#and ofc the follower count being visible

[jaennwrites]

Little things | Captain John Price x f!reader

feels like I'm the only person obsessed with this man, so I'm doing a service to all the Captain Price lovers fr.

summary: an eventful morning with Price :) cw: established relationship, smut, size kink (kinda), unprotected sex, praise, slight violence, aftercare, L-bombs (i think that's all of them or at least the major ones) word count: 2,615

ofc reblogs and comments much appreciated :)

You woke up to the sun gently warming your face although causing major obstruction to your vision. Lazily using your arm to shield your eyes from the sun but it only helped so much so you opted to just turn away, only to be reminded of the man you were sharing a bed with.

John Price…your captain.

You couldn’t specifically remember the first time you both slept together but the pattern eagerly ensued almost every time you both got the chance. 

It was indeed a privilege to be able to see the captain so relaxed, you seemed to always wake up before him so you would always have the chance to examine his face and it was as if you always found something new. 

Today was the prominent stubble growth, typically Price had always made an effort to shave his uniquely styled beard that you had a crazy infatuation with, but he has been really busy recently. Last night was the first time in 3 weeks that you guys had the chance to sleep together, you will admit that he made sure you knew that he was sorry.

You halted all movements as John stirred in his sleep but he soon calmed down and was quietly sleeping again. You noticed he always slept on his back as well, maybe that's why his face was so perfect.

You contemplated the risky move you were going to take but took it not caring if John awoke. You carefully pulled the blanket off of him, stopping a few times so as to not wake him. Soon enough his entire bare torso was visible allowing you to view one of your favorite things about John.

His scars.

Your favorite being a medium slash on his right arm that he got on a mission with you. You two had been running away after being overwhelmed by a cartel you can’t bother to remember the name of and he had found a fence that led to an abandoned part of the town. You urged him to go first but he firmly denied, he pulled the fence open and pushed you through first, but that’s not how he got the scar.

There were multiple enemies following behind you two and you hadn’t thought that they would be able to catch up in time but they did, but instead of Price allowing you to help him fight, he zip tied the fence closed knowing you had lost your knife in an earlier fight. 

He pushed you away and demanded you run towards an abandoned house, promising that he would meet you there. You ran hesitantly at his request and of course he met back up with you, rewarding you with a kiss on the top of your head but also with the scar that you’ve grown to love. 

“You’re a creep” A deep accented voice spoke ripping you from your silent trip down memory lane 

“No” You poorly defended resting your head on his chest as you looked up at him 

“Oh?” He hummed looking down at you 

“Oh” You repeated in an answering tone 

“I could’ve sworn I fell asleep with the blanket over my chest” He teased 

“Bad memory” You smiled 

The way John looked at you was intoxicating but this morning the look was different, it seemed somewhat sad in your opinion.

“I don’t like that look” You joked wrapping your legs with his so you could be closer 

“What look?” He questioned closing his eyes 

“Like a high school boy about to break up with his girlfriend before they start college” You joked 

“Secondary school” John teased 

You rolled your eyes playfully before sighing knowing that Price would never tell what was so clearly bothering him, you were just hoping it wasn’t you. You went to get up from his bed but his arms stayed tightly wrapped around you.

“Am I not allowed to leave?” You teased 

“Last night was the first time in weeks that you slept in my bed…” “You’re not getting away so quickly” He spoke with his eyes still closed 

You let out another sigh before turning your attention to the resting man, hell if he wasn’t going to let you go, you might as well keep “creeping”.

You stared at his closed eyes trying to remember the vibrant blue that continued to surpass your memories every time he opened his eyes. If you were an idiot you would admit that you were practically in love with the man, oftentimes you found yourself wishing he’d randomly come up to you and say that he loved you too. 

“What?” John questioned sweetly as one of his eyes peeled open to meet yours

“I’m not even doing anything” You defended with a small laugh 

You playfully huffed making another attempt to escape Price’s arms but once again his hold remained tight. He pulled you on top of him before placing a soft kiss on your lips giving you a smile after.

“Can you stop being so eager to get away from me?”  “Breaking my heart” He joked 

“Let me get on you then” You teased sitting up

“That sounds nice” John spoke as a smirk creeped onto his face 

His hands trailed from your hips slowly, simultaneously pulling off his oversized shirt you wore. You breathed in deeply at the feeling over cold air on your now bare torso.

John was a major “boob” man, the infatuation he had with your breast could entertain you for centuries. You couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face as you watched his large hands go to your chest like magnets. 

You let out a sigh of contempt as you relaxed into the feeling of his rough hands massaging your chest. He used a hand to guide you down before happily taking turns sucking your nipples and leaving hickies on the soft skin of your breast. 

John always opted for hickies on your chest or just about anywhere that wasn’t visible, he wanted you to remember him but professionalism still needed to be maintained, he was still your captain.

“You’re obsessed” You teased prying his mouth off of your chest 

“You have perfect tis, what can I say” He defended moving his kisses to your mouth once again 

Your hands cupped his face with a slight smile forming as you felt all his facial hair. Your hips slowly grinded on his; filled with excitement for what was inevitably about to come.

“Fucking hell (british ppl talk tee hee)” John groaned placing his large hands on your rocking hips

“Captain” You teased sitting up knowing John went crazy for your little “performances” 

You smiled at your success to get the Brit so riled up as he wrapped an arm around your waist before flipping you over so that he was now hovering over you.

“I hate when you tease me” He defended 

“Liar” You hummed 

Price often had a funny habit of dropping most of his weight on top of you, whether you were just joking with each other in bed or he was ramming into you, he loved doing it and to be honest you didn’t really mind.

“Fuck you” You joked hoarsely as he dropped his body weight onto you 

He smiled propping himself up, freeing you of his weight, but he just stared down at you, once again with that somber look you noted before.

“What is it?” You asked searching his eyes as if to find an answer 

“I love you” John spoke 

He loves you.

“What?” You asked in disbelief but only for the best reasons

Captain John Price…loved you, you knew he cared about more than he’d ever admit, but this reserved man who always pushed you forward first, always questioned your comfortability, praised you ability…of course he loved you.

“I don’t want to scare you off” “I love you, and I want you to know that I care for you, all that sappy stuff” He joked placing a gentle kiss on your lips 

“I love you too John” You smiled

Price smiled down at you before kissing you again, you felt his hand descend under the blanket you two laid under, he pushed your legs open before fitting himself into the space he had made. A soft moan escaped your mouth as you felt his hard bulge prod at your exposed wet slit.

“Tell me” “Tell me you want it” He teased covering your neck with wet kisses 

“I want you” “Please” You begged shamelessly 

Price placed a kiss on your lips before freeing his leaking erection from his boxers. He looked at you amusingly as his large tip prodded your entrance. 

He was big all around, in every aspect of the word, whether it was his height, his general build, or wickedly enough, his dick. 

“Ready?” He asked covering his tip in your wetness

You nodded eagerly which made him laugh a bit but soon enough your eyes were fluttering closed as Price pressed into you with a deep groan. You placed one hand on the side of his face as you kissed him to remedy the fiery sensation of him stretching you out. 

“I love you” You moaned into his mouth 

Price smiled down at you taking in the sight of you, the marks on your tits, the way they bounced which each of his thrusts, the way your free hand gripped the bed sheets, everything about you was arousing, even when he wasn’t pounding into you.

The burning hunger that overtook his body when he saw you simply holster your gun, when you put on a mask, when you waked, hell even when you spoke to him. Everything about you always made him want to tear your clothes off and sink his dick into you.

Your legs involuntarily closed as John sat up making his thrust harder and faster, this was a common occurrence and every time your body began to tap out, he took it as a challenge to push you over the edge of stimulation.

“Open them”  “Or I’ll make it worse” He teased stopping his motion

“Just…” You began but just like every other time you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t want a break, you didn’t want him to stop…you just didn’t know 

“You know the safeword” John spoke placing his hands on your knees that were still shut 

When you and Price first hooked up, you saw the above average size of him which resulted in the agreement of a safeword and you were sure of the decision after having sex with him. You both decided on just saying his call sign ‘Bravo Six”, there was already a serious connotation attached to the words so it made sense to use it for a serious situation.

You obliged and opened your legs with instant regret as you saw the familiar smirk of a man who was about to drop half his weight on you.

“Stop” You warned attempting to be serious but the smile creeping up on your face assured Price that you were not.

His pace began again and you paid no attention to the shenanigans that Price planned on pulling, because you loved when he fucked you like this. When his face was so close to yours, his forehead resting on yours, being able to feel the vibrations of his groans on your face.

“Fuck” You moaned as Price’s heavy body pressed down onto you 

“I love you” “You’re mine” “I’ll fucking kill armies for you” He groaned before placing a rough kiss on your parted lips 

John lifted up his body allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist as your body scoured for more of him which he was glad to give you. 

You could feel the pit in your stomach building, it weirdly felt like a good stomach ache almost, you were close to cumming and John knew it. The way your breath got ragged as if your body was starting to panic, the way your legs were locking around Price’s torso, but his favorite thing was the eyes you gave him. The way they got low, the way you could barely keep them open, the faint dampness of your lashes from when your eyes watered when he first put his dick in you. 

“You wanna cum?” He teased 

“Yes” You moaned shamelessly

Price slowed his pace but his slow place was just as potent as his fast one, his thrust became deep and taunting forcing loud moans out of you everytime he sunk himself back into you. 

“Oh my god” You moaned loudly as your orgasm overtook you 

“That’s my girl” He praised clearly amused by your unfolding

It was a domino effect when you came and one thing John made sure was that you came before him because if you didn’t then he couldn’t. He loved the way you began to tremble under the pleasure, the sensitivity of each part of you, that’s what he looked forward to with each of your “encounters”. 

Your body shivered as Price peppered kisses on your neck and collarbones and picked up his pace once again, other than your hand that was gripping his, your body was practically just spasms now as his tip kissed your cervix with each hard, fast, deep thrust. 

“Is my beautiful girl, all cock drunk” He teased 

John began to focus on achieving his orgasm seeing that if he didn’t stop now you wouldn’t be able to get up for the day. He let go of your hand to your dismay, he used his now free hand to prop up your hips as he got rougher than you ever could imagine. 

“Please” You moaned loudly not even sure of what you were begging for 

“I love you so much” He groaned loudly pressing so deep into you that his pelvis smacked your clit

Price watched amusingly as some of his cum seeped out the sides of the “seal” you both created. He finally pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to run you a bath. John took full responsibility for his rough demeanor during sex and so he always made sure to make up for it after. 

You groaned at the soreness you felt as you sat yourself up; you loved sex with John but my god did it take a toll on your body after. 

“Stop trying to be independent” He playfully scolded before picking you up bridal style

He placed you in the tub before getting in behind you; he placed small kisses on your now wet shoulder. You laid your head back onto Price’s chest allowing him to wrap his arms around you peppering kisses on the top of your head.

“Why do you always kiss the top of my head?” You asked examining his hands 

“Cause I like to” He defended with a smile you could hear in his voice 

“Seriously” You spoke playfully slapping his knee

“I like the smell of your hair”  “And I love you” “That’s how I show it” He shrugged 

You craned your head back smiling at your upside down view of the handsome British man, you reflected on all the times even before your first hookup that Price had his face buried in the top of your head.

He always fixed any headgear you had on, always taking something out of your hair, and  patting down your flyaways. You sat yourself up turning your body to face him because it finally hit you. 

Captain John Price had been in love with you long before you two even had sex.

“I love you” You smiled

#call of duty #john price #captain john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #i crave this man like a drug addict #smut #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #captain john price x reader

[eyelessfaces]

me? jealous?

eddie munson x reader

summary: just eddie being a jealous and possessive bf <3

warnings: jealousy and possessiveness ofc, sexual innuendos if you squint REALLY really hard

tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader

word count: 0.9k

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!! comments motivate me a lot &lt;3

As surprising as it was when you thought and talked about it, Eddie really couldn't tell what had made him fall in love with you. Most people would know almost immediately when asked about what had made it all clear for them. Eddie... Eddie just didn't. And it wasn't because you weren't special or there wasn't anything outstanding about you or anything else. Oh no, on the contrary. There were just so many things to put on the list, he didn't even know where to start. The man was so head over heels he couldn't think straight. He was pretty sure that if he didn't pass this year and finally graduate it would be your fault. By proxy. Because you were in his thoughts 24/7.

So when another student was shamelessly flirting with you of course his knuckles were white from the pressure of his clenched fist. From the other side of the corridor, Eddie couldn't figure out what the guy was telling you but his posture told it all; elbow on the locker right next to your face, sly smirk showing his perfect white teeth, and oh, the famous hand running through his hair to gently slick it back.

As if wasn't enough to piss Eddie off, this guy happened to be one of the popular ones and in the basketball team. It was almost fate for him to be his nemesis.

It didn't take long for Eddie to reach you. His already short patience had ran out pretty quickly. He came behind you and put an hand to your hip, making you jump, before standing besides you and sliding his hand up to your shoulder, wrapping his arm around you in a protective way.

"Shit, you scared me" you whispered turning to him.

He shot you a small smile, trying to assert the confidence he was pretty sure he didn't have but he knew he needed. "Sorry babe, didn't mean to." he said planting a quick kiss to the top of your head. For no other reason than to show you were his. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, eyes darting to the man, knowing damn well he was interrupting something.

"No" you quickly blurted out.

"Yes." the other boy quickly followed before eyeing Eddie up and down. Eddie did the same, but with more visible disgust showing on his face.

"Oh really?" Eddie asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. You could feel his grip on your shoulder tighten.

"Yes really!" the popular boy said mimicking Eddie's tone, what you knew would get on his nerves. And you knew it did when you could clearly see the muscles of his jaw tense.

You sighed softly, not knowing how to get out of this situation safely. You knew Eddie was quick to get riled up, so you put your hand in his jeans back pocket as you knew your touch and proximity was one of the few things that helped him calm down. Even if right now it was his ass. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your touch against his ass and you did your best to hide your smile before he spoke again.

"So what was I interrupting?" he asked tilting his head to the side.

"I was just wondering if they wanted to come to my party after friday's match. It's no big deal" the boy said raising his eyebrows.

Eddie did the same before frowning almost immediately.

"Ah I see, but I'm afraid we already have something planned for friday, sadly" Eddie affirmed confidently, nodding slowly.

You frowned and turned to look at him. "Rea-" you couldn't even finish your question and felt a tight squeeze on your shoulder, bringing you back to your senses. "Oh yeah of course. Gig. With his band. On friday night. Yeah..." you lied, hoping it was convincing.

"Oh" the boy sighed with a disappointed face. "Alright. Next time maybe" he said smiling at you.

You smiled back in return and the boy turned and walked away.

You repressed a laugh and turned to Eddie.

"What was that?" you asked crossing your arms looking up at him.

"What?" he asked trying to act oblivious.

"Oh nothing I'm just sensing some jealousy" you said grinning at him.

He chuckled and shook his head frantically.

"Me? Jealous?" he asked pointing at himself. He looked away, avoiding eye contact. "That's ridiculous"

You laughed and nodded. "That may be ridiculous but I don't recall you ever mentioning having something planned on friday. But that may just be me" you said holding your hands up in the air.

He smiled at you and took your hand in his. "Totally ridiculous. Gig with my band, you said it yourself" he said before gently bringing your hand to his mouth to gently kiss your knuckles. "Or we could spend the night at my trailer and cuddle watching some slashers, where it would be an appropriate place for you to put an hand to my ass huh" he said cocking an eyebrow at you.

You laughed and playfully hit his side before burying your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "I love you, you idiot" you murmured between kisses on his cheek.

He softly smiled and kissed your forehead. "I love you too sweetheart" he whispered against your skin as he tried to figure out what had made him fall in love with you, but quickly gave up when he came to the conclusion that it was just your whole being that did the magic.

---

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!! comments motivate me a lot &lt;3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #eddie munson blurb #stranger things imagine

[teabreakpancakes]

Kinktober: Day Twenty-One

Stuck (Al-Tighnari x GN Reader)

knotting, rut, breeding kink!

Tighnari cursed under his breath, leaning onto the pack of processed mist flower corolla he had made previously. His long and slender fingers were wrapped around his engorged cock, attempting to alleviate his discomfort.

Pre-cum dribbled down his cock's pink head, trickling down to the base of his cock. His eyes closed, desperately thrusting into his fist as he imagined your tiny little hole taking his fat cock in, struggling to take the full length of his dick.

He thought about how you'd stare up at him pleadingly, begging him to fuck you harder, to bread you full of his pups. "Fuck fuck fuck" he groaned, frustrated. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't cum without you—without your cute hole squeezing him for all of his cum.

Slowly, the door swings open, revealing a beaming (Name). "Honey! where are you? I'm back from my expeditio," they pause, eyes landing on their nude lover. "O, Oh" they falter, adverting their gaze from his long and engorged cock, nervously swallowing as they fiddled with the sleeves if their clothes. Their eyes slowly trail up his toned body, meeting his half-lidded gaze.

"What took you so long" Tighnari grunted, rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cock. He raises an eyebrow when they don't move from their spot, "Do you want me to carry you to bed?" he sarcastically remarks.

They snap out of their trance, rushing to get on their shared bed. The moment they get near him, Tighnari's already pulled them into his embrace, taking in their scent. His growl permeates into their entire being, sending shivers up their spine.

The forest watcher tears apart their clothing, hungrily exploring every inch of their body. Laced with impatience, he spreads their hole open with his slender fingers. He smirks at them lazily, scooping up some of his pre-cum and using it to lube up their hole.

Not long after, he hovers over them, cock lined up to their hole. He fights the urge to mock them for the lust and greed visible in their eyes, pushing his entire length into them.

A satisfied moan spills from Tighnari's lips, breathy curses pouring out of his lips. The feeling of you clamping down on him relieved his poor cock, he missed you so so much :(.

He begins pounding into you, pace erratic and head filled with thoughts of filling you up to the brim with his seed. He wanted the image of you being stuffed full of his cum engraved into his head.

With each thrust, your thoughts grow more and more muddled, only able to think of him. Orgasm after orgasm followed after each other as your lover, your Tighnari buried his cock deep into your insides.

The familiar stutter of his hips signified that he was close, that he was gonna fill you up so nicely. An animalistic growl broke through his throat as he pushed into you completely. His seed poured into you endlessly, the knot at the base of his cock preventing any of it from spilling.

His knot continues to swell within you, leaving you breathless as you cry from the pleasure of being stretched so widely. Tighnari presses kisses onto your neck, in a state of euphoria.

He presses his hand onto your swollen tummy, smiling lopsidedly. Your soft babbles of "I love you" faded and soon, you fell asleep in his arms. He chuckled, "Rest well, there'll be more after you wake" he mutters, pulling you onto his chest carefully before laying down on the soft bed.

He hums, pecking your lips before whispering an "I love you" and slowly drifting off to dreamland.

@mirology

was this rushed? idk, does one hour count as "rushed"? i've been typing away for at least.. 3 hours- OFC, I WAS WORKING ON THE OTHER ONE TOO, the one i previously posted i mean

#lawless.writes #lawless'.kinktober #genshin.writing #genshin tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #tighnari

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY SIXTEEN: STRIPTEASE FT. KIYOKO

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: no smut, heavy sexual tension, y/n's love sick, studying struggles, a teasing kiyoko ofc

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 810+

"shimizu, are you coming over?" y/n questioned over the phone. she'd contemplated on whether or not she should call her girlfriend over or just finish with her studying session. "I would but, I thought today you were planning on studying." kiyoko mumbled as shuffling could be heard on her side of the call.

"I am, but..."

"but?"

"I want you to be here with me" y/n said as she tapped the end of her pen against the living rooms coffee table. she heard kiyoko sigh before her voice was once again audible. "I don't want to distract you. that test will benefit you final grade, right?" she questioned. y/n hummed in conformation, smiling at her girlfriends next words.

"I'll come over but only for the purpose of helping you study"

---------

"n/n, I said were only going to be studying" kiyoko mumbled, slightly pushing y/n away after her sudden shower of kisses before she could even get through the doorway of y/n's home. y/n smiled at the sight of her girlfriend, finally being in her once lonesome atmosphere.

kiyoko couldn't help but feel flustered at y/n's overwhelmingly affectionate gaze, managing to slip out of her loosening hug, making her way over to y/n's workspace, said girl following behind her, kiyoko examined the papers sprawled out over the table, noticing that y/n was in fact, not getting anything done.

"n/n, how long have you been doing this for?"

"...three hours" she mumbled, taking a seat on the carpeted flooring and hugging her knees to her chest. after spacing out at the blank papers, y/n acknowledged the sound of shuffling being heard before looking up at her girlfriend's standing figure. her eye's darted away before looking back at the sight.

kiyoko had removed the hoodie that she wore, now revealing her loosely hanging tank top. she took a seat next yo y/n, suspiciously close as she notice how y/n's gaze never left her chest. "y/ n" kiyoko now called with a bit of a stern tone. "yeah?"

"your work?"

"what about it?" y/n cluelessly asked, kind of shocked when she saw kiyoko's slight eyeroll from annoyance. "what subject are you studying for?" this time, kiyoko leaned closer to y/n, her chest slightly grazing y/n's arm. she forced herself to keep eye contact with her girlfriend's, despite the fact that her exposed cleavage were right beneath her field of vision.

"...history"

"well you know the basics of the topic, right?"

"I hope"

"y/n" kiyoko now sighed, leaning back a bit into her own space, noticing how y/n visibly sulked at the lost contact. "what?" she drew out the word with a whine before her eye's widened at kiyoko's next suggestion. "let's play a game so this'll be easier for the both of us" the black-haired girl let out a sigh of relief when y/n finally showed some interest.

caught by surprise, kiyoko felt y/n's lips make quick contact with hers, not being able to hold back a small smile from her girlfriend's quiet laugh. "we've done a striptease before but, this time, for each question you answer correctly, I'll remove something that I'm wearing" y/n immediately nodded at kiyoko's words, this time, it was her turn to hurry kiyoko to focus on the study session.

-------

"shimizu, this is practically worst than studying" y/n groaned when kiyoko only removed a necklace that she'd worn. "it's my shirts turn for the next one" she announced. y/n watched intently when kiyoko skimmed through the papers, trying to find a suitable question and when she finally did, y/n's eyes widened.

"shimizu...that's one of the most hardest questions in the book" y/n frowned, making kiyoko place a small kiss to her lips and jawline. "just think. I'm sure you'll know the answer" after seeing the smirk on kiyoko's angelic features, y/n reached for the hem of her tank top before even answering. "nope. answer first-"

y/n immediately blurted her correct answer, and kiyoko allowed y/n to pull her restricting shirt over her head. "you're not allowed to touch" kiyoko warned, making y/n groan once more. the sight that she so desperately wanted to see were finally in the view of her vision but she wasn't allowed to touch to her content. "please?"

"if you get this next question right, we can take a break"

y/n noticed how kiyoko slightly became impatient for her touch as seconds passed by but desperately wanted to keep her calmed composure. she continued to ask the question, eye' widening when it was answered almost immediately by y/n.

"I'm gonna ruin you for being such a tease"

#kiyoko shimizu #kiyoko x reader #hq kiyoko #hq karasuno #hq masterlist #hq fanfic #anime and manga #haikyuu #hq smut #anime smut #anime #haikyu smut #haikyū!! #kinktober #hq anime #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq images #karasuno #karasuno x reader #karasuno headcanons

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Three

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

“So, what now?”

Hearing that from Talia, Ricky felt like he could panic, but he wasn’t going to, he wasn’t. He knew something had to happen from here, Talia and Chris deserved something. It was one thing for him to just say no when it was between just him and Talia but the three of them. Now it was the three of them, and, he wasn’t entirely sure how well he would handle just sitting back and watching them date without him. Not when he’d felt first hand how his tattoo reacted to that thought. Even if thinking about it now and it wasn’t going crazy. Then again he was thinking about how bad it would be, and he was thinking about not letting it happen, how much he didn’t want it to happen. So that he could think about, but not actually considering it happening?

Where was the line?

Ricky didn’t trust himself to know what was right. He couldn’t exactly just follow around a mysterious mystical tattoo for the rest of his life, it wasn’t right, not to mention massively creepy with the way it was driving all of them. Pushing them the way it was. If it was a normal bond, maybe it would be different. If it was a normal bond, they wouldn’t be sitting here. None of them had experienced a normal path to get here either.

