn and face you fully. "Well- I mean it is all very dreamy, plus you guys all- I mean what you said at breakfast yesterday, that you all um-" For some reason, the words refused to leave like you were embarrassed to say them Incase you were wrong.

"Love you?" He asked, gently taking each of your hands, "Yeah- I mean I'm flattered, fuck any one of you being into me is like a dream but all of you? I'm just kinda, scared I guess? That this is another one of those jokes where I'm the only one not in on it." His frown was so out of place on his face, how disturbed he seemed. Before you could backpedal he was lowering himself down just enough to scoop you up and sit you on the kitchen counter.

"I'm so sorry baby, my poor girl." He sighed, thumb brushing against your cheek. "Your brain is being mean to you, that's just not gonna work for me." He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and undid his apron with a finesse that had your thighs clenching together. "We shoulda' told you how we felt years ago. Then it be unquestionable. I guess I just gotta convince you some other way right?" He had this look in his eye, the bass in his voice made your next words come out shakey.

"What did you have in mind?"

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thebonekingdom · 4 months

Text

Part. 2: Some more infos based on Sarcean/Will's and other characters' memories and feelings about the old world. [not chronological]

[The first part — Compilation of Sarcean's memories from book 2, more or less chronologically]

1. Will/Sarcean

2. James/Anharion

3. Visander

4. The Collar

Will

• In the past, "Anharion's armour had been gold." but later, Sarcean had "dressed him in red [...] as the gashes that can never mar [his] skin."

• Contemplating a drawing of the Dark Palace, Will remembers watching "the corruscating domes of magic in the distance" that were "assailed by ravenous shadows" and would soon "flicker and go out".

• The white unicorn horn Will saw with Violet in the Hall, made him remember a battlefield where unicorns were "charging into an oncoming rush of black shadows", some with "armoured riders" and others using their horns like "deadly spears.". He knew they wouldn't survive but were "charging anyway, impossibly brave.".

• When he touched the Shadow Stone, he saw a vision showing the four thrones of the Hall, with "four resplendent figures sitting in them.". However the vision morphed into something different and three of the figures turned into "horrific shadow versions of themselves" with a figure "with a pale crown and eyes of black flame" rising above them all.

• At Bowhile, when the shadow kings raced towards them, Will felt the fact that "he was their master" and "maker" and he saw "that ancient battlefield under a red sky where an army of shadows stretched across the land.". His steed was "a giant scaled creature that winged across the sky" and the shadows were "his to command, on the cusp of victory.".

James

• James doesn't remember his dreams, but when he wakes up, he can't move "trapped in sleep, but awake". It's as if "there's a great power bending over [him]" that is whispering "—I will always—". He can't finish talking but Will's inner thought complete "Find you. Try to run.".

• When Sinclair (in Sloane's body), put the collar on James, he remembered what he said to Sarcean the day he arrested him, "Try to run [...] I will always find you.". He also saw a vision of Sarcean, "a man he'd fought, and hated, even as he'd given himself in aching surrender.". "He remembered the feeling of being taken" and the collar flooded him with a power that "wasn't his own" but "came from the collar" and "connected him to a power so immense it seemed endless.". "He hated how good it felt.".

However, to his surprise, he felt "no compulsion [...] nothing at all.", and to Sinclair's confusion James, now with his memories back, says the collar does control the betrayer, but that "the Dark King is its master". James realised "the stories were lies" and no matter "who put the collar around his neck [...] [it] had only one master".

• When James[with his memories] went to save Will and pushed his power into him, "James' magic connected to the vast reservoir of [Will's] own."

Visander

• When he returned, Visander remembered the "Queen's cold blue eyes on him" and "the sharp pain as she ran the sword through his chest" for him to return. Back then, he didn't have the time "to say goodbye" and "embrace Indeviel" for the last time, but he saw "her swords in his guts" when he looked down at himself. He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he was "opening them in —a coffin—".

• Indeviel was Visander's companion in the war. He was by his side when "the shadows [were] sweeping over the field at Garayan.". They fought together and he remembered, years after their first encounter, the "pale bodies of slain unicorns, torn apart by lion claws" which Indeviel had sworn vengeance against.

• When Visander finally came face to face with Will, he said to him that he is "the same age now as [he] was when [Sarcean/Will]⁴ killed his family" [⁴Visander says "you", he doesn't make a difference between Will and Sarcean.]

The Collar

• According to Gauthier's ancestors, the descendant of Anharion's executioner, the collar didn't open when he got killed and he had to "saw off the Betrayer's head to get it.".

• The collar doesn't work on people who aren't Anharion, even if "plenty [...] have tried to put it on others." but its power seemed to have "sucked [Gauthier] dry of anything but the desire to take and to hold." and "hollowed him out like a husk."

[I do think it works a little bit like the One Ring in lotr. People crave to use and have it, but those who aren't powerful enough to whithstand its power, are suffering from it. It only has one master after all.]

[I have not re-read the two books for this and only found those infos by researching words on the ebook version, so I probably missed some! Feel free to add them in the comments if you want <3]

#dark rise #dark heir #cs pacat #Will Kempen #James St Clair #Anharion #Sarcean #Visander #The Collar Is Its Own Character

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noirbriar · 6 months

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Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (3)

+ 1 time They Did Not. From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

Lindir has done his part! Now as we enter the Third Age, let's take a look through the eyes of the others in the lower hierarchy of power in the Last Homely House. OOCs and problems in writing are as always all on me.

---

3] The Residents of Imladris

Imladris. The Last Homely House east of the sea. It was founded to be a fortress and refuge, a haven for all. A place for healing in this gentle place for the good folk of Arda from all walks of life. Especially after the War of the Last Alliance and fall of Lindon. The many elves that now reside in the great valley of Imladris have bonded together closely despite their tumultuous past soaked in blood.

They now share festivities and celebrate the days together as one. Under the protection of Lord Elrond, they protect their home and each other from the dark forces beyond their boundaries.

Yet, much like any other proper civilisation, the quaint elven realm has her secrets.

---

Saelbeth frowns at the reports in his hands, almost as if staring hard at the figures alone will make the numbers work out. To no avail of course. With a heavy sigh, the young councillor gives up on his personal project for now and heads out of the library to join his mentor in the weekly general council meeting.

In the early days of the Valley, the quiet scholar from Lindon quickly became the primary assistant of Chief Councillor Erestor. The ellon was once skeptical considering the rumours he have heard about the once feanorian general turned advisor to the King's Herald. Though those thoughts were squashed once he realised the older elf was not just a brilliant politician but a great loremaster. Which greatly appealed to the inquisitive ellon hungry for knowledge.

It was Erestor who taught him personally in state building and trade. Where the younger elf quickly realising the great difference in the immense job of running a proper elven fortress compared to that of a regular settlement.

Now with the influx of kin from Lindon and all of Arda still recovering from the War, Imladris is healing but weary, like her Lord. Especially with the loss of their High King Gil-Galad.

Unlike other elven settlements, Lord Elrond's rule is fairly relaxed but firm in such times of necessity. Which suited the Lord of Imladris' temperament and the residents of the Valley, at least in Saelbeth's opinion. Therefore, the weekly general council meetings are never a chore to him.