Right.

“Perhaps we should figure out this soul bond first and foremost, what's happening with our tattoos. See if anyone has heard of this happening before, or even theorised about what’s happening with Chris’ tattoo.”

Looking towards Chris with the slightest nod, he was worried about Chris the most. They knew there were theories about what was happening with the tattoos about the sensations with just a basic connection, but folding in Chris’ tattoo and it confused things. If they counted it as a normal soulmate tattoo it was simple, the same connection, the same reactions as he was having with Talia before, only between three of them. Okay, so not really simple at all, but at least it was something that they were starting to accept.

When in the world of the last few days had he just started to accept this kind of thing? He felt like he was going… no… he wasn’t even going to think that, not after what both Chris and Talia had both gone through already with institutions. Still, it wasn’t easy, mentally speaking. It was draining.

Now, with Chris’ tattoo changing from white to grey, the picture changing, that affected everything about this connection for Ricky. He needed to know if this was something real, tangible.

If Chris tattoo could just start changing like that without warning into something, what else could happen to them?

Could Ricky’s change too? Could it disappear entirely?

Tell him a few days ago, that he’d never have to worry about his soulmate tattoo ever again, and he’d have been overjoyed. Yet with Chris, with Talia, whatever was happening here, now he had a horrible pit in his gut, he didn’t know how he felt about any of this. He did he want it gone anymore?

In the back of his mind, Ricky knew someone was talking, responding to what he’d already suggested, but he was a million miles away, staring half blankly in the middle of the room.

Sighing, Chris nodded to Talia, a soft smile on his lips, that sounded like a good plan to him to get started. As much as he wasn’t sure if it would do anything, it couldn’t hurt to at least ask. Had to start somewhere, might give them a hint, something.

“How about it, Rick, does that sound go- “

Chris paused when he glanced away from Talia and over to Ricky, only to see him staring at the floor. An almost void expression was on his face were it not for the slightest frown on his lips, with the slightest furrow of his brow. He was lost in thought, and Chris wondered if it was about the idea, or, something else entirely. Speaking more distinctly this time, Chris called over to him.

“Ricky, everything alright over there?”

He didn’t respond right away, it was almost like he was coming out of a fog, and Chris knew the feeling. Being lost in his own head, and then coming back to the world around him with that deep breath of awareness. Chris tried not to frown, his lips pressing together slightly as Ricky blinked at him slowly, as if only just now figuring out he’d been the one saying anything at all.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

With everything Ricky had been going through with Grace being so fresh, bringing it all with that video, Chris was worried this was a lot of happening so quickly. Finding out Grace was stalking him, had been stalking him, was still stalking him, the fact that he was still living here was a blessing at least. He hadn’t mentioned going home despite knowing that she had deleted her socials, and they’d known the fan response was positive all day, Chris certainly wasn’t going to say anything about him going home. No. No he wasn’t going to make Rick leave, he was going to stay right here until Ricky felt safe, safe in his own home, his own skin. Rick was a perfectionist. He’d go home to his gear, his set-up, in a heartbeat, and Chris knew it. So the fact he hadn’t said one thing about going back there because he needed something since he’d been here, told Chris that he was far from ready to even set foot in that house. 

Seeing Ricky nod quickly, too quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, what were you saying before?”

Pausing, he considered him carefully, while he wasn’t sure how he should take Ricky brushing off spacing out like as nothing. Chris knew from personal experience that pushing the issue from being, at least to some degree in Ricky’s position with his stalker, wouldn’t help. He would just support him and be a safe space, as long as he needed it.

“Well when you mentioned seeing if anyone had heard of this happening, theorising if anything like this has happened like what's happening to my tattoo before, I was explaining to Talia about the message boards I belong to. Some of them are more social, sure, but they could still be useful in some ways. They are useful because they exchange information on the laymen level. No personal information is shared unless we allow it, and I haven’t told anyone on any of the boards there who I am, for obvious reasons.”

Chris didn’t want to be hounded about his situation, even by people that would seem to understand online, it was easier to talk and just be Chris, normal, no one out of the ordinary, Chris. He kept his soulmate status concerning the band under wraps completely, and it made it so much easier to avoid fake soulmates over the years, denying them one after the other since the stalker scandal was just safer. Even when their management group had tried to talk him into allowing some people in the VIP who tried to claim to be his soulmate to meet him. Give them just five minutes at least, that had been shut down so fast, but not by him, by Rick. If he could go out of his way to protect him, Chris without question would always do the same for him.

“There are also a few people off the top of my head in the soulmate research industry, that I can contact, if it's alright with you two. If not, just the boards are fine.”

Chris was looking more to Talia right then, knowing she might not like involving doctors. He did send a fugitive glance to Rick as well. He didn’t know what he thought about the science aspect of it, considering nothing could be proven either way. No one had ever distinctly proven anything about the soulmate tattoos, aside from the tattoos turning white with death.

Talia felt herself go cold just hearing Chris mention the words research industry. He didn’t even need to say doctors for her to know that was what he meant. Yes, she was aware that he was talking about scientists, not therapists like the ones she had had to deal with when she was committed. However, all she that was going through her mind was all the time that she had spent in that facility. Doctors hadn’t been her friends for years now, that made dealing with her health a difficult issue at times. Whenever problems came up, Talia always got rather antsy, she usually knew she could trust one person's opinion medically no matter what, Kyle. 

When he pressed her to see a doctor, she went. Before she made decisions, she got his opinion. Sure, in many ways, it put a lot on his shoulders, but the fact that he was willing to help her at least talk over the facts, made a world of difference. It also helped, that she hadn’t gotten much more than a nasty cold in years, and her trips to the doctors had been about check-ups, and vaccines, and booster shots along the way as they were needed.

What would he tell her now though, this was so far out of his standing and she knew it. At the same time. Talia looked to Chris and put aside her fears now, and considered him, 

“It’s your tattoo that is changing, Spookie, if, if you trust them, I, I guess I’d be okay with it.”

“No testing.”

Ricky added immediately the moment Talia stopped speaking. If she was going to allow this, he was going to insist on that, no question. Soon as the words were out of his mouth, both of the other two in the room looked at him, and he just looked at Chris sternly.

“Don’t look at me like that. I remember some of the papers you used to talk about all fanatically. How sickening they were about the people that would go through all kinds of testing trying to figure out the effects of the tattoos and why they were linking to specifically people and so forth.”

Not that anyone could predict anything. If you thought about it, Ricky was older than Talia, and yet he still got his tattoo when he turned eighteen, she didn’t get hers until a couple of years later, immediately knowing who her soulmate was, him. This starting her unfortunate journey, with all those that turned on her in her life. Ricky was not going to stand by if Chris’ contacts got so excited at the prospect of a new change in a soulmate tattoo that they wanted to test the changes in his tattoo. No way in hell.

“Besides, can you imagine how those tests would affect Talia if you agreed to anything? How they’d affect all of us? We’re linked all together here now, Chris. You might be willing to go down the rabbit hole, but I am only willing to touch on theories and study observations.”

In that thought,

“Oh, in saying that, what we should do, is take photos of your tattoo and how it's changed. Do you have any old pictures of when it was pure white for comparison so they can see how it's changing? That way, if they want to make future observations for other people, they can.”

Fuck, Ricky hoped Chris wasn’t the first person going through this, because if he was, they could literally give them nothing, but if he was, giving them all the information they could, might help someone else in the future. Raising an eyebrow as he looked at Chris expectantly,

“I don’t have them, but the ones from my psych file should still exist. I might be able to still get a copy, or give them permission to get a copy. Here, take my phone, take a photo of it now, if it's changed this much already, I swear, it was only white the other day.”

Ricky hadn’t been paying attention to the times he might have seen Chris’ tattoo. As rare as those moments were, and Chris had refused to show him outright yesterday, so he had no frame of reference if this change was sudden or not. Either way, they could show whoever Chris contacted the change. Standing from his chair, Ricky accepted Chris phone as he readjusted his shirt so he could take the photo.. He took a few to adjust the light exposure and settings of the camera of the phone. After a few moments, and the sounds of the shutter going off multiple times, more seconds passed, Chris seemed to realise what the guitarist was doing. Ricky fighting not to smirk at the amused look on Chris face.

“Really, Rick?”

“What, I don’t have my camera, and getting a good shot so they see what they are working with is important, hold still.”

Next thing he knew, he was being hit with a cushion from Talia and being pulled down to the couch by Chris as they both laughed,

“That’s enough.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#motionless in white #miw #ricky olson #ricky olson fanfiction #original female character #soulmates #fanfiction #miw band #soulmate au #ricky olson fanfic #chris motionless #chris cerulli #chris cerulli fanfic #fic: every rose has its thorns

[sgkophie]

Man's World - An Epilogue

Previous Chapter (finale!) is HERE.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader, Carlos Sainz x You, Carlos Sainz x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff

AN: LOVE how this chapter turned out. We have laughs, we have pranks, we have tears... we have Georgia being a lion. What’s not to love? 

IMPORTANT: If you want to keep seeing my content, including upcoming one-shots of Man's World that I have planned, please visit your "content you see" section and toggle your "sexual themes" to show. More on that HERE. You can access those settings by clicking this link.

Tag List: Want to join the tag list? Fill out this little form or drop me a comment below! 

Word Count: 6700 

Check out the full intro synopsis + full story master list here!

Abu Dhabi – Wednesday – Georgia POV

“Carlos, have you seen my pass?” I frantically started emptying my suitcase, desperately looking for my paddock pass. Good grief, Georgia, you can’t lose this pass yet again, you’ll never hear the end of it from Lando, I muttered to myself.

“Mi amor, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on,” I heard Carlos laugh from behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind, my paddock pass in his hand.

“Oh, thank god! After I blasted Lando on twitter in Austin for losing his pass and getting caught trying to break into the paddock, I couldn’t lose mine this week!”

“Well, to be fair love, you probably shouldn’t have told the police that he was an intruder…” I laughed at that. Lando and I had been in a prank war for a few years now, and while we’d called a “truce” after Silverstone, we both knew that wasn’t going to last long. As soon as I saw Lando trying to break his way into the paddock with no pass around his neck, it was too good not to tell security that some random fan was trying to break in.

The fact that the American security guards didn’t recognize him was even more hilarious.

Unfortunately for me, Lando returned the favor the following week when he “accidentally” told Charles that Carlos and I were secretly engaged and planning to elope over Christmas. I think if Carlos hadn’t been in a sponsorship meeting, Charles would have actually punched his teammate. But noow it was my turn to get one over on the Brit, and I had a beautiful prank in place.

“So, we’re still on for today, right?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows in anticipation. I had finally talked my boyfriend into helping me prank Lando, and I couldn’t be more excited.

“I feel like this is too mean, mi amor,” Carlos said with a sigh. Over the last several months I had learned just how much of a softie Carlos was, especially for Lando. “I think if we actually broke up, Lando would be the only person on the planet as devastated as me.”

I rolled my eyes at Carlos, grabbing my bag from the sofa as we headed downstairs, meeting Lily in the lobby; we’d agreed to have a quick breakfast with her before we left for the paddock. For whatever reason, Lily had become a staple to Carlos and I’s driving to the paddock. For a while Charles would also join us, but after summer break, Charles went back to driving himself to the paddock.  

Something felt off between Lily and Charles. It felt like they were avoiding each other, and by Austin GP, they were actively making excuses to leave the room when the other walked in, a staunch change from the beginning of the season, when I would watch them subtly flirt with each other.

Once breakfast was finished, I turned to my teammate, a smile on my lips. “Ready to go?” The Valet pulled up my Bugatti and the two of us hopped into the car.  

“Carlos not joining us?”

“Nah, he’s got a different schedule than us,” I mused, taking off away from the hotel. I felt a little bad not telling Lily about Carlos and I’s prank, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the prank a secret from Lando.

“So, tell me, what’s going on with you and Charles?” I could see Lily visibly stiffen up at the mention of my brother’s name, although she kept a stoic look on her face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, nothing really… just felt like the two of you have been avoiding each other.”

“Nope, just busy that’s all. Can’t just drop everything for Charles Leclerc.” It’s as if Lily knew her words had come out harsher than she expected, so she added with a smile, “can only put up with one of the Leclerc twins this season.”

“Fine, keep your secrets, Wilson.” I could see from Lily’s face that she wanted to say something else, but had decided against it, instead opting to scroll through her phone. phone.

“So, the Netflix special went over well! Fans are just loving you and Carlos,” she mused.

“Yeah, I feel like it put the final nail in the coffin of that Daily Mail article. We haven’t had a single bad article about our relationship written in over a month, thank god.” The Netflix special, along with a second Vogue article, had been a lifesaver for Carlos and I. After I admitted I loved him over the radio, there was some renewed suspicions about us. Fortunately the FIA investigation was cleared by Monza and by Singapore, the news was basically dead – everyone having moved on to the F1 silly season.

“Well, after you win the championship this weekend, there won’t be a single bad thing the press can say. They’ll have to accept us with a female World Drivers Champion.”

“Cheers to that,” I replied, holding up my coffee cup and clinking it with hers.

Carlos POV

I felt a little bad pranking Lando, but after he told Charles that Georgia and I were secretly engaged, I had let Georgia talk me into this silly idea of hers. Pretty sure I would have been sporting a black eye for a week if Lewis hadn’t caught wind of their conversation and ran to the Ferrari garage to calm Charles down.

Charles was less than impressed about the prank, although I knew Georgia reveled in the challenge of one-upping Lando. It was one of the many reasons I loved her – she never backed down from a challenge, and Lando had just opened pandora’s box of pranks.

As soon as I walked into the paddock, I saw Lando waiting for me outside of the Ferrari hospitality suite. We had agreed to do a track walk together, get some time to catch up just the two of us.

“Morning, Carlos!” I smiled at Lando, gladly taking the cup of coffee he held out for me, my second one of the morning. Best part about dating Georgia Leclerc? The incredible coffee.

“Morning, Lando. How are things?”

“Oh you know, can’t complain. Quadrant’s podcast is really taking off, it’s taking a lot of my time, but I don’t mind. How are things with you and the misses?” I froze up a bit at his asking, trying to think through all of the coaching Georgia had given me. Her dedication to her craft (of being a prankster) was nothing short of impressive. After this weekend Georgia might F1’s first female World Drivers Champion, but I’m pretty sure Georgia would consider herself the World Champion of Pranks, too – and she might be prouder of that title than the former.

“Yeah… umm, sort of the reason I wanted to ask you to get coffee with me…” I knew that had piqued Lando’s interest; he immediately stopped in his tracks, looking directly into my eyes, concern already laced in his face.

God, Lando, what a good friend.

“Georgia and I… we decided to take some time apart during the winter break.” I knew the words were as fake as Georgia and I’s relationship had started, but damn they hurt me to even say them out loud. I said a silent prayer to the universe, begging her to not let this ever be true.

“WHAT!?” Lando screamed, spilling some of his coffee on his McLaren team polo. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.” Lando’s reaction took everything within me not to laugh; he looked as if he’d make a deal with the devil himself in order to make this statement not true. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean ‘what did I do?’” I was slightly offended that Lando had gone straight for me, assuming that I was the one who fucked up. It was logical, but still hurtful from my best friend.

“Look, mate, I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this so we can fix this.”

“She just needs a little space, it’s been an overwhelming season.” As we came to the close of our track walk, Lando walked me back to the Ferrari garage.

“Never fear, Carlos – I’m going to fix this.” Lando’s voice was full of conviction and I let out a small smile.

“Lando, I told you NOT to get involved. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“Fine, fine…” Lando put his hands up int he air, admitting defeat, which was good because I didn’t need this prank spreading around the paddock; we’d finally gotten out of the dog house with the press; I didn’t need a fake prank circulating around the paddock like wildfire.

Lando POV

As soon as I watched Carlos walk into the Ferrari garage, I immediately texted Lily and Daniel, demanding that they both meet me in my drivers room. I couldn’t believe what Carlos had told me; those two were made for each other, but I knew if anyone would have insight, it would be Danny and Lily.

Me: Lil, Danny – meet me in 15, my drivers room, super urgent

Queen Lily: Lando some of us have actual meetings and strategy to go over…

Me: No time for that, Lil… our friends are in trouble

Queen Lily: Fine, be there in 20

Once Lily and Daniel entered my drivers’ room, I shut the door – motioning for them both to take a seat on my coach.

“Alright, what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room.” Lily and Daniel both gave me a thumbs up and an eye roll – although that I chose to ignore the latter. “Carlos and Georgia are taking a break.”

Silence engulfed my driver’s room as the two other drivers sat there, contemplating my words.

“Lando, that’s a pile pf horse shit,” Lily finally scoffed. “Is this another one of your pranks again, cause I’m not falling for it.”

“No, I’m serious, Carlos told me this morning on our track walk.” Daniel shifted in his seat, eyeing my warily.

“Are you sure you understood right? I mean, Georgia and I literally just went apartment shopping for the two of them in Monaco this weekend.” I started to feel more frustrated as Danny’s face looked entirely unconvinced.

“And I just had breakfast with them this morning…” Lily added.

I just stared at my teammate and friend for a moment, before it dawned on me – those fuckers were trying to prank me. This is why Carlos didn’t want me getting involved; he knew his terrible, poorly thought out prank would be exposed.  

No, I shouldn’t blame Carlos on this one. It had Georgia Sassy Leclerc all over it.

“Those sneaky little bastards!” Lily and Daniel looked taken aback, not having caught on to what I had just realized. “They’re trying to prank me!”

“Well, I’d say you have it coming considering you told Charles that his sister was secretly engaged…” Daniel let out a laugh at that one. It probably wasn’t one of my finer pranks, but Georgia’s horror when she realized her brother was about to go beat up her boyfriend was hilarious – the look on Charles’s face? That was the icing on top.

“I only did that because Georgia almost had me arrested!”

“Well, have you ever forgotten your paddock pass again?” I rolled my eyes at Lily’s snarky comment; I knew she loved that prank a little too much. “Sounds like you learned your lesson.” She stuck her tongue out at me and I flicked her off, not amused with her response. As the season went on, I had begun to realize that Lily was actually the sassy one of the pair, her sarcastic British humor had really blossomed at Bugatti.

“Well, two can play at this game! They don’t know that I know that they’re trying to prank me… and you’re NOT going to tell them.”

“Lando, do not involve me in your little prank wars with Georgia. I am not about to start WWIII in the Bugatti garage,” Lily responded, slowly getting up from the couch. Danny laughed as well and excused himself, insisting that he didn’t want to know what we had planned. Something about undeniability being the best course of action for him.

“What!? No! Come on… Lando and Lily scheming again, we’re so good at it!”

“What can you even do on such short notice?”

“Oh, Lily… I am so glad you asked.”

Georgia POV – Friday Press Conference

After both free practice sessions, the FIA had scheduled an extra press conference for Max and I. Only a few points separated us in the championship, and I knew the FIA loved the drama, although Max and I had agreed to keep the drama on the track only, neither of us giving in to the demand that we brow beat the other out of existence. I might have been sassy to the reporters, but I’d never badmouth another driver at a press conference – ever.

As I sat down in the chair next to Max, he leaned in to me. “I hear congratulations are in order,” Max chuckled.

“Congratulating me for winning the championship already? Interesting approach, Verstappen,” I laughed, although my laughter was short lived when I saw the look of confusion on Max’s face.

“Sorry, Georgia, I get it if you aren’t telling people yet. Lando has such a big mouth, just wanted to say congrats.” Before I could give a follow up comment, the press started the press conference, diving straight into questions about the upcoming race.

******

As soon as the press conference was over, I pulled out my phone, only to see a text from Charles.

Charles: Care to explain why Carlos had a look of panic on his face during the Ferrari strategy meeting today?  

Me: scared he’s going to see my rear bumper the entire race? ;-)  

Charles: I’m serious, Peaches…  

Me: Did he say something to you?

Charles: no, he was just… not himself. I asked what was wrong, thought you might know. He looked pale…

Me: Thanks for letting me know.

After another round in the media pen I was finally released back to the hotel so I could get some sleep in before qualifying tomorrow. When I walked into our shared room, Carlos was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a note on the living room coffee table explaining that he’d be back later and not to wait up for him. There had been some damage to his car after free practice, so I figured he would be at the garage, trying to help with the repairs.  

I waited up for him, but after room service I soon found myself asleep in our bed. When I awake the next morning at 7am, I turned over to see Carlos’ side of the bed empty. I immediately felt some panic setting into me. What if something had happened to him?

As I grabbed my phone, about to text everyone I knew in panic, I saw a text from Coco letting me know that Carlos was safe and had fallen asleep on his couch. I smiled at that – classic Carlos, he was always falling asleep on the couch. Coco informed me that he’d just take Carlos to the track that morning since he had gone to bed so late.

I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to see Carlos before qualifying, and slightly annoyed that he had only texted me good luck. I had the sneaking suspicion that he was avoiding me, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, remembering our “exercise” that had taken place Thursday night. I knew he was stressed about the last race of the season; I’d see him after qualifying.

****

“Alright GG, Q3 is about to begin. You ready to take your final pole of the season.” I chucked at Mel’s radio message. I was more than ready.

I was the first one out into Q3, which was nice because I was able to get an early flying lap in with my new softs. I was able to improve on my Q2 lap time, and as the track evolution began to quicken, I made an improvement on my second lap in Q3.

“Right, GG – this is the last lap for you.” I made my way across the line with just 5 seconds to spare before the end of Q3. “Head down, GG.”

It was as if the universe had decided to offer me a small slice of forgiveness for all of the times it stuck me in an elevator with journalists, sponsors, other drivers. For once, things were on my side.

“FUCK YES!” I heard Mel scream into my ear. “Georgia Pole Leclerc, you did it again! That’s you P1, Max P2. One step closer to the WDC.”

“WAHOOOOOOOO!” I screamed back at Mel. “Let’s bring it home, ladies!”

As soon as I arrived back at the pitlane, I was greeted by my team who had all come out to congratulate me. Lily had gotten P4, a solid position for the team, with Charles in P3 and Carlos in P5. Max immediately ran over and shook my hand, congratulating me on pole position, but promising to destroy me tomorrow, causing me to laugh.

“Guess I better destroy you this season, since I won’t get the chance next season,” he laughed. Before I could respond to his weird comment, I saw Carlos waving me to me over by the Bugatti garage, motioning for me to come over. Once I entered my drivers room, I was immediately brought into a huge hub by my boyfriend.

“Congrats,” he said, picking me up gently and kissing me on the lips. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, mon amour. I was sad I missed you this morning, bed felt empty without you.” Carlos looked a little guilty, and he shifted his weight from side to side for a bit, clearly unsure of what to say. He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his lap on my couch.

“I’m sorry, cariño. I should have been there. I just panicked for a moment, but I’m going to be here for you, for the both of you.” Carlos rested his hand on my lower stomach, his gaze looking up at me with the most loving stare I think I had ever seen from the man. I paused for a moment, at first reveling in the loving look, before processing what he had actually said.

“Um… what!?”

“For you and the baby?”

“What baby? Who the fuck is having a baby?” Carlos was now looking confused, giving me a questioning look.

“Lando sai-.” Before Carlos could finish his sentence, I interrupted him, immediately jumping off his lap and sprinting towards my door, flinging the door open with such ferocity a team photo fell down in the outside hallway,

“I’m going to kill him!” Fortunately, I didn’t have to go too far to find Lando. As I turned the corner, I heard the laughing of Lando in Lily’s drivers room. I burst into the room, not even bothering to knock.

“Lando did you tell people I am pregnant!”

“I don’t know, did you tell Carlos to tell me that you had broken up!” I immediately stopped in my tracks. Of course Lando had found out. “Maybe next time you might want to sure up your lie a little better…” Lily let out a chuckle; I could see from the look on her face that she had spilled the beans to Lando. Knew I should have included her.

“Et tu, brute?” I said to Lily, letting a small grin creep onto my face. Lando had bested me on this one, and I couldn’t even be mad about it. As I turned around to look at Carlos, I saw a smile creep over on his face. So they had all planned this.

“Well, well, well, it might have been a joke that Carlos and I were taking a break… but maybe now it’ll be true!” I had wanted the words to come out fierce and determined – angry – but I couldn’t help but let a laugh escape my lips. I was impressed, and I recognized greatness when I saw it.

Takes one to know one.

“Fine, this makes us even for pranks this weekend, Lando, but you had better watch out next year.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Leclerc!”

I gave Lando and Lily my middle finger and then exited her drivers room, returning back to my own room, still laughing at their prank. It had been a good one, and fortunately they managed not to include my brother, less we have another Singapore incident. As Carlos entered the room after me, he pulled me in closer, capturing my lips in a kiss.

“So, why were you avoiding me on Friday?” I made sure to make my disdain known, hoping Carlos got the hint that I was annoyed about him abandoning me Friday evening.

“Oh, cariño, don’t be upset with me,” Carlos chuckled, giving me another kiss on the lips as he pulled me back into his lap. “What Coco said was true, we were up so late working on the car that I crashed on Friday… I had to stay and help the team rebuild. I didn’t want to wake you, so I stayed with him. I know how focused you get before races, and I meant what I said – I’m not going to jeopardize this win for you.”

I smiled at Carlos’ words, knowing a blush was creeping onto my face. We spent the next ten minutes chatting, before Lizzie came over to my room, letting me know that the post qualifying press conference would begin soon. As I made my way to the door, Carlos grabbed my land one last time, pulling me into him.

“I know that was a prank, cariño, but I just wanted to let you know that someday, I can’t wait until its true.” Carlos’ admission made my heart melt. Had Carlos thought about our future together that deeply?

“Me too, mon amour, me too.”

Georgia Leclerc POV – Race Day

Yesterday, after Lando had admitted that he had ‘let it slip’ that Carlos and I were pregnant to the other drivers, I promptly texted them all to let them know what an ass Lando was. –

no one was surprised. Max, apparently, was also in on the joke, which made his comments make considerably more sense. The majority of them had found it to be hilarious – although Lewis and Seb made it quite known that they were quietly pleased it wasn’t true, the two of them implying that it was too early for Carlos and I to have babies, especially before I “crushed the other drivers out of existence”. Seb definitely had a way with words.

Lewis: Good luck today, Georgie. Whatever happens – I am so proud of you. You deserve this win.

Me: Thanks, Lew. Couldn’t have done it without your support!

Lewis: Nah… this one’s on you, Georgie. All you xx

I smiled at Lewis’ texts. If things went well today, I would be crowned the first female F1 champion. Isabelle had called the entire team into the paddock early, nothing was going to be left to chance. There was more than my WDC on the line, more than the constructor’s championship.

As I piled into the conference room which was now full of the entire Bugatti garage staff, Isabelle stood up on the step stool that had been laid out for her, allowing her to be seen by the entire team.

“Good morning, everyone. I know I have called you all in here early, but I think we can all guess why.”  Isabelle took a moment to pause as everyone chuckled, most of them turning to me. I had never felt awkward with the team before, but standing here now, I suddenly felt the pressure of the spotlight. The looks in their eyes showed the same desire, the same want that I felt. We were in this together – as a team, and yet, I recognized the huge role I had to play in this today. For 58 laps I had to drive better than Monaco, better than Silverstone.

I had to drive like I had a point to prove.

“I just wanted to say, before we all disperse for the season, that it has been an honor to have you all on the Bugatti F1 team. Even if the result isn’t what we want it to be, we have had a hell of a season and regardless of what happens today, I am so incredibly proud of this season. Everyone thought we would be last in the constructor’s championship, and here we are, currently sitting in the top spot. We gave them hell, ladies, and for that – we should be proud.”

As Isabelle finished the speech, I felt a tear drop down my face, causing Lily to turn to me; I gave her my middle finger as she laughed and pointed at me, sticking her tongue out back in return.

The time between the morning meeting and the race start felt like an eternity, but when Mel told me it was time to get into the car, I felt frozen in place. This was it, the last time in 2022 that I was going to get into that car; my moment to show everyone who Georgia Leclerc was.

“You got this, GG,” Mel called into the radio as I settled into the cockpit. “Let’s bring another one home.”

As the formation lap ended, I looked over to Max who was in P2. I couldn’t see his face, but I could picture the determination on it. He wanted the WDC as much as I did, and he wasn’t going to let me have this easy.

“And it’s lights out and away we go!”

As soon as the five lights went, I launched the car into the first corner, making sure to defend from Max who had decided to already be aggressive on his overtaking strategy.

So, its gloves off then is it, Max?

“Careful on tyres, GG.” I knew Mel wanted these to last, but like hell was I going to let Max Verstappen overtake me in the beginning of this race. As the race trudged on to lap 35, I was still leading the pack. Max and I had broken away from the group; he’d managed to stay within 4 seconds behind me, just waiting for me to mess up – waiting for me to do a little spin or cross a curb too early, anything to get within DRS of me.

“Yellow flag, accident close to pit entrance.”

As soon as I saw the symbol on my steering wheel I slowed down to the appropriate speed, letting the safety car guide me for several laps. Max and I had both just pitted, so neither of us wanted to lose track position for a second pit – even if it was a “free stop” as Mel always liked to tell me.

Doesn’t feel free if I have to lose P1, I reminded her.

“Restart will be behind safety car, get ready to push, Max will be right behind you.”

Of course he was. Just my luck to get a safety car. Unfortunately for me, my luck was continuing to get worse. As soon as the notification was lit green, I saw Max Verstappen fly past me, getting much better traction on his tyres as his RedBull car flew by.

“Fuck!” I screamed into the radio; Mel said nothing back to me, clearly assessing the situation from the pit wall.

Lap 42 rolled around, and I was still stuck behind Max. No doubt I would have nightmares about his rear wing for the next several years. I was within DRS for several laps, but each time I made a move, Max was able to defend and elude me, no doubt using his tyres to exhaustion – although I was quickly getting into the same sinking boat.

“Relax on tyres, GG. We think Max’s will give out before yours right now, keep diligent.”

As soon as lap 53 rolled around, I could feel my heart start to quicken, fear seeping into me. I was running out of time to turn this around – and quickly, trying to balance the tyres while not staying to far behind Max.

As soon as I began lap 55, I heard Isabelle come onto the radio.

“GG, fuck the tyres. Go for it.” I’m sorry, did Isabelle just come onto my radio and curse into my ear? I felt stunned at first, but as her words sank into me, I knew she was right. What was the point of nursing these tyres? I wasn’t going to get past Max if I didn’t push harder, so we might as well risk the puncture. I didn’t want to be on the podium in the second step.

I wanted to be on the top one.

Isabelle didn’t have to come back onto the radio to tell me twice. As soon as lap 56 rolled around, I absolutely floored it down the straight, getting within .2 of a second to Max, our cars almost touching because I had launched so hard into the straight. As soon as he second DRS zone rolled around, I knew I would have him.

And have him I did.

As the DRS flap opened, I cruised by Max’s car, quickly getting in front of him. If there was ever a time to defend, I knew it was now.

Lap 57 flew by, and I was still in first.

“Final lap, GG.”

I crossed the line for lap 58, hitting the racing line with such ease I almost didn’t recognize myself. Max had fallen back to 1.2 seconds so I was safe from DRS in the first zone. As I reached the second, I knew Max was within the one second requirement. I lunged my car in front of his, blocking his attach with such ferocity, I barely knew myself. Was it a tad more dangerous than my mother would like to see? Probably.

As I saw the checkered flag in front of me, I did what someone could also describe as ‘sending it’. It was as if in that moment nothing else mattered. Not Max, not the journalists, not even the team’s expectations of me. Everything was gone, blank in my mind. The only thing occupying my brain was the checkered flag in front of me.

As I crossed the finish line, I felt it. My tyre had gotten a puncture, but for the first time in my racing career, it didn’t matter. I had crossed the line.

It was as if time had stopped – as if my brain had stopped working as I tried to utter something into my radio. I heard someone yell into the feed, but the words were fuzzy – confusing, not registering in my brain. Nothing in that moment was registering in my brain.

“Wh…what was th- that?” was all I could utter back into my radio, as I heard distant screaming and cheering through the radio, the sound of the crowd roaring so overpowering that I couldn’t hear Mel’s voice.

But my body knew what was happening; it knew what had just happened. As I heard Mel’s voice back on the radio, I felt a rush of tears run down my face; it felt as though all of the emotions that I had held in for the last year had been released. The sadness, the excitement, the fear, the ferocity that I had bottled up inside me came pouring out.

I was F1’s newest World Drivers Champion.

“CONGRATULATIONS GEORGIEEEE!” I heard Mel scream into the radio.

“Georgia, congrats. You had a hell of a season and this is a well deserved win for both you and the team. Can’t wait to do this again next year, love.” I smiled at Isabelle’s words, the softness of her voice was refreshing and new, foreign to me, but it was nice to hear. I had a sneaking suspicion she might even be smiling.

“Lily did incredible too – we had her pit and grab fastest lap to ensure that Max didn’t get it.”

“I AM SPECHLESS!” I yelled back into my radio. “Thank you to the team. This one is for you ladies… for every last one of you; thank you! Thank you to Lily for being the best teammate I could have dreamed of, an absolute star.”

I pulled into my assigned P1 spot, not even caring that the tyre was basically dead and flat at this point. I didn’t need this car anymore. She had served me well, and she had earned this retirement.

As soon as I parked I hopped out of the car, kneeling in front her, hugging the dead tyre as I felt Max come up to me, patting me on the shoulder. I stood up and faced him, and to my surprise he picked me up and swung me around in what was probably the biggest hug I had ever seen Max give.

“Congrats, Leclerc. A well-deserved win. I’ll get you next year.” Max set me down, and I was immediately grabbed by my brother, who had managed to get P3 in the race. Charles pulled off my helmet and threw it on the ground, grabbing me closer and giving me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, grabbing my head with both his hands as he shook it.

“I am so proud of you, Peaches, so fucking proud.”

I gave my brother a huge hug as he quickly dragged the two of us off to our family who had made it to the fencing, their arms wide open for the two of us. I immediately jumped into their arms as the five of us hugged, not a single one of us wanting to let go.

My mother was the first to let go, clearly hearing the officials who were calling for Charles and I to head to the cooldown room to get weighed. I searched the crowd for Carlos, desperately looking for my boyfriend who was seemingly nowhere to be found, but just as I was about to walk into the cooldown room, I felt an arm link around my waist, pulling me to him. Carlos grabbed my head and pressed our lips together, pulling my body as close to him as he possibly could.

“I’m so proud of you, corazón. So fucking proud of you.” As I broke the kiss, I looked up and smiled at him, letting him pull me once more into another kiss as the FIA official started yelling behind us, much to the amusement of Charles and Max.

I begrudgingly let Carlos go, heading back into the cooldown room where water was waiting for me. It was only a few minutes before we were being pulled onto the podium for the celebration. I watched Charles go out first, spying my mother and brothers as he walked out. Carlos had joined them now, his phone out filming the podium celebration as he cheered us on next to my mother. Max walked out next, waving to the crowd as he took his trophy.

And then it was my turn. The moment I had been waiting for.

I walked out of the room and into the open, looking down into the masses upon masses of people who had gathered in Abu Dhabi to watch us race – to watch me win. I waved at them as I walked onto the top step, taking my trophy from the government official before setting it down so I could take my hat off for the Monaco national anthem.

As soon as the anthem finished, I picked up my bottle of champagne to spray Charles and Max, but it was too late – they had beaten me to it, absolutely drenching me and then Mel, who was the Bugatti podium representative, with their two bottles. As soon as the bubbles died down, I took one more look into the crowd, giving them one last wave before stepping off the podium.

The moment my foot hit the ground, Lily was on me – her arms wrapping around me as she picked me up into a hug, screaming the entire time. “YOU DID IT!” Lily chanted over and over again, the two of us now jumping up and down like school girls; somehow this had become our signature move.

I walked back to the garage, trophy in one hand and bottle of champagne...now in Lily’s hand. Susie Wolff was the first to pull me into a hug, but it was short lived as the rest of the garage crew started to filter over, all of them demanding hugs, everyone wanting to see the trophy. I looked around for Isabelle, my eyes scanning the garage.

Susie clearly saw my confusion because she leaned over and whispered to me, “In the office.” I nodded and made my way to Isabelle’s office, knocking on the door. As soon as I heard the words come in, I opened it slowly, looking around the dimly lit room for Isabelle.

There in the corner of her office was Isabelle, sat on her couch, a glass of what looked like whisky in her hands. There was once a point in my Bugatti career that I thought I would never see Isabelle smile, but that seemed like a farfetched idea as I observed my Team Principal in front of me, tears in her ears.

I walked over to her and set the trophy down on the coffee table, before grabbing a glass and filling it up with the whisky bottle that was set in front of her, joining her on the couch. The two of us sat in silence for several minutes, both of us sipping on our glasses, neither of us saying anything.

“You know when I was a young girl, I loved racing. Loved it dearly. I spent every weekend with my parents in Italy, karting with my brother. But as I got older… the karting got more expensive and there was only enough money for one of us to continue. Even though I was clearly more talented than my brother, my parents chose to continue funding his karting. Apparently, there was no hope I would ever be a professional driver… that just wasn’t something in the cards for a woman, so my brother, who could barely win races, got to continue living my dream as I was forced to return to normal life.” I observed Isabelle as she told the story, setting my glass down on the counter as I poured the both of us another round.

“It was that day I promised myself I was going to start an F1 team; I decided that I was going to win this championship somehow…”

“And now that we have… it almost doesn’t seem real, does it?” I finished for her. I understood what Isabelle was feeling, deep inside my soul, I understood. I had fought so long to be here, fought tooth and nail to stand on that podium and accept the WDC trophy, and now that this day had arrived, it felt almost bittersweet. The illustrious dream wasn’t so illustrious anymore.

Isabelle smiled at me, her tears drying up as she took another sip of whisky. “And now we’ve done it. Today a female-run team did more than just win the WDC, we proved to the world that women should have an equal seat at the table in F1 – from mechanics to leadership to drivers, we’re here to stay.”

“That we are, Isabelle, that we are.”

“Next year is a new year, Georgia. New car, new challenges. You ready to do it all again?”

“How many championships do I need to win to beat Lewis and Michael’s record of having the most titles? They have seven, so I need eight?” I said with a chuckle, earning me a huge grin from Isabelle.

“Hmm… perhaps we should make it nine… just to be safe,” Isabelle countered, that sneaky gleam I had come to know so well gathering in her eye.

“Well… we have one down.”  I raised my glass as I stood up, clinking it with Isabelle’s. “Here’s to another eight championships, Isabelle.”

***********

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[assortedseaglass]

Recollections - A Seamstress and the Sailor Story

Request:  I was thinking very generally and vaguely about either Billy and Ida or Bess and Tom, something about how the romance started? As in... How the soft feelings and affection built up during their teenage years, the pining, the mutual comfort from one another, just spending time together every day being friendly? Just... I want the sweet teenage romance fluff ya know? The deep friendship, the love that they have for one another when we meet them and how it started. @annoying-leftist-donkey

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

Warnings: Language, one teeny smutty thought, very minor spoilers for The Seamstress and The Sailor if you haven’t read that.

Word Count: 3.9K

Southport, 1925

“We blame it on a tough week at work, or too much going on at home, but children know. They’re more connected to the earth than we are,”

Tom turned in his seat when he heard his father mention children. Next to Douglas, Marie Bennett was repacking the picnic basket.

“They can sense changes in the weather and all that,” Douglas waved to the sky beyond the bus’ dirty windows. “S’why they’re agitated today. Spring tides. The moon,”

“Alright, Papus,” Tom’s mother smiled at her husband and, with delicate touch, biffed Tom’s nose with a napkin. “Nosy,” He stuck his tongue out and turned back to face the front. Albie Vaughn, with his scabbed and spindly legs, sat next to him, busying his hands with the hair of the two girls in front of them. Lois Bennett and Cora Vaughn were ten and too old to engage with their younger siblings. That is, until they got to the beach at least. When Albie finished tying the girls’ pigtails to each other, he nudged Tom in the ribs and they laughed. From a seat across the aisle, a pair of dark eyes watched the boys.

“Bess Vaughn, what have I told you?” Etta swatted at her daughter’s legs from the seat behind her and the little girl swung her legs down, eyes still focussed on her brother and his friend.

“What?” Albie said.

“Nothing,” Bess’ voice was quiet, and Tom stared at her. There was something about Bess Vaughn that gave him the creeps. Before he could ruminate on why, the bus juddered to a stop and Fergal Vaughn jumped from his seat.

“Take the baskets down for you mothers, lads,” Fergal said, hoisting little Dot into his arms. Lois and Cora whinged as Douglas struggled to untie their hair, and Bess followed her mother and Marie towards the beach. She’d overheard Douglas, telling Marie all about the weather, and how people became agitated when it changed. He was right, too, about the spring tide. The faintest slash of silver was visible on the horizon, a barely there strip of receding sea at the edge of miles of sand. The boys instantly dumped the picnic baskets by the sand dunes and sprinted after Cora and Lois, their shrieks rising into the grey April sky. Fergal unfolded a chair and perched upon it, Dot babbling away on his knee. Beside him, Marie, Etta and Douglas lay a blanket, and when the women were seated upon the sand, Douglas made his slow way towards the water, shoes off, trousers rolled up, hands in pockets. Bess watched the boys chase her older sister and Lois, and Douglas strolling towards the horizon. She decided to follow him.

After an hour of chasing the others, Tom ran to the edge of the dunes. Cora was it, and too slow to catch either him or Albie, making do to run after Lois. He plucked an apple from the picnic blanket and blew a raspberry at Dot, making her giggle.

“Where’s dad?” Marie answered with a point at the sea. There, silhouetted against the glistening water, were two figures. One tall, stooping every now and again to point at something, the other small, collecting whatever the other passed to them. Apple in hand, Tom sprinted along the flat sand, dodged Cora’s attempt to tag him, and towards his father. Bess saw him coming before Douglas, and stood still to watch him. Her stare caught Tom off guard and he faltered, his run becoming an awkward walk. They watched each other a moment.

“What are you doing, dad?”

Douglas smiled at him then at Bess. He nodded his head at her, some sort of encouragement to speak. When she didn’t, he answered. “I’m teaching Bess about the shells and the creatures that live in them.”

Bess held out her hand to show Tom the shell in her palm. “Dog whelk,” was all she said.

“Right,” God, she’s weird. “Well, um, do you want to come and play it with the rest of us? It’s getting a bit boring with Lois and Cora, they’re rubbish.” And he’s my dad, not yours.

“No,” Bess went back to staring at the collection of shells Douglas had given her.

“Go on,”

“Leave her alone, Tom,” Douglas’ voice was soft, his eyes back to scouring the sand for treasures.

“But she never plays, I’m just trying to be nice!” He stepped forward.

“And you can’t force people to play with you,” Douglas turned a rock over in his hand. Tom huffed and grabbed Bess’ arm.

“Come on,” he dragged her towards their siblings.

“Tom-” Douglas had no time to admonish his son before Bess did it for him, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his arm. “Bess!” Tom howled, tears pricking his eyes as he lunged at the little girl. Douglas pulled his son away just in time, his hand wrapped around his son’s scrawny arm. With he other, he took Bess by the hand and marched them back up the beach. “You two can sit with your mams for the rest of the day.” Both children made to protest but he cut them off. “And if I see anymore of that behaviour, from either of you, you’ll be on the first bus home.” Behind his back, Tom and Bess scowled at each other.

St Thomas’ Secondary, 1929

The bell rang, and Bess’ heart sank. She’d spent the last hour hiding behind the bicycle rack, leant against the wooden fence that separated the secondary school from the primary. She peered through the wooden slats, and saw Dot running to class, hand in hand with her friends. Bess sighed and stood up; if she timed it just right she could wait for the others to go inside and still be on time for history. At least being V in the alphabet meant she was sat at the back of the class, and the others would forget she was there. They never usually bothered her when Cora was around, just gave her funny looks. But Cora was at home in bed with a head cold, sadly refusing Bess’ pleas to “just get up and try.”

She watched as the other children filtered through the wooden double doors, Mrs Keith ringing the bell in her hand that called them to lessons. Queenie Warren’s golden curls bounced in the afternoon sunlight, and a pang of jealousy prodded Bess’ insides. The last to go were Frank Smith and Walter Watson. Bess saw their eyes dart around the playground before disappearing behind Mrs Keith. With everyone inside, this was her chance. She ran across the playground as quickly as her little legs would take her, ready to join the queue filing into classroom six. The skirt of Queenie’s dress was just fluttering through the classroom doorway when Bess tripped, her face hitting the book she was carrying as she landed on the ground.

“Where’ve you been then?” The boy’s voice wasn’t kind, or curious. It was tight, teasing, smug.

“She’s a witch, Frank. Remember? She can make herself disappear.” Walter stood over her, one leg either side of her torso, preventing her from standing.

“Wish she would. Her and her whole Paddy family.”

“Please,” Bess’ voice quavered as she spoke, trying to push down the skirt that had ridden up in her fall.

“Been saving this for you.” Walter said, producing from his satchel a carton of milk from the canteen. “You Micks always reek of dirt and incense, what’s another bad smell?” And he poured the sour liquid over Bess’ copper hair.

She whimpered, mouth tight to avoid the rotten milk as she struggled to wipe it from her eyes. There was a dull thud as something hit the floor beside her, and whatever it was groaned. Looking tentatively sideways, Bess saw Walter Watson on his side, looking up in nervous apprehension. She followed his gaze. Frank was cowering against the wall and next to him was Tom Bennett. He said nothing, only stared down at the boy on the floor.

Bess rarely saw Tom these days, aside from the back of his head in class. He’d taken to skipping lessons, only appearing for sports or undoubtedly the few days after his dad had caught him skiving. Tom had hardened since Marie’s death, the plucky friend of her brother making way for the rebel stood above her. At just twelve, his face was already sharp, his shoulders beginning to fill out as teenagedom approached, and his piercing eyes already bore signs of that most adult emotion; weariness. His grief had not been gentle. Tom was always popular at school, but now he was intimidating.

The four children stared between each other, Tom’s eyes not once leaving Walter’s. When Frank stood forward to offer an explanation, Tom slammed him into the wall with surprising force.

“It’s ok,” Bess wobbled to her feet and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “I’m ok.” Tom watched her a minute, before releasing Frank and glaring down at Walter.

“You so much as look at her, at any of us, I’ll put you in the Infirmary.”

Walter nodded and scrambled from the floor, Frank in his wake. They ducked into classroom six, and Bess and Tom were alone. She watched the floor, embarrassed of her milk-sodden hair and her rescue by Tom.

“I’d better, you know-” she gestured to her face.

“I’ll tell miss where you are,”

“And don’t tell the others, please.” Tom nodded and watched Bess hurry to the girls’ bathroom. He didn’t see her again until 3 o’clock, when she was leant against the school gates. Somehow, she didn’t seem as nervous as normal and Tom smiled, knowing that he might have something to do with it. Her hair was wrapped in the Miss Abbott’s, the librarian’s, scarf, and she gave a small wave to him as he approached.

“How’s your hair?” he asked, noting only the faintest whiff of dairy about her.

“Washed it in the sink, Miss Abbott said I can keep the scarf.” She beamed, though Tom knew the scarf was less of a gift, more a case of not wanted the ruined garment back. He nodded and began his walk home.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Albie?” Bess called, not moving from her sentinel at the gate.

“His got lines with Mr Hughes,” Tom called over his shoulder. Bess tutted and hurried to meet his steps, standing a step away from him than perhaps was natural. They walked together a while, Bess silent and Tom chatting to friends as they departed for their homes. It wasn’t until they rounded into their street that she found her voice.

“Thank you, for earlier.”

“S’fine.” Tom kicked a stone before laughing. “Why didn’t you bite him?”

“Pardon?” Bess stopped outside her front door.

“Walter. Why didn’t you bite him?”

“I-well-”

“You bit me when you got angry,” he smirked.

“I was eight!”

“Would have come in handy back there,”

“I don’t want to bite Walter Watson, I’ll catch something,” she gravely, wrinkling her nose. With a loud laugh, Tom waved and strolled across the street to his own home.

“See you tomorrow, Bess.”