Until the arriving participants notice the dour Lords at their seats.

Saelbeth darts a glance at an older member of council next to him, and then to Golradir, his fellow peer and fellow council member. Each sharing a weary look. Further up, Thandor and Laica, the Captain's deputies who were already seated, gives them a stiff nod.

They awkwardly nod back.

Great Eru have mercy, they are in for a long one. The two Lords have been at odds with the other for a long while, causing a strange shift in the air in Imladris...and looks like there is still no end in sight.

The young councillor quickly takes his place beside Lord Erestor and prepares his documents promptly. No point in antagonising his superior further with inefficiency.

The rest of the council arrives and slowly make their way to the dreaded table,marching on to their doom. Some even taking the time to tuck their new proposals and agendas back into their folders to see the light of another day.

Across the table Deputy Thandor looked as if he is struggling to be inconspicuous. Almost as if any sudden movement and he will become prey. Deputy Laica has her head up towards the ceiling wishing to be anywhere but here.

Even Lord Elrond himself had to resist with a grimace at the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Rebukes and petty words were thrown each time a subject is brought up by the other, forcing the council to remain silent for the most part. Until the dispute regarding the increase in skirmishes around the various elven havens that remain did the chaos begin.

That was when it all fell apart. Both the Balrog-slayer and Tempest of Imladris rising up to their full figure and hell bent on mincing one another apart with words alone.

It is when the difference in opinion escalates to a higher than necessary decibel, that the Lord of Imladris finally exert his authority. With a single slam of the table and some harsh words in disappointment and frustration, the chaos cease instantaneously. Effectively putting an end to the fight between his two highest ranking officials.

The very moment the meeting is adjourned and Lord Elrond has taken his leave,Lord Glorfindel storms off in a flurry of his white cloak, without a second glance. His deputies hurrying to keep up with their Captain. The rest of the Council make their quiet escape like field mice. Golradir still has the audacity to mouth a 'good luck' to him as he shuffles away.

Saelbeth stamps down his annoyance as he returns to his stoic mentor in his seat. The Lord's empty gaze fixed into nothingness for a long while before waving the younger elf away.

The young councillor turns back and watches the lone feanorian Lord for a moment. The old elf who always seem to bear a strange heaviness in his spirit, an unseen burden on his shoulders, now accompanied by only silence in the hollow room.

Saelbeth shuts the door quietly with a soft sigh.

In the passing of seasons, time crawls slowly by as they do for the eldar. Saelbeth suddenly spies his mentor working on a pattern design according to old Vanyar styles in the library while finding early records of the weather patterns of the Misty Mountains. That,clearly is none of his business. When Lord Erestor gets Saelbeth to procure certain material samples from the textile traders and vendors while doing the monthly inventory check, the Sindar does not bat an eye.

In the following year as the leaves turn, draping the valley in a bright array of gold and amber, Saelbeth stops by Lord Erestor's chambers to deliver the first harvest reports. When he is given permission to enter, he ignores his mentor's temperamental horned owl grooming itself by the window. What he first lays his eye on, is a stunning teal brocade robe decorated in gold on the mannequin the Chief Councillor seems to be fussing over in his main hall. Upon a closer look, one can even see the intricate threading of faint vines that seem like an illusion. Even if he is no expert, the assistant can clearly see it is a masterpiece.

"Saelbeth, come." Erestor calls over his shoulder without even a glance, as he pins the hem in place."Tell me, what am I missing here?"

The younger elf blinks.

"It is perfect, my Lord, but,"Saelbeth takes a pause before jumping right in," maybe it needs...a focal point?"

"Ah." Erestor looks back at his assistant at last with an owlish blink." Excellent, thank you, Saelbeth. Just leave those reports on the table for now. I shall attend to those in a bit."

With that, Saelbeth takes his leave as instructed without any questions.

Days later, Lord Glorfindel returns. The Golden Lord making his entrance abruptly still in filthy armour and his muddy travel cloak, helmet under his arm. Who has zero regard that Saelbeth is in Lord Erestor's office consulting a matter about the Conference of Ambassadors and Scholars Seminar, as he jabs an impatient thumb towards the door without pause.

"Urgent matters. Out."

The councillor’s owl perched on the Captain’s shoulder, hoots.

Saelbeth looks at the Captain as he tucks his knife back into his sleeve. The wary young councillor then turns to his Chief Councillor.

"Its fine, we will speak again on this."Erestor waves with a wry tug on the corner of his lips. Only then, does the ellon turn away with a polite bow to both, taking his leave. He even took care to lock the door behind him while he is at it. In his immense relief, he did not even realise the owl is now on his shoulder, clicking his beak.

But bless the Valar. Finally.

Later, he would spot that same gorgeous robe on the illustrious Lord of the Golden Flower during the mid-autumn festival. The light of the lanterns in the Hall of fire dancing off the shimmering crystals on the robe like dew, held together by a lovely crafted belt that compliments his powerful form, enthralling everyone he meets. A shimmering sash of the first rays of dawn draping his shoulders.His circlet on his brow with the famed golden hair flowing behind like an ephemeral flame.

The Emissary of the Valar is not alone. His companion, a dark fae draped in rich dark maroon silk that flows around his lithe figure. A hairpin with trailing teardrops made from mother-of-pearl pieces holds Erestor's ebony hair together. Crowned with his circlet, his dark smooth hair and braids glows in the dark with a soft warm hue. Even if the most interesting piece, in Saelbeth’s personal opinion, would be simple ear cuff etched with a golden flower that shines brightly on Lord Erestor’s right ear that accompanies his other earring of the feanorian star.

Towards the end of the festivities with Tilion high in the sky, he would be mighty drunk together with Golradir, and they will both stumble their way back to their own quarters to await tomorrow with their regrets. Though he swears, beneath the golden beech trees leading into the Inner Wing, he sees the incarnation of dawn and dusk sharing an unfamiliar dance under the cover of the merry dancing leaves.

---

Its raining again.

Ai...Its been two weeks and seems like the storm will not be leaving soon. Though it is very rare for such dreadful storms to hit their valley.

Guardsman Aerion sighs at the dismal weather before him as he remains at his post. He hates guard duty, with each shift the same, until Lord Glorfindel feels like dropping a random attack drill with the rookies to keep them on their toes.The only exciting thing all week had only been the sudden arrival of a Wandering Company.

Shifting his weight with a soft huff, Aerion lets his mind wander a little until something outside catches his eye. A rather strange scene in the ever peaceful House. A commotion in the courtyard out there in this dreadful weather. There in the summer storm, Erestor and Glorfindel are arguing in the punishing rain.

Erestor's restless dapple grey mare stands in the deluge beside her master in confusion at the elves fighting. Aerion is unable to hear a word over the distance but he sees Erestor turning to leave before Glorfindel pulls the councillor back harshly. Erestor looks ready to lash out but the Captain quickly wraps his arms tightly around the other ellon-

Oh. Oh ho.

It was a long while before the the two finally part, with the Golden Lord slowly getting Erestor to face him, cradling the councilor's face carefully in his hands as they spoke. It was a while more before Erestor allows himself to be tugged along by Glorfindel. The Captain taking the mare's reins from her master as he pulls them all back into safety of the shelter of the Homely House. Hmm. Guess that is his cue to let Master Lindir know, as he is heading down this way, that the servants ought to prepare a warm bath and some hot meals in Lord Glorfindel's chambers. Best to keep the staff away too. It would be terrible to disturb their peace.

---

Aeril makes her way down the Inner Wing. A tray of warm chicken broth and soft bread, some plain porridge with preserved vegetables in hand.

After settling in Imladris, she managed to secure a job as a chambermaid in the House of Lord Elrond. Even then, it was not easy. Master Lindir had been strict in his interviews as Steward, and her superior, Lady Mirien, demands nothing less than efficiency and perfection from her staff.

Imladris truly feels immensely different from Mithlond. Yet the community is nice and full of life. Her co-workers are friendly and the household management has treated her well in her transition into life in the Valley.

On her first night duty, she receives orders from a guard for selected food to be brought up to Lord Glorfindel's chambers. Aeril has long heard of the famed Lord of legends but does not let her curiosity get in the way of being professional. She arrives at the doors and balances the tray before knocking.It was not even a minute before it cracks open.

"Good evening m-"

A quick finger on his lips and a sharp look startles the young maid into silence. Once assured that all was quiet, the warrior, dressed down in casual sleeping tunic and pants and a rich green overrobe, gives a small smile of approval. A quick tilt of his hand, the mighty Lord gestures for Aeril to enter with the tray.

"Set it here along with the tea that is kept warm at the back. Then, you may leave." The Lord whispers and points to the modest dining table for the elleth to set the meal.Before he leaves into his main hall where the fireplace is burning bright.

There was shuffling and sounds of whispers and Aeril swears she only caught a glimpse because she was leaving once she concluded her duties.

In the dark elegant hall illuminated by the flames, laying across the couch with a palm supporting his head was Chief Councillor Erestor. The ever terrifying Lord was not in his usual elegant high collared ensemble, but in a sheer black robe that has the collar slipping down as he shifts in his slumber.A white fur blanket in his lap, and a threadbarescarf dyed in fierce crimson around his slender arms that is slipping down onto the carpet. Lord Glorfindel hovers above in an attempt to rouse him from his slumber. The Golden Lord's hand brushing the other's face gently.

"Eres? Eres, you need to wake up and eat something first. Elrond has said you must eat before drinking the migraine herbs."

"Hn..." Lord Erestor stirs, leaning into the warmth of the palm against his skin.

The sight was too much. The young elleth leaves a blushing mess as she hurries back to her station. Her sudden entry into the kitchens startling the other night staff and Mirien who was there checking in.

"Whats wrong, Aeril?" The older elleth asks carefully in concern but the young maid could only bury her face in her hands and return with a squeak.

"L-Lord-Glor-Glorfindel AND Lord Erestor-?!"

The staff leans back with a sigh and a roll of their eyes as realisation sinks in. Mirien pats the poor elleth gently almost sympathetically .

"You will get used to it soon, my dear."

---

Thandor wants to hurl himself into the Brunien. Now.

Eyes darting to the figure beside him, the deputy resists the urge to cringe with each turn of the page by his superior. Who looked decidedly entertained by this tiny, thin, novel in his hands. A palm sized book that belonged not to him, but borrowed from Handmaiden Aeril, who got it from another, and so on. Yet he was the last to be able to read it in their squadron, even when he was the one who got it for them!

Now the bastards are hanging further away from him to avoid being pulled into this. All of them trying to seem busy watching the rookies and advising on archery techniques like proper senior officers they are. His Captain never had issues with his soldiers doing their own thing during downtime. The charismatic Lord always casual but firm with his warriors, with great empathy and camaraderie to all under his command. Despite his trainings being ruthless and his standards for the troops are high. It is why the soldiers of Imladris respect their commander greatly.

However the problem lies in the contents of this peculiar publication. A harmless romance fantasy piece.Very well written, in very limited copies but just...a little spicy.

It was the main characters that were an obvious issue. Even to a simple warrior like himself. Heck, even an elfling can bloody see who those characters were. "This is fascinating! It is clear that that Lord Lote still desires Lord Mori despite what has happened in Court! How foolish it is for them to part on such dreadful terms! But this is absolutely engaging ...Why have you not introduced this intriguing work to me?" Glorfindel turns to Thandor animatedly.Amused by the book he had filched from his utterly distracted Deputy earlier during their quick break.

"Its not...an official publication, sir."

"Then who is this creative fellow? When we return to the House, I shall ask Erestor to have Melpomaen and the scribes to help this budding author." Glorfindel presses on brightly, utterly invested in the story. Eru, even if you do not care for this damned fea of a blood soaked feanorian, for the love of all that is good in this House- Do NOT let his ex-general even see this book.

"Captain! CAPTAIN!!"

A loud commotion from afar causes both deputy and Lord out of their conversation. It was Urthel and a few others from the second squadron. "Be calm, Officer Urthel. What disturbs you so to be making this much noise through the Barracks?" Glorfindel asks the worried ellyn as he shuts the tiny book and tucks it safely into his spare pouch. Thandor mentally sighs.

"Its Deputy Laica! She requests for your presence! Lithon and the cadets are fighting with Lady Celebrian's guards in the training hall!" With that, Glorfindel does not even wait, heading off in large strides. Thandor and Urthel shadows his steps. Where they quickly arrive to find an enraged Deputy Laica reprimanding the soldiers standing in position before her. Their faces bruised and beaten.While the newly transferred Galadhrim guards, who fair no better, are defiant even with their bloody faces. Each carrying their own argument, their voices overlapping one another's.

The Captain enters, causing the noise to cease, snapping into position as they see his arrival. The Lord’s face blank as he studies the scene and all involved.

Before Glorfindel could even begin his interrogation, Lady Celebrian herself, arrives at the scene, dressed in a silvery lavender summer dress with pearls in her hair. Beside the Lady as her guide with a hand on his arm was Erestor. Followed by her newly appointed handmaiden Aeriel, Councillor Saelbeth and Erestor's young assistant, Melpomaen.

They all bow before the Lady of Imladris.

"What is going on?" The new Lady of Imladris' bell-like voice resounds in the hall.Powerful and bright. In that instance, Celebrian looked like an echo of her formidable mother. Her elegant features now cold as steel, face filled with great disappointment. She finally turns to the guards that have followed her to this haven after her marriage.

"Guardsman Faron...What is this violence with the soldiers I hear? You were one of Lorien's best, and now you have disgraced the fine name of Lorien's warriors."

The sindar, Faron, and the other Galadhrim looked properly chastised by his Lady. Yet Glorfindel and the rest could tell that there is discontent still between the two factions as the two sides glare at the other. Celebrian sees this as well and with a twirl of her skirts, turns to Glorfindel with a heavy sigh.

"Well, Glorfindel, as my guards are now part of the army of Imladris, they too fall under your jurisdiction.I shall let you handle this as you deem fit."

"Certainly, my Lady. Though it would seem best if we are to hear what triggered this ridiculousness." Glorfindel have his hands behind, prowling down the line and inspecting each injured soldier with a sharp eye. When it was clear none were willing to volunteer the information freely, he takes his pick.