“Yeah, bye.”

St Thomas’ Cemetery, 1933

“-thinks the sun shines out her arse, and I know you’d hate me saying that but it’s true. She can’t do any bloody wrong in his eyes.”

Tom picked up a branch of fallen yew and thwacked the foxglove looming from the ground of the next grave. He’d been coming down to visit his mother a lot recently. Bess told him about it, how when she was sad or angry, she’d come down and talk to Etta. Sometimes she and her sisters brought picnics and blankets, sat by her grave and spent an hour chatting together. He glanced across the graveyard to where Etta lay. The Vaughn’s last offerings of brandy and flowers were gathering crisp leaves. Looking at the small posey of flowers he’d stolen from other people’s gardens, he swiped the branch of yew through the long grass. Compared to the effort the Vaughn’s gave to Etta, his offering was pitiful.

“FUCK!” Again and again he thrashed the foliage, sending pollen and leaves into the evening air. When there was nothing but tombstones left to hit, Tom launched the branch across the cemetery. “FUCK!” The word tore from his throat, causing it to crack. He flung himself on the ground at the foot of his mother’s grave and wept.

Sometimes, he thought his mum and Albie were the only people that understood him, but with Albie still deep in the grief of losing Etta, Tom found he had no one to turn to. The five years anniversary of Marie’s death hit Douglas hard, and his relationship with his son had been fraught ever since. Tom thought it was his father’s timidity, Lois’ seeming perfection, Tom’s inability to commit to any one thing that caused the friction. What he didn’t realise was that each time Douglas looked at his son, he saw his wife. The same passion, same loyalty, same quick temper. Tom cried and cried, brushing angrily at his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away the traitorous tears. If she’d have been here, his mum would have made a joke about Douglas’ humour bypass and rubbed Tom’s back until he was calm. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. The grass rustled at his side and he looked up.

Bess was wading through the overgrown cemetery towards Etta, a long piece of string stretching between she and him. Attached to the string, glinting in the sunlight, she’d dropped a tin can by his knee. When Tom looked back to Bess, she was already sat at Etta’s grave, holding up her own tin can and smiling. He sniffled and held it to his ear. She said nothing, only smiled.

He watched her while she spoke to Etta and tidied her grave, replacing the flowers and dusting off the brandy bottle. She gave the gravestone a gentle kiss and walked back to Tom. He patted goodbye to his mother and met her in the centre of the cemetery, under the ancient yew. As was always her way, she stared at him before speaking, her way of assessing which step to take in conversation. Bess took in his red eyes and furrowed brow, the fidgeting that always happened when he was angry, like he was fizzing with energy.

“Was it a bad one?”

“Not really,” Tom sniffed and she watched as his lips twitched into a pout. She licked her own. “Just dad being dad, you know. Wishes I was the one gone, not mam-”

“Shut up. You know that’s not true.” Bess’ voice was harsh, a new development in her growing confidence, but one that Tom admired. He watched as she wound the string around the tin cans.

“Thanks for that,” he pointed to them.

“S’ok, wanted you to know you’re not alone. We’ve forgotten, me and the others, just because your grief has been longer, it doesn’t make it easier than ours.” Tom never knew what to say when Bess came out with her moments of profundity. She didn’t say much but when she did, God, she knew what you needed to hear. Bess Vaughn had a knack for rendering him speechless. “I got this done for you, too.” From her dress pocket she pulled a key. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.”

Tom snorted. “What will he say if he catches me having a late-night tryst with his most reliable daughter?”

“We do not have ‘trysts’,” Bess began walking from the graveyard and Tom followed. “’Reliable’? God, how boring. Is that all I am?”

“Dependable, then? How about that?”  

“I sound like a piece of furniture,”

“You’ve got the legs for it-” Tom broke off with a laugh as Bess hit his arm. “Violence in the churchyard! Don’t let Father Michael see.”

“Says the one swearing and beating up the plants,”

Longsight Labour Club, 1939

“I heard that Bess is coming back today? She could give me a break on the keys,” Connie shuffled her sheet music and watched as Cora and Dot strung bunting from the light fixtures. Owing to her nights singing at the Labour Club, Lois had secured the small hall for her birthday. A table of cream tea was at its centre, the trestle tables ready to be whipped away for an evening of dancing.

“That she is,” Cora said from atop the ladder as Dot fed her bunting. “Perfect timing for you, Lois.”

“Not just for me,” Lois stood at the bar watching her friends’ handiwork. Little did they know that the comment was not directed at them, but her brother. She winked at him and Tom raised his eyebrows. He and Albie were cleaning glasses behind the bar, laughing occasionally at their sisters as they struggled to reach the rafters.

“She’s had a good time then? At the atelier?” Connie asked them.

“God, yeah,” Dot said, lightly slapped by Cora for her language. “She’s got all these fancy clothes and rich clients. And she gives me her copies of Vogue when she’s done with them.”

Connie looked impressed. “Might have to get her to send me some too.”

“She even makes their patterns now. Promised to sew me a new summer suit.”

“If you pay for the fabric,” Cora cut in.

“Better start saving then, my girl.” Fergal had arrived with some of the older residents of the street. Over the next twenty minutes, people of all walks of life trickled into the hall. Mrs Flaherty and Mrs O’Connell, Mrs Mason and her brood of offspring. Queenie Warren who immediately ran to Albie and Tom. Even Harry Chase and some of his private school chums. Tom and Albie looked at each other pointedly as the group of young men approached the bar.

“If it’s brandy and cigars you’re after, lads, the Con Club’s your best bet. You’d be more welcome there too.” Tom muttered the last sentence under his breath and Albie laughed.

“Tom,” Harry held out a placating hand which Tom shook a little too roughly. From behind them, one of Harry’s friends whistled lowly.

“I might consider voting the other way if the reds attract that kind of woman.” The gaggle of men, Tom included, looked to the door. His mouth ran dry. The light pouring into the hall illuminated perfectly elegant cut of her dress and the sway of her hips. He could see, through the white fabric, the faintest outline of her legs and he swallowed with difficulty.

Each man jolted when a shrill cry rang out through the air. Dot was careening towards her older sister, Cora close behind. Having greeted her siblings, Bess made her way towards Lois, and Tom was absolutely cunt-struck. When she left for her apprenticeship at the atelier, Bess still hid herself from strangers. She kept her eyes averted from others. Now, she moved with graceful purpose and her eyes, though still dark, shone with self-assuredness. She knew the effect she had on the room, and Tom felt his cock twitch at the power she held.

“That’s my sister you’re staring at.”

Tom turned his head slowly towards Albie, his eyes slightly unfocussed. When his friend frowned, Tom smirked.

“Wouldn’t you love me as a brother? Anyway, she could do worse,”

“She could do a lot better and all,” Albie gave him a warning look and turned back to the bar. When Tom looked back across the crowd, momentary terror washed over him. Bess, in all her white-clad and gorgeous glory, was heading towards him. Suddenly he felt underdressed in his shirt and threadbare jacket.

“Hi,” What sort of wet fucking hello was that?

“A glass of white please, barkeep.” Bess smiled at him as she leant against the wooden bar. Behind her, Harry’s friends were agog that she was speaking to him. Confidence bloomed in his chest and Tom stood a little straighter.

“Anything else the lady wishes?” Tom reached overhead for a wine glass, not missing the way Bess’ eyes watched the muscles of his arm.

“You working the bar all night?”

“Depends if my sister lets me off. Perhaps the birthday mood might strike her right.” He poured the wine, still feeling Bess’ eyes on him. If she had become a woman during her time in central Manchester, Tom had become a man. His shoulders were tight in the jacket he wore, its collar open just enough for Bess to see the muscles of his strong neck. She traced it upwards with her eyes. The underside of his jaw was sharp, his pink lips casting a small shadow on his sharp chin. His brow furrowed as he poured her drink, and Bess wanted nothing more than to lean across the bar and kiss the small wrinkle that had formed there.

“I hope so,” she sipped her wine and licked her lips. “We have so much to catch up on.” With a smile and nod to the other young men, Bess strolled towards the table of cream tea, perched next to her siblings and engaged in conversation with the older women, each eager to know about her time at the fashion house. When she looked up to see Tom watching still her, her dark eyes flashed with mischief, and she winked. In his pocket, Tom’s hand thumbed the key to the Vaughn’s house.

“Fuck me,”

Notes: I said I’d wait until Borne & Bound was out there, but my head ran away with me. I’m splitting the request into two so there will be a Billy and Ida follow up.

Each little scene was referenced somewhere in the plot of TSATS, and I enjoyed fleshing them out to show why they were so meaningful to Tom and Bess! Papus, mentioned by Tom’s mum, was a famous mystic. Royal Infirmary was a hospital and asylum in Manchester.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @ewanmitchellcrumbs @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #tom bennett x ofc #the seamstress & the sailor

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 29: Trouble

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, someone tailing Stella

* Word count: 4,314ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: Oh shoooot 👀. Things are getting interesting! And okay, I only lasted two days, but I got the finale chapter done, and I wanted a reward. 😂😂😂 Also a fun fact about this chapter, it was the first chapter I wrote for this story a little over a year ago. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

Ryan and Stella were out riding. There was no work to be done and Ryan wanted to take the opportunity to check in with his little sister. It had been a little while since they had one on one time. Since he’s been her primary guardian for so long, even though she was a full adult now, he still liked to make sure she was okay. He never wanted her to feel like she was alone in dealing with whatever life threw at them.

“So truly Stellee, how are you?” Both of them came to a stop at the top of a hill overlooking the valley back to the ranch.

Stella pursed her lips and sighed quietly to herself while adjusting her glasses. “I’m okay, Ry. There’s just been a lot going on.”

He nods in understanding, looking her over. She was shifting, seemingly uncomfortable in her saddle, which was the farthest thing from true. That woman was more comfortable in a saddle than on her own two legs. Her bay roan mare, Abigail, whom he gifted her at 16 was also fidgety. Kayce and Stella had both worked together to make sure that the horse was as solid as a rock. She was feisty, sure, but solid. She was sure to give away how Stella was feeling though.

“You know I don’t fully believe you, right?”

Stella barked out a laugh, “Oh really now? And why is that?”

“You’ve got a tell, sis. It also doesn’t help that your mare gives you away either.” Ryan smirked.

“I mean, I’m not lying when I say there’s been a lot going on this year. Lee, the bear, Jenkins, Malcolm.” She glared at the horizon at the thought of the platinum haired man. “The stupid shit with Kayce. There is a lot going on at the repro barn over at Olivia’s.”

Ryan smoothly interrupts, “but…,” he drug out.

“But,” Stella huffs, giving him a pointed look, “a couple times on my way here recently, someone has followed me.” She decided to fess up without much of a fight because there was no use trying to get around Ryan when he wanted information. He’s very persistent and she’s the same way. They would have dug themselves into the ground and died before giving in. Being followed was also starting to bother her.

“Excuse me Stella Lee?! You’re just telling me this now?!”

“Well at first I didn’t think too much about it! A lot of people drive back this way. The second time was after that thing with Malcolm.”

“So why didn’t you tell me then?” She could visibly see his blood pressure rising higher and higher.

“I wanted to be 100% sure they were actually tailing me. Third times the charm, right?” She defended weakly.

“Wait, the third time?” His face turned to stone.

“Today.” At this point, if he would have been able to physically implode and survive, he would have. Stella swore she heard an explosion of the sound barrier as he took off back toward the ranch.

“Fuck.” Stella motioned and Abigail kicked it into high gear. She had to beat Ryan before he caused a ruckus and bothered everyone.

Ryan knew he needed to tell Rip or John. Something wasn’t right and he had to beat Stella there. He adored her stubborn and independent nature, but sometimes it was capable of giving him aneurysms.

In the distance Ryan could see John, Rip, and Kayce by the outer fence talking amongst themselves. Lloyd was closer to him and was trying to flag him down.

“Ho, Ryan! Where’s the fire?”

As he rushes by Lloyd, “I need to get to them before Stella does!”

“She ain’t far behind you.” Lloyd said quietly and looked in the direction of the woman in question. She and that mare were closing in on the round pen with an extensive cloud of dust following. Stella’s face was more determined than he had ever witnessed and he worried for Ryan’s safety.

Ryan came to an abrupt stop in front of the three men, out of breath and rushing to get words out, “Someone has been following Stella. Three times on her way here, and god knows how many other times she’s failed to mention to me.”

In a swift motion with the sharpness of a damn good cattle horse, Stella and Abigail swept in and bounced to a solid stop between Ryan and the others.

“Ryan! Don’t bother them with this! It’s probably just me being paranoid.” She rolled her eyes and moved her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. She really wasn’t feeling having any of her bosses involved. Kayce especially.

“No. It’s you being observant of something that’s out of place.” He pointed at her. “You trying to brush it off the way you are? Is gonna get you kidnapped or killed.”

“Or both,” Rip chimed in from behind them making Stella whip her head around. She had forgotten they had an audience.

“Or worse,” Kayce added with a serious look.

She groaned, “Not you too…,” she trailed off as she finally took notice of the look he was giving her and stopped all forms of argument. They hadn’t had a real chance to speak much since his visit with Monica the other night. Only the one time and it didn’t end great. Her shoulders dropped. It was three against one.

“You’re staying here for a little while. Isn’t she Ryan?” The direct eye contact from Kayce pinned Stella to her spot as he made his declaration final and he didn’t break the contact to talk to Ryan either.

“Yes Kayce, I couldn’t agree more.”

“Ryan, you stay here. Stella, come up to the barn with me.” She rolled her eyes, mostly to herself and the situation she had gotten herself into, but kept up behind Kayce and his mustang nonetheless.

As they were breaking down their horses it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Stella was a speedy little thing when it came to break down. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel. She wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. If she finished and got out of the barn before he could catch her? She would be just fine with that.

She hung Abigail’s halter on the outside stall hook as she shut and latched the door. Before she had a chance to turn around, there was a heavy hand that gripped her up and tugged her to the tack room.

In a flurry of noise the door slammed shut behind her and the offending person. Quickly Stella turned around while cocking back her fist. She was fairly certain it was Kayce, but she would rather be safe than sorry, and he deserved a punch from her. So she was fine with it either way.

He grabbed her wrist as she swung her balled fist toward his nose. She visibly relaxed when she realized her assumption was correct. It didn’t ease her irritation, however.

“What the fuck Kayce,” she flicked the brim of his cowboy hat with a huff and pulled her wrist from him. She noticed she was in his personal bubble and tried to back up.

“You’re staying here until we tell you otherwise. Don’t even bother trying to fight me on it. Ryan agrees and will fight you with me, so there’s no use.”

“Kayce, I’m sure it’s just me being paranoid. A lot of people drive back and forth past here every day. It’s a popular road.”

Kayce pulled her back in toward him trying to make a point, “I would like to not have to plead on the six o’clock to get you back or find you murdered.” He leaned closer as if she was about to disappear into thin air.

She adjusted her glasses thinking how she should really get them tightened. It also didn’t help that it was a nervous habit. She looked down in defeat.

“Okay fine. But you’re taking me back to get my clothes for my undetermined stay.” She poked his chest as his body sagged forward. Yes they had been avoiding each other, but she was one of his best friends. Longest friend at least.

“We just want you safe, Stellfire.”

“I know, ya big dumb cowboy,” she smiled and gave him a friendly shove, “now let’s go before they think I’m still being the other woman in the tack room.” She missed the fall of Kayce’s face as she walked away.

Ryan grimaced. He hadn’t meant to cause such a fuss. Other than the ranch and being a livestock agent, his little sister was his everything. They had been through hell and back, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her and he couldn’t get to her quick enough.

“Sir, I’m so sorry to bring this up to you all like this. I just know something isn’t right and I needed someone to know before she could stop me. And I mean you saw her coming —,” John interrupted.

“She looked like the devil herself coming for reckoning. It’s something I’ve seen in you both.” Ryan almost let a look of pride slip through at John’s admission, but he held it together.

“You’re my lead livestock agent for a reason, Ryan.” John tried to hide a small smile, “We can have her stay here. It’s probably safer than her place anyway.”

Rip offered, “I’ll follow behind to keep an eye out with Lloyd. You or Kayce can run her in a different car.”

“Kayce is gonna take me.” The pair sauntered up to the group from behind. Rip could see Ryan’s hesitation at the thought of not being close to his sister.

“Ryan, why don’t you back Lloyd and I up on the way?”

Ryan came out of the bunkhouse and stopped for a minute to look at his sister. She could most certainly be hell on wheels more often than not most days. He liked to think it was all the years of holding her own with the bunkhouse. He knew that it was a trait shared between them as well.

Even though she was rough and tumble, she had a soft and gentle grace about her. Especially when having a heart to heart with someone. Her being stubborn as a mule was giving him grey hairs, but he couldn’t be more proud of the woman he had raised. Of course, with the help of the wranglers. ‘It takes a village,’ he thought to himself.

Stella could feel eyes on her as she threw a couple of empty duffle bags into Kayce’s truck. She glanced around and spotted her brother giving her a look. She tilted her head at him with her eyebrows scrunched together. He shook his head and went about getting things for the ride together.

It almost felt like an out of body experience looking at the men around her. There was an immense feeling of humility that swarmed in through her lungs and filled her chest. These tough as nails cowboys truly cared about her. They cared enough to rally around her and try their damndest to keep her safe. She studied each of them with a loving fondness. She had grown up with these men, and they had always remained a steady constant in her life. For that, she was grateful. She realized that this place, these people, really did feel like home. If she thought about it hard enough, she might get misty eyed.

Finally, forest brown eyes met a matching set as Stella felt the breath in her lungs get caught. Kayce gauged her actions, trying to decipher if she was okay without asking. She shook her head and smiled at him to let him know she was indeed okay. Ryan made his way over to the pair while clearing his throat, feeling like he was interrupting some unspoken conversation.

“You almost ready, Stellee?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but there's a flaw in the plan that I just thought of.”

“What’s that, Stella-belle?” Rip questioned from over by his truck.

She readjusted her glasses and looked around to her brother, almost like she did when she was little and needed reassurance. “Well if they’re planning on following me back, they aren’t going to do it if it’s Kayce’s truck that leaves here.”

Ryan sighed and dropped his head, “As much as I hate to agree with her, she’s right.”

Kayce reached into the back of his truck and grabbed the duffles and on his way past Stella said, “You can out-maneuver them, right?”

“Kayce… I hang out with a bunch of cowboys,” she laughed, “and if I can’t outrun them? Then we’ll get lost in these here hills, baby.” There was a pause between all of them. The men quickly picked up Stella’s hidden meaning.

“Plus, I’ll have one of the best shots on the ranch riding shotgun.” She smirked in Kayce’s direction. She loved to give him a hard time about his itchy trigger finger. He gave her a soft shove as if he was telling her to fuck off, and she giggled and hopped into her car.

Everyone loaded up in their respective vehicles. Stella thought Ryan had hopped into Rip’s truck, but the interior light kicked on and the car moved as Ryan’s weight settled into her backseat. She made eye contact with her brother in the rearview mirror, and silently asked him what he was doing.

He raised his eyebrows at her, “You think I’m not about to be in your car to protect you?” He stopped short for a second realizing one of his bosses was in the front seat, “No offense.” Kayce smirked as Stella put the SUV in drive.

She pulled to the end of the long driveway. She looked in both directions checking for signs of the car from earlier. She didn’t see anything, but there was still a definitive hesitation in her movements. Things were suddenly very real to her.

Kayce says softly, “Hey, it's okay Stellfire. We’ve got you. Just do what you would normally do. We’ll worry about the rest.”

Ryan watched the gentle nature Kayce used with his sister. It was almost similar to the way you would approach a green horse. There was something softer about it though. Ryan couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on. He knew there wasn’t anything going on between them any longer, but he didn’t know if Kayce was kissing his sister’s ass or being genuine. He squinted at Stella in the rearview, but didn’t say anything. She pulled out and to the left, took a deep breath and began her normal trek home. The only thing different was she had four guests in tow this time.

Rip and Lloyd pulled out a few minutes behind everyone else. They wanted to leave enough space in between to be able to box in whoever was following Stella. If they decided to follow her again.

“You know Lloyd, I’ve got a bad feelin’ about this.”

“I was feelin’ the same way. Especially if whoever these people are, are coming after little bit.”

“Because none of us would let her get involved in some shit like this, well this part of it anyhow.”

“Especially Ryan.” They chuckled knowing that he could be kind of a helicopter when it came to his little sister.

“That boy sure has tried his hardest raising her right.”

“And he’s done a damn fine job. That stays here, Lloyd.” The men smiled at each other.

Halfway between the Yellowstone and the outskirts of downtown, a silver four door sedan pulled out behind the white SUV. Ryan and Kayce noticed that Stella’s body language tensed up, but she refused to say anything to them. They felt her accelerate slightly. Ryan glanced out the back, and Kayce was looking through the side mirror. They easily spotted the car, and let each other know they had seen it.

“Don’t speed up Stella. Remember, we’re both here.” Ryan gently reminded her. Her shoulders relaxed as she found her brother’s gaze in the mirror before looking back to the road ahead.

“You’re just driving home. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Kayce added.

Ryan turned around in the back seat to observe the car again. The windows were, of course, tinted so dark that he could barely make out that the car was being driven by a person in general. ‘Why would this shit be easy?’ He rolled his eyes, turning around to pick up his ringing phone. It was Lloyd calling.

“Yeah?”

“We’re a couple miles back, but there’s a silver car that’s tailing you.”

“We’ve got them in sights. They aren’t subtle if that’s them.”

“They probably think she’s oblivious and hasn’t noticed them at all. Rip wants to say something, put it on speaker.”

Ryan engaged the speaker, and they all heard Rip clear his throat. “Stella?”

“Yessir?”

“When you get to your house, I want you and your brother to hop out and go inside. Kayce,” he paused for a few seconds as Kayce presented himself, “You stay outside. Watch every move that these motherfuckers make if they pull in behind you.”

Kayce nodded even though Rip couldn’t see him, “Roger that.” He also heard the unspoken order to shoot to kill if necessary. For Stella, he would change the landscape if he had to.

“Where will you be Rip?” They all clearly heard the nervous tick in her voice. It almost made Ryan grab for her hand like when they were kids. She sounded so small and he hated that.

“We’ll be right outside of view, either following them or making sure they stay off of your property, sweetheart. You go get your stuff. We’ve got the rest.” Rip finished and Lloyd ended the call.

Stella lived just a little ways out in between the ranch and downtown. She had neighbors, but they definitely weren’t close. Ryan grimaced at the thought of his sister being by herself out here.

Stella pulled her car around the driveway and around to the back. She pulled it up to face out toward the road again. Putting it in park, she looked at Kayce. “Alright Kace, I know you’re always carrying, but in case you need extra,” they locked eyes, “it’s holstered in the glove box.” His mouth upturned at the corner proudly, ‘Just like I taught her.’ He quickly nodded as he flipped his baseball cap backwards.

Stella ignored the clenching of her stomach at the attractive maneuver. There was always something about a man in a backwards ball cap that caught her eye. She hopped out and started to walk toward her house as Ryan followed sidling up beside her.

“This is the bad thing about you having a wooded driveway, and all the way out here. Can’t get much of a heads up.”

She smiled at her brother and let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but no one can witness the aftermath.”

Ryan’s face screwed up at the confession, “My god, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Rip.”

Her laughter got stuck in her throat as she reached out to unlock her door. Her whole body tensed.

“Ry…,” she said so quietly Ryan almost missed it. She took a deep breath, “it’s unlocked.”

“Did you leave it like that?”

She breathed out harshly and shook her head. Ryan stepped in front of her.

“Stay behind me and do exactly as I say.” Stella wasn’t about to argue.

Ryan opened the door wide, dropped the duffel bags to his far right, and drew his weapon within 10 seconds. She followed suit and went to the concealed weapon underneath the front table and hoped it was still there.

He heard the snip of her gun safety being switched off behind him. He immediately went to the right and into the den taking a wide gap to the left. Stella made sure to clear the rest of the room and the straight view into her kitchen. They swapped places back and forth in a fatal dance going from room to room. Being taught by her brother not only kept him sharp, but it gave Stella the knowledge to help in this situation.

They finally finished clearing the house. She holstered her weapon back and pulled it from its compartment under the table and hooked it to her belt. With a heavy sigh, she reached down to grab the bags.