"Cadet Lithon." The Captain calls out, coming to stand before the dark haired ellon. His discontent obvious. Lithon fidgets, the young noldor remains silent for a long while, until with several nudges from his peers, he finally caves under the stern gaze of his commander. "They...they spoke ill of you and your choices, Captain." Glorfindel raises a brow at that.

"Oh?"

"They spoke of slander and said you could do better than having a..."The young cadet takes a breathe but mutters barely loud enough for all to hear,"...a 'bloody Valar-damned feanorian' like Chief Councillor Erestor for a mate."

One could hear nothing, nothing even a whisper of a breath. As if time stood still in this lazy summer afternoon within the confines of this training hall.

Hm, uncreative much? That is really not the worst they feanorians have heard before, especially back in Lindon. Kinda disappointing, Thandor thinks wryly to himself as he looks at the Galahdrim who are now shuffling uncomfortably at the attention from everyone.

Thandor sees Glorfindel's formal mask of indifference is still on. Years of working under the Captain, Thandor sees the silent rage brewing under that calm facade. The Lord of legend has absolutely zero tolerance for misdemeanour and disrespect from those under his command. Also a rare known fact is that Glorfindel actually has a formidable temper to be reckoned with despite his good and kindly nature. Like the Brunien raging on a bad day and at any other times, the deputy loves watching new recruits come to realisation at that fact.

Thandor then takes a brief moment of bravery to glance at the other party involved.Knowing his ex-superior, there are several ways this can go- But now, Erestor simply looks bored.

"Interesting. It seems like your summer drills have still allowed our troops to have energy to spin some idle thoughts." Erestor drawls, absolutely unbothered by the situation.

"Indeed. So idle that they seem to feel they have the right to delve into the private affairs of their Lords. What would you advise in this instance, Lord Erestor?" Glorfindel growls over his shoulder dryly. "I leave it to you, Lord Glorfindel, for they are your troops under your command. I am sure your boundless creativity can think of something to exercise their young, overactive brains than the thought of us being…married."

The Chief Councillor replies flatly without a glance, as he inspects the nonexistent speck of dust on his immaculately polished nails. The statement however, earns them more than a few wide eye looks ranging from confusion to bewilderedness from the present crowd.

“You jest!”

The loudest voice of surprise however, comes from Lady Celebrian herself.

"You are both not- Betrothed?" Her voice seem to leave her as her question is asked, her bright eyes wide as if in disbelief. The two Lords look at each other almost in consideration, and calmly turn back to their Lady.

"No." They replied smoothly in unison.

"C-Courting?"

"No."

Thandor is pretty sure everyone is not buying their bullshit.

Celebrian, aghast, places an elegant hand over her heart. She swivels her head like a puzzled doe with her wide eyes darting between the two other leaders of Imladris. From Glorfindel, to Erestor, and back again,scrutinising both. Even if what she seeks is what many have tried finding over the years, the marriage bond is simply non-existent between the two.

Her bright eyes then darts to that gold ear cuff on Erestor’s ear, squinting at it glittering under the summer sunlight pouring in from the windows.

Celebrian's brows furrowed , as if this is some disconcerting news and she is greatly offended by it. Thandor can hear her muttering under her breath incredulously as she processes everything,"but, that's not right...that's not what nana had said...I'm certain of it...Huh?”

There is nothing, save for the sounds of horses in the pastures, the distant waterfalls and the songs of happy little birds filling the air, and them, the first-born, shrouded in awkward silence.

"My deepest apologies, Glorfindel, Erestor. For such blatant disgrace and dishonour my guards have brought upon you. I shall leave their punishment to you both. But now if you will excuse me, I must speak to my husband at once." Celebrian declares this hastily and abruptly with great determination. She gestures for Handmaiden Aeril to lead her away as the rest bow as she leaves.

Glorfindel then finally turns to the soldiers, who remembers the trouble they are in. Now, they finally shall face the full brunt of the Lord of old Gondolin's ire.

"Well. I hope you all had your fill of entertainment for today, at the expense of myself and Lord Erestor. Good to know indiscipline exists in my ranks. What's next? Insubordination? It seems I am clearly too lax with you lot!"

Glorfindel does not need to shout, his voice demands nothing but absolute compliance to his orders as the soldiers remain still at his command. Before he turns to the Galadhrim guards, leaning into each of them down the line, as they struggle not to falter under the fierce eyes of the Balrog Slayer.

"By her Lady's grace, I hope you all are ready for what I have in store. Because as your Captain, I will make sure I will drill it into you to understand that this House, under the rule of Lord Elrond, does not accept your absurd notions and prejudices. It has no place here now or ever! Vanyar, Noldor, Telari, Avari, regardless of parentage or history, you will get that into your heads and you accept that as you are now one of Imladris! Or its straight back to Lorien you go! I do not care what Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel has to say! Is that clear?!" "Yes Sir!"

Glorfindel straightens to his full height and lets out a heavy huff, turning to Erestor with a weary look.

"My apologies Councillor, be assured they will all be dealt with.You will have a report and once I am through with them I shall send the soldiers for you to mete out an appropriate punishment.You have my word. " Glorfindel steps closer to Erestor who waves his apology away with an elegant hand.

"I shall leave it to you then, Captain.I see you have the problem in hand." The Chief Councillor finally lays his sharp gaze on the warriors, unnerving every young elf. Especially Faron, as he tries desperately not to make eye contact with the old feanorian general. The little welps shall reap the consequences later for their stupidity, but it would be fine, Erestor is fair, that Thandor knows.

The feanorian reminisces the days in Himring where he was born. Where Middle-Earth was harsh and their other kin despised them. Yet they endured.There is a reason why the feanorians remained till the bitter end, not for glory, but for the love their Leaders had given to those under them. Despite the hand they were dealt with themselves, the feanorians shared kindness amongst themselves, where there was none for them.

When everything was lost, there was no one left but their precious twin Lords Elrond and Elros. It was Erestor, their young general, who single-handedly kept the twins alive in Lindon with them, the unwanted, the strays and the remnants of a broken and hated House.

The dark haired elf wanders closer to the taller elf, laying a hand on Glorfindel’s chest, easing that deep frown slightly, seemingly calming the displeased Captain.

Oy.Oy.Oy. You both do remember where this is? Thandor resists burying his face into his hands with a snort.

The height difference is not much,but Erestor still leans up to Glorfindel's ear, lips nearly brushing an earlobe. With absolutely no regards to their audience watching attentively at all.He drops his voice into a bare whisper, with Glorfindel remaining silent.Azure eyes gleaming in concentration, possibly using Osanwe in reply. Effectively keeping the conversation between themselves, until Erestor finally pulls away. Slate green eyes meeting dazzling blues filled with light.

Great. They are seriously not convincing anyone being like that.Ah…If only Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor can see their ferocious general now. Now that would be funny.

"Well then, I see my presence is not required here anymore in any case. "Erestor announces flatly with disinterest. His dark gaze lingers on Glorfindel for a moment, dragging his fingers along the warrior's arm before he turns to take his leave with Councillor Saelbeth and Melpomaen-

Only to be nearly rammed into by a silvery blur that is their Lady running back, skirts in hand.As she rushes back into the Barracks. Her Handmaiden trailing behind in wild panic.

"WAIT! Wait,wait! So- everything in the book is not true??"

Erestor stares at the Lady, his brows in a deep frown.

"Book? What book?"

Saelbeth’s face scrunches in visible pain, young Melpomaen pales,while the soldiers of Imladris struggle to remain calm. Which earns them more weird looks from their new brother-in-arms from Lorien.

Thandor tiredly shuts his eyes to the disaster before him, and sighs.

---

A/N: Elves of Arda work hard but the gossip mills of Imladris work harder! And what better way to immerse into a new city and bond with your teammates than to have wagers on your bosses’ love life!

This was too damn long and OOC and got out of hand im so sorry.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

#the silmarillion #glorestor #erestor #glorfindel #saelbeth #celebrian #the elves of imladris #and some from lorien #OOC and OCs #ficlet

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writerpey · 1 year

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Could i request a Thomas Shleby with a (1-3) gender neutral age regressor reader? If you want, maybe they could be a peaky blinder's sibling (not a Shelby, maybe Isaiah Jesus) and Tom wants to keep reader safe and take care of them while the boy does his jobs? I don't know how much of age regression they would understand due to the time period it is set in but also think at least Thomas or Polly would piece together the "why" and "when" reader regresses (especially since Thomas seems to be very aware of other's behavior and also maybe traumas since he can relate and/or is very good at reading people) so they kinda go along with it? It would be nice to see just some nice fluff and Tommy comforting reader while they wait for their brother and just enjoy themselves playing in his office maybe Tom putting them down for a nap so they don't get cranky when their sibling arrives

I hope it doesn't sound weird, since it's one of my first requests sorry!

hello my dear! so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so. long. I’ve been working on it on and off for the past while! I hope u enjoy <3

Cg Tommy Shelby & Little!Reader - A Little Storytime

WC: 968

As Isaiah Jesus’ half-sibling, you were well aware of the ins and outs of the Peaky Blinders. The heists, protection, and even wars that they were responsible for in Birmingham’s streets were a part of daily life. It wasn’t hectic all the time, but the responsibility each member had was immense and came with more baggage than you had ever been interested in carrying.

Yet you did have responsibility, and it was in making sure your regression didn’t get in the way of your brother’s duties. As far as you knew, no one other than your brother knew about your age regression, or at least drew attention to your coping mechanism. You had an inkling that Polly and Thomas had an idea that something was going on. Disappearing for entire days or clinging to your brother when there were too many people around wasn’t necessarily the most unassuming of things.

All of these thoughts ended rather rapidly when Tommy took matters into his own hands. You were busy playing with Isaiah, sitting on the floor of the betting shop and flipping through a picture book. He sat across from you, his suit jacket and hat draped across one of the desks haphazardly. A day off for the shop, only Polly remained in her office, door closed and blinds pulled down. You were having a nice time, that is until Tommy barged into the shop, shouldering the wooden door open in anger.

“Isaiah!” He nearly shouted, causing both you and your brother to jump.

“Holy hell, Tommy! What is it?” Isaiah gasped, springing up to his feet as you curled into yourself. Tommy paid you no attention, sights set on Isaiah.

“You were due at the docks two hours ago. D’you want to be replaced?” Tommy’s cerulean eyes flashed.

Isaiah gulped, grabbing his jacket and putting his cap on. “No, sir.”

“What’re you waiting for, boy? Go on.” The older man motioned to the door.

“I- uh,” Isaiah offered you a hand and you took it, rising to your feet but refusing to lift your eyes from the floor. “I can’t leave them alone right now.”

Finally, Tommy looked at you. He cocked his head to the side, making a quick assessment. “Well, y’can’t bring ‘em with you. For fuck’s sake, go on, Isaiah.”

Isaiah gave your hand an apologetic squeeze and hurried past Tommy, giving you a last glance before shutting the door behind him.

Not only were you alone with Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders and one of the most intimidating men you had ever laid eyes on, but you were little and he was starting to encroach on your space. In fact, you began to tremble as he seemingly stomped over to you.

It was beyond a surprise when he pulled his cap off and crouched down in front of you, causing your eyes to look into his rather than at the floor.

“Did I frighten you?” He asked after a moment, voice low but strangely gentle. His cerulean eyes were so blue you felt as if you could fall right into them.

Little and honest, you nodded your head and wrung your hands together.

“We can’t have any of that, can we?” Tommy’s voice lilted, and so did your heart in your chest. “C’mon.” He offered you his hand and you shuffled on the spot before taking it.

You cast a stray look back at your book that was still on the floor, bottom lip jutting out slightly. You had really wanted to finish the story with Isaiah! Now you weren’t too sure what exactly it was that Dr. Dolittle was going to do.

Tommy, ever perceptive, picked your book up off the floor, losing the page you were on in the process. Your hand wilted in his grasp. What was he going to do with your lovely picture book that Isaiah had gifted you with?

A soft chuckle from Tommy had your shy gaze looking up at him in surprise. “You want to finish your book, yeah?”

You nodded again, unable to be brave enough to use your voice. He tugged you along, right towards his office — which you had never been inside before. There hadn’t been any need for you to, dealing more often than not with Polly when it came to gang business.

An exasperated, shaky noise slipped past your lips as he opened the door. “‘M I in t-trouble?”

The older man let go of your hand and sat himself down in his chair, in front of a large and meticulously clean desk. “Of course not. Come.” He ordered, though his tone was warmer than you expected.

You shuffled over to him hesitantly, and nearly yelped when he pulled you onto his lap. Your trembling lessened when he handed you your book.

“I lost your page. Y’gonna find it again?” He asked, watching you carefully as you frowned and started flipping through the book. You aah-ed in relief when you landed on the right page, Dr. Dolittle smiling brightly with his rosy cheeks and grey top hat. Already you felt yourself slipping further, feeling tiny in Tommy’s lap and protected by his arms around you.

“Here. I’ll read the words, and you can flip the pages.” He said casually, and began reading the words that you always skipped and didn’t even notice. The story started to come alive right in front of you, and the gentle, low rumbling of Tommy’s voice filled your little heart with everything you needed.

You didn’t even realize you were sleepy, that is until you awoke with your head tucked against Tommy’s chest and the way it softly rose and fell against your cheek. Perfectly comfortable, you snuggled back into him and entered a peaceful sleep, full of dreams of Tommy’s unexpected kindness.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders agere #cg tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #sfw agere #sfw agere fic

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targcrazies · 1 year

Text

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 4.5k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Sansa had been awoken at her usual hours that morning. She was only fifteen. She had broken her fast with fruit loaf and honey, a slab of salmon on the side. Septa Lysa had sat her down for a lesson on the Lyseni poetry, asking her to have readied a critical comparison of the Lyseni tongue and its High Valyrian roots for the next day. Sansa feigned illness, saying that she could smell the stale salmon with every burp. The Septa looked horrified, piteously halting the morning early. Sansa picked up her parchments, her quills and inkpots taken care of by one of her ladies, Neyla. She went up to her bedchamber, having her ladies help her put her hair in two beautiful, neat, slightly flowy plaits. Cranberry extracts were used on the apples of her cheeks and her lips, her eyes adorned lightly with kohl. Fragrances brought as presents from Lys were dabbed onto the napes of her neck, her wrists, her bosom, and the top of her head. Her black hair was sleek and shiny, her lilac eyes sparkling.