“What’s wrong Stellee?” Ryan came up from the small hallway that led to her kitchen.

“Someone was in my house, Ryan. That’s what’s wrong.” She said curtly.

“You’re sure you didn’t just forget to lock the door in your rush to get to the ranch today?”

“Yes Ryan,” he could hear the stress dripping in her voice, “not only was my door unlocked, which I never do mind you, but some stuff was out of place. It definitely wasn’t how I left it. And it feels like someone offensive has been in here.”

“Well let's get you outta here.”

Kayce got out of the SUV once the tight knit siblings made it inside. He had seen Stella tense at the door and had almost ran to the porch. He knew that if she needed the help, she would have made it clear. So he held off.

He looked around the back driveway and yard. The parking spots were messy dirt and gravel. It was a shot in the dark that he would see tracks because they had driven over them, but it was worth a glance.

He stood, huffed and placed a hand on his hip as he surveyed the surroundings. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Except a piece of paper that fluttered because it had gotten stuck against the railing in the nighttime Montana breeze. He didn’t think anything of it and grabbed it. It wasn’t uncommon for trash to blow around every now and again. He almost crumpled it up, but Stella’s name in larger font caught his eye.

“What the,” he whispered. He heard the door close. He quickly folded it up and put it in his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat, “everything alright?”

“For all intents and purposes, yes. It’s okay.” Stella readjusted the duffel bags on her shoulder and her glasses with her forearm as she made her way down the porch steps. Kayce met her at the bottom and took the bags from her and put them in her back seat.

“On the back half of that though, somebody was in my house.”

“What?!” Kayce started toward the house, but Stella’s hand in the middle of his chest stopped him.

She shook her head, “let me clarify, someone had been in there. Ryan and I checked the house. No one was in there at the time. I’m ready to get the fuck outta here though,” she slipped her hand away from his chest and made her way to the driver’s seat, “let’s go home gentlemen.” They met up with Rip and Lloyd at the end of her drive. With a nod from Rip to Stella, they made it back to the ranch without any more incident.

Stella got out of her SUV and leaned on the back door, locking her elbows to keep her upright. She was exhausted. Her head started to pound from all the tension being released from her neck and shoulders.

“You alright, sugar?” Kayce came up and touched her elbow. She jerked a little bit, being pulled back into reality.

“Yeah…,” He reached for her arm again and pulled her into a hug. She melted into him and he heard her sniffle. She was tired of avoiding him. She needed her best friend.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be alright.” He placed his hand on the back of her head allowing her to hide her face in his chest, “you’re safe, sugar.”

She raised her head partially, “I know. The stress is just leaving. I’ll be fine after some sleep and some hard manual labor for a few days.”

It was comfortably quiet between the pair. Kayce still had her in an embrace. He could feel the tension slowly leaving her the longer they stood there. He could also feel that if they stood there any longer, she would most definitely fall asleep standing up.

He patted her on the back, “Your brother is probably wondering why you haven’t made it inside yet. Let’s get you settled in, yeah?” Stella nodded, too tired to speak anymore. Kayce grabbed the bags out of the back seat, and gently directed her to head inside.

When she crossed the threshold to the bunkhouse, there was a slight lull in the usual loud activity before everyone jumped to greet her. She greeted them quietly back and made a beeline to the empty bunk that Kayce used when he first came back since Jamie took the one she usually took. Ryan had a clear view from here. She knew she could let herself relax, even if it was only for a few short hours.

Everyone quieted. They weren’t used to seeing Stella so defeated. Kayce made eyes at Ryan, Rip, and Lloyd and nodded toward the outside. He didn’t want her to hear about the note.

Lloyd started off, “That silver car slowed up at her drive until they spotted us.”

“We followed them into downtown as far as we could, but with the fuckin’ traffic we lost them.” Rip was pissed.

Kayce pulled the note out of his jacket pocket. “I found this on the stairs at Stella’s.” He handed the note off so the others could take a look. “Even though she's not as involved with any of the shit that happens here, somebody sure as hell thinks she is.”

“Someone is trying to find vulnerable spots. This is about to be a shit show.” Ryan said.

Rip directed, “We’ll talk to Mr. Dutton in the morning. Let the girl get some rest for now.” He took a second and looked to the youngest Dutton, “Oh and Kayce?” Rip paused. “Don’t let Stella see that.”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

[reyadawn]

*image not mine*

From Dark to Light

Chapter One

Summary: Reader is in love with the front man of a heavy metal rock band that she's known since childhood but will her feelings be reciprocated or rejected?

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OFC, Sabrina x OFC (platonic - best friends)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, kissing, hair pulling, fingering. If you're offended by any of this or are under age then just keep scrolling ☝️

Word Count: Eh, never count words 🤷

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My ears rang. My heart was pounding relentlessly in my chest as my eyes stayed glued to the 6'3 tall figure on stage. I let my gaze roam over the lean muscle hidden beneath skin that was shrouded with tattoos, minus his face. Short black hair periodically was moved back from his dark eyes by a gloved hand only partially covered. Long, tattooed fingers emerged, gripping the microphone as his hypnotizing voice held me captive at every octave.

"Damnit, Sher, you're going to break my hand!", Sabrina shouted into my ear. I turned my head to her, flashing an apologetic smile and immediately let go of the death grip I had on her fingers. I made a move to step forward but was reminded I didn't have anywhere to go as my sternum met the metal barricade. Sabrina stayed close, wrapping her hand around my waist to keep us from being separated.

"He's so beautiful", I muttered, still transfixed by the singer on stage but realized Sabrina couldn't hear me. Hell, I couldn't even hear myself over the music, flashing lights and screams. I watched as the singer grabbed what looked like a bazooka and unloaded a massive cloud into the audience. Moments later a mass of $1 bills coated the air like confetti but I couldn't care less. All I could do was stare at him.

Sabrina pitched my side as the singer stepped closer, jumping off the stage to walk in front of the barricade and touch the hands of people reaching out to him. I froze as he got closer, my body freezing, my heart hammering in my chest, liquid heat seeping into the thin satin panties I wore beneath my jean skirt. My mind raced back....back to being a teenager playing video games, running around Target at midnight and listening to a younger version of none other than Noah Sebastian belt out his first tune. It was then, at 17 years old, I fell irrevocably in love with him.

I felt a hand on my cheek, the touch snapping me out of my daze as my eyes looked up to meet Noah's. The realization on his face, even with people grabbing his black tank top and pulling at his arms, was clearly visible. Noah turned his attention then to a security guard standing not far from him, directing him over. Noah leaned over and shouted into the man's ear before pointing to Sabrina and I. She and I exchanged a look before the security guard reached over the barricade and lifted her over. I reached for the guard next but instead of his hands, it was Noah's who lifted me up and over the other side. I stood rooted to the spot, staring up at him and then my eyes dropped to his full lips. They were slightly parted and his tongue peeked out to gracefully swipe his bottom lip. I felt a hand tug my arm and pull me back through a side door and into a hallway.

"Girl, you need a damn drink. My God. You're like a bitch in heat", Sabrina said, chuckling as we followed security down the hallway. I scowled at her but remained silent as we walked. It was a series of additional hallways and turns before we were led into a lounge. Pool tables, leather couch with matching loveseat and tables, a large flat screen decorated the space. A table along the back wall was filled with drinks and snacks. Sabrina walked over to the table, tossing me a Snickers bar and a bottle of water.

"Jesus Christ", I mumbled. Sabrina looked over at me before sitting down on the loveseat.

"That's him... isn't it? Noah. From when you were kids. How long has it been, Sher?", Sabrina asked, eyeing me carefully.

"Ten years...", I whispered, my vision blurry with unshed tears that I tried blinking back. Sabrina reached for me, pulling me into a tight embrace. Suddenly the door to the lounge burst open and a series of voices mingled in through the open doorway. Sabrina and I jumped apart and before I could say or do anything, I was literally pulled off my feet.

"Sherra, oh my God!! I can't believe it's you!", Nicholas cried out, spinning me around. I kept my ankles crossed and thighs pressed together to keep my skirt from fanning out and embarrassingly flashing anyone. My severe lack of self-esteem quickly rose to the surface as well as I forced Nicholas to put me down.

"I'm much too heavy, Nicholas. You're going to kill your back", I half laughed. He set me down only to embrace me in a bone crushing hug. Jolly and Nick were next to exchange 'hello's' and hugs. Sabrina smiled from where she sat. I turned from Jolly and crashed face first into a human chest. Arms and hands that I knew too well held my hips in place as I practically crained my neck back to look up into the smooth, almost boy-ish face. Dark eyes behind a set of dark lashes regarded me, trailing over my face and down my body like a lovers hand but the act made me want to cover up. I wasn't thin like I had been the last time the guys saw me. I carried more weight in places I hid well yet Sabrina swears I'm healthy.

"Noah...", I barley whispered. He closed his eyes briefly before turning and walking over to the couch opposite of where Sabrina sat. I walked over to her and sat down, my face burning and eyes welling up with tears but once again I blinked them back. It was hard not to get wrapped up along with Jolly, Nick and Nicholas as I listened to them fill me in on the last decade. However, I kept glancing at Noah when he wasn't looking as he carried on some private conversation with Bryan, their photographer.

I watched Noah's dark and intricate tattoos glitter with sweat as he lounged lazily on the couch, head tipped back as he took a healthy drink of water from the bottle he held. His tattooed covered hand was so large, fingers so long it dwarfed the bottle into almost nothing. Sitting across from him, I had to press my thighs together as my clit throbbed and my pussy ached, liquid heat once again filling the thin panties I wore beneath my jean skirt. I shifted, almost uncomfortably, in my chair, a dark chuckle echoing from Noah. I shot him a look, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned deeper into my best friend Sabrina's side.

"Girl, he wants you so bad. It's written all over him", Sabrina whisper-laughed. I playfully slapped her arm, eliciting a bout of laughter from her.

"Why don't you just advertise to the class that I want to fuck Noah Sebastian into a coma?", I replied harshly. Laughter rang out and I turned to see Bryan shoving Noah playfully as he shot me a knowing look. Nick and Nicholas were trying their best to hide their own smiles behind their cups and refused to meet my eyes. My cheeks burned in humiliation. With as much courage as I could muster, I got up and made my way through the 'EXIT' door and down the reddened hallway. I turned sharply around the corner, into an alcove that would have been missed had a person not been looking for it.

I sighed, leaning against the cool brick wall, and closed my eyes. I ran my fingers through my long dark hair and sighed again as I willed my heart to slow down, my mind to stop racing, my clit to stop throbbing. My thighs pressed tighter together and my mind was filled with memory. The sound of a sensual chuckle had my eyes shoot open, a dark figure looming over me. I almost screamed but a large hand shot out, clamping over my mouth, long fingers wrapping around my head. I knew the length of those fingers, the sheer size of the hand they were attached to. Noah. Removing his hand his full lips descended on my own, his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip to demand entry and I let him. I let his lips slant over mine, deepening the kiss as his tongue caressed my own before he gently pulled away.

"Shhhh, pretty girl. Don't make a sound. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you come, now would we? Those screams are mine and mine alone. For now, just be a good girl for me", Noah whispered in my ear as his hand slid up my thigh and under my skirt, long fingers ghosting over my now saturated panties. He placed his other hand back over my mouth. I felt the fabric of my panties tug once, twice and then a harsher tug had the sodden material ripping from my body. Those expert fingers parted my drenched folds, ghosting over my swollen clit to momentarily pause and then without warning, two shoved so deep inside me they damn near hit my cervix and I screamed into Noah's palm. It was muffled as his hand pressed ever so tightly, trying to staunch my screams. His fingers pumped in and out of my dripping cunt, the wet squelching sound clearly audible as Noah's full lips ran down the column of my throat to nip and suck. I tried to hold my orgasm in. To keep it at bay but my hands suddenly latched onto his biceps for purchase as my body betrayed me, unloading slick down Noah's fingers, his palm and wrist.

"There's a good girl. Such a pretty girl to come all over my fingers and hand like this...I can't wait for this tight pussy to come on my cock", Noah whispered, kissing his way up to my ear and licking the shell...

What the hell just happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@lovealways-j @badnoahmens

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #read at your own risk

[softlymaximoff]

🩸 🌧️ can I request a drabble of WandaNat where Nat came home from a bad mission and Wanda ofc takes her of her baby? 🥺

Send emojis <3

Moya lyubov, your heart must hurt

18+ ONLY! MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

Summary: no matter how many missions Natasha goes on, Wanda is always there to help mend the shatter in her heart.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: injuries/blood/bruises, mental and physical exhaustion, mentions of mission complications, soft, comfort, fluff.

Word Count: 740

The quinjet shook lightly as the team landed onto the small airstrip accompanying the compound grounds. Fury, Natasha, Tony and Clint had all just come back from a month and a half long mission. The last few days were pure hell, each member had seen enough to last them years worth of therapy sessions and it was safe to say no one was going on any other missions soon.

A quiet rumble of thunder snapped Natasha out of her daydream and she winced when a flash of lightning followed not too far behind. She was never one for storms but usually stuck it out for Wanda who was outright terrified of them. Today however, with the frame of mind she was is she wanted nothing more than to fall in a heaped pile of blankets with her girlfriend.

As the jet finally stopped its engines, everyone limped out, the widow being victim of most injuries. Her arms and torso were severely bruised as was her left collarbone, she had a slightly open wound on her lip and her nose was still bleeding. Another round of lightning and thunder made her whimper and rush inside the compound as best as she could, a quiet hiss escaping as she unintentionally put pressure on her ribs while breathing.

“Nat you need to go to med bay, Laura and Wanda would kill me if they knew I’d let you finish the mission without getting checked” Clint raised an eyebrow when he got no response from her. “C’mon I’m taking you” he sighed sympathetically as he ushered her into the first med bay he could find. “No needles” she whispered with such fear he thought he might actually consider taking her off missions for a while.

“Alright no needles but we need to bandage you up and fix you. Im gonna go get Wanda okay? I promise I’ll be really quick” he assures as best he could while Natasha was practically shaking in fear on the table. She barely had the time to spiral into her own thoughts when a flurry of auburn hair ran in. “Oh malysh, you’re shaking moya lyubov come here” Wanda cooed over her injured girlfriend.

“It hurts Wans, my heart. It’s sore” Natasha’s voice was small and afraid, something she never really let loose. “Please fix me, make me forget” the slightly older avenger looked at Wanda with pleading eyes and Wanda teared up at the desperation. “Wha- Tasha no, I’m not using my magic on you. I’m telling Tony this is your last mission until I think you’re good to go again” she held her face gently and wiped Natasha’s lip. “Can you let me help you fix these nasty cuts up detka” Wanda moved around Nat with ease as she patched her girlfriend up.

Another roll of the unforgiving weather rang out and this time Natasha audibly and visibly whimpered closer to her girlfriend. “Oh baby, I’m almost done I’m sorry” Wanda frowned as she cleaned the last of Natasha’s face, now time for the torso. “Can you take your shirt off for me or do you want me to do it?” She asked softly and the redhead just lifted her arms up with a tense breath.

In a swift motion the spy was shirtless and Wanda had to hold back a gasp. She was severely bruised and painted all over with greens, blues and purples. “God babe, you’re a whole different colour” she whispered in shock grabbing her things to soothe the bruises. Tentatively, she began dabbing the cloth to remove all the dirt and grime off the tainted torso. “Wands it hurts” Natasha cowered back when her girlfriend brushed over a particular rib.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry” she murmured as she finished her up quickly. The minute Wanda was done, Natasha fell into her arms, clinging onto her like she’d disappear. “Hey shh c’mon why don’t we get you into some comfy clothes hmm? We can worry about showering tomorrow” Wanda mused over the thought as her girlfriend could only sniffle and cling tighter. “I’ve got you you’re okay. You’re safe” Wanda held back her own tears as she carried Natasha to their room.

One thing for sure was that if they wanted Nat to go on any more missions, they’d have to get through Wanda first. There was no way anybody was gonna mess with a protective Wanda, not even Maria could convince her.

#anon #asks #witchy answers #letterbox 💌 #wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda x natasha

[monkiementor]

Hi hope you don't mind but can you do Nezha X gn! Reader who has trouble sleep at night due to anxiety and overthinking..?

If you can't that's ok! I don't wanna push you.

OFC I WILL !! I'll get to everyone's reqs when I come back to school tmr !!! for now, have this :))

I'm here.

Nezha x gn reader [fluff]

You stared up at your ceiling, deep in thought. You couldn't sleep, not that you expected to; the only reason you were still awake was because of all your thoughts. They came back to haunt you, and you found yourself unable to fall asleep until they were completely cleared from your mind. The way they played on repeat in your head, like a broken record, made it impossible for you to even attempt rest. You sighed as you threw off your sheets, turning around to face your window. The sky was pitch black, with only a few stars visible in the dark expanse. A few crickets chirped outside, providing some light, but it wasn't enough to illuminate much of your room. It would take more than anything else to help you fall asleep. You glanced at your clock, which sat on your nightstand, telling you that you had been tossing and turning for at least thirty minutes. Still no sign of sleep. You groaned as you laid back in bed, lately you've been overthinking about everything, even small things.

Like if Nezha really did love you. He does, right? Or was that just your imagination? No one's ever told you outright, but Nezha always says he loves you, and it never fails to make you blush when he does. But then again, that doesn't mean he truly meant it that way. What if he was just saying what he wanted to say? Your anxiety started to kick in again, thinking about the worst possible scenarios. You began to tear up a bit, knowing deep down that it wouldn't do any good. It wasn't going to change anything. "What am I doing?" you asked yourself, wiping away tears before they could fall. Tears weren't going to stop this, or make things go back to normal. They never did. You then hear the bedroom door open, followed by footsteps making their way towards your bed. You immediately knew who it was by the way the door creaked, the sound was almost silent, but you'd heard it more times than you could count.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Nezha asked softly, his voice sounded exhausted, yet concern laced throughout it. "I can hear your heart beating faster than usual." Your eyes widened, but you didn't respond. How could he tell what was going on with you without you saying a word? It was infuriating, frustrating, and embarrassing. He should just leave you alone. "Please talk to me," Nezha said as he sat on the edge of your bed. "What is troubling you?" He reaches out, placing his hand on your shoulder, and rubbing circles into your skin. Despite the action being gentle, it caused your heart rate to quicken, though you weren't sure why. He seemed so worried about you... "Nezha..." you finally spoke up after a while of silence. "Why do you love me?" The question left your mouth so quickly that you barely registered what you'd said. You looked to Nezha with wide eyes, expecting him to either laugh or say something along those lines. His reaction was much different though. In fact, it was completely opposite of what you were expecting. Nezha let out a long sigh before taking your hands in his own, squeezing tightly. "Because you are a wonderful person, who deserves the world. Because despite your shortcomings, your compassion and generosity are undeniable. Most importantly, you have made my life a lot brighter." He gazed deeply into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of emotions. You were stunned at first, unsure how to react.

This whole situation was surreal; Nezha loved you, but you didn't know that he cared this much. "And why me?" You asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your words. You couldn' t believe you just blurted that out, but you felt better once you were done talking. At least now Nezha knew what was bothering you. Nezha placed an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. "It would be easy to explain, but I think that you already know that part of the answer, don' t you?" His tone of voice was soft, and there was a slight smile on his lips. You nodded your head, feeling better noww that Nezha knew exactly how you felt. Nezha sighed again. "Perhaps I am too blunt and forward sometimes," he mumbled under his breath. Then, he looked directly at you, his gaze piercing through your soul, searching yours for any signs of deception. When he saw none, his expression relaxed into one of pure adoration. "When I met you, I never believed in true love," he confessed. You remained quiet as you listened to him. "But then you opened your heart to me, and showed me that there was a place for me among your kind. That I'm not alone, but instead have someone special by my side. And in return, I fell in love with you, and I don't ever want to go back to being lonely again." Your face grew warm, and your eyes watered slightly. But you didn't cry.

Instead, you moved closer to Nezha, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you," you whispered, trying to hold back a couple tears. It was hard to speak when you felt like your chest might burst open. "You don't know how much this means to me." Nezha kissed the top of your head once more. "Don' worry about it. I'll always care for you," he said quietly. "I promise." You felt tears slip down your cheeks, but thankfully, neither of you said anything. For now, you needed this moment to be private; the last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself any further. So, for now, you allowed the two of you to simply enjoy each other's company in peace.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #gender neutral reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk x reader #monkie kid x reader #x gender neutral reader #lmk nezha #lmk nezha x reader #prince nezha #nezha #gender netural reader #lmk

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 15

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 15: only love could hurt like this

Summary: The Shelby women torment Alfie and secrets are revealed ...

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, a touch of angst

Word count: 3273

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a super quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 14 again!)

Alfie found out Livy was missing, then beat the crap out of Tommy. A few hours later, Polly and Esme show up at his hotel room ...

This chapter picks up right where we left off. 

“Well, go on then,” Alfie demands. “We haven’t got all fucking night. Where is she?”

Polly chuckles darkly, looking far too amused for his liking. She takes a moment to light a cigarette, raising it to her painted lips before replying. “And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over that information?”

Fucking hell.

The room goes deathly silent, save for the ominous tick of the clock, reminiscent of a bomb just waiting to explode.

… much like Alfie's stormy expression.

He’s exhausted, and his patience has officially run out. A volatile mix at the best of times, but with Livy gone, the look on his face is more than a threat. It’s a promise of violence.

But Polly doesn’t notice or, more likely, doesn’t care. Instead of backing down, like any sensible being, she stands with one hand on her hip and the other in the air, smoke dancing from her fingers, chin raised like the Queen of fucking England.

“‘Cause that’s what you said, ain’t it?” He glares at her through narrowed eyes. “You asked if I wanted to find Livy.”

“Exactly,” she smirks. “I asked if you wanted to find her. I didn’t say I would tell you where she is.”

Alfie considers snatching her cigarette and shoving it down her slender throat. Polly’s asking for trouble, pushing his buttons at the worst possible time, and they all know it. It’s almost like she wants to see him lose his temper, or at least expects it.

But he is nothing, if not unpredictable.

Despite the displeasure written across his features, Alfie remains seated. He doesn’t speak, barely even blinks as he raises his fist and cracks his knuckles, slowly and methodically, one by one.

The women watch on, seemingly unfazed, but the longer Alfie sits and stares, face like a predator stalking his prey, the more their facade begins to crumble. They are bold, not stupid, or so it seems. The minutes pass, and Polly takes a hesitant step backwards, Esme following suit, dropping her boots to the floor as they brace for an explosion.

Alfie surprises them all. He should be fucking furious, but his blood cools when he recognises this for what it is: a negotiation. And despite the high stakes, the familiarity of it all is comforting.

This is one game he knows how to play.

“Right, then.” Alfie grins as he leans back and spreads his arms wide. Everything is still fucked, Livy is still fucking missing, but at least he has something to work with. “Let’s talk, love. Why don’t you tell me what you want, yeah?”

“For you to fuck off,” Esme mutters, confidence restored now that the danger has passed.

Polly shoots her a stern look before returning to Alfie. “What makes you think I want anything, Mr Solomons?” she asks, cool and composed behind a cloud of smoke.

Alfie laughs; in another time, another place, he might genuinely enjoy their banter.

“Don’t play coy, sweetie. It’s three in the fucking morning. Now she”—Alfie waves in Esme’s general direction—“she might be here for Livy. But you?” he huffs. “You’ve got too much Shelby in you.”

Polly’s mouth falls open, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Alfie cuts her off with a raised palm.

“I don’t want to hear it, yeah. Normally I’m happy to go along with these little games you fucking gypsies love so fucking much. But tonight, I’m going to need you to get to the point, ya hear?”

Alfie watches as Polly visibly bristles, her lips pressed in a firm line, her spine impossibly straighter. But the Shelby matriarch quickly recovers.

“Of course, Mr Solomons,” she replies, her voice and smile sickly sweet. “You’re obviously a very intelligent man.”

Polly waits for a reaction, but unfortunately for her, Alfie is a very intelligent man. So he ignores the trite tactic and gives her 30 fucking seconds to explain herself. The clock continues to tick, and he resumes cracking his knuckles; it’s a veritable symphony of unspoken aggression.