She walked downstairs, to the training yard. It had been over a week since she had shown up there and felt like it had been reasonably long. She admired the sight of his training immensely. His face contorted in close focus, his doe-like eye large in alarm, his hair flailing about him; she could drink in the sight whole.

She found herself joining a significantly large audience at the yard. Everyone was whispering among themselves, speaking of the marvel that the young Prince had grown to become. Unlike his older brother, the young Prince trained tirelessly. He had grown almost a foot tall in the past year and looked like he had turned from fifteen to twenty before even turning sixteen. He was handsome, almost mythical. One might argue that the lack of an eye, his being an amputee of sorts, made him seem like a fierce, deranged monster. However, there were many women who found the eye-patch rather flattering on him. They spoke of the sapphire that hid beneath, the glinting stone reminiscent of the eye and indicative of his status. They even spoke of the sight he must have made when the only shred of garb on him was just the patch, silk and smooth. Talks like that, she chortled off. It would be a lie, however, to deny the thoughts crossed her mind, too.

As children, much of their respective fathers’ conversations revolved around how the two would marry once of age. Lord Strong would never fail to remind the King that his support and loyalty were to the house Targaryen and alliances should be cemented elsewhere, with other houses. However, King Viserys never paid heed to such propositions.

However, after her father’s passing and the king’s ailing health worsening with quick bouts of horrid illnesses, especially after the death of his half-sister; such discussions had ceased to happen at all. Earlier that year, the Queen had invited Cassandra Baratheon to the Red Keep. Everyone suspected that the invitation had been extended as a means of securing the support of House Baratheon by marrying Prince Aemond to the Lady. However, nothing of the note was ever uttered amongst the people at the Keep. Cassandra Baratheon was, undeniably, a beauty. She had icy cold blue eyes and hair as dark and sleek as Sansa’s. Her neck was swanlike, her waist perfectly cinched. She danced like a fairy, her healthy skin glistened after any physical exertion, leaving her rather seductively ruddied. Sansa said nothing of Cassandra’s presence at the court despite the slightest jealousy she would experience every time the Prince spared her a glance. She knew, deep down, that her father would approve of a union so advantageous. She said nothing.

Cassandra was polite with Sansa and Sansa was the most cordial, they had nothing to despise each other for. Cassandra did not consider Sansa, a mere orphan, a threat. Sansa could not find it in herself to despise a woman whose own machinations had little power amongst the Hightowers.

A fortnight before her sixteenth nameday, the Queen entered her bedchamber with a beautiful gown. Sansa knew little of fabrics, but the quality of the cloth seemed divine; it was soft to the touch and exceedingly fine. “You can fold it and fit it within a small matchbox,” the Queen mused, “You are to become a woman grown, suitable for marriage. I believe you deserve to have the finer things in life.”

“Your Grace, I am very thankful. This is a lovely present.” Sansa smiled at the Queen earnestly, admiring the green fabric. The Queen endearingly returned the smile as Sansa held the gown upon her and admired how it flattered her in the mirror. “This is such a fine gown, I wonder where I’d even wear it!”

“Well, on the occasion of your and Aemond’s namedays, we are hosting a two-day long grand joust. You could certainly wear this on your nameday, sweet child.” The Queen put a hand on Sansa’s shoulder, gently turning her to face her, “Dearest, I want to speak to you about something of utmost importance.”

Sansa held her breath, her fingers becoming too feeble to hold onto the present. One of her ladies took it off her, as Sansa asked the Queen if she’d like to have a seat, perhaps a cup of tea. The Queen smiled in agreement.

“You are of marriageable age now. I owe to Lord and Lady Strong that I wed you well.” The Queen took a hearty sip of her tea, “You have been such a good girl, Sansa. I must ensure you are wed well.”

“Your Grace, that is very kind of you.” Sansa spoke softly, fearing the worst. “The Queen is going to send me away,” Sansa thought to herself, “There’s no going back.”

“Lord Ormund Hightower, my cousin, lost his lady wife last winter.” She began and Sansa’s heart dropped, “He has four young children he very much loves. You might think him old, but he is only four-and-twenty. Quite handsome, too, burly and dashing, the ladies say.”

“I am certain he is a good man, your Grace.” Sansa bit into one of the lemon cakes, her mouth dry.

The Queen bit her lower lip in contemplation, sizing the girl before her, “You would make a great Lady Hightower, dearest.”

Sansa’s eyes fell on the tea before her and offered no response. The Queen waited before continuing. “Father wanted to pay you a visit himself and speak to you on that matter. My cousin has expressed interest in the proposition, saying that he would be delighted if you grace him with an audience on your nameday.”

“I understand, your Grace.”

“You do not have to make a decision now. Lord Ormund will be here for three or so weeks. That shall allow plenty of time for you to know him well.” The Queen took Sansa’s hand in hers, “I know how intimidating it must be to think of marriage, my dear. However, it is… not as bad as we fear it might be. With Aemond’s betrothal to be announced on his nameday, we would love to have yours in motion as well” Sansa nodded, looking up at the Queen and smiling. “I have known your son for sixteen years to only lose him for a man I will only know for three weeks.”

She spent the whole day and the whole night in wonderment. She always thought she’d marry him. And even if that would not be possible, she had expected Aemond to put up a fight. They grew up together, shared a bond over not having any dragons, took many lessons together until he retired from scholarly ventures for physical excursion. Aemond losing his eye and gaining a dragon was Aemond changed, to a good extent. Despite Sansa’s valid feeling that Aemond had become a wholly different person altogether, she tried to hold onto him, for he was a friend, if nothing else.

For the past three years or so, Aemond had isolated himself largely from everyone else at court. He trained endlessly to overcome the lack of an eye, in an attempt to compensate for the lacking that shaped him significantly. He kept mostly to himself when he was not training, focusing on learning the stately affairs. He inserted himself in many Small Council meetings, and was more often than not found speaking at lengths with his grandsire, hoping to absorb his wisdom and intelligence. Sansa, initially, tried to interest him in similar readings or even trifle conversations, to which he always apologised, “I have a prior commitment I need to attend. Please, continue without me.” After multiple attempts as such, Sansa stopped trying, surmising that she’d have to make do with catching his glimpses. She hoped that he’d choose to marry her after all, if for nothing else than to just forego the courting process altogether because it did seem like he took little interest in women. However, he was often found gazing at women’s forms, appreciatively. It was not news that he liked women, just not enough to indulge in them freely.

Aemond was most kind to Sansa when the situation arose, sharing his ale with her and pulling her chair out for her. He spoke to her more than anyone else other than his grandfather and mother, and whilst it was not much, it meant something. Or so she thought it did. She conspicuously made sure he’d catch sight of her every once in a while, before disappearing altogether for a number of days. Three, five, even ten; depending on how receptive he was to her appearance. She wondered if Aemond and Cassandra had any clandestine meetings than the ones that happened during meals. Despite the Queen’s insistence, Aemond refused to entertain her at any other hour. His refusal to engage with her any further had reassured Sansa that nothing beyond such meetings could happen between the two of them. She felt so foolish for having set her hopes so high, she thought.

Sansa found her misery pitiful. If he had moved on and chosen to engage himself with another woman he knew so little, then she should take the chance to look elsewhere. Despite her half-brother, Larys’s position in the Small Council, she often felt unwanted, burdensome even, at the Red Keep. Her mother was beloved and adored and if she were alive, Sansa perhaps would have felt more at ease. She might have been able to tell her mother that she wanted to marry Aemond, and that she could speak to the Queen on that matter. However, if the Prince had made up his mind about Lady Baratheon, then no appeals would be heard or paid heed to. “This was meant to go this way,” she gave out a small laugh sardonically.

“HEARD YOU’RE TO be wed to my mother’s cousin.” Aemond had sneaked up on her as she rested in Godswood with a hefty book on her lap. A week was left of the grand joust, and the preparations were going on in full rage. Aemond rarely met up with anyone at court unless it meant pure business. Sansa had never expected the Prince to show up unannounced, but there he was. She closed the book, looking up at him as he towered her. “He’s not even trying,” she thought, “He just happens to be huge.” If she hadn’t grown up with him, she’d be intimidated.

“I thought we were friends,” He spoke again, “I would had hoped to hear of your betrothal from you.”

Sansa wet her lips as she set her book aside, getting on her feet. She was as small and dainty as her great-grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne. On the other hand, the Prince was as big as the Conqueror. She hadn’t stood before the Prince, so close, in some time then. The Prince smiled when she reached her full height, finding it amusing, “It’s almost as if only one of us grew, despite our being the same age.” Aemond teased.

Sansa had little scruples regarding petty jokes. “How come I had to hear of your betrothal from the Queen, and not from you?” She looked up at him, demanding a steady answer with her gaze.

“Mother already informed you?” He spoke more to himself than to her. His eye wandered slightly, and Sansa took it as his refusal to look her in the eyes. “Word travels fast, eh?”

“I suppose we have become more distant in the past few years. I am not surprised.”

“I never thought our bond to be so superficial that my devotion toward perfecting myself would build a wall. However, if you believe so, half of it is of your own design.”

Her smile poured irony as she relaxed her neck, looking straight ahead, “I must congratulate you on securing such a great alliance. Father would have been most pleased.”

“You are to become the Lady of High Tower, I believe that itself is more illustrious.” She could not make much of Aemond’s voice, and refused to derive anything with scrutiny. It was too late for any of that.

“You will always be welcome to visit, cousin.” Her dejection had turned into spite. She sat down, the book back on her lap and opened on a random page. She pretended to read, for the shadow over her to dissipate. However, nothing of the sort happened.

“Sansa?” he called her name, her head jerking upward promptly. She had not expected to find him bent down, his face so awfully close to hers that his breath tickled her mouth. His eye traversed over the finest details of her face, making out the little creases, the smallest scars. Her eyes were his own, and when he looked into them, he found a bit of himself, too.

“Aemond.” She breathed out, her voice just a squeak. She wondered if he’d kiss her, she hoped he would. No one usually made their way so deep inside the Godswood unless summoned. No one would have to see or know. She almost closed her eyes, threw her head back, and puckered her lips slightly.

“You were on page 264,” he muttered, “This is page 512.” He raised himself straight, smirking at her shrunk form, before walking away. “Just a small punishment.” He thought to himself as she watched him leave.

LORD HIGHTOWER MADE all the attempts a man could to impress Sansa. Sansa was quite intrigued, even taken by his antics. The day he arrived, he arrived with sixteen large bouquets of lilac. He brought her a beautiful hair clip, encrusted with purple zoisites, harvested from the rarest forms of tanzanites. “May I?” He said, walking behind her and securing the clip on top of her plait, “It looks lovely, my lady, the most lovely.”

He was surprisingly youthful for a man who had fathered four children. Jubilant, generous, and zestful; Lord Hightower was the most delightful company Sansa had ever known. She had never been made to laugh as hard and nor was she ever so astounded by someone’s charm. “Lord Hightower’s charm goes through the roof.” she wrote in her diary, “He is such fun, such pleasure. Any meal with him is a feast, any audience with him is an epic. His joy is infectious. Any woman would be lucky to be wed to him. I would, too, for Aemond won’t be making me his wife.”

“Lord Hightower, may I ask you some questions that may transgress the level of proprietary here?” Sansa and Lord Ormund were sat at the gardens, having freshly plucked peaches. The sun was bright red, closer to the ground than the sky. The wind was cool against her bare shoulders, the sweat that had gathered at the base of her neck due to the walk almost dry.

“You may ask me anything that concerns you or delights you, my lady.” He bit deeply into a peach and munched enthusiastically, looking at her with warm, gentle eyes.

“You are surprisingly happy for a man who lost his wife not even a year ago. Your happiness is, in all honesty, rejuvenating. Especially at King’s Landing, where everyone’s rather stern and all business. I just can’t help but wonder…”

“My lady, I am glad you communicated your feelings with me. I always appreciate such transparency. It’s most necessary.” He says, “When I lost my wife, I was the most despaired. I had stopped eating, bathing, and even attending to the needs of my family. After a month or so, I realised how much had collapsed in my absence. Bureaucratically, all was good, thanks to my Regent. However, my children looked chalky, lifeless, unfed even. I have worked toward building myself, block by block, ever since. I had no plans to court any woman, until my Uncle sent me a likeness of you, commissioned for your fifteenth nameday.” He smiled, “There is something so distinct about your gaze that it pierced through the portrait. I felt like getting to know you could cause no harm.”

“You flatter me, Lord Hightower.” And, Sansa did feel flattered. No man had ever offered her such praises before, not even Aemond. He had been mostly absent, busy with his own affairs, to pay anyone any heed at all. He had not noticed her bosom, then blooming over her neckline, neither had he ever taken note of her arms that were toned from lifting weights, her clavicles touched upon with petroleum. Lord Hightower took her hand, kissing the back of it. He excused himself, saying he must meet his uncle before supper, and he would see her soon. Sansa was about to start for her own bedchamber herself, however, she was halted by Cassandra.

Cassandra wore a beautiful yellow gown with green embroidery on the high neck of it. Her hair was coiled in a neat bun, she had the bone structure for it. “I must congratulate you and thank you at once, Lady Strong.”

Cassandra was a head taller than Sansa, fuelling Sansa’s insecurity. “Aemond must prefer taller women.” She turned to Cassandra and smiled, propositioning that they had a seat in the lovely, breezy garden before the sun set fully. Cassandra acquiesced, confused.

“Lady Baratheon, what were you saying?” Sansa tried to smile brightly, hoping that her face did not reflect her turmoil regarding herself.

“I wanted to congratulate you and thank you, Lady Strong.” She took hold of one of Sansa’s hands on her lap, “Perhaps, even ask a question, woman to woman, if it’s alright.”

“Congratulate and thank me? For what, Lady Baratheon?” Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed on their own, in utter befuddlement.

“Well, this is quite embarrassing to admit, but I suppose we can talk to each other, like friends.” Cassandra scooted closer to Sansa enthusiastically. “Aemond told me that he would have never agreed to our… betrothal, if you hadn’t agreed to yours.”

“I - I don’t unders-”

“Please, Sansa, if I may call you so,” Cassandra was then holding both of Sansa’s hands with her own, “I am aware, I know everything. It is alright, I shan’t tell a soul.”

“Alright…” Sansa decided to give the girl a listen and not say anything else then.

“I am aware that you and Aemond were… lovers. Now, I do not know what must have gone wrong between the two of you for you to give up on a Prince, however, I would not even mind his being… with you, you know how, even after our marriage. As long as I get to be the wife of a Prince, of course.”

“Right, I must say,” Sansa struggled to come up with words that could falsely inform Cassandra of her failed cognizance, “I understand what you mean, I would, too.”

“You would…? Then why did you agree to be wed to Lord Hightower? I mean, the fellow is not bad to look at and he’s wealthy. But, he’s no prince.”

Sansa stared at her, agape, “I was... tired, I suppose.” There was some truth to what she had then replied.

Cassandra lifted her shoulder high to drop with the biggest sigh, “I understand, I do. Now, there is something I must ask you. It is rather personal. You won’t make quick judgments here about me, I hope.”

“I shall never,” Sansa had begun to emulate Cassandra’s tone without realising, “Ever judge you, Cassandra.” Regarding the Baratheon girl informally took a toll on her, but she did it anyway.

“Alright, so, upon the confirmation of our betrothal, I went to Aemond furtively. I wore a beautiful, satin green cloak and nothing underneath.” It took Sansa all her might to conceal her surprise. “He was THE most surprised to find me there-”

“How did you enter his bedchamber?”

“I lied to Cole, told him he had asked me himself to wait inside. Cole let me in and I waited.” Cassandra spoke like it was the most normal thing she had ever done, so natural, so routine. “When he came in, I greeted him, and took off my cloak.”

Sansa swallowed hard, “And then?” She managed.

“He walked up to me, picked the cloak up, and wrapped me in it! His face was stone-cold, his eyes- I mean, his eye, UNFLINCHING. He goes,” And then Cassandra proceeds to do the most hilarious, yet accurate, impression of Aemond to have ever existed, “”The only reason I agreed to this is because she agreed to marry my silly uncle.” Then he poured himself some Dornish ale, did not even offer me any, saying something along the lines of rather joining the Kingsguard than marrying me, but deciding that the “latter” would spite you more.”

Sansa heart raced against her chest, she could feel her pulse going wild in her throat, “You’re so beautiful, he did not take you to bed?”

She snorted, “I asked him the same question, I dare say. I told him how men from all of the seven kingdoms would die to bed me. I am aware of my beauty and I am NOT scared to flaunt it. I told him I could sleep with his own brother even, if I wanted.”

“And?” Sansa could have sworn that Cassandra was narrating some lusty tale she heard in Flea Bottom, were it not for the solemnity with which Cassandra went on.

“And, he says, “You may be the most beautiful woman in seven kingdoms, but you’re not Sansa.”"

“That is awfully bad of him,” Sansa spoke, doing her earnest to seem embarrassed on his behalf, “I must apologise on his behalf.”

“You mustn’t really, people have a hard time imagining themselves abed with anyone but their first love. It's just that, I had only thought it to be us women though.” Cassandra had the most dynamic face, Sansa thought. “However, my question to you is, how to get him to lie with me?”

Sansa stared quietly at Cassandra. She had no clue what to say, she had never even kissed the man, or anyone, for that matter. “What?”

“The way he spoke of you, you must have done something right!” Cassandra was holding tightly onto Sansa’s arms then, hoping to squeeze out an answer.

“Well…” Sansa contemplated lying, suggesting something outlandish to see if she would commit to that. But then, she held herself back, “I honestly don’t know… he’s never been… particularly… picky with me.”

“Well, he must truly love you then.” She huffs out, “I will probably have to wait until our bedding ceremony. I am certain I can get him to lie with me more often then.” She wistfully prays, and Sansa reassures her of the same. “Might I ask you another question, very personal?” Sansa wanted to retort in the question of what else had she left to ask that could be any more personal, yet she held herself back and nodded. “How big is he?”

“Well, they say he is as big as the Conqueror himself!” Sansa wonders what is so personal about the question, given he is out there, large and burly.

“Targaryens are truly weird…” She muses, “Have you the Conqueror’s size in record?”

“Oh, I mean, of course, we do…” The moment Sansa realised her transgression, “We have various measurements, as Targaryens, believing in the purity of incestuous unions.” She reinforced, despite being somewhat languid.

“At least you own up to it.” Cassandra slowly nodded in understanding.

---

THE SUPPER THAT followed was something Sansa looked forward to, more than anything she ever had. She let Lord Ormund sit beside her, she audibly amused herself in conversation with him and chuckled with such zeal that the whole table marveled at their happiness. Aemond, on the other hand, looked everywhere but at them, nibbling the food before him and only responding in nods.

“Lady Strong is well-educated in Political History,” the Queen began, “Maester Cliff is always full of praises for her acumen. I believe that she will serve as an excellent regent at Oldtown, even!” Otto Hightower nodded in agreement.

“Well, as smart as Lady Strong is, I do not think she’d make a fitting regent.” He opined, “In fact, I believe women are best caregivers and, in return, would make shoddy leaders, politically.”

“How come?” Sansa asked, without missing a beat, her whole body turned toward Lord Ormund, in hopes of an answer that could dissuade her irritation at his depraved myopia.

“Well, women have nerves that are different from men. They are more prone to failure in maintaining composure, especially in matters of negotiation and reconciliation.”

“Would you say the same regarding Nymeria Martell? She led the Rhoynar to the Dornish lands, established the Supremacy of Nymeros Martell, and ruled as the Princess of Dorne for well over two decades.” Sansa looked the man in the eyes, hoping he’d, at least partially, retrieve what he had said.

“There will always be exceptions, Lady Strong, they don’t make for robust examples.”

“We have only regarded Aegon as the Conqueror of Seven Kingdoms. In the process, we have gravely failed Visenya Targaryen and Rhaenys Targaryen, who had played just as big roles in unifying Westeros as Aegon had. Visenya and Rhaenys both ruled alongside their brother-husband. Visenya’s authoritative influence on governance was absolute, many even say that she was more instrumental when it came to ruling Westeros than her brother-husband. Not only that, she is one of the fiercest warriors in history. Rhaenys, on the other hand, was paramount in diplomacy, having resolved more issues via words and smiles than known in history. Had she not been there, so many revolts would've egregiously led to war.” Aemond pauses for a moment, looks up at his uncle, and continues, “It is very shortsighted to suggest that women cannot contribute to stately matters when you happen to be a minor feudal lord in a Kingdom that was made by two women.”

Otto Hightower agreed with his grandson but veered the conversation in a direction completely disparate to what had just transpired. Sansa smiled to herself quietly, glancing at Aemond and hoping to catch a glimpse of him, just to let him know she was exceedingly happy with how he carried the conversation. However, he never looked at her. Not for once.

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