“Fine,” Polly huffs, rolling her dark eyes when it becomes clear they're doing this on his terms. “I need your help,” she reluctantly admits. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have a son….”

Livy wiggles her toes, delighting in the morning dew against her bare skin. The sun is low on the horizon, but it’s already promising to be a beautiful day. The air is crisp, the birds are singing, and she half expects rainbows to fall from the sky. She breathes deeply and, for a few minutes, finds peace.

Almost.

Because then she remembers what brought her here.

With a groan, Livy flops on the grass, not caring about her state of dress—or her hair, for that matter, her scarlet locks tangled, free from adornments save for a few twigs and burrs. She’s feeling quite sorry for herself as she drapes her arm across her eyes, the weight pressing her into the damp earth. If only it would open and swallow her whole.

“Well, Holy Lord God, it’s Livy Lou, queen of the fairies. What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

Livy smiles at the familiar voice, lips curling despite her melancholy.

“That we should bury our sorrows and rise like the sun,” she recites.

“Rise like the sun,” Aberama repeats as he drops into the grass beside her, stretching his long legs and propping himself on an elbow. “A mighty wise man, your William.”

She hums in agreement, grateful for the company, and together they sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Minutes pass until it blinds—not the light but the unfettered hope that for once feels so fucking foreign—and Livy turns away, tracing the ground, wishing she could take her father’s advice.

But her sorrows refuse to stay buried.

As she inspects the dirt beneath her brightly painted nails, Livy can’t help but wonder if she made the right decision. Which is strange in and of itself; usually, she’s so confident, trusting her gut and following it faithfully, eyes on the horizon, never looking back. It’s her life’s motto and often the only thing keeping her sane.

Except now she’s in love with Alfie—and doesn’t that just change everything?

She wipes her hands on her dress and closes her eyes to avoid Aberama’s curious gaze. Being here with him reminds Livy of those first months after escaping Bernard. It was all new then; the kind faces and open fires that chased away the darkness, smoke and songs accompanying them into the night. As joy and laughter replaced fear and pain, she was, in many ways, reborn.

How fitting that she should find herself here again.

Last night was a turning point, and Livy knows it, although she’s not ready to face the truth. Instead, it would be easier to ignore altogether, to fall into the comfortable rhythm of life on the road and let it consume her as she rides out this chapter.

With enough time and enough whiskey (or perhaps that broody Shelby gin), she might come to see this nightmare as a blessing in disguise. Livy was truthful with Esme; she missed the life, the freedom, even the creaky wheels beneath her bed.

One door closes, another opens—right?

Livy snorts before she can stop herself, drawing another look from Aberama, who she continues to ignore. Her usual optimism has bolted, much like Cyril, who is off in the bushes chasing a rabbit. This is no blessing, of that she’s sure. More like a lesson—the universe punishing her for holding too tightly onto something that was never hers to begin with.

Of course, Livy knew this day would come, but she wasn’t expecting this.

Only love could hurt like this.

His scent still lingers on her skin—warm and slightly spiced, like rum and sweat and home—and despite everything, a part of her wants him back. She misses Alfie dreadfully; those beautiful lips, maddeningly distracting as they trace the valley of her breasts, his whiskers teasing her flesh, leaving his mark behind.

Just like the mark he left on her soul, and he should be hers, even though logic and reason tell her to run and run and run.

And she will because as much as Livy hates to admit it, the truth is she’s terrified.

Not of Bernard McCall or Thomas Shelby, as one would reasonably expect…

No, Livy is afraid of Alfie.

Because if he knew about Bernard and still chose to do business with him, he couldn’t possibly love her back.

And how on earth is she supposed to survive that kind of heartbreak?

Livy shakes her head.

She’s always been impulsive, but she’s never been in love, and sometimes it’s easier to give everything up than to have it all taken from you.

She picks a blade of grass and pretends to be fascinated by the vibrant shade of green when Aberama reaches over and plucks it from her fingers.

“You know…” He pauses, eyeing Livy from beneath his low-slung hat. “I didn’t expect to see you again. At least, not anytime soon.”

Livy blushes at the unspoken question, her thick lashes kissing her cheeks as she averts her eyes. How can she explain when she barely understands herself? Everything is jumbled, and she’s never felt so confused.

“Yes, well, you see …”

She bites her lip and considers how much to share with Aberama. He’s fiercely protective of those he considers family, and Livy’s fortunate to count herself among the few not related by blood. But she doesn’t want to see a bullet with Alfie’s name on it. At least not yet.

“I’m taking precautions,” she finally replies. “Keeping a low profile for a bit.”

“Precautions?” Aberama repeats. He stares for a long minute before wiping his palm on his thigh and extending his hand. “Well, come on then. You know the promise I made to your father.”

Livy nods in relief and accepts his hand as he pulls her to her feet. She’s grateful for the help—and the lack of questions—but it’s still too much. The weight of everything is drowning her, and she needs a distraction, something familiar to ease her troubled mind.

“Aberama, darling, do you still keep that blade inside your boot?”

He flashes a brilliant smile.

“What the fuck does Michael have to do with anything?” sputters Esme, the shock written across her tired face.

Polly ignores her, keeping her chin raised and eyes hard, refusing to wilt beneath Alfie’s probing stare.

“Michael has recently shown an interest in joining the family business,” she continues. “But Thomas has … ambitions that come with unnecessary risk. Risks I cannot allow my son to be exposed to.”

“Right…,” mutters Alfie, stroking his beard as he contemplates her words. It’s just as he suspected: a fucking mess. “And what the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to terminate the deal with Bernard McCall. Ensure Thomas no longer has access to Liverpool.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Does it matter?” she snaps. “Help me, and I’ll help you find Livy.”

His heart clenches at the sound of her name, and in that moment, he’d sign away his fortune, his bakery, anything to get her back.

But then he has a better idea.

“Tell me more about your business in Liverpool,” Alfie demands.

Her eyes flash darkly. “Our business is not your concern.” Polly exchanges a look with Esme, and her face softens. “But I’ll make you a deal, Mr Solomons. Agree to help me, and I’ll tell you more about Bernard McCall. And trust me, there are things you need to know.”

“Trust you,” Alfie repeats, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Right, well that’s just it, Mrs Gray. Trust is a fragile thing.” He strokes his jaw. “And what about your boy? Is he … fragile?”

Polly leaps forward. “Are you threatening—“

Alfie stands, towering over her with his broad frame. “I don’t make threats,” he warns, advancing slowly until she has to crane her neck to face him. “Now, you’re going to tell me about Liverpool, you’re going to tell me about Bernard, and you’re going to help me find Livy. If she’s safe, nothing will happen to your precious son, and in exchange, I will end things in Liverpool.”

She glares at him, and Alfie can only imagine the gypsy curse she’s placing on his black soul. But he’s already damned, so he returns her cold stare. Livy is all that matters now, and he’d deal with the devil—or worse, a Shelby—to get her back.

“Fine,” Polly finally agrees, spitting on her palm and extending it to him. Alfie responds in kind, and she nods, inhaling deeply from her cigarette.

“Thomas is working with a group of Americans who support the Bolsheviks,” she begins, taking a seat. “He’s importing weapons from them under the protection of Shelby Company Limited. But security is tight in London, which is why he needs Liverpool.”

Alfie briefly closes his eyes. “Fucking hell. Meddling with the Russians, that silly boy.”

She snorts. “Exactly. It’s going to blow up in his face, and I don’t want Micheal around when it does.”

“And what about Livy?” he asks sharply. “Don’t fucking tell me she has anything to do with—“

“No, not the Russians,” she reassures him. But something in her tone has him on edge.

“But what?” he demands.

Polly gives him a sad smile. “Alfie.” It's the first time she’s used his given name, and a chill runs down his spine. “I’m assuming you know that Livy had a … difficult past?”

A growl escapes from his chest, a feral sound, raw and violent. “Yeah, I fucking know. And when I find the fucker responsible….”

Alfie trails off at the look on the women’s faces.

No.

Oh, fuck no.

The table goes flying, splintering into pieces, just like his heart.

“Bernard?”

“Yes.” Polly and Esme reply in unison.

He wants to vomit.

Alfie has a strong stomach—after France, not much offends him—but when he thinks about Livy, he nearly drops to his knees.

And he will soon, to beg her forgiveness.

But for now, violence will have to do.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.” He stalks forward, reaching for Polly, unable to stop himself. “Does he have her?” he roars, yanking her to her feet. “Does he fucking have her?”

Polly remains oddly calm. “No,” she assures him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Alfie lets go, visibly relieved. “Right, then where the fuck is she?��

Polly and Esme exchange another look, and he glances around for something else to throw.

“Stop with the fucking faces and tell me where to find Livy before I cut off your—”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” interrupts Polly.

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants—“

“Maybe that’s the problem,” snaps Esme, arms folded defiantly across her chest. “You men are all the same. How do we know you’re not working with Bernard?”

“Esme, shut up,” retorts Polly.

“No, you shut it. Neither of you care about her, it’s all about Michael with you, and fuck knows what he wants—“

“Enough,” roars Alfie, his temper at breaking point. “Fucking, enough. I love her, yeah, and that’s all you need to fucking know. So gather your shit, and let’s go get her.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Polly nods, looking relieved as she collects her bag and makes for the door. But Esme stares at him, eyes dark like the window to her soul.

“I don’t give a fuck what they say about you,” she announces, stalking forward until she’s toe to toe with him. The top of her head barely grazes his chin, but Esme speaks with a confidence that betrays her small frame. “If anything happens to her, it’s you that will be afraid of me. Do you understand? I’ll be watching you, Mr Solomons.”

She takes a few steps backwards. “Always watching,” she repeats before turning on her heel, leaving Alfie no choice but to follow.

Bloody Shelby women.

“Fuck off, no. Categorical.” Alfie pokes the side of the wagon with his cane. “That there, right, is a coffin on wheels. If you want to travel like the living dead, knock yourself out. But you see, for my people, it’s a matter of principle, ain’t it?”

Polly sighs. “Do you want to find Livy or not? We can’t go any further by car, and it’s too far to travel by foot. So unless you want to ride a horse, this is your only option.”

“Ride a fucking horse,” Alfie mutters as he steps forward and nearly loses a shoe in the mud. “This is just fucking perfect, innit? Drag me out in the middle of nowhere, in one of your curious gypo wagons, yeah? Then you put a bullet in my fucking skull, and when my poor Jewish soul is liberated from my body—“

“I can’t fucking do this,” mutters Polly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath and gathers her strength. “Mr Solomons, please, I implore you. Get in the fucking wagon. If there’s any hope of finding Livy, we need to move quickly.”

Alfie nods and, for once, does as he’s told.

The mud and wagon had provided temporary distraction, but now his nausea returns with a vengeance. His head is spinning, his mind frantic, desperate to pinpoint the moment where everything went so horribly wrong. How the fuck did this happen? All his men—a network of spies, a fortune in bribes—and not one goddamn whisper about that bastard McCall.

Because they’re all bad men, but there are just some lines you don’t fucking cross.

Alfie grits his teeth and settles into the vardo (which is surprisingly comfortable, although he’ll never admit it) when the truth hits him squarely in the face.

Thomas fucking Shelby.

It’s the only explanation. Somehow he knew the truth about Bernard and Livy, and purposely kept it from him to protect the Liverpool deal.

Because of the fucking Russians.

Alfie groans and runs a hand down his face, recalling the conversation in Tommy’s office. It’s all coming together now, and it’s not fucking good. Livy is gone, and he’d bet his left nut both Bernard and Thomas are searching for her, making this whole fiasco a race against time.

And here he is—creeping across the countryside in a fucking box.

To make things worse, his fate lies in the hands of not one but two Shelby women and for all he knows, he’s riding headfirst into a trap. But what choice does he have? He’s armed and angry, a dangerous mix, fueled by emotions that are entirely new, fucking raw, and he will find Livy because right now nothing else matters.

Of course, what happens after he finds her is another story.

Fucking hell.

Just 24 hours ago, he was working up the courage to share his feelings. Now he’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cut his fucking balls off.

And that’s if Livy agrees to see him.

Alfie shakes his head and sits taller in his seat. He’s negotiated ‘deal or die’ offers with some of Britain’s most dangerous men, and this is Livy. His Livy. When he finds her, he won’t give her a choice. After all, it was God himself who delivered her to his doorstep.

Some things are meant to be, and once he has her in his arms, he won’t let her go again.

A/N: So ... let me know what you think! I really wanted this chapter to be longer, but honestly, I’ve been sitting on this for months. It got to a point where I think I just needed to publish it, so I could get creatively unstuck! 🙈

Or at least, let’s hope! 

Thanks to everyone still reading this story. I appreciate all of you xx

Tag List: @noz4a2 @confessionbrain​ @omgeternal​ @potter-solomons​​ @quarterpastmidnight​ @woofgocows​ @shaddixlife​ @redhead7799 @cillmequick​@goddessfuck @peakyscillian

#livy x alfie #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #Tom Hardy #tom hardy fan fic

[sirowsky-stories]

Collision

Part 6

Description: Niki learns the story behind Pero and William. Meanwhile, Pero is trying to keep the government from discovering their location, something made increasingly difficult by the ever-tightening noose around the safehouse.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, conspiracy, cursing, angst, mentions of graphic violence, mention of wild animals being kept as pets, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 6800 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Again, lots of conversation here, and most of the chapter is from Niki's point of view. I do wonder if I'll ever be able to write a series with short chapters...

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   He’s been gone for three weeks, and it’s been twelve days since the Chinese private security team had found them, which is why there’s been no communication since then.

   Pero had checked in daily before that, making sure they were all okay and reassuring them that he was making progress on keeping the US government off their trail.    But when Will’s tracking system had come online and he’d seen that their other enemy was way too close for comfort, he’d activated a digital kill-switch, disabling all possibility of contact with the outside world, but also making the house undetectable electronically.

   Unfortunately, that hadn’t been enough to hide them. The team had already narrowed down their search grid enough that they could visibly scout the remaining wilderness, until they’d found the house, masquerading as a clifftop, complete with trees growing on the roof.    And since the tracking system had also been taken offline, the hunted had been unable to see the hunters coming.

   Nikita hadn’t known about the toxic gas, so when the nurse and the man she’d never seen before at that point, had come running into the bedroom and fumbled through a closet by the door, she’d been utterly confused.    But she knows the sound of a hermetic seal locking in place, and she could guess what the loud hissing throughout the rest of the house might’ve been about. Especially when it had been quickly followed by strangled screams and then thumps of bodies hitting the floor.

   Gillian had been distraught for most of the six hours that they’d all been trapped in that room while the house had ventilated itself clear of all toxins, and once the door had opened, it had only gotten worse.    The gas must’ve been something corrosive to biological materials, because the smell of the bodies had been a blend of melted plastic, burnt skin, and the strangely sweet but utterly disgusting smell of decaying human remains.

   Niki had still been too weak to help clean up, but she’d gotten well enough to be able to stand on her own two feet by then, and had seen one of the intruders, the semi-liquefied remains of which had been partly responsible for creating that smell.    The combination of the sight and odor had made her vomit, which had prompted the nurse to order her back to bed. She was, and still is, too vulnerable to be able to afford losing meals.

   But she’d felt bad about not being able to help them drag the barely cohesive bodies to the furnace in the basement, or even to help scrub the blood and half melted remnants of skin and flesh from the floors.    She’s quite sure that Gillian will never fully recover from having had to do that. The poor girl clings to her professional persona to cope, using the fact that Niki still needs her help to go to the bathroom and get dressed, to keep the darkness away from her conscious thoughts. But there’s no escaping them at night, which is why the nurse has barely slept since that day.

   The man, William, doesn’t either, but that seems to be part of his normal routine. He hasn’t spoken much since Pero left, despite Gillian’s attempts to get him to talk about how the two men know each other. And Niki suspects that it’s because he’s ashamed.    His behavior makes her think ex-military, and probably not the kind that sits behind screens. More likely, he’s been on the ground and seen truly horrific things, evident by how measured and controlled his reactions to the almost melted bodies had been.    But Tovar has never been in the military, so that can’t be where they met.

   Without his computers, he seems so lost. Like he has no use or purpose in life unless he’s tapping at keys and looking stuff up. So, he probably doesn’t do much besides those kinds of things these days, and that makes her think he suffers from PTSS. Although, she can’t possibly know how severe his problems might be.

   Today though, twelve days after the intrusion, it isn’t the potentially frail former military man that’s responsible for the latest drama. Instead, it’s Gillian who finally reaches her breaking point.    She has just helped Niki to have a shower and get dressed when she suddenly announces that she can’t stay in this house for another minute, and heads for the front door.    Both of the other houseguests let her leave, despite knowing that she could actually end up getting lost and dying out there on her own. But they know how much she’s been suffering, and that maybe this is what it’ll take to keep her from going insane here.

   While they wait for her to hopefully find her way back, Niki and William stay together in awkward silence, sitting in the amazingly comfortable living room sofas and playing cards to try and pass the time.    But the silence leaves her fighting to stay awake, so after about half an hour, Niki starts trying to get a conversation going.

   “Which branch of the service were you in?” she asks, hoping that the question isn’t intrusive enough to trigger any bad reactions in him.

   He doesn’t seem surprised at her assessment of him as former military, but he also doesn’t look happy about it.

   “Army,” is all he replies, so she doesn’t push the subject.

   His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s clipped enough that she knows to steer clear of any follow-up inquiries on the subject.

   “And now you do research?” she leaps into the present instead, to see if he might be more comfortable talking about that.

   “I have my own company. Kinda like a private investigator, just specialized on digital analysis. Most of the time I do background checks for corporate hires.”

   “Oh, so you make sure that people aren’t hiding things from their resume that might come back to bite the rich company executives in the ass?”

   “Basically,” he agrees.

   “That sounds kinda boring,” she carefully admits, hoping he won’t take offense.

   “Sure,” he shrugs. “But I’ve also been hired by city councils and courts, police departments and fire rescue services, to ensure that the people hired to keep us safe, are actually good people. And it pays the bills and lets me stay in my house.    I’m not good with… the outside world. I stay away from it as much as I can.”

   “Nothing wrong with that. The world isn’t that nice of a place for people with any kind of trauma.”

   He offers no objection to her words, so he apparently agrees. Still, she decides not to carry on with that line of inquiry.    She wants to ask him about Pero, about how their paths could’ve crossed when their lives seem so far removed from one another, but she doesn’t know how to phrase it so that he might feel okay with talking about it, when it’s clearly a subject that bothers him. So, she remains quiet instead.    But then…

   “You wanna know about him, don’t you?” Will asks unexpectedly, after a couple of minutes of silence.

   It’s his turn to deal and he’s gathered up the cards, but he’s just shuffling them slowly between his hands, without any sign that he intends to start up a new game. His head is bowed, watching his own hands, probably too uncomfortable to meet her gaze as she observes him.    Trying to figure out how much she can ask for, how triggering this might be for him, she looks for signs of agitation in his features. But he seems calm. For now.

   “Yes,” she admits, and he squirms, only just enough that she can see it.

   “Even if you won’t like anything you hear?” he posits, clearly ill at ease with the subject, but somehow still willing to endure that if she asks him, which seems odd.

   It’s not like he owes her anything.

   “Yes,” she repeats.

   He takes a deep breath then, before slowly putting the deck of cards on the table and then clasping his hands together, as if trying to prevent them from doing something else.

   “Ten years ago, I had the world at my feet,” he starts, speaking low and sounding unfathomably sad now. “I worked on Wall Street, and I was good. I was rich, powerful among my peers, respected and admired.”

   He pauses and makes a little disgusted sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head almost imperceptibly before he continues.

   “And I had a gorgeous young fiancé. A trophy. Someone I told myself that I loved because of the status it afforded me to have her on my arm. The envy that it sparked in every man I met, but especially in my rivals.    I felt like such a king,” he says, and then scoffs. “I was so stupid.”

   He’s wringing his hands now, rocking himself back and forth where he sits a few times, as if trying to chase away something unsettling from his frame.

   “Tovar found me because of the people that I’d hurt to get to where I was. The lives I’d destroyed.    He’s really fucking brilliant at that. Seeing people’s shadows, no matter how well hidden they might be. It’s like he doesn’t even needs to look for them, he just sees them, as plainly as other people see what you’re wearing or what car you drive. He just knows.”

   She’s aware of that side of Pero too, although he’s never turned that skill on her, so far as she knows. But she’s seen him at work. Watched him a few times when he’s been introduced to new coworkers.    Sometimes he’d looked at them with utter indifference, as though they couldn’t have been less interesting to him, while other times… one glance had been enough to turn his gaze hard and his eyes dark.

   “His thing was that whenever he found someone who was cruel, who disregarded other people and their pains, he would punish them by robbing them of something they cared about. Money or possessions mostly. And he took on anyone. He was relentless.    He created this character, Mr. Hood, who would be the only one that his victims ever interacted with, and never in person, always over the phone.    That was how he protected himself, and that was how I first encountered him,” Will explains, but then falls silent, seemingly lost in memories.

   “He targeted you?” she asks, to encourage him to continue.

   “Yeah. One day I get a phone call from an unregistered number, and the voice on the other end says ‘Hello, Mr. Garin. My name is Mr. Hood, and this is a robbery.’ I made the mistake of laughing at him, assuming that it was a joke, because I was a king. No one could touch me.    He gave me five seconds to let me pretend that I had any sliver of control left over the situation, and then he took over. And once he did, I had already lost. But of course, I refused to realize that, right up until the bitter end.”

   “But if he was just a voice on the phone, how’d you end up meeting him?” she wonders, and he lets out a deep sigh.

   The kind of sigh that’s a lot more than just an exhale. The kind that she can feel in her own chest, even though the weight it carries isn’t hers to shoulder.

   “My arrogance knew no bounds, so when he demanded a hundred thousand dollars to keep quiet about the twenty people which he’d found out that I’d scammed out of their life’s savings in order to further my own career, rather than accept my punishment and move on, I took it as an offensive insult to my character. And I couldn’t possibly let that slide.    That kind of money was pocket-change for me at that time, so you’d think that I would’ve just happily paid and hoped that he kept his word. But no. Out of sheer spite, I had to put him in his place.”

   He closes his eyes for a few beats, and he somehow looks a decade older. As though the pain of his own past is eating away at him so mercilessly that his body can’t keep up.    Clearly, he wasn’t always a good person, but she didn’t know him then, so she can’t judge his past decisions. For now, she feels only sad for him.

   “I knew people,” he continues while slowly opening his eyes, although his hands are restlessly traveling from his thighs to his neck and back again, over and over. “People who could locate most anyone, for a price. The local cartel had a network of spies within the homeless community, keeping an eye on the movements of law enforcement to give them a heads up on raids and such. So, I hired this kid, Billy, to stake out the money drop.    Mr. Hood had instructed me to leave the money at a specific location and then walk away, and told me that if I did that, I’d never hear from him again.”

   “Let me guess; something went horribly wrong?” she infers, but he shakes his head.

   “No. I dropped off the money and left, trusting Billy to check out who would come to collect it. What I hadn’t anticipated, was just how determined Tovar was to keep his identity a secret.”

   “He sent someone else to retrieve it?”

   “I’m afraid it was even more complicated than that,” he tiredly grumbles, clearly uncomfortable speaking about this, but he doesn’t stop. “The guy that Billy saw retrieve the money was actually a runner for the local mob, but the kid obviously didn’t know that. So, he gave me a cell phone pic of this guy and I used my computer skills to track him down.    I was able to catch up to him when he was walking into a rundown old house which I now know was a drop-point for money heading to their launderer. But back then, I just thought it was where this asshole lived, so I came at him like a raging bull.      Obviously, he tried to defend himself and it turned into a fight, ending with me killing this guy with a fucking steak knife.”

   She refrains from commenting on this unexpected development, but she has to bite her own tongue hard, because Will looks absolutely horrified at the memory.

   “It took a while to calm down after that. I’d never killed anyone before, although Tovar would disagree, since one of the people whose money I’d stolen had ended up dying because they couldn’t afford medical treatment. But I’d certainly never deliberately taken a life before that night, and not with my own hands.    Once I got my adrenaline under control, I started looking through the house and found a duffel bag full of money on the bed, so I grabbed that and left. And I was actually kinda proud of myself when I got back to my car. That I’d beaten this asshole, that I hadn’t let him hound me around, that I’d taken back control.    But then… my phone rang. An unknown number.    I answered it, and that same deep voice said: ‘I really wish you hadn’t done that.’ Then he hung up.”

   Impossibly, he seems to turn greyer before her eyes now. His entire body looks like it’s shrinking with each breath, and his skin is losing color. All of which tells her that whatever happened next, this is the part he’s ashamed of. The part he regrets, probably more than anything else in his life.

   “Turns out that the mob has real-time surveillance on these places nowadays, to discourage stealing among their employees, so by the time I was getting back in my car, they’d already identified me. And since they’ve got their enforcers strategically placed all over the areas where they operate, they got to my apartment a full hour before I did,” he has to stop and clear his throat, but his voice is still broken and weak when he speaks again. “Christine… was still warm when I found her on our bed… They’d taken their time with her. To send me a clear message.”

   “Oh, god,” she whispers, feeling her own throat go dry and a lump form in her stomach at the mere thought of what they might’ve done to that poor woman.

   “At first, I blamed Mr. Hood for everything. But I couldn’t prove that he even existed, so naturally no one believed me,” Will picks up the thread after a minute, and it sounds as though he needs to keep talking to not have a total breakdown, so she sits quietly and listens. “Still, in my own head, I wasn’t to blame for any of it.    It wasn’t my fault that I’d been blackmailed, it wasn’t my fault that the money drop had been another layer of deception, and how the hell was I supposed to know he’d set me up to get caught by the fucking mafia… I had an excuse for all of it. Refusing to accept that if I’d just been willing to part with one percent of my wealth, everything would’ve been fine.”

   By the time he stops to breathe, trying to hold the tears back, he does sound calmer, and she wonders if this might be the first time that he’s ever talked about this.    He seems spent, though, and there’s still a lot she doesn’t understand, so she tries to give him a nudge to keep talking.

   “Okay, that all makes some kinda sense, but one thing I don’t get is, if Pero set this up so that the mob would get involved if you tried to investigate, how was he supposed to get his money in the end?”

   “He had a system. To protect himself, the money he extorted from people never actually passed through his own hands. I never managed to figure out that system in its entirety, but I know that he would’ve siphoned his money out of the pot that went to the launderer, somewhere in transit, and probably through someone else’s hands, even then.    He really is a god damned genius. If he hadn’t decided to quit, he could’ve ruled the world,” he explains, and his tone has traces of admiration now.

   “Do you know why he quit?” she asks, wanting to uncover as much as she can about the man that she’s grown to love, even though she knows almost nothing about his life.

   “No. I never asked,” Will replies, deflating her hopes a bit.

   He’s been talking for a while now, but throughout this entire story, the only thing she’s learned about Pero is that he was a career criminal for a while. That he was plagued by the injustices of the world and felt compelled to do something about it.    That’s it.    For a man who’s clearly had a profound influence on William’s life, the veteran seems to know no more about him than Niki does.

   “You still haven’t told me how you came to know the man behind Mr. Hood,” she prompts, still hoping that there might be more to the story.

   “Uh… Well, after Christine, and everything that followed with the legal investigation, my life fell apart. Whether I was able to admit it or not, I was drowning in guilt. So, I enlisted in the army and went to war in Afghanistan, thinking that putting my own life on the line would somehow make up for it. Predictably, however, killing more people did nothing to lighten the crushing weight on my soul.    And when I came back, I was even more fucked up. But by then, I’d at least figured out that I couldn’t run from my demons and that I just had to learn to live with them.    I started my company and got to do some real work, actually help people in a visible and tangible way for a change. It made me a hermit, but I didn’t much care since there was no one in my life that would miss not seeing me.    Then one day, I get a text from an unknown number, asking if I can find someone. And not just anyone. This person wanted me to find one of the FBI’s ten most wanted criminals, which at first thought seemed ridiculous, so I declined and that was that.    But the next day, the phone rings.”

   “Unknown number?” she guesses, and he fixes her with a peculiar look in his eyes.

   “I’ll never forget the chill that went through me when I heard that voice again after four years,” he says, shivering at the memory before shaking his shoulders, as if trying to shed the feeling. “He wanted me to find this criminal and he was willing to pay for it, but I was freaking out just hearing from him again, so I just hung up on him.    And what do you know, the next morning there’s a knock on my door, and there he is. The ghost that destroyed me without even trying. All he said was my name and I had a full-fledged panic attack right there in my own front hall. But the bastard just waited me out. Standing there in the doorway like some fucking vampire waiting for an invitation.    Once I’d calmed down, he crouched beside me and said: ‘If you wanna make up for your past, help me serve some misery to some real assholes.’ Then he got up and left, closing the door behind him.    I had no intention of helping him do anything, he was the last person in the world that I was ever gonna trust. And if I’d simply ignored him, he might’ve left me alone eventually.”

   “But you saw your chance to learn more…” she deduces, and he half-smiles in a nervous sort of way.

   “Yeah. I made the same mistake all over again, thinking I could best him. That if I could work out his real identity, I’d be able to expose him and get some retribution. Which was, of course, exactly what he was expecting me to do.    So, the next day, there was a package waiting for me on my kitchen table. It was an envelope containing every scrap of information that could be found about him, and even with a copy of his birth certificate and driver’s license, it all fit onto one single piece of paper.    He had no credit cards, no social media accounts, he’d never owned a phone or Bluetooth device that could be tracked, never been arrested, never had his prints taken. Nothing but a home address, a few hospital visits, and a barely used bank account to his name.”

   “Hm. That tracks with the man I know today too. And I guess he wouldn’t have deposited any stolen money into a bank account, eventually someone would question where it all came from.”

   “Absolutely, it all made perfect sense with what little I knew about him, but I was still determined to get back at him, now that I’d gotten it into my head that I might have a chance to accomplish it. And it wasn’t like I was gonna take that information at face value, I still checked everything out myself before I believed that it really was all that could be learned about him from afar.    Then, I made my next major mistake, by trying to expose him online, sending out a spam email with his picture and real name, along with a red label warning saying that this man is a dangerous criminal.”

   “Why do I get the feeling that he didn’t take that very well?” she asks, cringing involuntarily at the mental image of the perpetually private Pero finding out about something like that.

   “I learned two hard lessons that day,” Will admits, and the look in his eyes has already told her that she's correct in her assumption. “Firstly, that I wasn’t the only computer expert he had access to, because the email was sucked up into a virtual vortex the moment that it was sent, never reaching a single inbox. Which has to mean that he had anticipated something like that and had digital safeguards put in place in advance, triggered by anything that directly uses his name or picture.”

   “That sounds like something more or less impossible to pull off. Or is that just my ignorance on all computer matters, talking?”

   “It’s not the simplest coding in the world, no. But it’s not impossible.    The second thing I learned, is that when you piss this man off, he doesn’t settle for threats, he makes you feel his anger, even though you can’t see him.    For two full weeks after I’d tried to expose him like that, I got emails, phone calls, and letters, all telling me things like my payments weren’t going through, or my house was up for sale, or my bank had gotten reports about supposed illegal activities that I was engaged in, and was closing my accounts. The police showed up on my front steps three times in those two weeks, and my house was searched from top to bottom twice.    It was constant, relentless stressors and anxiety triggers, culminating in a final call where I was informed that my house had been condemned due to asbestos having been found in the basement, and that it was being scheduled for demolition. And it was all legit.    Then it suddenly just stopped.”

   “His way of telling you that he was still the one in control,” she summarizes, and he nods.

   It does occur to Niki, as she’s listening to all this, that perhaps she should be worried about potentially having a child with a man who clearly knows how to terrorize people. But she isn’t.    Whether because she understands his reasoning, or because she just doesn’t care what those reasons might’ve been, she can’t tell right now. What she does know, is that hearing all this is giving her more comfort than one would expect. Because it’s reassuring her that Pero really might be able to keep her safe from everything that hunts her.

   “Exactly, and that he could crush me without even breaking a sweat,” Will answers, and then continues, apparently hellbent on sharing everything he can about this, no matter how much it tortures him to say it. “He showed up again after that, sat me down in my kitchen and explained to me that if I didn’t wanna help him all I had to do was say no. And that if I kept insisting on trying to hurt him, he was gonna use the power that he’d accumulated over a decade of digging out people’s dirtiest secrets, to make every second of my life one endless panic attack.”

   “A threat which he’d just proven that he absolutely can make good on.”

   “Yeah. So, I stopped fighting him. And that’s where this story takes an unexpected turn. At least, it was entirely unexpected to me.    But when I started working with him, even with how rarely he needed my help with something, that’s when I started to heal. That’s when the guilt stopped being so absolute and began to become manageable. That’s when I started feeling like a worthwhile person again, even if it was just for those little increments of time.”

   He pauses, taking a few deeper breaths, and finally seems to stop shrinking, finding strength in the unexpected positivity that this story apparently ends with.

   “It’s like he knew… Like he sought me out specifically because he knew that it would help me,” he ponders, looking puzzled. “Why, I don’t know. Maybe he feels guilty too, on some level. But I know that he already had good computer people working with or for him before he came to me, and I can’t think of any other reason why he would replace them with me, when they were clearly doing a good enough job.    Honestly, I’m not sure if he even knows this himself. I get the feeling that he’s always frustrated around me, and I know that he always expects nothing but hatred from me. But I don’t hate him anymore. I’m not even sure that I ever did. I just don’t know how to tell him that in a way that he might understand… or believe.”

   He ends on a tone of sadness, which clicks something into place for Niki, regarding who this man is at heart, and what drives him.

   “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? Because you need him to be safe. Because despite everything he’s put you through… you think of him as a brother.”

   She says it softly, and watches his gaze drop to the floor in silent agreement.

   “The only thing that he put me through was the loss of that tiny amount of money. Everything else was my own doing. And do you wanna know the most pathetic part?” he asks before looking up to see her nod once, so he answers. “I still have millions.    Millions of dollars just sitting there, collecting interest, untouched, unused. I could live anywhere I want. I could buy almost anything I might fancy, but at most, I spend a few hundred dollars on new computer parts each year.    Hell, I don’t even have anyone to leave the shit to when I die.”

   “Why not give it away? There’s plenty of people in need all around us,” she suggests, already certain that he’s considered that, but curious to hear why he’s holding on to his fortune.

   “Yeah, I know. But I just…” he cuts himself off, and it sounds like he was about to say something he might regret. But then he seems to change his mind and continues anyway. “I want Tovar to have it, but I know that he’ll never take it.”

   Ah. Of course, that’s what halts him in his tracks. But Niki knows something that William doesn’t, which might come to change both men’s perspectives on this matter.

   “Don’t be so sure,” she cautions with a small smile. “Given that we make it through this crap, he might be about to become a father, and that could very well make him rethink a gift like that.”

   “You’re pregnant?” he asks with raised brows, but they soon fall again when his eyes trace the pattern of visible injuries on her body.

   “I don’t know. I was before the attack and they thought that it was still alive after my surgery, but there’s no telling if it still is,” she explains, and his expression turns sorrowful.

   “I hope it is. What’s happening to you is atrocious. If it costs you your unborn child too…”

   He doesn’t have the words to finish that sentence, and neither does she, so they just sit there in silence for a while, thinking to themselves.    And then there’s a knock on the door, making them both jump. There’s a hidden camera on the left side of it which doesn’t work right now, since all non-essential electronics are still being kept off, but the camera has a clever feature specifically for situations like this.    There’s a peephole directly behind the lens. Ordinarily, the casing behind the lens prevents it from being see-through, but if the kill-switch is activated, that casing slips down and the lens becomes a tiny window.

   Since Niki is still slow to move, Will gets up and reaches the door before she’s even managed to turn in her seat. He beckons for her to slide down a bit, where she’s less visible, while he sneaks up to the peephole.    It sits at chest height, so he has to bend down to look through it, and once he does, his shoulders drop in relief, and he unlocks the door.

   “Welcome back,” he greets as Gillian comes through the opening, hugging herself and shivering slightly, and then he quickly closes it behind her.

   “Thanks,” she quietly responds before making a beeline for the bathroom, where Niki hopes that she’ll be taking a hot shower.

   Given how long they’ve been trapped here together, she hasn’t learned much about the sweet nurse either. Their conversations have mainly revolved around Niki’s recovery, or the problems that they’ve all been facing on a daily basis.    She wonders how long it’ll be like this. How long they’ll have to endure this isolation and perpetual disconnection from the outside world.

   She’s never been one to lament being disconnected. It’s usually been something she’s sought after voluntarily. But now, when she has no choice, the lack of information and ability to assimilate to the rest of humanity, feels strangely similar to a wall being built around her.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   He hasn’t heard from them in twelve days, and it eats away at the back of his mind like sharks on a whale carcass. He knows that the kill-switch has been activated because when he tried to make his daily call to Will, the number was suddenly invalid. Not just offline, but the actual phone number has been scrubbed, so that even if the phone is turned back on, it’s no longer connected to any network and can’t reveal the safehouse’s location.

   There’s only one reason why that switch would’ve been activated, and Pero has to fight himself every second of every day, not to race back there and find out if everyone made it through what he can only assume was the Chinese discovering their location.    Whoever that private radical is, they’ve clearly got pockets deep enough to utilize only the very best technology that money can buy. Most likely, they’ve managed to trace the truck part of the way and then extrapolated, or they got lucky and caught sight of Will, unwittingly guiding them the rest of the way.

   The only thing he knows for sure is that it couldn’t have been his own government that attacked, because he’s got enough eyes and ears among them now to have at least a basic grasp of how their search for Nikita is going.    Mr. Hood has been working hard upon his return to the world, but he knows that the voice on the phone won’t be enough to persuade some of the more seasoned professionals, which is why he’s looking them up in person.

   The Qwerty brothers had been easy enough to find, thanks to Huang’s list, but after a day of observing them, Pero had realized that they weren’t an immediate threat right then. They are clearly on standby, either waiting for new orders or a new job to come their way.    After their failure at the hospital, which they both unfortunately survived, their contract may have been revoked. The professional assassin business is surprisingly competitive, so someone else could’ve already been hired to replace them.

   He hopes not, because that would mean new faces for him to track down. But in any case, he remains close to the brothers while he works on establishing an information network around project Amazon and everyone who’s currently taking an interest in it.    For almost three weeks he’s been watching them, studying their behavior to learn their secrets, so when the time finally comes to confront them, he’s well prepared.

   Going at them one by one will only waste time, so he approaches them when they’re on their way home from their most frequented bar, in the small hours of the morning.    Earlier that evening, he’d seen one of them receive a message and then instantly show it to the other one, which had made both men shift behavior. From casual drinks and playfulness among the local regulars, to suddenly keeping to themselves and quietly boosting each other’s confidence in clear preparation for a mission.

   They might not be going after Niki again, but he can’t take that risk. He has to know either way.    They’re both sure on their feet despite the alcohol, when he steps out in front of them, blocking their way to their car.

   “Good evening, Mr. Bloom and Mr. Bloom,” he greets, nodding to the men as he addresses them each.

   They stop in their tracks at first, but there’s no question that they recognize him from the hospital, and they’re not happy to see him.

   “You,” the Tom Cruise wannabe growls, and then both men come towards him.

   “You can call me Mr. Hood,” Pero calmly answers, not moving an inch as he sees the realization hit them both at the same time.

   There aren’t many people among the rich, famous or corrupt that haven’t heard of him, and among the larger criminal elements in the country he’s almost legendary already.    He takes one measured step closer to them, and the brothers almost reflexively step back.

   “I have a proposition for you,” he continues, standing still now to make sure that they’re paying attention to his words. “Work for me as double agents against your employer, and I won’t tell the lovely Miss Grenoble about the cat.”

   Both men flinch and then quickly glance at each other. They know exactly which cat he’s talking about, they just can’t understand how the hell he knows about it.    If they had any doubts that he might be bluffing about being the real Mr. Hood, it vanishes with the understanding that he knows even their most closely guarded secrets. And that’s all it takes to flip their loyalties.    Most assassins are, at their core, primarily concerned with their own lives first.

   “It was general Hayword who hired us,” the Mark Wahlberg guy says.

   “And what was the message he sent you tonight?” Pero questions, to which the other man picks up his phone and reads the message out loud.

   It’s a set of coordinates only about thirty miles from the safehouse, along with a sternly worded order to search the entire area, even if they have to trudge through marshlands and cross rivers on foot.    This is bad news. It means that the government is closing in on them, probably aided by whoever it is that’s already attacked. And at this point, that means it’s only a matter of time before they’re found and that all he can do is delay the inevitable.

   “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do,” he firmly declares, staring the brothers down with a hard glare. “You’re gonna go to those coordinates and you’re gonna look around. Only one of you is going to remember to bring a phone or other trackable device and it’s gonna end up lost in a puddle of mud or at the bottom of a river within the first hour. And then the two of you are gonna park your asses on a rock somewhere, for at least two days.    Now, I don’t care if that rock is an actual rock, or if it’s a hotel room a hundred miles away, the point is that you’re gonna let the general think that you did search that area and came up with nothing. Understood?”

   “And when we call from a payphone miles away from the search area and Hayword orders us back out there because we’re apparently idiots who don’t know how to close a fucking pocket?” the Wahlberg guy counters, but Pero just throws him a snide smile.

   “He’ll believe that you really are that stupid, because you somehow managed to mess up a simple hospital kill, turning it into a public spectacle, and then completely failed to reacquire your target, forcing the general to do the legwork himself.    He’ll be angry, for sure, but he will buy it. Hook, line and sinker. So, you’re gonna say ‘yes, sir’ and keep pretending to search until I say otherwise.”

   He leaves without waiting for them to confirm their compliance. He knows that they’ll do as they’re told, the threat of Miss Grenoble is much more sinister than it sounds.    She may be the epitome of a crazy cat-lady, except that her cats are of the wild, three to six-hundred pounds range, and she adores them more than her own children. She has and will feed live humans to them if she gets angry.

   But he also leaves because there’s a crawling under his skin now. An urgency. He needs to get back to the house as quickly as possible, to work out a plan with the others for how, when and where they’re gonna go to avoid the efforts of general Hayword.    Unwanted images of blood staining the polished, soft brown of the wooden walls, floods his mind. Walking in to discover bodies, tortured and mutilated… His head has a tremendous capacity for conjuring up dark scenarios and displaying them to him.

   He just hopes that he hasn’t somehow developed clairvoyance in the past three weeks.

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Part 7

Thank you for reading, and remember: I have no taglist anymore. Follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications for updates on my writing :)

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x original female character #pero tovar x ofc #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

[kamisama1kiss]

Thank you so much for responding! Would you be okay with writing a male reader x Marc?

Perhaps male reader could be a punk and sings in a band, and he ofc drags Marc to his shows. (If you don’t know what punk shows are like feel free to message me)

Thank you so so much!

First id like to apologise if its not that well written (😭🙏) and also slow updates, had tests all week and finally had a couple days off to write this request. Also my first time writing a male × character and it was fun trying :D🫶 Enjoyy!

~~~

Words: 430 ish

Marc Anciel { Ecstatic Punk }

"Come on, it's this evening." He said with a smile on his lips, crossed arms. Being the main singer has its perks to say the least. Leaning forwards with a tiny head tilt, having burst Marc's personal bubble.

"Please?" A boyish grin appering. "Really? (Name)." The boy with black ravon hair only raised a brow, tightening the hold of his precius notepad. "Crowds and loud places aren't exactly for... me" shaking his head in disagrement.

"Maybe so, but just one song." He suggested with a thinking face, almost as if a bulb light up above his head. "How about that?" He leaned back, resting a hand on his hip wishing for a positive answer from the rather anxious boy

Rolling his eyes, raising a hand in defence. "One song.. but that's it." Finally giving in to his boyfriend constant begging to joining, even if it wasn't anything in his peticulare taste. But rather would want to please his boyfriend and agreeing.

The boy gleemed with utter joy, patting his boyfriends shoulder with a peck on his cheek. "Great, I look forwards to seeing you in the crowd cheering for me." Saying with pure excitment as he heading off, just missing Marc's soft red cheeks.

~~~

There he stood, microphone in hand, hair a mess. Eyeshadow mushed from having sung song and danced around stage for about Maybe 40 minutes? Lost count a while ago yet no sight of his writer boyfriend. Feeling his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach, motivation following suit along.

Swinging around the cord attached to the microphone, finally seeing a ravon blocked haired boy nudging through the crowd to close to the front. The smile on his face only grew as they're eyes meet, singing with his focus only on the one he truly wished to see.

Emerald green eyes that shine with admiration and adorning of seeing his partner, frozen as a statue as he mentally filmed this moment. Wondering why he hadn't agreed to earlier on, having forgotten everyone else.

Pushing through with a raspy voice, occasunally growling alongside small voice cracking but it only added to the touch, if he was honest.

"Come everyone, bring up the volume!" He shouted into the microphone pointing to the audience, falling to his knees and leaning back with a roar of a singing voice. Sweat trickeling down his neck and forehead.

Pushing up to make eye contact with Marc, sending a wink his direction as his smiled stayed visible the whole time. Being in his own teratori fully. Only leaving him with a bashfull expression, both hearts punding to the speed of the melody unknowingly in sync. Both beating for the other.

#miraculous ladybug x reader #miraculous x reader #marc x reader #Marc Anciel x male reader #x male reader #marc #Anciel #miraculous oneshot

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Broken Hearts

Word Count: 2382

Characters inclueded: Kendra Caelus (OFC), Daemon Targaryen, Caraxes, Yngve Caelus (OMC; Kendra's father), Otto Hightower,  Rhaenyra Targaryen, Viserys I Targaryen

Ship: Daemon Targaryan x OFC

Summary Daemon returns from traveling to Essos on his brother’s behalf when he he is greeted with news he does not know how to handle

Warnings: OFC (including her own house I will elaborate more on. For now know that they are called Caelus, their house motto is ‘forged in blood we find glory’ and they have an impeccable track record of only sons, her being the first daughter that was born in generations), non canon (not even sure if it’s canon compliant. I am just here to take characters I obsess over for a fun ride), non beta read and written by a non native speaker (proceed with caution), major angst, discussion of death and loss If I missed something please tell me and I am going to add it to the list

Never before had Daemon been more thrilled to return to King‘s Landing and the Red Keep. When the city became visible on the horizon his heart was yearning to land there, to feel solid ground under his feet, to finally do what he had wanted to for weeks now.  It was almost surreal that when Caraxes put his feet on the ground, he wasn’t overcome by the claustrophobic feeling of a wild beast locked in a cage that had been his familiar companion for years now. And all because of her.  The mere thought of her made his heart beat faster in his chest, the steps up the stairs seeming so very easy. He probably should go to his chambers first, make himself presentable after the day on his dragon’s back, but right now he couldn’t care less about the opinions of others. He was a man on a mission and come the seven hells or high water, he would do what he set out to.  He knew that at this time of day she would most likely be in the gardens, keeping his niece company so his feet carried him there, a little treasure hiding in his fist, a small smile on his lips as he imagined the look on her face when he would hand it to her.  That was until a guard dared to step in his way, Daemon‘s free hand almost automatically reaching for his sword. He knew that the man belonged to Hightower and he had not the time nor patience to be bothered by this intriguer.  „Ser Daemon…“, the boy started, immediately silenced by the fury in the rouge prince’s eyes. “The king…”, the boy attempted once more after finding his courage again,” He needs you in the small council” Daemon didn’t want to follow the man. He had more important things to do, but he also knew that Hightower was not to be trusted.  “It is really urgent”, the boy added in a last desperate attempt to conceive the rouge dragon to come with him, he himself not sure what was actually going on.  “Fine. But it better be quick”, he growled back, letting the present he had held in his hand slide into his pocket, promising himself no matter how long it would take, he’d make sure to find her today, and if he had to barge into her quarters in the middle of the night, so be it. 

The air in the small council was thick when he entered, telling Daemon that something was terribly wrong. His eyes wandered around as he walked over to the table to sit down on a chair, spotting his brother at the head of the table, seated to his right was Hightower and to his left, Lord Yngve Caelus, the master of arms. The sea snake was standing in a corner and Mellos had chosen a place by the window, all of them looking like they hadn't left the council room in a while.  His eyes fell on the Hand, hostility clearly visible in his eyes. What cabal had he planned this time? “We are here because of troubling news that reaches us today”, Hightower started, his icy gaze moving from Daemon to Caelus, sympathy sneaking in there that made Daemon more uneasy than before.  “My son wrote me that he received a message from Kendra, that she would follow his request and do her best to come back home soon", Lord Yngve started, Daemon's head snapping over to look at the master of arms the second he mentioned her name. "Only that he never wrote to her", it was clearly visible how hard the man with the ruby hair was fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. It took a short moment for the words to truly sink in before Daemon shot up from his chair, showing more of his true colours than he would want to in front of a man like Ser Otto Hightower, but the fear that was eating away at his heart was overbearing. "It was a fortnight ago when Lady Kendra came to me and she seemed deeply unsettled. Whatever was written in the letter she received, she was convinced that she had to leave right away", Hightower took over and Daemon couldn't help but feel like the other man was revelling in the pain he saw him in.  "She asked for my permission to use the messenger posts to get new horses on her way to travel faster", he added, looking over at Daemon, almost taunting him with the fact that she had come to him for help, only fuelling the wrath that was cursing through his veins before he paused. "Does that mean she left on her own?", he asked the Hand, voice dangerously quiet for the state he was in, hands now on the table as he leaned forward. "I offered her an escort but she refused, insisting that they'd only slow her down" Daemon's eyes burned into Hightowers. "Even with the most generous of estimations, she should have arrived three days ago", Velaryon threw in from the side, reminding Daemon that it was not just him and Hightower in the room. The implications of the sentence sent a pang straight to his heart. It meant that she was missing... and that maybe for a whole fortnight without him even knowing. "We need to look for her...", he said quietly, his head desperately trying to ban the images that forced their way into his mind. "What a great idea Ser Daemon. We thought about just sitting here and waiting for something to happen", the biting voice of Hightower taunted him making Daemon clench his fist, knuckles turning white. "Enough" It was the first time the king spoke since his brother entered the room. Even with all of their differences, he saw how much pain Daemon was in. A pain his brother was not deserving of, no matter what he had done. "Knights are trying to track down her path, and we have dragons in the sky that are searching for her. I know that you have just returned from Essos, but...", his brother stopped when the door was thrown open and Rhaenyra barged in, still struggling to catch a breath. She must have run up the stairs from the dragon pit, eyes red and puffy from the tears she had shed on her way home when a red shimmer caught Daemon's eye.  It came from the thing that his niece held in her hand, fingers clutching it as if her life depended on it. "Kendra...", her voice was wavering as she stepped forward, every muscle in her body burning from the day she had spent in Syrax's saddle, her eyes wearily wandering to her uncle as she placed the red thing on the table.  Daemon's eyes widened when he realized that it was one of Caraxes' scales. “I found it near an abandoned camp on her route”, Rhaenyra’s voice was wavering as tears started streaming down her cheeks once more and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to hold herself together. Daemon reached out his hand to the scale, needing to make sure that this was not a gruesome trick his mind played him. But it was the oh-so-familiar feeling of the smooth surface, the colour as red as blood... "What?", Lord Yngve asked, confused by the thing on the table and she looked over to her uncle, begging him to explain, but before he could, his brother cut him off. "You gave her a dragon scale?", Viserys asked in disbelief at his brother's insolence. "No", Daemon's finger's closed around the edges until it broke the skin of his palm and drew blood. "Then how did she...?" "Caraxes...", Daemon's purple eyes met his brother's, "He gave it to her" A heavy silence filled the room until the master of arms raised his voice once. “Where did you find it?" Rhaenyra felt her heart clenching at the image that once again rose in her inner mind.  The abandoned camp with the slain horse, the trail deeper into the woods, the ashes on the ground... "A stake...", her voice was shaking and barely audible in the room. "A what?" "A stake. I found it in the ashes of a stake next to...", the girl once again started sobbing, the tears breaking her voice and making it impossible to continue. The silence in the room was heavy, and everyone began to realize what the princess' words truly meant. The tears started streaming down the face of Lord Yngve. All he had ever done was try to protect his daughter, to keep her away from the snake pit that was king’s landing, fighting off proposal after proposal to make sure that she would get a chance to marry for love and not for power and now in her darkest hour, he had failed her. “My little storm flower… is gone?”

The he was able to Daemon hurried out of the room, the scale of his dragon still in his hand, the cutting pain somewhat grounding while his wrath threatened to take over his body and soul. He needed to head to his chambers, the prying eyes of the court being unbearable to him right now. When she had bid him goodbye that day a fortnight ago, he had told her he'd be back before she'd know it and she was her kind and sweet self wishing him good travels. She even gave him her dagger. 'It shall serve you as it served me, my prince' The dagger of Valyrian steel, once given to her family for their loyalty, was now hanging heavily on his belt and the moment he made it into his chambers, the tears started streaming down his face. It was a knock on his door that forced him to put his facade back into place, no matter how much his heart was aching. "What?", he asked brashly, not in the mood for anyone's company, not even for his niece's when she entered the room cautiously, a large dog right by her side.  "Uncle I wanted to...", she began, stopping herself as she laid eyes on his face, the tears still visible on his cheeks.  In all those years Rhaenyra had never seen her uncle cry, not even when he was badly injured and it broke her heart to see him like this, knowing how much pain he must be in. "What are you doing with Argos?", he cut her off, his voice sounding harsh in a way she had never heard before. "Kendra... she asked me to look after him until she returned. The letter she received. She said it was her brother to her that his wife was sick and he needed help to run the keep in their father's absence. First, she thought about a chance to fly there but she was not sure when you'd return and it seemed so urgent, so she decided to ride and she thought Argos wouldn't be able to keep up with her", she started rambling, attempting to compensate her nerves with words aplenty. A heavy silence filled the air and all Rhaenyra wanted to do was walk over to him and wrap her arms around him in the hopes that they would find comfort while sharing their pain and mourning when Daemon's ice-cold voice cut through the silence. "Then why didn't you take her?" "What?" "Why didn't you take her on Syrax?” Rhaenyra’s eyes grew wide when she understood the meaning behind his words.  “You know that she is not ready…”, she started only cut off by his cold stare.  “All you’d need to do was a few more breaks and she wouldn’t have been out there all alone left at the mercy of…”, Daemon stopped himself as the image started to appear once again in front of his inner eye. The way they ambushed her at night, how they beat and bruised her before they tied her to the stake and not a single soul near her to come to her aid. A pain he had never felt before rushed through his body, taking a hold of his heart and making him feel like it stopped beating altogether. If he were not as consumed by his aching heart he would have seen how unfair he was and would see how he was not the only one to mourn someone he loved. Had she at first thought she would find someone to share her suffering with and a shoulder to lean onto, she felt how tears started to stream down her cheeks once more even though she had thought it impossible to cry anymore. "And what about you? If you had been here you could have kept your promise and kept her safe", she was fighting so hard to not let her voice break, her fingers tangling in the long fur of Argos, who had moved from his spot beside her to the front as if to shield her, just the way his mistress had told him to. "Get out of my sight!", Daemon's voice was wavering as he clenched his fist, trying everything to hold himself back and not unleash his wrath onto his niece. "What?" "I said get out of my bloody sight!", his voice was barely human now, more resembling his own dragon's roar, scaring his niece enough to turn around on her heels and flee his chambers, pulling the large hound with her. In his heart, he knew she was right and once she slammed the door shut behind her, his hand reached into his pocket where his fingers found the cause of his delay.  For days he had been searching for something particular, something special that was worthy of a queen. If he hadn't wasted so much time he would have been back sooner, he would have followed her, maybe could have saved her... His fist tightened around the Valyrian steel before he threw it across the room. 

That night a roar, more beastly than human was heard throughout the corridors of the Red Keep, its pain only matched by the roar that came from the pit.  Daemon and Caraxes. Two dragons mourning the loss of their heart.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x ofc #daemon targaryen x oc #hotdfic #my own writing

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Forty-Seven

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Thranduíl, Dwalin, Glynne, Tauriel, Rainisa, Keenor

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.3k

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

In many ways, Mirkwood reminded Jasna of Erebor, although she would never say as much to Thorin, knowing exactly how he’d take that. But to her, there were a few similarities. Where their chambers were, it was cool and damp, like Erebor. The thick canopy of leaves and vines and branches made seeing daylight impossible, just as it was in Erebor. 

And everyone in Mirkwood seemed to stare at her. Just as they did when she first arrived in Erebor. 

Jasna didn't notice it at first. Their first morning, she offered up a warm smile at every curious look, but by the end of that day, it seemed the stares just wouldn’t end. And she hated every moment of it.

Being around the wood elves was like being surrounded by the most perfect women in Middle Earth. Even the men were stunningly beautiful. Every where Jasna looked, she saw tall, lithe bodies and striking faces and she never felt shorter or dumpier than she did in Mirkwood. 

She kept those thoughts to herself, though, as she and Thorin strolled through the forest after supper on their second night. Thranduíl played tour guide and perhaps it was only her imagination, but he didn't seem to put out by it as he pointed out this enchanted river or that statue covered in lichen and barely visible. 

They’d been wandering for nearly an hour when a tall, slender he-elf with shimmering straight blond hair seemingly dropped from the trees. “Father, there you are.” His blue eyes slid in their direction. “I beg your pardon, Thorin, Queen Jasna, but I’ve an urgent matter that will not wait.”

Thranduíl sighed softly, turning to his son. “What is it, Legolas?”

“An orc pack has been spied off the Northeast Road.”

Jasna felt Thorin’s arm stiffen beneath hers as he said, “Orcs?”

Legolas nodded. “Gundabad orcs, no less.”

Jasna looked from Legolas, to Thranduíl, and then to Thorin, who looked visible pale at the news. “Gundabad?”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Azog’s kin, no doubt.”

Her stomach curdled and without thinking, she tightened her fingers on his arm. “Perhaps we should—”

“My lord,” a tall, slender she-elf with long red hair also dropped from the trees, “you are needed at the north gate at once.”

“Tauriel?” Thorin turned to her. 

She smiled. “You and the queen should return to your chambers, Your Majesty,” she told him as her smile faded. 

“Take Jasna back,” he told her, easing Jasna’s arm from his, “and make certain she remains there.”

“Wait,” Jasna shook her head, “Thorin, you are not going out there, are you?”

Thorin bobbed his head. “I am, indeed. I need to see for myself, if one has taken Azog’s place and with his quest in mind.”

“Thorin, you and your bride will remain here.” Thranduíl’s low voice brooked no argument. “You do not know this terrain nor do you know what you face. Allow my soldiers to—”

“I’m not asking for your permission,” Thorin cut him off, shaking his head, “nor do I need it.”

“Thorin,” Thranduíl lowered his voice and looked over at her before saying, “may I speak to you a moment?”

Thorin didn't look at all happy, but he stepped away from Jasna, who looked over at Tauriel, whom she hadn’t seen since her and Thorin’s wedding, and then only briefly. “What’s going on?”

Tauriel glanced at Thranduíl and Thorin. “I think they are searching for him.”

“For Thorin?” Jasna stared up at her, her belly kinking even more tightly now. “Are they the same orcs who—”

Tauriel nodded. “They are. We need to send to word to Erebor as well. Where is Dwalin?”

“He remained behind,” Jasna told her softly. “Said once through this forest was enough for him and went back to his chambers.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin’s back and shoulders stiffen and she looked up at Tauriel once more. “What happens now?”

“We’ve sent a regiment out to meet them. But, Legolas felt Thranduíl should know as well.”

Jasna bit back a sigh and fought of a shudder at the same time. Her encounter with orcs in Esgaroth had been horrifying and she had no desire to see one, even from a distance, ever again. 

But even worse, the memory of the horrible wounds their now-deceased leader had inflicted upon Thorin made her belly churn with more force. The last thing she wanted was for him to go charging out with the elven warriors to face off against another orc. 

“Thorin, I will not allow you—”

Thorin cut Thranduíl off with a sharp, “Then it is well and good that I am not asking for your permission, and since I have no need for it—”

“You and your wife are my responsibility and I have no desire to explain to her or to your people how I let you fight on my behalf.” Thranduíl’s voice, usually calm and smooth, like oiled silk, rose slightly. “And I will not argue it, nor will I debate it. You will allow my people to handle this.”

Both Jasna and Tauriel stared at one another with eyebrows raised and Jasna held her breath as she waited for Thorin to erupt with indignation. 

But, to her surprise, a low sigh bubbled to his lips and he glanced over his shoulder at her and Tauriel. Then, turning back to Thranduíl, he said, “Of course.”

“Good.” Thranduíl’s hand came to rest briefly on Thorin’s shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon with your queen. I assure you, no orcs will get past our borders.” 

He looked up then. “Tauriel—” He lapsed into Sindarin and Jasna understood not a word he said, and as she glanced over at Thorin, she wondered if he did, for he glared at the woodland king.

But then, Tauriel nodded, excused herself, and started off down the path back toward the heart of the woodland palace at a brisk pace, easing her bow from her back. 

“And now,” Thranduíl turned to her, “I will leave the two of you to your own devices and I will see you both at supper.Try not to worry, as I’m certain we will run them off handily.”

Thorin shook his head. “If you need us—”

“I understand. For now, just enjoy your time together.” Thranduíl strode in the same direction Tauriel had gone, only to pause and glance at them over one shoulder. “I only recommend you do not go near the waters here.”

“I remember all too well,” Thorin called.

“Yes,” Thranduíl’s eyes flickered with hints of amusement. “I gather you do. I will see you both later.”

And with that, he was gone and Jasna turned to Thorin. “What happened, with the water here?”

He offered up a slight grin. “It’s enchanted, but mostly with black magic. The last time we passed through here, we… let’s just leave it at it slowed us down some and made us easier targets.”

“Targets?”

He nodded, easing an arm about her shoulders. “You’ve nothing to fear, mesmel. You are perfectly safe with me.”

“Well, I know that,” she told him leaning her head against him, “but I am curious about these enchanted waters.”

“Dark magic is found in them and I cannot say how that might affect you. I know it left us dwarves a bit out of sorts, and I imagine you’d not fare much better.”

She turned toward the narrow river that ran through the heart of Mirkwood, the brackish waters rushing melodically along the tree roots and over rocks studding its bed. The sound was peaceful, but the longer she listened, the more menacing the undertones grew and little by little, the urge to just keep walking down the path wound through her.

Tucking her arm through his, Jasna leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “We could go back to our chambers, you know. There we don't have to worry about magical water or orcs.”

A low rumble of laugher touched her ears. “I do like the way you think, mesmel.”

“I thought you might.”

The door closed softly behind them and Jasna’s eyes closed as Thorin came up behind her, eased an arm about her waist and with his free hand, swept her hair to send it spilling over her left shoulder. His lips came warm and soft upon the slope of her neck, sending a teasing chill rippling through her. The tip of his tongue swept gently against her, making her shiver as she whispered, “I do love how that feels…”

“Good,” came his husky murmur as he brushed his lips up toward her ear. The hand on her belly splayed, slid upward to curve about her left breast, where his finger tightened and his thumb slowly slipped about her nipple. 

Jasna caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes heavy lidded and sliding shut on their own as the sensations ran riot through her. Tension swirled through her, her heart beat faster with each slow, teasing kiss and each slow, teasing caress. Her head spun, gently at first, but as Thorin’s hand slid down over her belly, along her right inner thigh, it spun faster, more wildly.

His fingers curled into her skirt, slowly tugged it up. The warm air stirred as the fabric swept upward and she held her breath as his fingers crept higher, brushed flesh that was so very sensitive, slid into the dampness of her arousal. 

He moaned softly into her hair as she rocked back against him, her backside pressing into him, the firm ridge of his growing erection nestled against her.

She reached for him, curved her hand against that bulge, smiling as he exhaled heavily against her, whispering, “Mesmel…” as he slid a finger inside her. 

She sucked in a sharp breath at the teasing stroke, her hips moving with him. Her body tightened about him, her hand tightened about him briefly, then her fingers moved nimbly to open the fastenings of his trousers. The sinews in her wrist burned from the odd angle, but she ignored it as she angled her hand into those trousers, and slid down to find him. Her fingers closed about him, and she smiled as he shivered against her and whispered, “Maralmizi…”

“I love you, too,” she managed to whisper back. 

She tried to shift then, to spin toward him, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he whispered, “Stay just like this, amrâlimê.”

She bit down on her bottom lip once more as he eased his finger from her and caught her skirt to lift it higher still. Then, he caught her wrist to withdraw her hand, tugged his trousers out of his way and then—

“Oh…” She couldn't hold back her heavy sigh as he entered her slowly and thrust slowly. Gently. Fire ribboned through her with that one thrust, her eyes closed, her body hummed. 

His fingers curved about her hips, his voice a low growl as he murmured, “Jasna…”

He moved slowly, his fingers tightening against her, holding her completely still even as she tried to move, tried to rock back into him. “Hold still, mesmel…”

“Thorin…” 

He bent to sweep a hot kiss along the curve of her neck, up toward her ear. As he did, he slid one hand back between her thighs, into her heat, and teased her mercilessly. Her blood boiled its way through her veins, the tingles grew hotter and sharper, swirling through her, wrapping around her, and as he brought her to the edge, he gave a hard thrust, and as she shattered around him, he arched hard, crushed her against him, and gave himself up to the moment with a breathless, “Jasna!”

“Thorin!” Her voice echoed about their chambers, her fingernails digging into the door’s rough, parklike surface, her body tensing and pulsing about his. Her head spun so wildly, left her so breathless that, if it wasn't for his arm about her, Jasna would have crumped to her knees at the spiky hot pleasure rushing through her.

He slowed against her, wrapped his arms about her, and whispered, “Amrâlimê,” before nuzzling her. 

Her eyes closed of their own, her forehead came to rest against the door, and she whispered, “Don’t let go of me, dwarf. I’ll hit the floor for certain.”

“Worry not,” he assured her, a hint of laugher in his voice, “for I am not letting go. Not ever.”

He shifted to slip from her and as her skirt slid back into place, she smiled at him over one shoulder. “When I suggested we come back here, I thought we might at least make it to the bed.”

“I couldn't help myself,” he said with a shrug and a grin. “Have you any idea how irresistible you truly are, Queen Jasna?”

She shook her head as he tugged his trousers back into place and re-fastened them. “Tell me.”

He winked. “Firstly—”

“Thorin!” Dwalin pounded on the door. “Is Her Highness with you?”

“Where else would she be?”

“Thranduíl has requested her presence in the Mirkwood infirmary.”

Jasna looked up at first Thorin, then the door. “What?”

“Aye, the battle… it seems the orc pack was far bigger than they’d expected. Bigger and angrier.”

“She is not—”

Jasna tugged open the door. “Yes, she is, Thorin.”

“Jasna, wait, you—”

“Thorin, I’ll be in no danger in the infirmary, just as I wasn't in Erebor’s.”

Thorin sighed. “Are we needed, Dwalin?”

“Thranduíl has not asked, and I doubt he will, but—”

Thorin moved to the far side of the room, where the Orcrist stood propped against the wall. As he slipped it from the sheath, Jasna stated at the brilliant blue glow engulfing the blade. “Thorin, you are not going out there.”

“If they’ve come in search of me,” he replied grimly, brushing by her to join Dwalin in the doorway, “they will find me, for I am not going to live that way again. I’ll not spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder. As with the Defiler, this will end here and now.”

He looked over at Dwalin. “You stay with Jasna.”

“Thorin, wait—”

She and Dwalin said it in unison, only to have Thorin ignore them both as he shoved by Dwalin and disappeared down the path. 

She looked up at Dwalin. “Go with him and keep him safe. I’ll be fine.”

“Your Highness—”

“Do not argue with me. I’ll be fine. Go and watch over him.” 

As Thorin had done, Jasna also didn't wait for him to respond, but hurried out of the room as well, leaving Dwalin to stare after her. 

She grabbed the first wood elf she passed. “Where is your infirmary?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your infirmary? Where is it?”

“Do you know where the throne room is?”

“I do.”

“There is a staircase before it. One floor below, there you will find our healers.”

“Thank you.” She sprinted off toward where she thought Thranduíl’s throne was, got herself turned around once, and finally managed to find it, where three tall, slender she-elves looked up at the same time. 

“Who are you?”

“Jasna Durin, of Erebor. I understand you need an extra pair of hands,” she replied evenly, as other elves began arriving with the wounded. “I worked with Narnerra, trained with her and Óin in Erebor. I am more than capable.”

“But, you are their queen—”

“That matters not now,” she replied, shoving her sleeves to her elbows as she spotted the row of basins along the far wall and moved to wash her hands. “You need my help and I gladly offer it.”

“Very well, if you insist. I am Rainisa.” She pointed then to the other two she-elves, both redheads. “This is Glynne and that is Keenor.”

Jasna bobbed her head. “I’m Jasna and it’s lovely to meet you..” She glanced around at the wounded. “And we should probably get to work.”

With that, she washed and dried her hands, and then dove into the wounded. For the first time since Óin and Narnerra pronounced her ready to treat patients on her own, Jasna wasn't at all frightened. Not nervous or unsure. Instead, she heard Óin’s calm voice, Narnerra’s soft encouragement, and she set to work alongside the elves as if she’d been there for years. 

The casualties were not nearly as terrible as the ones following the Battle of the Five Armies, but they were bad enough that Jasna had time only to wash her hands between patients before the next one was laid out before her. 

But then the flood slowed to a trickle, and Jasna smiled as she snipped the end of the silk thread she’d used to stitch up the last elf. “Glynne, are there any others?”

“I think he’s the last.”

“Oh, thank—”

“Dwalin, let go of me. I do not need to be here.”

“Ah, hush now and let yer wife do what she doest.”

Jasna spun about at the sound of Thorin and Dwalin’s voices and turned to see him with an arm draped about Dwalin’s neck as Dwalin helped him into the infirmary. “Thorin? What happened?”

“He took an axe to the leg, is what happened,” Dwalin grunted, none-too-gently dropping Thorin into the nearest chair. “And the blasted fool still wouldn’t stop.”

Jasna crouched to take a look. The back of his leather boot was sliced and stained red even as he said, “It’s only a gash and I am fine.”

“Thorin, let me be the judge of that, will you?”

He sighed as she unbuckled the boot and eased it from his foot, but his sigh turned into a gasp as she peeled down his ruined hose. A nice chunk of flesh had been taken from the back of his leg, above his ankle, and it bled freely without the pressure of his boot on it. 

“Glynne,” Jasna looked up, “please bring me a poultice of comfrey, a kingsfoil solution, and linen to wrap this.”

“Of course.”

“Jasna,” Thorin tried to pull his foot from her grasp, “I am fine—”

“Stop it, Thorin,” she snapped, taking hold of him once more, “and let me work, please. I’d rather you not lose your foot, if it’s all the same to you.”

He scowled, but relaxed enough, wincing as he wiggled his toes. “It does sting a bit.”

She smiled up at him. “I can have some mead or ale brought to you.”

“Do you need sew it?”

“It’s too large a wound for stitching, and too much is missing to get clean edges,” she told him. “I’ll bandage it with the comfrey and it should heal on its own. Although,” she managed to smile, “you will have a scar from it.”

“What’s one more at this point?”

“Somehow, I thought you might say that.”

Glynne returned then with the supplies and as Jasna went to work cleaning the wound, she said, “Please tell me it’s over.”

“I wish I could, mesmel,” he replied softly, wincing as she washed out the wound with great care. “But, whoever has stepped into the Defiler’s boots was too much the coward to show his face.”

“Do you even know his name?”

“I do not.”

She looked up. “So, someone n-new is hunting you and you don't even kn-kn-know his n-n-name.”

“I do not know it yet. But I will.”

Her stomach curdled. “And then what?”

“What do you think?”

“Thorin.” She patted the wound dry with a clean towel and then set about treating it with the comfrey before wrapping it. 

“We will return to Erebor and I will go and find him and when I do, I will end him.”

“Thorin—”

“I will not discuss it, Jasna. My mind is made up. We take our leave come morning.”

She scowled as she finished bandaging his leg, but wasn't about to get into a fight with him over it there, in the infirmary. 

But they would be discussing it later. 

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA