#the agreement

[scullysflannel]

I think derry girls should have one thousand emmys

#derry girls #the agreement #uncle colm #he's everything to me

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (II)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

3.1K words | (2/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: Good news, this fic has been extended to 5 chapters! 6 if I decide to do a chapter in Miguel's POV. We'll see! Also I think some people reached out to me about a tag list! Definitely comment on this post if you want to be added :)

Also on AO3

II.

The first session was the staple of this agreement for a while. To the point where it felt like you were disturbing Miguel when you would appear after his missions. You thought it was when he needed you the most. With the job comes the stress—the anxiety. Every spider-person knew that whether you were one month in or had years on the job. You all knew there was only one person who could protect the people and it was a cesspool of pressure all spider-people were carrying. 

Including Miguel.

So you would visit him after his missions with the intention of closing that cesspool. And every time, he would greet you with that scowl on his face. It would be there from the beginning to the moment you're sliding your hand over his, innocently, gently. A touch he hasn’t felt in God knows how long. A touch he ignored he needed, but never complained about.

In the first few sessions, little was said between you two. Mostly talked about mission statuses and the mental health of the spider-people. Within time, the topics expanded to your universes and your homes. Nueva York being his. New York was yours. And later, by the end of every session, you were discovering layers of Miguel most didn’t know about.

It left you curious to the point where you looked forward to his sessions every week. You tried not to cross any boundaries—but you ended up sharing more about yourself with him than other spider-people. Usually, you were the one listening and advising.

“Cat got your tongue, has it?” It wasn’t the sound of Hobie’s voice that pulled you from your thoughts but the light strum of his guitar, the normally loud instrument’s sound was weakened without an amp. As always, he lounged on your office couch, feet kicked up on the armrest with his guitar on his lap. 

“Not necessarily,” you responded, feeling embarrassed that you had spaced out when he was talking. Noticing, Hobie smirked. He loved it when things seemed awry.

“I seen it all. Little Miss Perfect in her head. Maybe I should be the doc and you’re the patient, yeah?”

“Maybe we should start having these sessions during the day. You do know it’s 1 AM.” Late sessions with Hobie felt more like you were hanging out with a friend. A waste of time but much-needed company.

“So?” Hobie shrugged, a melody was released from the strings. “Night is when the fun happens, mate.”

And Hobie was right. Your sessions with Miguel were always late in the night when most spider-people returned to their universes. Miguel would still be working, red eyes on those orange screens. You would be next to him, close to where you could feel each other’s heat. Sometimes presence was just enough. During these sessions, the clock’s minute hand would move a little too fast. An hour went by like a minute and then you would overstay. You didn’t know what to call those moments after. It was better to not give them a name.

You would leave and return with two coffees. Miguel would thank you, pulling away from his work and then you would chat till the night aged. The night never expired without hearing one of Miguel’s witty but rude comments.

And when you would give him a smile and your hand went on his bicep, it meant you were leaving.

It meant the fun was over.

Yeah, Hobie was definitely right. You were way too much in your head. Even now as the clocks strike 10 PM as you waited for Miguel in his office. Tonight wasn’t a session, but you wanted to check in to see how he was doing. That was normal, right? Checking in? Not like you did it to anyone else but it was still normal in your mind.

It was better than returning to your universe—to your empty white-walled apartment. There were memories buried within that place that you would like to forget.

First came the tremors, and then the tiny hairs on your skin erected. The pen you were holding slipped from your fingers, levitating above you. Gravity no longer existed for small objects and the air became dry but moist at the same time. It was like logic itself was confused as reality was torn open by a yellow portal and who emerged from it was, of course, Miguel fully covered in his spider suit. The sight so familiar, you had thought back to when you were first recruited by the Spider Society. 

Imprisoned by the white walls of your apartment, you felt that same energy shift and that yellow portal appeared in your room like a stain. But to you, it was a hexagonal halo around Miguel who emerged from it, reaching into your universe, saying the words, “doc, we need your help.”

Life was never dull after that.

“Do I look like a blue panther to you?” Miguel approached you with his arms out. You hummed, turning your head sideways as your eyes trace over Miguel’s figure. The yellow portal closed behind him, and soon reality had returned to its natural state. You could feel Miguel getting annoyed the longer it took for you to answer. His hands went on his hips, eyes narrowing.

“Wellll….”

“Ugh, give me a break,” he brushed past you as you laughed. You followed him, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him from walking away.

“I’m kidding! Kidding!”

“ Ha ha ,” he scoffed, shrugging his arm out of your grasp. Like a red laser, his webs shot out from his wrist and he lifted himself onto his floating platform. Even after his missions, he still dived back into work. “Lyla, create a new recruit profile for Gwen Stacy, Spider-Woman from Earth-65.”

“Earth-65?” You webbed yourself after him, peeking from behind his back to look at the orange-screened monitors. “I thought that was one of the universes we’re not recruiting.”

“Jess wanted her to join. She helped us capture Vulture and… I guess she did a pretty good job at it.” Miguel pulled up a hologram of the security camera in the Villains Cell Block. Jess was processing the captured Vulture to send him home in the next line up and next to her was a teenager with blond hair, the ends of it dyed soft pink. You assumed that was Gwen as Miguel zoomed in on her face.

It was rare to impress Miguel so much that he was willing to bend his own rules. Gwen Stacy from 65 was friends with the anomaly. “Cool, then I’ll schedule a session with her. Can’t wait to meet her.”

“What are you even doing here anyway?” Miguel asked, giving you a side-eye glance as he swiped the hologram away. A few more popped up about the last mission he was on and a couple more he had to do in the future. “We did our session this week.”

“Aah,” you had rehearsed your reason several times before arriving in his office and your mind still came up blank. “Just… checking in.”

You could tell he raised his eyebrow behind his mask, “Checking in?”

“Uh yeah, isn’t that normal?” You so wanted to bury yourself underground.

“Then you must have a lot of free time on your hands, doc.” Miguel shook his head, not bothering to inquire more. Not like he had any time to. His mask disintegrated and he shifted his focus to his work. You would’ve left him alone at that point because Miguel didn’t like to be disturbed once he got started until you noticed something off about his face.

“What happened to your lip?” You asked, noticing the dried blotch of blood on the corner of his bottom lip. It even looked a bit swollen.

He let out something like a sigh, a groan, or something in between before speaking quickly. “I don’t know probably happened in the fight or something—Lyla!”

“You should treat it. It could get worse, maybe even infected.” Your fingers grazed his jaw, tilting his head slightly up while tiptoeing to examine the cut. Perhaps, it was because of these sessions that you have gotten so used to touching Miguel. Before, you would’ve earned a warning scratch on your hand by now so something had changed in him as well.

“Infected?” Miguel let out a condescending laugh, his fangs making an appearance. His brown eyes deepened into red as they looked you down. It was almost as if he was mocking you. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

“Does it matter? We’re still human, aren’t we?” It was a question you received so often from your patients that you suddenly found yourself asking that exact same thing. You had yet to find an answer that made sense. Yes, you’re human. No, you’re not. Maybe it was easier to not create a binary answer and to just go with what you believed in. At least that’s what you told your patients when they sat on your office couch. They seemed to have accepted that answer.

Miguel, however, felt different. He turned to face you, his large hand encircling your wrist as he pulled your hand away from his face. He stepped forward with a slight sway, and that was when you realized the size difference between you two. He might as well have been a skyscraper, casting a shadow over your figure and shielding you from the orange glow of the screens. His head was tilted up but his eyes—damn, his eyes barreled down on you, locked on like a sniper scope. It was predatory. And you had never felt so small before in your life. 

“More than,” he answered lowly, releasing your hand from his grip and then he returned to his work.

You stood there, holding your wrist which was hot to the touch as your heart boomed against your ear drums. There was a dull ache in your head and shivers ran up your spine. It could only mean one thing. Your spidey senses were alerted. It happened a couple of times when Miguel would get this way. But he never hurt you. He would never. So why was every fiber of your being telling you to run from him?

You swallowed air, anything to get yourself to calm down. Hesitating, you glanced at Miguel who had buried himself in his work, seeming to have forgotten you were in the room. 

More than human. You had never thought of yourself more superior to the people you were saving. Maybe it was because you used to believe you were the only one with powers in your entire universe. It was easier to think of yourself as an unfortunate freak burdened with the duty of justice. But when you walk the halls of HQ, surrounded by like-minded spider-people in staggering numbers, you could understand Miguel’s point of view. All of you were strong, intellectually smart, and capable of doing extraordinary things that are beyond the capabilities of humans. And then you have Mayday who was born with these abilities. 

You knew the dangers that could come with having a superiority complex. Even then, Miguel was someone you couldn’t exactly leave alone no matter what he thought or how often he pushed you away. It wasn’t something you could explain. Did a moth ever question why it was attracted to the light, beautiful but deadly to its soul? All you knew was that it was better than being alone wandering aimlessly in the dark.

You left and returned with a medkit in your hands. A tap on Miguel’s shoulder earned quiet mumbles from him, claiming he was going insane for being interrupted before he looked at you, brown eyes flicking between the medkit and your face. 

You were as stubborn as he was and he knew you wouldn’t get off his back unless you got what you wanted. So, with a sigh, Miguel followed you off the platform to a large metal block you urged him to sit on.

You opened the medkit, pulling out the items you needed to treat his wound. Miguel stayed quiet. You could feel his eyes on your face, looking over every part of you. It was hard to ignore it considering how piercing his stare could get like he was trying to uncover the deepest parts of your soul.

“God, I feel like I’m always giving in to you,” he spitted out, hissing when you pressed a moist rag to his lip a little too hard.

“Good.”

“Just means you’re always in my way.”

“Still a good thing.”

He rolled his eyes and then they went right back on you. You were so focused on cleaning the blood off his lip that you didn’t notice how close you got to his face.

“You know, puedes sentarte .” You were startled to hear another language in your ear. More or less, you understood him, moving to sit next to him until you felt Miguel’s hand on your hip stopping you mid-motion to guide you on top of his lap. “Better.” 

You let out a less than graceful squeak, cheeks flushing, “O-Okay.” You were taken aback but then you remembered the agreement. As long as there was no kissing, no sex, then this was fine, right?

You continued to tend to Miguel’s cut, ignoring your steadily rising heart rate, but you were also admiring Miguel’s face. His high cheekbones, sharp jaw, and loose curly hair were perfectly combed back. He was definitely a handsome man and he had the most perfect body. You have never seen such wide shoulders in your life.

“You’re like a mother—sort of.”

“What the fuck,” you frowned. It wasn’t something you wanted to hear while sitting on this man’s lap especially when you were internally praising him.

“There was a time when I came home from school with my lip busted after beating up this bully and my mom did what you’re doing.” It was slight but Miguel’s expression softened. He was looking at you but you could tell the warmth in his eyes was from recalling an old memory. It was the first time he brought up his family, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You were a troublesome kid, weren’t you?” You joked, placing a small bandage over his cut.

“My dad thought I was too, probably why he busted the other side of my lip after.”

You stiffened, smile immediately dropping. You weren’t foreign to domestic violence stories from your patients back in your universe. It was a sensitive topic, but knowing Miguel, he didn’t want to be coddled about it.

“Sorry,” your fingers brushed the other side of his lip. There was no cut there but you could imagine the pain he went through when his father struck him. “Your dad sounds like an asshole.”

“He was.”

“I… wanted to be one, a mother,” you admitted. “When I got married to Harry, I couldn’t wait to start a family. I wanted a little girl like Mayday, cute with the fattest cheeks. But I only had a 5% chance of conceiving, my doctor told me it was nearly impossible, and when Harry found out… Well, he divorced me. Something about my inability to continue the Osborn family line...”

You spoke without looking at him. You were still ashamed of the reason for your divorce. Harry made it feel like you were a failure of a woman. He was a misogynistic asshole that only viewed women as a means to continue his family line. You wondered what spell he cast on you to make you fall in love with him because looking back, he never seriously cared about you as a person.

It took you a year and a half to recover from the hurt. The white walls of your apartment would remind you of every argument you had with him, of when he berated you, of when he made you feel less than. You spiraled into a hole you never wanted to be in again.

Little Miss Perfect. Gosh, you were far from it.

You noticed Miguel’s hand was stroking your thigh. He looked… sad. He probably understood you the most when it came to wanting a family.

“It’s a canon event for some, you know. A spider-person must go through a breakup… But after, we always find love, right?” You shrugged, smiling softly after.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” It was rare to hear Miguel sound soft, his voice lower than you ever heard it before. His large hand never stopped treading along your thigh to your hips and then back down again. Slow and agonizing, mapping out your shape. You wondered when you got so close to him, both hands resting on his strong shoulders, chests nearly together. You were slowly gravitating towards him—to the heat of his lips. Those red eyes were normally deadly but now it was with something else, flicking between your lips and eyes. Want, desire, and everything in between.

Surely, you didn’t know what to call this moment. It was better to not give it a name. It was better to just give in because it’s been so so long since you’ve been touched. Didn’t you deserve it? Didn’t he? The hand upon your thigh felt hot, you could feel it through your spidey suit. How glorious would it be if it was upon your bare skin?

Your head was too noisy. Your morals screaming. No kissing! No sex! He’s your patient! Any excuse you thought of appeared, making you resist.

It was too much. You lowered your head before Miguel could lean in any further. His lips were so close that his hot breath was brushing your cheek in waves. You couldn’t bear it so you slightly pushed against his chest to create some space. “I… have to go.”

You managed to say, moving to stand but you felt resistance from his hand on your hip as it held you in place. You and Miguel shared a look. For once, he wanted you to stay.

But you weren’t going to be held back by that look in his eyes.

“Good night, Miguel…” With a flick of your wrist, a string of webs shot out towards the ceiling and you quickly slipped yourself out of Miguel’s hold and out of his office. 

Miguel remained still for a moment, almost like he was frozen in time. But once it settled with him that you left, his hand that was on your hip closed so tight into a fist, it began to tremble. A heavy sigh passed through his lips while his other hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. He just needed a moment. 

Just a moment to realize not everything he holds in his arms disappears from his life for good.

Within time, he spoke.

“Lyla.”

Lyla generated next to him, floating by his head. “Yeah, Miguel?”

“Did you finish creating the profile?”

“One, you didn’t say please. Two, I didn’t want to interrupt,” grinned Lyla.

Miguel groaned until his back met with metal and draped an arm over his eyes. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?”

“When are you ever?” Lyla was expecting Miguel’s usual quips to her antics, but when she received nothing but silence from him, she frowned and gave in to his request. “Fiiiine, profile was done ages ago but I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Next Chapter

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

[nikethestatue]

The Agreement

Chapter 9

Warning: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language

This is NiketheStatue smut. You've been warned.

Elain Archeron

It was Sunday, and Elain was still a virgin.

Azriel hadn’t made any drastic moves to deflower her either, so she existed in her present state, though in the past couple of days, her virginity became more of a nuisance rather than the desired state of being that she wanted to preserve.

Azriel had upped the ante slowly, but deliberately ever since they first kissed and he kept Elain in the state of perpetual arousal as well as expectation. She didn’t know when it would come. When he would pounce. Never mind that the idea of Azriel ‘pouncing’ was absurd, but she already knew him well enough, and was aware that he could be unpredictable, demanding and at times, rough. She’d be willing, but she didn’t put it past him to wrestle her on the floor, tear her dress and take her. Fuck her, as he liked to say. She didn’t dare utter that word yet. Azriel, in turn, was quite comfortable with it, throwing ‘fuck’ abundantly in their conversation. He really had terrible manners, at least when he was at home.

And home this was. 

Elain’s too. 

She’d learned to think of it as one, and she adored it. Not terribly surprising, as it was a veritable palace, but it was also compact enough that it didn’t feel impersonal. This wasn’t a grand estate out in the country, where she’d have to trudge through eighty-two rooms and cover miles of acreage before she even reached the kitchen. 

Their home was palatial, but also comfortable and designed for living, and not showing off. She loved all the modern touches that Azriel outfitted the house with–they were rare and she’d bet that no one else had most of these in their possession. Beyond electricity, running water, flushing toilets, the showers, he also had the kitchen modernised with a unique stove, and a variety of gadgets that made her crazy with excitement. There were handheld machines for whipping cream and egg whites, pans that were ideal for making sauces, all sorts of fancy rolling pins and baking forms that would make any bakery proud. There were presses and grinders, which made life infinitely easier for her and for Cerridwen. There was hot and cold water, and a stove that she didn’t need to crouch over–the way she needed to do it at home. 

In the past week she also learned a lot about the Duke of Velaris and many of his ideosynchronies. Some were charming and endearing, others were puzzling.

Even though per their agreement she wasn’t supposed to ‘fraternise’ with the help, she very much fraternised with both Nuala and Cerridwen. The ‘help’ that Azriel had referred to was apparently the many servants that lived and cared for his country pile–Rosehall. It had a staff of dozens, and the twins weren’t considered part of that staff. That led to resentment. The sisters didn’t care much, but Azriel kept them here, in London, and they never went to Rosehall without him.

Azriel collected daggers–ancient, rare daggest, which were kept in the attic, in a special room, behind glass. They ranged from Persian to ancient Greek ones, African, Japanese, Italian, Roman, Viking, Chinese, Indian and everything in between. His prized possession was a dagger from Arabia, which was called Truth-Teller. Legend had it that it always struck true. Nuala said that the dagger came from his mother’s side of the family, a gift to him when he came into adulthood. 

He owned exactly 30 suits. They were also all exactly the same–black. He always wore a white shirt, and possessed only two colours of ties–black and cobalt. 

He liked Irish whiskey and drank a measure every evening. 

He smoked six cigarettes a day. Two in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two at night. 

He liked white china, monogrammed with his initials–in black and cobalt, of course.

Otherwise, the house was void of personal artefacts. No portraits of ancestors, no wedding photographs, not one depiction of his lady Morrigan to be found anywhere. Nothing from his boyhood. Barely anything from Eton. One photograph depicted Azriel, and Cassian, and another man who resembled them. They were dressed warmly and the photo was taken somewhere in the snow, with them holding snowballs in their hands. How they got the photographer and his photographic camera over the snow piles, Elain had no idea. The photo was intimate and endearing–the men were smiling. 

Elain wanted to ask the twins about the state of Azriel’s marriage, before Morrigan’s accident, but she didn’t think that it was her place. Also, she didn’t think that the twins would betray his confidence if it was something personal. 

The house was unusually open–the twins explained that Azriel hated closed or narrow spaces. He liked sunshine. 

Nuala was braiding Elain’s hair when she told her ‘his lordship called you his sunshine’. It made Elain blush. And smile. Especially when Nuala said that that was his highest compliment. 

In the mornings, Elain was ordered to wear house dresses, no brassiere, and preferably be barefoot, though that was at ‘her own discretion’. And then, once she was ready, Azriel kissed her. He waited for her in the morning, in the hallway between their bedrooms, and she always emerged at exactly seven AM. There, he greeted her, taking note of the dress that she was wearing and how she had her hair done that morning. It was always the same–she approached him, allowing him the time to study her for a few moments, and then he immediately cupped her unbound breasts in his large palms, while she kissed his lips. He expected her to kiss him, and she…liked it. He began fondling her immediately–those warm, dry hands squeezing her breasts, as if telling them ‘good morning’ before one hand inevitably dropped to her waist, where he caressed her hips, then slid over her belly, before resting on her bottom and grabbing a handful. Elain kissed him. While his hands roamed over her body, she held his face between her hands and kissed him. But he always gave her his tongue and she sucked and licked on it. She loved it. 

“Good morning, sir,” she’d say at last, when he finally allowed her to come up for breath.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he usually winked at her and bit her lips. 

And then, he led her downstairs. By her nipple. 

He took a liking to pinching one of her nipples and then led her by it, which was both odd and incredibly arousing. It hurt her, because he squeezed tightly, but she followed him without protest as he tugged on her tit and guided her. 

Submission. That’s what he wanted. Complete willing sexual submission.

He hadn’t voiced it, but Elain quickly understood where his needs and desires lie. He was going to order her and dominate her, and she was to acquiesce and happily submit. And that was fine with her. Outside of their sexual experimentation, Azriel didn’t require anything of her. If she wanted to sit on her butt all day long, he wouldn’t have objected. What he cared about was when he told her to bend, she bent and when he told her to spread, she spread. And if she thanked him–even better. He liked that a lot.

She was to serve him at meals–not as a servant–but they took their meals together, and Azriel requested privacy. Therefore, Devlon was no longer attending at dinner. It was mostly because Elain was expected to climb into Azriel’s lap once they had their plates filled with food, and he fed her and himself. 

Yes, she was a grown woman, but she adored this strange ritual of theirs. Azriel loved it too, because he was free to kiss her and fondle her aggressively. After every dinner, she sported new marks on her neck and her shoulders, there to replace the fading ones. Her lips were swollen from his incessant kissing. Her nipples were puffy and aching having been pinched and rolled and squeezed all throughout the meal. 

When they were finally done eating, she’d kiss him sweetly and whisper ‘thank you for dinner, sir’. 

-

Nevertheless, it was Sunday and Elain was still a virgin.

She was still asleep when she sensed that the door opened and Azriel entered her bedroom. Once she granted him permission, he sometimes stopped by unannounced, but he didn’t make a habit out of it, and respected her privacy. After the first night that they had spent together, he didn’t encroach on her again. Even if Elain didn’t mind at all. Even if she wanted to be encroached upon.

She knew that he was barefoot when he padded across the wooden planks of the parquet floor, before his steps were muffled by the carpet. The bed dipped and Elain buried her face in her pillows, giggling. 

“Ahhh, you are laughing, you naughty girl. You are awake and you didn’t even come out to greet me!” he chided her gently, as he climbed over her and straddled her belly, before draping his heavy big body over her and squeezing her in his massive embrace.

She wiggled next to his chest, protesting feebly, “I was asleep! You just woke me up.”

“Uh-uh,” he grunted, dipping his face into her neck and inhaling deeply. 

“You smell good in your sleep,” he murmured with a deep satisfied growl. 

Elain hasn’t even opened her eyes yet, simply luxuriating in the feel of his weight, in his woodsy, cool scent, which she’d recognise anywhere, in the brush of his stubble against her cheek and her neck.

This was crazy. It had to be.

He couldn’t be cuddling her like this? He couldn’t be waiting for her to awake, so he could kiss and stroke her? He couldn’t be wanting her the way he seemed to hunger for her?

“Good morning, sir,” she breathed, her chest tight.

Happiness. That’s what she was feeling. Happiness, which she was experiencing for perhaps the first time in her life. 

Azriel made her happy.

“Good morning, beautiful girl.”

“You couldn’t even let me sleep in on Sunday?” she pouted.

“No,” he said firmly. “I needed your tongue in my mouth…It’s the strangest urge.”

“Can I at least relieve myself? Before I take your tongue in my mouth?”

He frowned, as if he was considering the request, then sighed dramatically and rolled off her.

“Two minutes!” he warned.

“Despot!” she threw at him, as she scrambled from under the blanket. That was met with a hearty laugh and earned her a slap on her bottom. 

She did everything in the allotted two minutes–relieved herself, splashed cold water on her face, cleaned her teeth and gave the thick mane of her hair an artful tousle, before pinning it at the nape of her neck. 

From her bedroom, she heard a countdown ‘three, two, one…’

She jumped out of the bathing room and rushed back to the bed, and into Azriel’s outstretched arms. He pushed her on her back and pressed his lips to hers.

The man could kiss. 

Anything from gentle, fluttering, soft kisses, to passionate, hungry, forceful ones and everything in between, Azriel always kissed like he was ready to devour her. It wasn’t just kisses, it was possession all the way to her soul.

But he also loved when she kissed him as well–in the past 3 days, she’d gained confidence and because he always encouraged her, she often came to him first and just kissed him. It was surreal–to have the opportunity to come to Duke of Velaris whenever she wanted to and pull him into a kiss, and feel him give in eagerly and readily. It was a strange sort of luxury, to feel so wanted and so accepted, and Elain took to it well. 

He pulled away for a moment, while he placed slow kisses on her face and neck, and she heard him whisper, “God, I want to fuck you.”

Swallowing, she answered, “then do it. I…I want it,” she admitted breathlessly.

She was panting, her breasts falling up and down heavily beneath his chest.

He looked at her, studying her expression, her face, her words with that penetrating gaze of his, as if he could see inside her head and determine whether she was being truthful.

“Is that so?” he asked at last.

She nodded.

It was true. She wasn’t trying to mollify him, or simply say what he wanted to hear. That wasn’t their relationship. Azriel demanded honesty and gave her voice complete consideration. If she said ‘no’ it meant ‘no’ and he didn’t push–whether it was a sexual matter, or something from their everyday life. Though curiously, they were usually in agreement about most things. There was harmony in their relationship which Elain simply cherished and found so very peaceful and pleasant.

“It is,” she repeated again. “I want it. I want you.”

Azriel smiled and lightly brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

“My sweet darling girl. You’ll get me.”

“Yes?”

“Maybe more than you expected or wanted.”

“I don't think so,” she argued. “Nothing is going to be ‘too much’. Not with you.”

“My pretty innocent girl,” he kissed her lightly on the lips. “I can absolutely assure you that it will be. Now, what are your plans for today?”

“I’ll be busy!” she said immediately.

‘Busy? On Sunday? Are you planning on going to church?”

“Are you?”

“Not much of a church goer I am not,” he chuckled.

“Neither am I. But I have a surprise, and I will be busy,”

“A surprise? For who? Me?”

“Who else?” she asked mysteriously.

“Ugh,” he grunted, “I was hoping to spend the day with you…It’s our anniversary, you know,” he laughed.

“I remember. One week. We’ll celebrate tonight.”

He rolled off her and asked, “dare I ask, will this surprise unavail you to me for the entire day?”

Elain kissed him, because she couldn't help herself and queried,

“Did you have something in mind, my lord?”

“I thought we could take a walk down to the palace,” he offered.

Elain’s eyes lit up with excitement and she immediately perked straight up.

“Surely?”

He smiled at her and her enthusiasm. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I promised you that I’d show it to you.”

She wrung her hands happily and he added, 

“It is wonderful to experience the world through your eyes. What I take for granted is so novel to you and it is so joyful,”

“But it’s the Queen’s palace, sir! It is exciting! And you’ve met her,”

“I have,” he confirmed. “Only briefly, a few times. Her Majesty keeps away from politics and from London.”

“Ahhh yes,” Elain said sadly. “She is still mourning her dear husband, sweet Prince Albert,”

“My father,” Azriel said, being uncharacteristically frank with her suddenly, “was good friends with Prince Edward,”

“Oh my,” Elain whispered, shocked. It sounded fantastical to her, for Azriel’s father to be friends with the Heir apparent and the Prince of Wales.

“Yes, indeed. My father was among the Prince’s retinue when he took a tour of the Orient. That is how my parents met.”

So Elain was correct–Azriel was only half English. She didn’t pry about the origins of his mother and why his father the Duke would marry a woman from a different culture and bring her here. Azriel did not offer any further information, other than that he was friends with the Queen’s grandsons, which again, made Elain’s head spin.

Azriel sat up abruptly and clapped his hands once.

“Now Miss Archeron, get your fine behind going. Hurry, so I can feed you breakfast and then we’ll be on our way.”

Something inside Elain expanded with happiness, heavy and leaking, like overripe fruit. Her heart beat wildly. She grabbed his hand suddenly and pressed it to her lips.

He looked at him with amusement, but didn’t comment. Elain had an insane urge to tell him that she loved him, but she didn’t want to come off as desperate and wild. Azriel liked order and control, and if she came at him with her heartfelt confessions, she wasn’t sure that he’d appreciate it. Perhaps later on. But not yet. 

Nuala was lacing Elain into the corset, when there was a brief knock on the door and Azriel stepped in. He always knocked, but rarely actually waited for a response, and it was the case now. Elain was being tucked into her old corset, which had her standing only in a pair of knickers, her stockings and the corset.

Azriel was all but dressed, his jacket swinging behind his back on his finger, and his waistcoat already buttoned, his tie making his look elegant and formal. 

“What the hell is that?” he muttered immediately, his brows knitted at the sight of the corset.

“Miss Elain can’t be parading around on the streets, near the Queen’s palace in a brassiere,” Nuala told him firmly.

“Well, I think that she can and should,” he argued. “I can’t bear to look at this abomination,”

“Sir, I must wear it,” Elain insisted, though she hated every second of wearing the restrictive garment, which made it hard to breathe, and dug into every bone and crevice of her body. Comparatively, her brassiere was a godsend.

Azriel considered it for a moment, and then said,

“Nuala, leave up, please. I would like to speak with Elain.”

Nuala curtsied and wordlessly left the room.

Azriel crossed the room and came to stand behind Elain, his hands laying on her bare shoulders. She sighed and instinctively bared her neck for him, so he could sink his teeth into her skin. Which he did. At once. He smoothed his hands over her sides, running them over the corset, and then rested them on her breasts, though she could hardly feel his touch.

“See why I hate it?” he asked, kissing her neck.

“I hate it too,” she agreed. The lack of sensation from his touch was…disturbing. She came to rely on it for the past few days like it was food.

He stepped back a bit and gathered the laces, as he began tugging on them and tying them. 

Sighing, he said, “We both know that you are mine. But I want to ask you about us being in public together,”

Elain didn’t know what to say. The question made her uncomfortable. A little angry. But mostly sad. It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t view her as someone to be in public with. Especially out there–near the palace, where they could encounter those who knew him. She was hired help. A nobody. And he was simply being courteous to her.

“We don’t have to,” she whispered at last. “I don’t want to make trouble for you, my lord,”

Perplexed, he turned her around and asked, “Pardon?”

She looked at her feet and murmured, “I understand, my lord. We don’t need to go. It’s alright. I am sure I can find my way there one day. You are a great lord of the land, and I am,”

“And you are my companion,” he said sternly and then lifted her face to his, holding her chin. “The only reason I asked you is because I want to protect your name and your reputation. I don’t want to besmirch your surname or your identity. If you are not ready, or don’t want to answer questions, it is your choice.”

“So you don’t want privacy?” she confirmed, her voice soft and hopeful.

“No,” he shook his head. “I am happy to be seen with you, Elain. But you are a maid of gentle breeding and I want to be mindful of that. Despite our arrangement, nothing’s changed about your background and your place in society.”

“Then I do not want privacy either!” she said immediately, relief flooding her.

He wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with her. 

She wasn’t just a whore for his tumbling. Maybe she meant something to him. And he did say that she was his. That she belonged to him.

“I want you to be sure,” Azriel implored seriously, holding her face in his hands. 

“I am sure, my lord,” she assured him. “I am. If you’d take a walk with me, I would only be so very happy.”

“Then so be it.”

-

Azriel was sitting back on the sofa, his long legs spread wide, his hands resting on his firm flat stomach and he had the look of any man who just had a nice meal, and who was generally satisfied with life.

Elain was attempting to hide her smirk as she observed his relaxed posture and his pleased expression. 

They had a fantastic day together.

They’d walked to the palace, which was just as impressive as Elain had thought, despite the fact that Azriel told her that the palace was seldom used for official functions and that the Queen preferred Windsor Castle. Elain didn’t care because Azriel took her beyond the wrought iron gates and she saw the changing of the royal guards, which was an incredible ceremony. 

“When Her Majesty passes,” Azriel told her, pointing to the vast square in front of the palace, “I believe the plan is to erect a great monument in her honour in that spot.”

“Do you know what it will look like?” Elain inquired.

“Oh, I am sure it will be–massive,” he chuckled softly. “A grand monstrosity of marble and gold.”

“My lord, you shan’t talk so freely,” she warned him under her breath.

The crowds were sparse on a Sunday morning, with most people attending church. Azriel and Elain wandered around like two heathens, without a care in the world. Who was going to question the Duke of Velaris anyway?

Walking like this with the Duke of Velaris, her arm tucked into the crook of his elbow, Elain felt a proper lady. The corset, albeit bothersome, was the right decision. She wore a dark navy skirt and a cream shirtwaist with a large bow at her neck, and a light linen jacket of pale blue. Her hat was wide brimmed, decorated abundantly with flowers and a thick bow. She carried a small purse and felt elegant, and properly attired–at last. 

Ignoring her warning, Azriel told her, “you look lovely today, Elain.”

“I appreciate the compliment, sir,” she murmured with a smile.

“I am not even confident that it is a compliment,” he mused. “You are just lovely like the sun at dawn. I am simply stating a fact. Now,” he looked around, “i should be annoyed at the sight of all these young brawny bucks paying you entirely too much attention,”

And he wasn’t incorrect–Elain had noticed the interest of the young guards who were exchanging glances and looks with her, making her blush.

“But I can't find it in myself to care,” he continued calmly. “Because I know that you are mine.”

“I am, sir,” he smiled at him. “I am yours.”

-

“You enjoyed the surprise then, sir?” Elain laughed softly, watching Azriel relax on the sofa. He had forgone his jacket, removed his tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned on his chest, allowing Elain a view of his bronze skin and his muscular, inked flesh. 

“This was a mighty fine meal, Elain,” he nodded with pleasure. “Your Sunday roast is outstanding indeed.”

She tapped her fingers on her elbow, waiting for more. He knew that she was. She was expecting for him to say what she wanted him to admit.

She’d made a succulent roast beef for the two of them, baked Yorkshire puddings in the beef drippings, roasted potatoes with rosemary and garlic, as well as glazed carrots and turnips. And then…and then she served the most contentious offering of the day: mashed potatoes. Oh they were fine! Creamy and rich, velvety and thick. There was gravy too, thick lashings of it to pour over the potatoes.

“Do you wish me to admit that I was wrong?” he cocked his brow at her.

She shrugged innocently and said, “of course not, my lord. Though you did look like you enjoyed the mash very enthusiastically.”

“It’s good mash,” he allowed. 

“Uh-uh,”

Grinning, he added brazenly, “still doesn’t belong with Sunday lunch.”

She stomped her foot with indignation and he laughed out loud. 

“I shall never make it again!” she threatened.

“Come on now, beautiful. Be reasonable. Why would you punish me with not cooking your lovely mash?”

“Because I want you to love it!”

“I do love it. The dinner was fantastic. And the marmalade sponge was to die for. Not to mention the whiskey custard. It was everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

“Is it true?” she eyed him suspiciously. 

“Honest to god.”

He extended his arm to her and beckoned her to him, his spread legs taunting and welcoming her because it was a known fact that she loved sitting in his lap. 

“Come give me a kiss,” he ordered her gently.

She was still pouting, and he smiled at her.

“My pretty girl, who makes the best mashed potatoes, needs to come to me and kiss me.”

Elain walked over to him, pretending reluctance, which clearly amused him.

“I want to squeeze those puffy tits of yours,” he muttered, eyeing her ravenously. For dinner, she wore a much more revealing gown of the same colours as her day outfit–cream, navy and light blue. But there were roses around the bust, her arms were bare, and the dress was loosely constructed, skimming her curves without hugging them tightly. 

The moment Elain approached, he cupped her bottom in his hands and squeezed, pulling her to stand between his legs. He pressed his face into her belly and Elain’s breath hitched, when he inhaled deeply. She knew that he loved the smell of her…well, sex. Sometimes, his eyes actually rolled back at the scent of her and she couldn’t deny him. She stroked his head, caressed the back of his neck, and threaded her fingers through his hair. 

‘Do you want to play cards?” he proposed, without removing his face from her stomach, and she could barely understand him.

“Yes! I think that I will beat you!” she boasted. 

“Oh, indeed? And what will the winner get?” he questioned, nestling his chin in her mound and looking up at her. She attempted to squirm away, but he held onto her bottom firmly and resolutely.

“Well what do you want?”

He tapped his chin on her pubic bone and said, ‘this’.

She ran her fingers over his cheek and murmured, “you could just take this.”

“I could,” he confirmed.

“I am going to go bathe and change, and then we can play cards. And I will definitely win.”

He laughed.

“Of course you will.”

She was finally able to disengage from his embrace, and he kissed the inside of her palm, before Elain left the dining room. 

-

In her bedroom, she removed her lovely dress, which was uncomplicated enough for her to complete the task herself, without anyone’s help. She dressed scandalously–and according to Azriel’s preferences. He didn’t even like her to wear a chemise atop her brassiere, and she wasn’t, right now. He forbade petticoats, garters, long drawers, or any other piece of clothing which he considered ‘unnecessary’ or ‘superfluous’. Elain’s wardrobe was full of lacy and satin brassieres, alarmingly tiny underwear, see-through negligee that was just feather-light things of gossamer, silk stockings from Paris, short silky chemises which were more appropriate for seduction, rather than daily wear. Everything that she possessed was delicate and expensive and unfailingly erotically charged. 

Pinning her hair up, so she wouldn't get it wet, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. Even her soaps and shampoos were based on Azriel’s preference, and somehow he gauged that her preferred scent was always jasmine, and he had jasmine oils and soaps and honey-scented lotions mixed, prepared and shipped for her from Paris. 

Elain soaped her body up, her hands feeling the slightly rounder shape of her hips, her softer belly, her slightly larger breasts. Only a week, and she already gained weight, which pleased her. At least she no longer looked like a 12 year old boy. The weight gain was only barely bringing her shape into the proper womanly form, but she still enjoyed the feel of it. She ran her loofa over her arms and her stomach, thinking and hoping that her sisters were doing well, and that Nesta had received the ten pounds and obtained new lodgings for the three of them, and was feeding Feyre nutritious foods. Elain knew that next week, she’d need to send more money, so that Feyre could go to a physician and hopefully get the medicine that she needed. 

She closed her eyes and threw her head back, allowing the water to beat down her body. It was blissful.

Therefore, when the bathroom door suddenly flew open she let out a scream. She didn’t even have time to shield her body before Azriel strode into the bathroom, wearing only his shirt and trousers, and without pause, walked into the enclosure. Elain shrieked, but he was already on her, his eyes wild and hungry, his jaw tight. He didn’t even seem to notice the water that was pouring over him, saturating his shirt and trousers at once. The material stuck to his toned muscular form, emphasising all the contours of every brawny slab of sinew on his body. His arms bulged, his stomach was full of sculpted slabs. 

He was everything, everything that Elain ever wanted. The sight of him next to her, unhinged, uncontrolled was both terrifying and beautiful. 

“Let me see you,” he growled low.

Shivering despite the hot water, she stepped back, plastering her back to the tiled wall. 

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, his eyes dark and needy, as he surveyed her naked body. Tiny droplets of water fell from her puckering nipples and he cupped her breast in his hand, drawing his thumb over the nipple. 

“Your pussy is smooth,” he noted, looking down, his gaze devouring the sight of her proudly pink, hairless sex. 

She’d heard this word before, but never ever would’ve uttered it. It was…Elain wasn’t sure. But it was strangely sensual to hear him call it that. For some odd reason, she liked it. 

“Spread,” he barely managed to order and her thighs parted for him, even though Elain thought that she might just die. Of embarrassment? Need? Want? Who knows. Her brains were like scrambled eggs in her head. She was standing naked in the shower with a fully dressed Azriel, spreading her legs for him. She guessed that they wouldn’t be playing cards tonight.

“You are gorgeous, lass,” Azriel breathed, as he drew the backs of his fingers over her belly, down to her bare mound, and then whispered, “wider…”

She took an awkward side step, opening her legs for him, exposing her plump, delicate folds, while he rested his hand on her waist, squeezing it firmly. Then his index finger slipped to her slit and he dipped inside. Elain shuddered so violently, that his hold on her strengthened, as if he was afraid that she’d faint right then and there. But she wasn’t in a fainting mood. No one’s (obviously) had touched her like that before, and this was heavenly. His finger only just glided between her lips, barely inside, but it kept touching and pushing on some incredibly sensitive part of her that made her jolt and whimper with pleasure every time his finger came in contact with it.

“What…oh…god…” she moaned, “what is this? What is this…”

He smiled at her and let go of her waist, as he began to unbutton his shirt one handed, his finger still inside of her, but this time, he pushed at that spot more intentionally.

“That, sweetheart, is the source of your pleasure,” he murmured with a smile. “You didn’t think that it would feel good…how’s that?”

“It’s incredible,” she panted, wanting more pressure, firmer, harder. She wanted him to rub it. Instinctively, she somehow knew that if he rubbed her, it would feel even better. 

She felt exposed and needy, and the only word that she could think of was ‘more’. 

He rid himself of his shirt, tossing it down on the wet floor, while barely taking his finger off of her, and then started on his trousers, unbuttoning them quickly and ably with one hand. Elain wanted to touch him, wanted to slide her hands over his muscles, his chest, wanted to trace her fingers over his black tattoos, but she seemed to have lost all function of her limbs. All she could feel was his finger, circling around and over the nub inside of her, making her dizzy.

“I want to watch you climax,” he murmured, stepping out of his sopping wet trousers, “want to hear how you sound when you come.”

“What?” she asked dumbly, not knowing what he was saying and not caring. Because…oh lord, there it was–his thick, enormous member. As his trousers came off, so did his undershorts, and there he was, in all his naked glory. His cock was thick, long, jutting out, standing at attention for her. It made her oddly proud, that she was the cause of his arousal. That he wanted her. He would–she was a naked woman in front of him, but there was something else beyond just simple biology. Azriel wanted her. Of that she was sure. But she had no idea how that massive cock of his would ever, ever fit inside of her. It was an impossibility. 

His arm snaked around her waist and he lifted her off the floor, the thumb of his other hand firmly rubbing her now. 

“Need you to come to loosen you up,” he whispered in her ear, and Elain didn’t know what he meant again, but that didn’t matter. He grabbed a towel from the hook, and threw it over them, while she clumsily attempted to dry them with trembling hands. 

Azriel tossed her on the bed, and climbed onto it next to her. 

At last, Elain reached out to touch him–his warm, damp skin, the firmness of his body next to her. He seemed so huge compared to her–everything about him was big and hard, and she felt like a slip of a girl, awkward and clueless. It was embarrassing. That she was so stupid when it came to these matters, but when and where would she have learned about sexuality? But she lost her train of thought because…

IT came.

A wave inside of her.

Cresting. Rising. Reaching.

What was this incredible, indescribable feeling inside of her? This intense tension? Everything in her womb was squeezing and pulsating and growing and she was hot and breathless and then…oh…then she creamed, because she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t. She screamed with pleasure the likes of which she never even imagined. Nothing in her life compared to this feeling. She was stunned. Weightness. Boneless. Pulsing and throbbing and panting. 

Azriel’s thumb pressed on that magical spot with brutal strength, teasing her continuously, while she convulsed and cried out, sobbing pathetically into his shoulder. It didn’t stop for a few long moments, until it finally did. 

All her spasming muscles began to relax and she fell back on the pillow, breathless and with dark spots floating in her eyes.

Above her, Azriel’s beautiful face was looming over her, a smile on his lips.

“Well, lass. Now I know what you look and sound like when you come.”

“Come where?” she questioned.

“Come into yourself. Your body. This is always for you, lassie. Your pleasure.”

His lips descended on hers and the kiss was rough. Elain wanted to thank him, but he wouldn’t let go of her, kissing her with wide, generous swipes of his tongue, his hand firmly squeezing her tit. He was hot next to her, his long member pressing into her thigh, burning into her. For some reason, she didn’t think that he’d be so hot. 

Elain kissed him back, not knowing what to do with her hands, which seemed to be everywhere at once–his hair, his neck, his arms, his back, his chest. She couldn’t stop touching him, while she sucked on his lips and his tongue with strange desperation, illogically afraid that somehow, for some reason, he’d pull away.

Sensing that, he whispered into her mouth, “I am here, beautiful. I am not going anywhere. I am going to take you over and over and over tonight.”

And she nodded eagerly, not ever knowing what she was agreeing to. Over and over. Yes. Yes, please.

He brushed her damp hair back and then flipped her over and heaved her on top of his body. Elain’s heart fluttered madly in her chest, because she wasn’t expecting to be on top, but she straddled his stomach clumsily, pressing her hands into the pillows by either side of his head. His hand cupped her bottom, and he grabbed it roughly, kneading her cheek, the tips of his fingers sliding into the crevice, making her feel strange…it was deliciously dirty, that he was touching her like his. 

His tongue swept over her nipple and it felt amazing. Elain loved it when he played with her breasts, but his mouth on her breast was something unexpected, wonderful. He held her tit to his mouth and then he sucked. He pulled the whole thing inside and he sucked. She buckled atop of him, shocked, but he only slapped her ass, ordering her to settle down without uttering one word. He sucked hard and sloppily, rubbing his tongue over her nipple, pulling more and more of her breast into his mouth, his teeth pressing lightly and keeping her in place. And those wicked fingers of his–slipping deeper into the crack of her butt, exploring, sliding, gliding. 

“My lord,” he moaned, her arms trembling as she supported her body on top of him. He slapped her bottom again, and it stung, but so good. She’d be happy forever if he could just suck her nipples, bite and milk her breasts with his mouth, and finger her between her butt cheeks. 

Who was she? 

“Please, my lord, please,” she grunted mindlessly, her hips gyrating over his stomach, as she felt her dripping onto him from her slit. 

“You like this, pretty girl?” he pulled away from her breast, and she moaned at the loss. 

“Yes, yes…please! Please, more,” she begged him. She was begging and she didn’t even care.

“Do you like my fingers in your pretty little bum?” he teased.

She nodded frantically. She did.

“Say it,” he urged. “Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t,” she cried out, all flushed and flustered. 

He shrugged and said,

“Suppose we’d have to stop then…”

“No! No,” she pleaded, “don’t stop. I want more.”

“More what?” he insisted.

“Suck me…suck my breasts. Touch my bottom.”

He pretended to think about it, and then said,

“Are you going to be my good lass?”

“Yes, of course,” she nodded, her eyes wide and pleading. She was shaking all over, tension and need sweeping over her body in waves.

“Take your lovely tit,” he instructed, “and feed me with it. And that will free my hands to play with your bum.”

Elain frantically squeezed her breast in her hand and offered it to him, though he made her actually feed it to him and put it in his mouth. She felt the slick, smooth head of his member between her parted thighs, and she lifted her bottom to him in silent invitation. 

“Good,” he approved. “Give me the other one too.”

She pushed her other breast into his mouth, and he began to suck both of her nipples at once. And below, his warm, heavy hands pulled her cheeks wide apart, exposing her to the cool air. 

How she yearned to be his good girl and please him. She wanted him to be happy with her, with what she offered and how she obeyed him. 

She held her breasts between his lips, her nipples raw and swollen from his insistent sucking and nipping. He bit her, not altogether gently, making her gasp and moan, as he pressed his fingertips around the tight, tiny hole of her bottom, exploring it roughly. 

Elain wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew, so she asked softly, “Sir, will you take me in my bottom too?”

Azriel didn’t answer, busy with his sucking, before he finally pulled away. Elain’s nipples were aching like crazy, never having been handled so hard before, and they were swollen and wet from his saliva, resembling small cherries. He was pulling her cheeks so wide apart, it was a little painful, but she loved it. She loved all the aches, the unexpected mix of pleasure and pain.

“On your back, sweet lass,” he nodded curtly and she scrambled off of him, eager to do his bidding.

He looked her over, kneeling near her legs and smirked, smoothing his hands over her belly and her waist. 

“Beautiful,” he approved.

Elain didn’t think she was anything resembling beautiful. She was a mess of panting flesh, her breasts big and swollen, her slit wet and leaking, her hair wild, her breath irregular.

“Show me that virgin pussy,” he murmured softly, kissing her lips alongside his request. “Knees up, hold them, and spread wide.”

Elain swallowed a panicked breath, but he added, “I want to see everything.”

After a brief moment of indecision on her part, he pressed, “now, sunshine. Show me that pretty hole where we’ll put our baby.”

She licked her lips and then raised her legs and hooked her arms under her knees.

He pushed her knees even further apart, as far as she could hold them, and then he yanked her hips up and onto his lap.

He cupped and juggled her tits in his hands, pinching her nipples and then rolling them between his fingers, while she just lay there, spread out in front of him.

“Look at your delightful virgin pussy, sweetheart,” he smiled. “I am going to ride it until you forget how to walk.”

“Sir, please…” she murmured.

“Please, what, sweet pea?”

“Do you like me?” she asked shyly.

“I adore you, pretty girl,” he assured her. He twisted her nipples until she winced and then let go. 

“Your member is so large,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Will it…I mean, will it go inside? Will it fit?”

What Elain didn’t expect to happen, was for him to grab his thick shaft and slap it over her wet slit. 

She gasped in shock, because he did it again, whacking that girthy appendage of his over her open sex, jerking her upright. He slapped it again and again, landing between her lips with precision, the head of his cock hitting her sensitive nub every time, as she panted with pleasure. The sounds of him slapping her with his dick were squelchy and wet and obscene. 

“Take it,” he murmured warmly, but sternly.

Elain took it.

He rubbed it in her slit, gliding in her wetness, before smacking it over and over again.

“Do you like it, my sweetness? Do you like the thick cock?”

She nodded, almost in tears. Because she liked it. God help her, but she loved it.

“Show me how much you like it,” he encouraged her. ‘Show me how you like what your lord does to you?”

Elain didn’t know what he wanted exactly, but she was overwhelmed and wanted to express her gratitude somehow. So she rolled clumsily and pressed her lips to the tip of the member, kissing it gratefully.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, and then dipped lower and kissed the heavy sack of his balls. He stroked her head and said, “very good, my darling.”

His flesh, even the most intimate parts of him, tasted just fine. There was a salty sheen to it, a very pleasant musk that was all him, and he smelled delicious. Elain wasn’t put off by the act of putting her mouth on his most private of parts. It felt absolutely natural. He wouldn’t have needed to ask her, because she would’ve done it gladly on her own. 

“Everything feels amazing, sir,” she admitted. 

Azriel lifted her face to his and kissed her lips, stroking her jaw and her neck with his thumbs. 

“Take me, sir,” Elain begged, as she rained kisses upon his face and his mouth.

Azriel maintained an envious level of self-control, though his cock was huge and bobbing right at his navel. 

“Let me see you, sweetheart,” he urged her. “Let me see inside of you,” and he pushed her lightly back on the bed, where she frantically resumed her spread out position, clutching her legs under her knees. 

“It might hurt,” he warned, as he splayed his palm over her slit, and she muttered, ‘it’s alright…it doesn’t hurt…it doesn’t matter.”

He settled between her legs and leaned over her to kiss her again, before swiping his tongue over her swollen nipples and tweaking them with his fingers until she whimpered. 

“Why does it feel so good?” she cried out, shuddering and arching her back.

“Carnal fornication is feeling nice?” he teased, and she watched him in awe, as he gripped his long cock and gave it a couple of thorough swipes. It was incredibly erotic, watching him like this, naked, somewhat vulnerable, yet still completely in control. She watched him do the most natural, and masculine thing that she could imagine, and it looked so enticing to her. 

Azriel meanwhile dipped his fingers into her opening and pulled. He pulled hard. Elain choked back a loud moan, because he stretched her widely and ruthlessly, opening her up for his lewdly personal inspection, peering straight inside.

“You can do it, sweet girl,” he encouraged her gently. “Show me everything…”

She was trembling, feeling her hole pulled apart, the air around them cooling her insides. This was the most grotesquely inappropriate act that she could’ve imagined him doing, and yet, here she was, four of his fingertips inside of her, turning her inside out, and she allowed him to watch her, admire her, strip her of all her inhibitions. 

This wasn’t them just making a baby. 

This was Azriel Night possessing every part of her and her giving it to him. This was him moulding her into what he desired and giving it back to her tenfold.

He looked inside of her, gushing, “you are so pretty, sweetness. My pretty, lovely girl.”

“Do you like it, my lord?” she breathed.

“You have the most delicate, gorgeous virgin pussy,” he vowed, and then leaned over her opening and kissed it. Elain gasped and buckled against his mouth, but he pulled back and whispered,

“I can see your innocence, pretty girl.”

“You can?” she exclaimed.

He nodded.

“It’s lovely, like the rest of you. Perfectly intact for me. I am sorry in advance that I am going to destroy it with my dick.”

Elain gently stroked his hand, his fingers, which still tugged her hole apart, and said, “I want you to, sir. Please take it…It’s yours.”

“I know, Elain. All of you is mine,” he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her opening, lightly swiping his finger inside, but not penetrating her deeply. “I can see so deep inside of you, sweetheart. You are doing so well for me. But I am not going to put my fingers in you,”

“That's alright, sir,” she agreed.

“I want my cock to be the first thing you feel inside this pretty tight pussy.”

She nodded. 

Whatever he wanted, she would give. Whatever he needed, was on offer.

“Come on, on your hands and knees, gorgeous,” he ordered, finally letting go of her hole. “You need cock inside of you. Cock and my seed.”

Elain turned for him the way he wanted, arching her back for him and spreading her thighs in a most natural way. It was as if she was meant to be here, offering herself to him. It was shocking to her to see her reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe’s door. She caught a glimpse of herself and hardly recognised her own image staring back. She looked wanton. Willing. Needy. She couldn’t have thought that she’d ever look like this–so destroyed, so hungry, so subdued. But here she was, with her ass up in the air, her arms extended in front of her, presenting her sex to him, so he could destroy it. 

His knees parted hers easily and he slotted behind her, his hot, long shaft throbbing against her slit. 

“I’ll take you like this,” he said simply and she nodded. Perhaps it wasn’t what she was expected or imagined about her first time, but with Azriel towering behind her, her thighs dripping, everything tensing and clenching in her, she was perfectly happy with this position. 

“I will hurt you,” he explained simply. “It’s not what I want, but I will. You are tight and small, and your virginity is well-intact.”

“I know, my lord,” she murmured. “Please take me. I need you inside of me,” she pleaded. 

“Watch us,” he pointed to the mirror. “I want you to see you losing your virginity to me. It’s not something every girl gets to watch.”

He rubbed his cock in his hand a few times, and then rubbed the head in her wet slit. And then, Elain gasped, as she felt the thick, smooth head pop into her opening, stretching it immediately. Lord have mercy, it was only the head. He was so big. Heavy. Nine inches? Something like that by the looks of it. 

It hurt.

Elain screamed loudly, because he pushed in. Slowly, but he pushed. And pushed. And pushed. She felt herself tearing. Her position allowed him to slide in so deep that she lost her ability to breathe. It burned and stretched her, his shaft scorching hot inside of her. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly, gently. “That’s it.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she panted loudly, while he pressed her lower, making her arc her back even further, so she could take more of it. 

“My beautiful Elain. You are all mine,” he caressed her bottom, her waist, while his cock battered through her bluntly. “Your virginity is mine. Your pretty pussy is all mine too,”

“All yours,” she sobbed tenderly. “You are mine, Azriel. Mine.”

She’d never called him by his name. Not until now.

Not until she felt so full of him and he claimed her as his.

Azriel ran his hand from her neck down to her bottom and she watched the two of them in the mirror. He was so dark and powerful behind her, and she was pale and small, with her ass cheeks squeezed in his massive hands. He was smiling down at her, looking between their bodies, where they were joined. 

“Take it all, pretty girl,” he told her. “You are perfect. Everything I ever wanted.”

She adjusted her hips against him, and that allowed his cock to plunge all the way.

“There you go. That’s all the way in.”

It was incredibly painful, but Elain wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. The pain was perfect. The stretch was brutally perfect. The weight of him, the girth, the sensation of the pain that he was offering her, was mixed with perfect pleasure. 

“You are a dream,” he grunted hoarsely. “My perfect girl.”

Elain managed to find his hand on her butt cheek and threaded her fingers with his. 

“Ride me, my lord,” she urged him. “Take what belongs to you.”

Her face was a mask of pained joy, eyes hooded and dark, her lips open in a silent plea.

“I will go hard on you, sweetheart,” he promised darkly. “Hard, but slow. You will feel every inch of me. Will remember every move of my dick inside you.”

“Az,” her name came out garbled and personal. She shortened it. No one else in his life called him Az, but Cassian. “Use me…”

Azriel smiled and then pulled out of her completely, before sliding back in fully. And again. And again. Deep, long, slow thrusts. Elain was moaning loudly, unconcerned about anything. She didn’t care if anyone heard her. Azriel pushed her head down, all the way to the mattress and she pressed her cheek into the pillow. He lowered his head to kiss her parted lips, as she panted, with his cock fully enclosed inside of her. 

“It hurts,” she moaned into his lips.

“I know,” he nodded, and kissed her again. “Is your little pussy so sore?”

“So sore,” she nodded and pouted. He laughed and kissed her again, his hips pounding steadily against her soft, tender ass. “But it feels good,” she added. 

“I’ve never deflowered anyone before,” he confessed, “but your pussy is perfect. Every day, beautiful, I will ride it every day,”

She bounced compliantly between him and the bed, their flesh slapping wetly against each other, while he kept kissing her cheek, her hair, her eye, her mouth, meeting her tongue with his in a heady dance. She caressed his hands with hers, while he squeezed her hips, her buttocks, her thighs, probably leaving marks on her skin. 

“Please, Az,” she whispered, “ride me every day.”

“I will. I will never get enough.”

He was thrusting deep and heavy into her, but her passage was now well-stretched for him, and she took it eagerly. She was sore–she wasn’t lying–but it also felt indescribable. 

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he coaxed her. She did, looking up at him from the awkward angle where her head was pressed. “I am going to give you my fingers,” he explained. “And you will suck them. You will be sucking nice and deep, because once I fill you with seed, you will take me in your mouth,”

She nodded impatiently and muttered, “yes, yes, give them to me.”

He grinned down at her and pushed two fingers in her mouth, which she swallowed immediately. Behind her, he bent his knee to find better purchase, as he filled her pussy over and over with his thick cock, this thrust mercilessly deep and hard. She snaked her hand up his calf, squeezing his knee, and then up his thigh, holding him tightly to her.

“Good?” he asked.

Her mouth was filled with his fingers, but she nodded quickly. He was making her lose her mind, as she sputtered over his fingers, the steady pounding making her clench all around the shaft, it felt better than good. It felt better than she had words in her vocabulary to describe it. Azriel kissed her wet, slobbering mouth, without removing his penetrating fingers from it, and she loved it. Loved how he enjoyed every part of her. Loved how free he was. How accepting. 

He pulled out of her, looking into her hole and murmured proudly, 

“Oh, we stretched you good, pretty girl! It will be a while before you can take me easily and without pain, but you are doing so well.” He kneaded her ass cheeks roughly, as he pushed back in, his thrusts becoming harder and harder, as he drilled into her without pause. Elain was choking on his fingers, lapping at the scars, crying and crying out, tears pouring from her eyes. Her nails dug into his thigh, as she hooked her arm under his knee, holding on to him desperately.

The first climax that she’d experienced earlier was nothing compared to the avalanche of pleasure that was crushing through her right now. It was sweeping over her body, making her toes curl, making her wail and shake beneath him, as he fucked her through it. He fucked her. This gorgeous man of her dreams was everything she ever wanted, and he was here, inside of her, making her into a puddle of panting, slobbering goo. She was his. Wholly. Her passage milked him greedily, clutching at him, clenching, wanting more, taking whatever she needed from him. The pleasure was borderline torturous. 

“That’s my good girl,” he encouraged her. “My good Lainey. Give up your sweet pussy to me. Let me fill you up, sweetheart.”

She was nodding frantically and he finally withdrew his fingers from her mouth and slapped his lips to hers, kissing her savagely, while she felt him hot and throbbing inside of her. He tensed, his movements coming in erratically, until finally Elain felt him flood her with his seed. It was warm and wet and she buried her face in the pillow, smiling to herself. She made him spill his seed. She. Little Elain that no one ever paid attention to. She made the Duke of Velaris climax inside of her and fill her with his seed.

Everything was wet and aching and hurting when he fell on the bed behind her and brought her with him. He was still inside, his cock pulsing in her, as he wrapped her in his arms.

“Az,” she whispered, kissing his scarred forearm.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I am a woman now…”

He chuckled and kissed the back of her head.

“You are not a virgin anymore,” he stated. “But maybe not a woman yet.”

“Will you make me one?”

“Of course,” he pumped her a few times, making her moan. “I’ll make you my woman.”

“You feel so wonderful in me,” she admitted, while he kissed her neck, and bit her ear.

“What else did you like?” Azirel inquired, filling his palms with her breasts and fingering her nipples.

“I liked everything. Absolutely everything.”

“Even when I slapped your pussy with my cock?”

“Yes,” she turned to face him. “It was good. Everything was wonderful. Do you want to slap it again?” 

He chuckled.

“You are my eager little thing. Don’t worry, Ellie. I will. Your little slit will be slapped regularly, so you never forget who you belong to.”

“To you,” she breathed, kissing him rapturously. “Only to you.”

He nodded and cupped her between her legs possessively.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

“Now, pretty girl,” he eyed her and the state of her. “Are you ready for more?”

“Please, Azriel. I am ready for more.”

#the agreement #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #Elriel fanfiction #Elriel fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #acotar fanfiction #chapter 9 #victorian england #Victorian AU

[lvcygraybaird]

DERRY GIRLS ⇢ 3x07 | THE AGREEMENT

#sdjhsjhkdjkdjdlds #derry girls #derrygirlsedit #erin quinn #michelle mallon #james maguire #derry girls s3 #3x07 #derry girls 3x07 #the agreement #mygifs #mygifsets #myedits

[just-hyperfixed-ok]

“There's a part of me that wishes everything could just stay the same, that we could all just stay like this forever.

There's a part of me that doesn't really want to grow up. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I'm not sure I'm ready for the world, but things can’t stay the same, and they shouldn't.

No matter how scary it is we have to move on and we have to grow up because things, well they might just change for the better.

So we have to be brave, and if our dreams get broken along the way, we have to make new ones from the pieces”

- Erin Quinn, Episode 3x7

#derry girls #james maguire #erin quinn #michelle mallon #orla mccool #series 3 #clare devlin #derry girl quotes #quote #3x07 #the agreement #derry girls s3 #derry girls season 3

[angelasscribbles]

The Agreement Chapter 5: Reconciliations

Series: The Agreement

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: Mature

Warnings for this chapter: Depiction of childbirth

Word Count: 4,304

A/N: The information about having a supportive partner during childbirth is accurate, however, it’s meant for the earlier stages of labor. By the time the mother is pushing, it’s already far too late to give an epidural or any other type of pain relief for that matter. But, since labor can last for hours or even days, I put it where I did for the sake of brevity.

My other stuff: Master List.

“Is she okay?” Drake asked in alarm.

“She’s fine.” The nurse grinned at him, “Just in labor.”

His hand in hers felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. He was sure his circulation had been cut off, “Is it supposed to hurt this much?”

Riley’s hair was matted with sweat, her face showed signs of exertion, sweat soaked and red as she panted in between contractions. “I’m fine!”

Her screams when the contractions were happening begged to differ.

“Pain is a normal part of childbirth.” The nurse told him cheerily.

His eyes tracked back to his wife. If he had known just how painful, he never would have agreed to the pregnancy.

He was seriously worried, “Can’t you give her something?”

“She declined the epidural.”

“Riley, baby-“

“No!”

He blew out a frustrated breath.

It would be okay, this was normal. Jesus.

This was normal.

He was glad he was a man. Being shot hadn’t hurt this much.

He watched the monitor that was tracking the strength of contractions. The line started to rise, peaking higher than any of the previous ones. “Wow, that was a big one!”

“AAAhhhhhh! I….ahhh…..I know!” She gripped his hand even tighter, something he hadn’t believed was possible a moment before.

“Ow!” Escaped him involuntarily.

“Really?” She glared at him.

“No! I mean…yes, but no, it’s ok, I just….” There were definitely going to be bruises.

“We’re never having sex again!”

“What?” He looked wildly from her to the nurse.

The nurse smirked at him, “That’s what they all say in the moment. Don’t worry, once the baby is in her arms, the pain will be forgotten.”

That didn’t seem possible.

The doctor entered the room, fully gowned and gloved and took a seat at the end of the bed with a smile, “Hello Your Grace. The nurses tell me you’re fully dilated and effaced. Are you ready to have a baby?”

Drake stared at the doctor in shock, “Isn’t that what she’s been doing?”

“Oh, no. Her body has just been getting ready to have the baby. Now comes the fun part!”

“Drake!” Her voice sounded panicked.

He returned his attention to his wife, covering their entwined hands with his free one, “It’s okay baby, I’m here. I’m here.”

“That’s what she needs,” the nurse told him, “Encouragement and comfort. Remember your childbirth classes?”

He did.

Studies had proven that support and encouragement from the partner positively affected outcomes and decreased the need for the use epidurals and other forms of pain relief, which in turn decreased the risk of complications from said pain relief leading to a cascade of other interventions, all of which came with risks of complications of their own.

He soothed her, projecting far more calm into his voice than he actually felt, “It’s almost over, baby. You’re doing great, you’re so amazing. You can do this!”

She gripped his hand harder and smiled weakly.

He kissed her forehead, “He’s almost here. You got this! You can do it. I love you.”

“Okay, push!” The doctor ordered.

She was quiet as she bore down with the next contraction, focusing all her strength on pushing.

“Perfect!” The doctor encouraged, “He’s crowning!”

Drake’s head swiveled back and forth between what the doctor was doing and watching Riley’s face for any signs of distress.

“The head is out! You’re doing great! One more push!” the doctor called out.

Drake watched in amazed wonder as his son slid right out of his wife’s body.

“Do you want to cut the cord?”

He glanced at Riley. She nodded her head at him with what was possibly the biggest smile he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help but return it.

“Okay.”

Before he knew it, the cord was cut, the baby had been cleaned up, swaddled, and placed in his arms.

He stared down at the tiny face of his son, enraptured.

Tears stood in his eyes when he looked at his wife, “He’s perfect!”

Riley’s face was wet with tears of her own, but this time he didn’t have to ask what was wrong, this time he recognized them as tears of happiness.

“Here.” He said as he placed their son gently in her arms. “Look what you did.”

She laughed through her tears, “Look what we did!”

“No, baby. This was all you! I was just along for the ride.”

“That’s not true! I couldn’t have done it without you here supporting me! You have no idea how much it helped to hear you telling me that I could do it and that it was almost over.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be of some assistance.” He chuckled as he rubbed his aching fingers.

“Here.” The nurse handed him an ice pack, “For your hand.”

He glanced down at his bruised and swollen palm, “Thanks.”

“Oh, shit!” Riley’s eyes widened, “Did I do that?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, I can take it.” He told her, “I would have taken a hell of a lot more than that if I could have taken some of the pain away from you.”

She smiled at him, “I know you would have. And I love you for it.”

“Too bad he’s going to have to be an only child.”

Riley looked up at him in alarm, “What? No! Why?”

“Why? Why? I never want to see you in that much pain again, Riley!”

“Psshhh, it wasn’t that bad.” She said dismissively.

“Wasn’t that bad?” He echoed in astonishment as he flexed his hand.

“Excuse me, Your Grace….”

Drake looked up as another nurse approached them. “Yes?”

“Um…you have a visitor….”

“We know, we called our support system when she went into labor.” He confirmed.

“No…I mean, yes, you already had a waiting room full of people, but….” She stepped closer and lowered her voice, “The…king…is here.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Ah.” His eyes shot to Riley, who was staring down at their son, completely entranced. Turning back to the nurse he said, “I’ll deal with that.”

“Hey,” He said, turning back to Riley, “I’m going to let everyone know he’s here, okay?”

“Okay.” She said brightly, “I can’t wait for everyone to meet him!”

“I’ll be right back.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips then leaned down and ran his finger across his son’s cheek before kissing him as well, “I love you both so much. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life!"

Hana, Olivia, Maxwell, Bertrand and Savannah rushed him the moment he entered the waiting area. Liam hung back.

Drake had never seen him look so unsure.

Questions were hurled at him from the other five.

“How is she?”

“How’s the baby?”

“Can we see her?”

“How happy are you right now?”

“She’s great and so is the baby.” A sappy grin broke out across his face, “He’s fucking beautiful! And she was a goddamned warrior!”

“I’m so happy for you both!” Savannah said as she went up on her tiptoes to hug her brother, “Kids are the greatest thing ever!”

“Thanks, Sav.” He said as he hugged her back.

“You can go in now. She’s ready to see everyone.”

The group shuffled past him with hugs, back pats and congratulations until it was just him and Liam left in the room.

Drake’s eyes moved from the retreating backs of his friends and family to his estranged best friend. “Liam. I’m surprised to see you here.”

It’s not like they had called and invited him.

“I…ah…wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to be here.” Drake returned evenly.

How had he even found out? Olivia probably. Her first loyalty would always be to Liam.

“Congratulations. There’s no feeling more amazing than holding your child for the first time.” Liam said quietly, eyes fixed on the toe of his shoe.

“There’s not.” Drake agreed, “But what are you doing here?”

“I….” Liam sighed as he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“She’s fine.”

Liam nodded, “Good. That’s good. I guess I should just-“ He turned to go.

“Do you want to see her?”

“What?” He turned back around, surprise coloring his features.

Drake shrugged, “You came all this way….”

“You…. You’d be okay with that?”

“It’s not up to me, Li.” Drake blew out a breath of frustration. He didn’t like the distance that the Riley situation had put between them. Liam seemed to see him as a threat, and it wasn’t true.  

It had never been his intention to come between them and he had never actively discouraged or tried to dissuade Riley from seeing or talking to her former lover.

He simply tried to support whatever it was that she wanted. Which recently had been to not see Liam.

Liam didn’t seem to see the difference.

“It’s up to her! It’s always been up to her.” Drake said.

Drake’s calmness irked Liam. He had promised himself he was going to behave, but he found himself trying to provoke his former best friend, “You know she still loves me, right?”

“Probably.” Drake replied with equanimity.

Liam tried again to provoke a response, “I kissed her. When I went to see her at her office. And she kissed me back.”

“I’m aware.” Drake was still completely unruffled.

Surprise coursed through Liam, “You are?”

“Yes, I am.” Drake replied placidly, “She told me. She tells me everything.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Riley hurried into the dining room of her estate waving a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt scotch that was older than she was in the air, “Look what I found!”

Drake stood to welcome her. He kissed her cheek before taking the bottle from her hand. “Wow! Thanks, babe, but you didn’t have to do that. You can’t even drink any!”

“I got it for you!” She told him.

“Is that why you were late?” He asked.

“No.” She admitted reluctantly as he pulled out a chair for her.

“Okay…” He was immediately on edge, sensing her nervousness and hesitation. He took his own seat and waited for her to drop whatever it was on him.

“Liam came by the office.”

“And?”

“He kissed me.”

“Is that all?”

“I might have kissed him back.”

“Might have?”

“Okay, I did! I’m sorry! I just-“

He was out of his chair and kneeling in front of her before she could finish the sentence. He took her hands in his and cut her off, “Riley, look at me. Listen.”

She lifted her eyes from her lap to his face.

“Do not ever apologize to me for having feelings, Riley!”

“But we got married, Drake! For real this time and you’ve been nothing short of amazing! We’re having a baby together!”

“None of that matters!” He saw shock flash across her face and corrected himself, “I mean, it matters, it matters more than anything to me! But…shit, I’m fucking this up!”

He let her hands drop as he tipped his head back toward the ceiling and exhaled a frustrated sigh.

He gathered his thoughts then tried again, “Remember when I told you that I wasn’t the possessive type and that I’d never make you choose between us?”

She nodded.

“That’s still true. I married you knowing that you were in love with Liam. Even when we started sleeping together, I never expected that to change.”

“But…when I chose you that night….when we renewed our vows…when I asked you for a baby…I assumed you would think….that you would want….” She was clearly struggling for the words to express herself.

“I want you to be happy. That’s what I want. Am I happy you chose me that night? Fuck yes! You have no idea how fucking petrified I was that I’d never see you again! Did I mean every word I said at the vow renewal ceremony? Absolutely!”

He had meant it all the first time too.

“As for the baby….” His hand cradled her stomach, “I offered that years ago, knowing you were in love with Liam.”

“What are you saying, Drake?” She needed to be sure he meant what she thought he meant.

“I’m saying… my love is not conditional. Nor is it fragile. I signed up for this marriage knowing full well that you would always be in love with Liam. I signed up for this marriage assuming that my feelings would always be unreciprocated, and I was fine with that. As long as I could be near you, I was happy.”

“But I do love you!”

“I know!” A soft laugh escaped him, “And that makes me happier than you can ever imagine! It’s the best, and most surprising thing, that’s ever happened to me. But I know you still love Liam. I am not asking you to pretend you don’t. All I’m asking of you is honesty. If you want Liam back in your life, that’s up to you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. I don’t want you stop living for yourself again. Can you promise me that?”

She leaned forward with a smile, placing a hand gently on his face, “That, I can definitely promise!”

“Okay great!” He stood up then leaned down and placed a long, lingering kiss on her lips, “I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Now, let’s eat!”

Aggravation pulled through Liam, “Why don’t you seem bothered by that?”

“I’ve always known that she loves you, Li.”

“But you love her.”

“What’s one thing got to do with the other?”

“I’m just confused. If you loved her, and you knew that she loved me, then why did you agree to marry her?”

“Because you asked me to. Because you needed me to. Because she needed me to….and I’ll always do whatever she needs, be whatever she needs…a friend, lover, husband…. I just want her to be happy.”

“How can you actually be that selfless?”

Drake snorted, “I’m not! Trust me, my desire to make her happy is actually very selfish.”

“How so?”

Drake shrugged, “When she’s happy, I’m happy. She’s got this smile she gives me when she’s happy that just lights up the whole world. I mean, it makes me feel like I could pick up and move mountains if she asked me to!”

“Huh. I know what you mean.” Liam said.

How long had it been since he’d seen that smile?

Too long.

As if reading his mind, Drake said, “You used to make her smile like that all the time.”

“Used to being the operative phrase.” Liam replied.

“Maybe you could again.”

“What?” Liam wasn’t sure he heard correctly, “Are you saying you want me to pursue your wife?”

“I’m saying that I want her to be happy. And you used to do that. But things got off track. If there’s a way back for the two of you, then you have to get back on that track. So, yes, if you can get your shit together and it’s what she wants, then yes, Liam, I want you to fix it. For both your sakes.”

“And you think that’s possible?”

“I do. And if I’m being honest, I hope there’s a way back for you and I as well.”

“So do I.” Liam admitted.

“But before you see or talk to Riley again, there’s one thing you should be aware of.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m fine with you fixing your relationship with her, whatever that looks like, but I’m not giving up mine. I’ve earned my spot in her life, and as long as she wants me there, that’s where I’m going to be.”

“Understood.”

“Good. Now wait here and I’ll go ask if she wants to see you.”

He turned to leave, but Liam’s voice drew him back, “Drake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Drake nodded then disappeared through the door.

When he reappeared, he fixed Liam with a stern look, “Ok, she said yes but there are a few ground rules.”

“Ground rules?”

“Yes. She actually seemed happy you’re here, but she was clear that she doesn’t want to talk about any of your issues with each other, she’s focused on the baby right now.”

“Of course!” Liam agreed readily, “As it should be!”

He was just happy she was willing to see him.

Finally.

“Alright. Come on then.”

Olivia was coming out of the room as they approached it. Her eyebrows went up when she saw Liam with Drake, “She’s letting you in the room?”

“Yes, thankfully.” Liam replied.

Olivia smiled, patting his shoulder as she passed him, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll try.”

“You leaving, Liv?” Drake asked.

“Yes. But I’ll be back tomorrow. Let me know if you two need anything.”

“Okay. Thanks for coming.”

She waved as she disappeared down the hallway.

Max and Hana were still in the room.

“Where are Bert and Sav?” Drake asked.

“Savannah said to tell you bye and she’ll come to Valtoria when we go home.” Riley told him, “They had to get back to the kids. Bartie needed help with an assignment and Atticus broke something again. I don’t know. The nannies are threatening to quit.”

Drake laughed. Atticus definitely showed his Walker side on the regular.

“How are you, Riley?” Liam was being polite, almost formal.

She gave him a tentative smile, “Good. Never better, actually!”

“I see why.” Liam grinned down at the babe in Hana’s arms.

“Do you want to hold him?” Hana asked.

Liam looked around at Drake and Riley, “Can I?”

Drake and Riley looked at each other. Some kind of unspoken communication passed between them, then Riley said, “Yes.”

Hana transferred the baby to his arms.

He looked like Riley. He looked like Drake. Liam felt a myriad of emotions swirl through him. Some of them expected, some of them wildly surprising.

He had anticipated stabbing jealousy at this tangible proof of her connection to Drake. And there was a twinge of jealousy, but the overwhelming emotions were sadness that he had kept her from this experience for so long, regret that it wasn’t his child he was holding in his arms and a bittersweet happiness for her, and even for Drake.

Staring into the face of his best friend’s newborn son was something he had always imagined would be a happy moment. He’d be the godfather and they’d celebrate with whiskey and cigars afterwards.

How could he begrudge parenthood to either one of them?

But the most surprising emotion he felt was love.

As he stared at the tiny, helpless human in his arms that bore features of two of the people he loved most in the world, current estrangement notwithstanding, all the anger and pain he’d been holding onto about her pregnancy drained right out of him.

Love, wonder and a sense of protectiveness flooded in to take its place.

“He’s beautiful, like his mother.” Liam said as he gazed down at the bundle in his arms.

“Well, we’ll hope he takes after her in the looks department!” Drake laughed.

“Shut up,” Riley told him, “You’re gorgeous, you just don’t seem to be aware of it!”

Drake shook his head, “Are you sure they didn’t give you drugs?”

Riley snorted, “Whatever.”

Liam chose to ignore that little exchange, asking instead, “What’s his name?”

“Jackson Nolan Walker.” Drake replied.

“Jack or Jax for short.” Riley said, “We’re still deciding.”

There was a knock on the door and a nurse entered. “I hate to interrupt but baby Jackson has an appointment in the nursery.”

“For?” Drake asked.

“We need to run a few routine tests. We’ll be right back with him. Would you like to come?”

Drake looked at Riley.

“Go!” She told him, “I’ll feel better if I know you’re with him.”

“Okay!” He bounded across the room to kiss her then took the baby from Liam, and told the nurse, “Lead the way!”

Hana patted Max on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s go find something to eat. Riley, Liam, can we bring you back anything?”         

“No thanks.” They replied in unison, then gave each other hesitant smiles.

Liam took the seat next to the bed as Max and Hana exited the room.

“Hi.” He felt hesitant and unsure, like a middle schooler with his first crush.

He didn’t know how to fix it, just that he wanted to.

She gave him the first real smile he’d seen from her since she had left for Texas, “I’m glad you came.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” She laughed softly, “Believe it or not. After everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve been to each other, it just seemed wrong for you to miss such a monumental moment in my life. I wanted you to see him, hold him, share in our happiness.”

Even though she had missed the birth of his son. Neither said it, but it hung in the air between them. One of many life moments they hadn’t been able to share.

“Riley, I….”

“It’s ok, Liam. I said I didn’t want to talk about our stuff today. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why you were so unavailable after Alexander was born. Jax is already all I can think about.”

A slight smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, “Yeah, they do tend to take over your life.”

“I forgive you.”

“What?”

“I forgive you for not giving me a baby. This worked out better. Not because I don’t love you. I do. But Drake can be there for us in a way you can’t. I know it’s not your fault. I understand the position you’re in, but I would have resented and eventually hated you if we’d had a child together. I can see that now.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about our stuff?” He said with a short laugh.

“Have we ever been able to be in the same room as each other and not talk about our stuff?” She asked him with a smile.

He laughed louder at that, “No.”

She held her hand out to him and he took it gratefully, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss then holding it tightly between both of his as he fought back tears of relief, “Thank you, Riley.”

“For what?”

“Letting me back in, even if it’s just a little. I’m going to figure out how to fix this, I promise. I’m sorry I’ve been so fucking oblivious to your pain.”

“It wasn’t all your fault, Liam. I hid how badly I was hurting from you.” She confessed.

He looked at her in surprise, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want what little time we had together to be marred by any negativity, but by not addressing it, it ate away at me little by little. I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

She shrugged, “Not being honest about my feelings, putting my entire life on hold on the off chance you might be free then blaming you for it, running off to Texas without calling, not telling you when I first realized I was developing feelings for Drake, not taking your calls for the last three months.”

“Can we…start over?”

“Maybe… but things are going to have to be very different.”

“They will, I promise!”

“And Drake is part of my life now. A big part. Are you going to be able to live with that?”

“I’ve been living with it, Riley.”

“No, I mean a real part of it! As in-“

“I know what you mean, Riley. He’s been clear about that as well. But again, I already knew.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I figured out you were sleeping with Drake a year before you went to Texas.”

“What? How?”

“He left his shoes on your bedroom floor, and clothes in the hamper.”

“You went through my closet?”

“Not my proudest moment, but yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Same reason you didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what little time we had together.”

“We are a pair of idiots, aren’t we?”

“We are.” He agreed, “Mostly me. But I’m your idiot.”

“Look who’s back and I think he’s hungry!” Drake called out as he entered the room with a squirmy, fussy baby.

Drake’s eyes landed on Riley and Liam’s clasped hands.

Liam dropped her hand and sat back in the chair.

Riley reached both arms out toward him, “Give me my baby!”

Drake placed the baby in her arms as Max and Hana entered the room.

“I’m just saying that I bet peacocks would improve patient outcomes!” Max was heated, “There are proven health benefits to pets and emotional support animals!”

“Okay, Max.” Hana sighed, “But I still don’t think it’s very hygienic to have peacocks running loose in a hospital!”

Liam stood, “I should be getting back. I moved the council meeting from this morning to tonight so I could be here.”

“So, you do know how to juggle competing priorities.” Riley said lightly.

It still felt a little like a knife in his heart.

Baby steps.

“I’m learning.” He told her.

“Better late than never.” She wasn’t mad anymore. There was plenty of blame for both sides in the deterioration of their relationship.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Drake clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thank you again.” Liam told him as they walked. He regretted his earlier attempt to provoke him.

“I didn’t do anything, Li. I told you, I’m not standing in your way. I love her and I’m not going anywhere. But I’m also not stopping her from having whatever relationship with you she wants. That was the agreement, right?”

“Right.” Liam laughed in surprise then shook his head.

The agreement.

Maybe it was time to revamp the whole thing.  

#the agreement #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr poly #the royal romance #trr fanfic #drake walker #liam rys #why choose #the royal romance fanfic #trr #choices fanfic #choices stories we play #choices #choices stories you play #choices fandom

[lifedistractions]

While I liked the sad Michelle story in The Agreement. I did think it could have been at least alluded to in the series beforehand. So she has a brother who’s in jail for murder and she hasn’t been allowed to see him. Ok, so why not perhaps mention something about him all the times they as a group got in trouble? The perfect time would have been when they were arrested and at the police station. You’d think the police while getting to the bottom of the school robbery would mention something about how her brother’s past at that time.

Or were they only waiting on the final episode to make us feel bad for Michelle to give her character some sympathy points?

#michelle mallon #derry girls #the agreement #series finale #I did like the character development to see her vulnerability but I wished we had seen more of it in the series instead of just at the end

[hcolleen]

Crowley's Questions and Aziraphale's doubts

"All I did was ask questions...that's all it took back then" "I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between right and wrong." "Well, it must be bad..."

I got to thinking last night while working on getting my brain to shut down for the night (always an effort) and listening to Good Omens season 1 (it helps to get my brain to focus on something soothing and familiar). Crowley and Aziraphale are on either side of a very thin line. Crowley is daring enough (perhaps hurt enough by the limitation of his work's life by the 6000ish year limit of its existence) to openly question God about why so much effort was put into a large universe, far larger and more elaborate than it needed to be to bring about and test humanity within 6000 years. Why was he tasked with something that would take millions of years to even start being anything if there wasn't going to be time for the beauty to unfold.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, kept his anxiety inside. He didn't question it aloud, didn't saunter vaguely downwards with the demons because he thought God was right to do whatever they wanted. But, when it came to how little it took for humans, God's chosen creatures, to be cast out of the garden God prepared for them, into a world they weren't prepared or equipped to deal with, he began to fret ('it must be wrong' not 'it is wrong' or 'of course it's wrong' but a phrase that expresses his own doubt and uncertainty). It's what shows Crowley that he has someone who he can eventually trust, even work with. It's what allows the Agreement to come to fruition, even if Aziraphale is fretful about it, anxious about why God doesn't seem to be making sense.

(hey, look, my first deliberately tagged post)

#good omens #the Agreement

[thateurosite]

🇸🇪 Måns Zalmerlöw releases "Running Low" with The Agreement

🇸🇪 #Eurovision 2015 winner and #Sweden's representative @manszelmerlow has released his new single "Running Low" with The Agreement, which is the song he wanted to submit for #Melfest in 2015.

The new music releases from Eurovision artists continue on, as the summer months go by. Another Eurovision artists that has a release is Eurovision 2015 winner Måns Zalmerlöw who has released his new single “Running Low” with his band The Agreement. What Måns’ entry would have been at Melodifestivalen 2015 During his concert in London earlier this year, the Eurovision winner revealed that…

View On WordPress

#ESC Sweden #esc sweden 2015 #Eurovision Sweden #eurovision sweden 2015 #mans zelmerlow #running low #the agreement

[notesofseptember]

Jag vill börja om

Vill slå mig fri

#andetag #måns zelmerlöw #mans zelmerlow #the agreement #a september song #Spotify

[wine-porn]

Tactful Pact

I remember quite clearly the first time I saw Napa Valley on a shelf–and was horrified. I also remember exactly the first time I saw Tapestry, and again furrowed my brow in wondering where exactly the marketing pigeon-holing would leave the two *real* wines–especially my beloved Rutherford. I don’t recall exactly when I saw The Agreement arrive, but remember rolling my eyes at its rather…

View On WordPress

#2012 #Beaulieu Vineyard #Best wine reviews #Bordeaux Blend #BV wines #Central Coast Critic #Napa Valley #Prohibition #Red blend #Rutherford #soif #Soif Wine Blog #Stephen McConnell #Stephen McConnell Wine Blog #Steve McConnell #Steve McConnell Wine Blog #The Agreement #wine1percent

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered. 

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him. 

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone. 

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold. 

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events. 

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.” 

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read. 

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction. 

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

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

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

[nikethestatue]

The Agreement

Chapter 12

Elain Archeron

Elain’s pen filled page after page. Never before had she written anything this quickly and this…well (if she may say so herself!). The tale flowed. Elain’s always had a robust, and some have said, ‘wild’ imagination. She didn’t think that it was wild, but she created worlds and conversations in her mind, adventures and love stories. Ahhh, the love stories. She indulged in writing love stories the most. They were exciting and exhilarating and passionate and…completely false. Untrue. Fake. Her love stories were childish, based on conjuncture and fantasy, not on any personal experience. She’d observed Dorchester courting her sister Nesta, but it was a short and ill-timed affair, which resulted in Nesta’s heartbreak. And then there was her own fateful engagement to Graysen, Lord Nolan. When Azriel had asked her whether she loved Graysen, Elain was honest–at that time, she didn’t know. It felt like she should’ve been in love with her husband-to-be, and she tried. She really, really tried to love him. However, she did not know anything about the man, other than that he loved fox hunting. In a week, she’d learned more about Azriel than she’d ever known about Graysen. She knew what whiskey Azriel preferred, that he played the fortepiano, she knew that for breakfast he only ate eggs and that he enjoyed coffee, that he was quite knowledgeable in and admired French impressionist paintings–he’s had a few of those chaotic, perplexing pieces here at the house. Apparently, he’d been to France numerous times, and often left Paris with a painting or two. His horse was named Brutus–it was a stately black stallion. Now, she knew about Azriel sneaking all the way to the Levant instead of taking a leisurely year to explore the Swiss Alps and the canals of Venice. 

She knew Azriel much better than she ever knew Graysen. And perhaps, it was not love, but it was affection she felt for Azriel. Deep admiration and sexual attraction as well. And now, she could write about the genuine feelings that she was exploring  for the first time in her life, which was a thoroughly freeing experience.

A knock on the door startled her and she made a sloppy splat of ink on the page. 

“Elain?” She heard Nuala’s voice. “Are you alright, Miss?”

Looking around, waking up from her writing stupor, Elain looked around the room–the shadows were falling out in the garden. The clock said that it was after 3 pm. She couldn’t believe that she’s been writing for six hours straight.

“Elain?” Nuala repeated, concern lacing her voice.

Elain got up and went to open the door.

Nuala stood in the corridor, and Cerridwen was behind her. Both looked worried.

“Miss Elain, are you alright?” Nuala asked softly.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, unsure as to the reason for their panic. “I am well. Why?”

“Well, you’ve been locked in your room for the better part of the day and did not come down for luncheon.”

Cerridwen stepped forward and added, “We are under strict orders from his lordship that you eat at least three times daily. Full meals…”

“I apologise,” Elain whispered, reddening. She didn’t want to get the twins in trouble. She genuinely lost track of time, and now, they both felt at fault for her oversight. “I am sorry. I was…well, busy,” she explained vaguely. So far, only Azriel knew that she wrote, and she wanted to keep it that way. She liked having that little part of her life to remain private. Even though she was friendly with the twins, she didn’t want to reveal her hobby to them just yet.

“May I come in?” Nuala asked. “I should help you dress.”

Elain looked down and saw that she was still dressed in her house dress from the morning.

Elain stepped aside, allowing Nuala to enter, and noticing that the twins exchanged heavy glances between each other.

Slowly closing the door behind her, Nuala followed Elain inside and headed for the wardrobe, while Elain cleaned up her desk and put her writings into the drawer.

“I don’t mean to pry, Miss Elain,” Nuala turned swiftly and glared at Elain. “But I must ask–are you truly feeling well? Are you…hurt?”

It dawned on Elain at last–Nuala was aware of the fact that the relationship was consummated–and she was disturbed by Elain’s reluctance to come out of her room.  

Stepping closer, Nuala pressed, “did he hurt you?”

Shaking her head, Elain quickly said, “No. Nuala, he didn’t. It was very…intense,” and at that, she blushed deeply, but took the maid’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “Truly,” she pushed.

Nuala looked at her closely, and finally, after a long pause, squeezed Elain’s hand back.

“Like you said,” Elain reminded her with a smile, “he is a good lord.”

“He might be a good lord,” Nuala shrugged, motioning for Elain to sit down at her dressing table. She picked up the hair brush and began brushing through Elain’s thick hair, as she said, “but is he a good lover? A tender one? A caring one?”

Elain pursed her lips, and Nuala’s eyes dipped to Elain’s neck, down to her cleavage, to her arms, taking stock of all the marks and bruises that peppered her skin. Clearly, she wasn’t believing Elain’s words. 

Elain chewed on her lower lip, while Nuala brushed her hair somewhat aggressively.

“Yes, no, and yes,” Elain said at last, and Nuala threw her a confused look in the mirror.

Explaining further, Elain said, “he is a good lover, but he is not tender at all. But he is caring and he cared for me during and after.”

Nuala did not say anything back for a long while, while she braided and pinned Elain’s hair. She’d learned in the past week that Elain was comfortable with silences. She didn’t mind being lost in her thoughts and didn't have the need in her to constantly talk. It was both relaxing, but also unnerving at times. It reminded Nuala of Azriel too much. 

“Is that enough?” she finally snapped.

Elain looked at her and raised her brow in question.

“Him being nice, I suppose…caring even…is that enough?”

“It has to be,” Elain said flatly and that was that.

Nuala understood that the conversation was over. 

“What would you like to wear?” Nuala asked at last.

Before Elain could answer though, there was a knock on the door. Nuala went to open it and there stood the stone-faced Mr. Devlon. He remained expressionless when he announced, “A note came for Miss Elain from his lordship.” With that, he handed the envelope to Nuala and left without saying another word. 

“From his lordship,” Nuala said and Elain took the small envelope, and wished that her fingers didn’t tremble quite so visibly. She and Azriel did not part on good terms–she felt that he was upset with her, but there was nothing that she could do about that now. She stood by her decision of not agreeing to contract re-negotiating. It would only give Azriel more power in the relationship, and frankly, that wasn’t fair to her.

My beautiful Elain,

I’ve been called away and will be absent for a day or two. I will do my best to return to you speedily. Meanwhile, I think that it would allow you time to heal before I return and ravage you again. Worry not, beautiful, I am not angry with you. You were correct in standing up to me and to my unfair demands. 

While I am away, don’t you dare play with yourself. I’ll know if you did. And there will be consequences if you disobey.

Very fondly,

A.

Elain had no idea what to make of this strange missive. She read it a few times, attempting to ascertain the tone and whether he was being truthful about not being upset with her.

“Is everything well, Miss?” Nuala asked.

Finally snapping out of it, Elain nodded and tucked the letter into her brassiere. 

“His lordship will be away for a couple of days,” she explained, trying to keep her tone neutral. However, she couldn’t help her red hot cheeks, which flamed like two blazing coals. “There is no need to dress.”

Nuala tried to gauge Elain’s mood after the letter, but Elain did not let anything on, though judging by the deep blush that spread over her face and neck, the lord had said something naughty in his letter. Elain wasn’t exactly difficult to read. 

Nuala still wasn’t sure what to make of her new friend–was this girl utterly mad? Or was she wild and fearless? Did she know what she was doing? Or was she way over her head with this affair? Nuala just prayed that Elain would not get her heart broken in the end, because if she had hopes of seducing Azriel away from Morrigan, it was a futile endeavour. It would never happen. He wouldn’t budge. And Nuala hoped that Elain recognised that fact. 

“Nonsense!” Nuala announced, and Elain gave her a puzzled look.

“When the fox is away, the chickens are at play!” Nuala announced mysteriously, and Elain laughed heartily.

Seemed like the letter wasn’t a heartbreaker. 

“What do you have in mind?”

Nuala quickly pulled things from the wardrobe and said, spinning around the bedroom, “We are going out!”

“Out where?” Elain whispered cautiously, though the idea of leaving the house appealed to her.

“We shall go to a public dining hall!”

“What is that?”

“A place where we can dine, and there is music…and,” she whispered conspiratorially, “men!”

Elain’s hand flew to her mouth and she stared at Nuala.

“You are scandalous, Miss Nuala!” she chided her humorously.

“Am not!” Nuala put her hands on her hips. “Balthazar is romancing Cerridwen. You are engaged with his lordship. What am I left with? Mr. Devlon?”

At that, Elain dissolved into laughter, shaking with giggles.

Nuala was laughing too, while she added, “Though a little birdie told me that Mr. Devlon has a lady companion.”

“What?!” Elain's eyes just about bugged out of her head. “You jest!”

Nuala shrugged, “not at all. All servants talk and that’s what I heard! So…that leaves me all by my lonesome. Therefore, you and Cer are obligated to come with me and have dinner and be with people.”

“What if there is a suitor who wants to court you?” Elain pondered, curious about the twins’ position in the household.

Nuala winced and said, “Well, then I’d have to discuss it with his lordship. And I am certain that he’d demand that I’d go with a chaperone!”

“He is that strict?”

“Not strict. Concerned. You should've heard the earful that poor Balthazar got when his lordship discovered that he was courting Cer! Told him that if he’d make her pregnant without a wedding ring, he’d ruin his life.”

Elain was surprised, and yet she wasn’t. It seemed like an Azriel thing to do. Have this warped sense of honour and propriety. 

“Dress, and I’ll meet you downstairs in 10 minutes,” Nuala said and then skipped out of the bedroom hurriedly.

Where Elain was from, they had public houses, taverns, but she wasn’t familiar with these public food halls. She dressed in what Nuala had left for her–typical daily attire of a skirt, a shirtwaist and a jacket. She pulled on her gloves, and grabbed her hat and headed downstairs. 

Nuala appeared a minute later, dragging Cerridwen alongside her, and then she loudly suggested ‘invite Balty to join us’.

Cerridwen gave her a scandalised look, but Nuala only shrugged. 

“Mr. Devlon would be more amiable to let us go if we have a male escorting us.”

“Oh,”

“Yes. Oh. It’s just for that and no other reason.”

Elain hid her smile.

Apparently, Nuala approved of her sister’s romance with the valet. Elain didn’t know Balthazar well, because Azriel hardly ever needed his help, but he seemed to be a proper and genteel young man. 

They passed by the servants' dining room, to let Mr. Devlon know that they would be leaving. And to Elain’s surprise, Mr. Devlon was…entertaining. He and a middle-aged lady that Elain did not know were seated at the table, a tea service in front of them. 

“Ms. Alis will be joining us for dinner,” Mr. Devlon announced, and it was obvious that he wasn’t too thrilled to be found out like that. Because when they came in, he was actually…smiling. Laughing even. An unheard of event, up until now. “Since his lordship won’t be here tonight.”

“Mr. Devlon,” Nuala did her best to sound contrite and innocent. “We should like to have your permission to go out and eat at the dinner hall. Miss Elain’s never been to one, and we’d like to show it to her,”

“And there is dinner, Mr. Devlon,” Cerridwen piped in, “you and Ms. Alis should enjoy it together. There is beef stew and I’ve made pea soup as well. And a plum crumble for pudding.”

“And I shall escort the ladies,” Balthazar added immediately, even puffing out his chest, though he was a brawny, big lad, and there was no need to appear even bigger than he was.

Mr. Devlon gave them all an assessing, stern look, but then Ms. Alis whispered,

“Perhaps it would be good for them, Mr. Devlon? They are young and surely want to explore their horizons…”

Mr. Devlon considered, his lips pursed, but finally nodded and said, ‘you are to be home by 10:30 pm at the latest.”

“Yes, Mr. Devlon! Of course!” The twins beamed and then Cerridwen tugged Elain behind her, as they quickly left the dining room, before Mr. Devlon could change his mind. 

The four of them ran down the hallway and finally piled out of the servants door and onto the side path. 

“Was that her?” Elain asked excitedly. “Was that Mr. Devlon’s lady paramour?”

Cerridwen was laughing, and Nuala was bent over at the waist, panting and laughing. 

“She is the housekeeper of the Duke of Argyle’s household, Lord Tam Lin,” Balthazar explained, offering Elain his arm. She was technically of higher social standing than the twins, and he felt obligated to provide her with assistance. Instead of taking his arm, Elain nudged him towards Cerridwen and nodded in her direction. Balthazar smiled with gratitude and then sidled towards Cerridwen and gave his arm. She threaded it with hers and beamed with secret happiness. Nuala took Elain by the hand and they walked side by side.

It was a nice, warm evening, and people were out for a stroll. Even the normally quiet and empty streets of Belgravia were unusually busy, though the aristocrats took to their private gardens or were piling into cabs, while the help walked on the edge of the sidewalks. Balthazar took his place at the curb, to protect the ladies he was escorting, and Elain thought that perhaps, Azriel was worrying needlessly, since Balthazar seemed like a very decent and honourable gentleman.

“How would Mr. Devlon meet someone like Ms. Alis?” Elain wondered. 

“At a flower show,” Cerridwen laughed, as she turned to look at them. “Mr. Devlon is quite the florist–he actually cultivates heirloom roses, and devotes a lot of time to working on that–and every year, there is a flower show, at the Crystal Palace no less! And Mr. Devlon’s won a number of times. Ms. Alis visited the show, and even exhibited a couple of times. I suppose they share the love for horticulture and extravagant roses.”

Elain considered it, and then said, “well, I think that it’s rather romantic!”

Nuala laughed softly and pulled Elain to her, “ahhh, she’s got romance on her mind! She even finds Mr. Devlon romantic,”

“I wouldn’ go that far,” Elain laughed as well. “He is rather stern and frightful.”

“Which only makes it more amusing to watch his lordship be stern and frightful with Mr. Devlon. Though it doesn’t happen often.”

The casual mention of Azriel brought Elain’s thoughts back to him. She’s been in her head most of the day, and now, she was in the company of others, but deep down, Elain was always with Azriel–connected to him mentally and physically. Now, as they walked down the streets, in London’s perpetual fog, though it was very light this fine evening, Elain took stock of her body and all the minor aches and pains came back to the surface. Just last night, she was tangled in a naked embrace with the Duke of Velaris, him inside her body, his hands hot and needy all over her skin, his tongue…everywhere. She also just realised that she’d forgotten to dress properly and didn’t put on her corset, but was walking in her brassiere under her blouse and her jacket. Her tender nipples rubbing against the satin brought her to that reality. The dull, but pleasant soreness in her behind was also welcome–a tether that connected her to Azriel. Not to mention the ache between her legs. She hoped that no one noticed the immodest bouncing of her breasts, and how natural her body looked beneath the jacket.

They joined a stream of people–many younger females, in simple clothes–and some younger men, dressed in varied attire. 

“So who goes to these dining halls?” Elain asked, turning her head whichever way, like a baby. She hasn’t even been in places with so many people on the streets. When her father still had his fortune, the family lived in a manor, had acres and acres of land, but only ever ventured out to neighbouring estates, and at times to Dover, to a ball or a charity function. After their home and their money were gone, there was nowhere to go and travel was expensive anyway. They were stuck in St. Margaret’s Bay for years. Therefore, yet again, Elain was overwhelmed. She was initially shocked by the crowds when she first met Azriel (and she couldn't believe that it was only a week ago). Now, she was navigating through throngs of people, and she grabbed Nuala’s hand tighter. Nuala looked at her, but didn’t comment, and only squeezed her fingers kindly.

“You’ll like it, I promise,” Nuala whispered at last when they approached a building with tall doors, which swung back and forth. “And on the weekend, we’ll go to Than Gunter’s in Berkeley Square for sweet ices.”

It was a great food hall, when they entered. It was noisy and warm here, waiters and serving boys were running around, hauling great trays laden with dishes. Because Balthazar was with them, he took charge of finding seats, and the three of them followed him. 

There was dancing happening in the adjoining hall, the stomping of feet loud and the music fast and jovial. 

“Can we go dancing?” Elain asked excitedly, taking everything in. “What’s there?” she pointed to the second floor loggia, where there were individual tables set up, and far fewer people were milling about.

“Oh, that’s where the gentlemen dine,” Balthazar explained. 

“Gentlemen come here?” she was surprised. The clientele was decent, but this was a place for the working class–mostly domestics, labourers, perhaps some students. She couldn’t imagine Azriel here. 

“Perhaps not his lordship, but you would be surprised,” Cerridwen piped in, her eyes lighting up when they were brought four pints.

Elain’s never even had lager before, or at least not as much as a whole pint, but she took a sip and it went down well. It was smooth, hoppy, slightly bitter and fruity. 

Balthazar took to ordering for everyone, since he was a man and expected to take charge. Elain wondered if it were just the three girls, how quickly would they be approached and served? 

They were brought anchovy stuffed olives to nibble on, and Cerridwen asked, “Why are you looking so pensive like, Miss Elain?”

“You may simply call me Elain,” she said, sipping her lager. “I am not pensive,”

“You sure are,” Balthazar argued, his dark brown eyes watching her closely.

“I…oh, it’s stupid,” Elain waved her hand, but Balthazar and Cerridwent pressed her, “come on now. There is something going on…You don’t like the place?”

“No, no, the place is nice,” she assured them quickly. “It just made me think…You know how we had to ask Mr. Devlon for permission to go out tonight? And when we came here, they saw us with Balthazar and they found a table for us quickly and brought us drinks, but those four girls,” she pointed to the waiting area, “they’ve been here longer than us, and no one’s offered them a seat yet. And I bet that if Balthazar wanted to leave in the evening, no one would object. And I…I just don’t think it’s fair,” she exhaled and felt herself blush.

“Are you a Socialist?” Nuala queried.

“A Socialist?” Elain laughed nervously. “No. Of course not. But I would like,”

“What exactly?”

“I don’t want this to be all we ever do. You are domestics, but maybe you want to do something else entirely?” She looked at the twins. “And my sisters–my eldest, Nesta, she is so smart, so well-read, so erudite–and she can’t even do anything with her smarts.”

“She could become a governess,” Cerridwen proposed reluctantly.

“She doesn’t want to be a governess. Because she could do so much more! I want her to become a secretary,”

Both Balthazar and Nuiala bubbled their lips. This was a tall order kind of a declaration and Elain knew that. 

“She’d need a typing machine, you know,” Balthazar said reasonably. “They are expensive and she’d need to train, and she’d need to know how to interview well…”

Elain sighed and took a generous gulp of her lager. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t believe herself and that she allowed herself to voice her dreams out loud.

“I know. But I will buy her that machine and she will learn. And she will become a secretary!” she said stubbornly. “And then,” she was talking fast, the alcohol probably hitting her quicker than expected, “why couldn’t we all work and do what we want? Why can’t we own property? Why do we have to ask our fathers and husbands for permission to do everything? Why can’t we study in colleges?”

Cerridwen was shaking her head, until she muttered, “you’ve got many ambitions, Miss Elain. It’s commendable, but I don’t think it’s realistic, I am sorry to say.”

“I know,” Elain agreed, “I know. It’s all fairy tales in my head, it will never happen,”

The waiter delivered mutton cutlets with tomato sauce, and a platter of liver with onions, along with a bowl of young roasted potatoes. 

And while she was talking, Elain didn’t even dare speak about herself and why she was here, in London, in the Duke’s household in the first place. Because admitting out loud that she was whoring out her womb for money was simply terrible. Even if these three knew some of what was happening between her and the Duke, acknowledging it was not something Elain was ready to do. 

Balthazar tucked into the liver and pointed his fork in her direction with intention.

“You should ask his lordship,”

Elain sliced into the mutton and asked, “ask him for what?”

“He might agree with you,” Balthazar said, “at least in concept. He always championed women’s rights, donating to causes. He opened a women’s hospital in Whitechapel, because the mortality rates were so high for women and birthing mothers. He funds schools there as well–not sure how many children have the chance to attend, but he does what he can.

“Maybe he can do something for you?”

“I don’t see what he might be able to help,” Elain argued sadly. “His lordship is a good man, with a generous heart, but this change seems insurmountable,”

“Naw, Miss Elain, ain’t nothing insurmountable in the world if there is a will. You ain’t the only one talking like that,”

At that Elain stopped eating and looked up at Cerridwen with curiosity. 

Nuala nodded, “She's right, you know. There are women out there campaigning, organising rallies of all sorts, demanding more rights. 

“I don’t know if his lordship would allow you to attend–it does get somewhat dangerous at times, and there is much resistance–but you should talk to him,”

Elain hummed under her breath and nodded. 

Would Azriel be receptive to her ideas? He seemed like a modern enough man, but he was also the product of his upbringing and his status. 

“The food’s good,” Nuala announced, bringing the conversation to a close. 

“Not as good as Cer’s,” Balthazar smiled and Cerridwen blushed adorably at the compliment.

Was Elain envious of them?

Maybe a little.

What she had with Azriel was passionate, sexual, filthy even, but was it romantic? She wouldn’t say that. And maybe, she wanted a little of this–the cute compliments and the gentle touches and the tender gazes. 

Nuala huffed and grunted, “you two make me feel terrible about myself!”

“No!” Cerridwen reached for her sister’s hand and patted hers gently. “You’ll find someone. You know you will.”

Nuala rolled her eyes and said, her tone bitter, “when? When I am like Ms. Alis? Aged 53, droning on and on about my nephews, with a Mr. Devlon-like suitor?”

“You are being dramatic,” Balthazar cocked his brow, displaying the same even-keel-ness as Azriel. “Of course you will find a husband,”

“Balthazar, do you know many domestics who are married? The whole idea is that we get wages, shelter and food, but no private lives…It’s fine. Maybe I will become a revolutionary spinster!”

Elain chuckled at that.

“It doesn’t sound terrible.”

As they laughed, a shadow fell on their table and Elain lifted her eyes from her now-empty plate. She had polished off her cutlets very successfully. She still felt fairly ravenous all the time, hungry for food and for the comfort of having food around her. 

“If you are not otherwise engaged, Miss, would you grant me the pleasure of the next dance?”

A well-dressed man stood at their table. He was fashionably dressed, in a well-tailored suit, with a moss green waistcoat and an emerald green cravat. He stood in a confident pose, long legs firmly planted on the floor, one hand threaded into the seam of the waistcoat. He was a younger man, maybe mid-20s, with an attractive aristocratic face, fine features, and bronze-red hair styled unusually long. He wore a golden eye patch over his left eye. 

“Count Lucien Vanserra at your service,” he bowed slightly, his one brown eye gazing at Elain.

She was taken aback by the invitation, and didn’t know what to say, but she rose from her seat and curtsied.

“Count Vanserra.”

He extended an elbow to her, and she had no other choice but to take it.

It felt strange. 

Another man’s interest in her was…unusual. Confusing too. 

She didn’t know why her, and what she had that was so attractive. A duke and a count? That seemed a bit unbelievable.

Nuala and Cerridwen made big eyes at her, but she only managed a discreet shrug and followed along Count Vanserra’s long strides. He was not as tall as Azriel–but who was?--but he was still very tall, with a lean, athletic body.

“May I have a name?” he asked at last.

“Oh, pardon me and my manners. Elain. Elain Archeron.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Archeron,” he said warmly.

“You as well, Count.”

“Do you dance the polka, Miss?” he asked.

She nodded and he moved them closer to the dance hall. There was a small band of musicians playing in the corner, and what they lacked in numbers, they compensated in energy and fast, exciting tunes.

“Oh, this reminds me of home!” Elain exclaimed with a smile.

“Indeed? Where is home?” he queried, wrapping his arm around her waist. And then, they were off, swept into the vortex of the other dancing couples. 

Lucien led expertly, his steps sure and well-practised. 

“Dover,” Elain explained, watching her hand disappearing within his.

“Ahhh, and what sorts of music is played in Dover?”

“If we ever went out dancing, Irish music is popular. Fast dances. But it’s a port city, so we’ve heard all kinds of music there,”

“And now you are in London?” he prodded her.

Despite her best efforts, Elain coloured, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the fact that she was still dripping with Azriel’s seed in her satin knickers. It was both embarrassing and unsettling somehow. She hoped that her collar hid any marks from Azriel’s teeth–marks that he loved leaving on her body. She felt marked by him. She was his. Not only because of the fact that they had consummated their relationship last night, but because somehow, she belonged to him. She was Azriel’s. 

Count Vanserra didn’t seem to notice her apprehension, and waited for her answer.

“I am,” was all she said, while he whipped her up in his arms.

He waited for more, looking at her expectantly.

He was handsome. Not in the same way that Azriel was handsome–who was classically and unforgettably beautiful, but in a refined way, which spoke of many generations of noble blood. Though then she thought of the Queen, who wasn’t exactly a beauty, and decided that perhaps this Lucien Vanserra was just handsome.

“May I come clean, Miss Archeron?” he smiled at her, as he spun her about. 

“Certainly, sir,” she agreed, wondering what secret he was harbouring.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh. You have?”

“I have,” he nodded, pulling her closer to his body. 

“Where would that be?”

“Duke of Velaris’s garden, to be exact.”

Jesus. She did not want him to know anything about her and Azriel, and establish a connection between the two of them, but it seemed like it was too late now. She’d been careful, and stayed mostly on the inside of the garden, figuring out how to make sense of it, and pulling weeds.

“I was curious, I must admit, as to who you were. And how did Azriel get such a pretty gardener?”

“You know the Duke of Velaris?”

“I do. Not closely–I don’t think he has close acquaintances, if I am being frank–but we frequent the same clubs,”

“What do you do, my lord?”

“My father is the ambassador to Britain–from Italy. I was born here though, so I am quintessentially British, though of Italian stock.”

“How fascinating.”

Elain didn’t know how to react, or what to say. She was frantically thinking of an explanation for what she was doing at Azriel’s house.

Lucien trotted the two of them around, while the tune changed, and now it was actually something Gaelic and familiar. 

“Uh, the music in this establishment leaves much to be desired,” Lucien winced, but Elain lit up and said, “well, I am enjoying it!”

“Well, then, lead on!” he laughed, and his smile was open and friendly.

Elain found herself liking him. He wasn’t particularly intense, not like Azriel, and there was a warmth about him, a lightness, which probably came from his background.

They linked arms and stomped about, facing a row of dancers, who answered with their own stomps. Elain caught sight of Nuala, dancing with a man, and Balthazar and Cerridwen dancing together, their eyes only for each other.

“So you are familiar with the Duke then?” Lucien pressed. 

Elain was breathless and smiling, as she nodded.

“I am his gardener! I am going to be studying at the Horticulture Institute and I was hired to tend to his grounds. It’s good practice and a good position to boot.”

The lie rolled easily off her tongue. It wasn’t all lies. She did work on Azriel’s garden and she was planning on applying to the Institute. Of course, somewhere in there, she was expected to become pregnant and bear his child, but that was…sometime in the future. She couldn’t think of it now.

“Lucky for him,” Lucien said flatly.

…The Count joined the four of them at their table after the dancing. He seemed comfortable and at ease in the presence of servants, and shared that he was the seventh son of his Ambassador father and his Countess mother. Because he was so low on the totem pole of importance to his father, he in fact, worked at the Embassy, and did various jobs which were not always glamorous. Yes, he was the elite, but he was also sort of approachable. Pleasant even. Didn’t treat the domestics with contempt. He and Balthazar shared a scotch, while the ladies had Victoria sponge, with extra helpings of cream. 

Once the evening finally began winding down, and Nuala noted that they needed to be home by 10:30 pm, and it was five past now, Lucien stood up and said, ‘Allow me to walk you home, Miss Archeron’.

“Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Where do you live?” Elain asked once they were outside. Nuala led the way, then it was Elain and Lucien, and Cerridwen and Balthazar trailed them, making moon eyes at each other. 

“In Mayfair,” Lucien answered, “but the Embassy is in Belgravia, so I spend quite a lot of time there.”

Well, that explained how he spied her in Azriel’s garden.

“And you dine at the public food halls?”

“Suppose I do. It’s a quick dinner. Without pressure. I enjoy a club, or a restaurant, but it’s my job to socialise all day long, and sometimes, at night, I prefer some privacy and the chance to relax.”

“Understandable.”

He looked at her and said quietly, so that the others couldn’t hear,

“And I am glad that I did. It offered me the chance to meet you.”

Elain looked down at her feet, unsure of how to respond. 

His interest was obvious.

Her availability was questionable at best.

Part of the Agreement that she had with Azriel stated that she would not have relations with other males, which included courting.

If Azriel found out, he’d be furious. She knew that. Azriel was possessive, somewhat obsessive too, needy and demanding. And he was her employer, as well as her lover, and the man who held her heart in his hand.

It was too complicated and she didn’t know what to say. Because she knew that Lucien Vanserra was interested and would request to court her.

“Are you engaged with a man?” he asked.

Elain bit her lip and forced herself to shake her head no. What could she say? I am Azriel Night’s lover and would likely be the mother of his child.

Lucien perked up and smiled,

“That’s good news.”

“Is it?”

He exhaled and then proceeded to ask,

“Would you permit me to court you, Miss Elain?”

“Sir, this is so unexpected,” she murmured feebly. “We’ve only just met.”

“Of course, of course, I understand,” he nodded immediately. “I do not mean to pressure you, Miss. Surely you know this?”

“I know, sir.”

“Must I ask the Duke for permission?” he proposed seriously. “Is he your guardian?”

His innocent proposal caused such horror in Elain, that she actually choked and began to cough.

“Are you quite alright?” he worried, as they stopped and she hacked and panted in the middle of the street.

“I am, sir. Forgive me.”

She pounded her chest, feverishly thinking of a way out of this.

“Sir, I am flattered,” she said quickly. “Enormously. But am I of the appropriate background for you? I am not noble, you understand. I don’t have a dowry. I aim to be a working woman once I am finished with my education,”

“Until you are married, obviously.”

She winced, but agreed, ‘obviously’.

“I am not worried about your social status, Miss Archeron. You are a well-reared maid. Perhaps not wealthy, but I have a modest fortune of my own, so money is of no concern.

“And I am not expected to make a match based on wealth and status. I am lucky like that–being the seventh son has some advantages, you know,” he chuckled. “I may actually marry for love!”

“That is an advantage,” Elain agreed. She needed to stop this. At once. But how? She did not have a valid reason. And Lucien was…nice. She had no opposition to him, and even his missing eye didn’t bother her.

“What do you say, Miss Archeron?”

They were near Azriel’s pure-white mansion, lit up with gas lanterns and lamps on the outside. It looked beautiful and overwhelming.

“Mr. Vanserra, sir,” Elain turned to him once they approached the wrought iron fence and the other three quickly disappeared behind the gate.

“Please do not say ‘no’,” he pleaded, and the plea was genuine.

“Not a ‘no’,” she sighed. “But I’d just arrived in London last week. I’ve been settling, I only just began my work here, and my school will start in a few weeks. I am simply not ready for courting yet, sir. I am sorry. I don’t want to be unfair to you, but I cannot devote my time to a relationship right now.”

“And I understand,” he said earnestly. “I do, Miss Elain–and I am sorry for being so abrupt about my offer. However, I should like to call upon you in a month’s time, if that is acceptable to you?”

A month.

She had a month.

A lot could happen in a month. 

He’d likely forget all about her. 

“That is acceptable,” she nodded at last. “I’d be in a better place in a month.”

“Then it’s agreed!” He sounded cheerful and excited. “I am so pleased, Miss Archeron. So pleased.”

“So am I, sir,” she told him.

“Then we’ll meet again in a month,” he promised, and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I look forward to it. You won’t regret it. I think we’d make a fine couple.”

A fine couple indeed.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #my writing #the agreement #chapter 12 #elain #my fanfiction #my fanfiction writing #victorian au #victorian england

[lautakwah]

white fandom ppl have theeee thinnest skin possible wdym it's free ergo you cant criticize it 😭 you'll see the most glaringly racist bs ever either in fic or fanart but because ~it's free~ and ~made with passion~ or whatever it's suddenly above criticism? "it costs nothing to be nice" IM NOT GONNA BE NICE TO A RACIST!!!! when will u ppl realize that this kind of mentality is why so many fucking poc leave fandom 😭

#ling.txt #hall of fame #cant believe this is the vent post that breached containment but im glad ppl are mostly in agreement

[dukedebut]

new album every day [15.10.2023]

Måns Zelmerlöw & The Agreement - Nightcaps

Nightcaps is a collaborative ep which highlights the best of Zelmerlöw's sound supported by the brilliant stylings of The Agreement. these songs capture a spirit of positivity and this instantly recognisable 2010s-anthem style that makes this play feel absolutely electric at times. give it a listen!

my favourite tracks: Perfectly Damaged, Andetag

#music #new album every day #måns zelmerlöw #the agreement

[angelasscribbles]

The Agreement Chapter 2: Texas

Series: The Agreement

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: MA, NSFW maybe, barely.

Warnings for this chapter: I mean, maybe a tiny bit lemon scented in one part

Word Count: 3,358

A/N: So literally no one asked for a follow up to what was supposed to be a one shot, and several people thought it was perfect the way it was but....🤷‍♀️ I had more ideas......

Shout out to @harleybeaumont for prereading, @21-wishes for listening to me rant about this and to @dcbbw for doing all of the above and selling me on an important plot point. (I'll list it at the end so as not to spoil anything here)

My other stuff: Master List.

They had been in Texas for just over two months when he walked in and found her crying.

Major changes had happened over the last two months, Texas had been good for them. He was happy. She was happy. But he had known from the beginning that their time here was temporary.

He buckled his seatbelt and looked over at his wife as the plane got ready to taxi down the runway. She looked nervous, apprehensive. He placed his hand over hers, “Hey.”

She raised her eyes to his questioningly.

He squeezed her hand, “It’s going to be ok.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “I know. You always make everything ok.”

His chest flooded with warmth. “I try. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.” She told him.

“You make me happy.”

“Do I? Really?”

Surprise spilled through him. How did she not know how he felt about her? “Yes! I love you, Riley, everything about you makes me happy!”

“You gave up your life to marry a woman who wasn’t in love with you. You’ve spent six years dealing with my shit when you could have been out there finding someone…better.”

“There is no one better!” He scoffed, “And it didn’t matter to me that you weren’t in love with me. I was in love with you and that was enough for me.”

“You know we can’t stay in Texas, right? I have a duchy to run.”

“I know.” He said carefully as his eyes studied her. He knew that eventually she would want to return to Valtoria, and Cordonia, and him.

Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, “I’m sorry. I know being a duke isn’t what you had in mind for your life.” She felt guilty that he had given up so much for her.

“Stop.” He said, “I don’t care about that. What I want from my life is being with you, whatever it looks like. That’s it.” He was in love with her, that was still enough for him.

Riley had bloomed in Texas.

She had bonded with Bianca.

“Oh, Bianca! This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen!” Riley cried delightedly as she held a slightly faded photograph of a two year old Drake standing on top of kitchen counter in nothing but a pair of superman underwear and a cape.

Bianca giggled as she drew Riley into a hug, “Don’t you think it’s about time you called me mom?”

She had charmed the ranch hands and townsfolk alike.

“So, this is the girl that got Drake Walker to settle down?” One of the elderly men who hung out in front of the feedstore gave her an appraising look. “Has anyone told you how wild this boy was back in the day?”

Riley smiled back, as she slipped her arm through Drake’s, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Drake is a perfect angel!”

The old man’s eyes crinkled good naturedly, “She lies for you, boy, better hold onto this one!”

“I’d give up my wild ways for a woman like that!” The younger of the two ranch hand’s that were with them muttered, then flushed deep red when he realized he’d been heard.

The older ranch hand shook his head as he hit the younger man in the chest, “Shut your trap and go load that feed onto the truck!” Then to Riley, “Sorry about that ma’am. Young’uns these days ain’t got no damn sense!”

“It’s ok, Ray, I’ll take it as a compliment, but thank you for defending my honor, sir.” Riley beamed at him.

Ray flushed a little himself as he tipped his hat and nodded his head in her direction.

She had taken a shine to his truck and cowboy attire.

When they climbed back in the cab of the F-250, Drake grinned at her, “Everyone you meet loves you, you know that?”

“What?” She laughed.

“It’s true. They can all see what I see. I don’t know how I got so lucky as to ever have you look twice in my direction, but I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you don’t regret it!”

“No, Walker, I’m the lucky one!” She leaned over and gave him a long, lingering kiss. When they pulled apart, she told him, “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look in that cowboy hat?”

“No.”

“Well you do.” She leaned across the console to whisper in his ear, “I’ve never done it in a truck before. Maybe after this feed gets unloaded we can drive down by the river and correct that.”

Drake rolled the window down and pounded on the roof of the truck as he yelled, “That feed loaded yet? Hurry your asses up!”

She had fallen in love with the livestock.

“Oh my god, Drake! These little goats have been following me around all day!” She sounded like a kid on Christmas morning.

He laughed, “Is that what you’ve been doing all morning? Walking around this pasture so the goats would follow you?”

“Maybe….”

She had communed with nature.

“This is beautiful.” She sighed as she lay on the green grass, head in Drake’s lap, watching the river ripple past.

“Yes, it is.” He agreed, never taking his eyes off of her.

“Why don’t we come here, more?” She asked, then fell silent when the answer presented itself her.

Drake didn’t respond. They both knew why. Because she had spent the last six years waiting for Liam instead of living her own life.

A shadow crossed her face at the thought of Liam.

“Riley-“

“It’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s make a promise that we come visit here at least twice a year, ok? No matter what. Just the two of us.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.” He told her as he leaned down for a kiss.

He had always known the day would come when they’d have to return, that this was just an extended vacation. They both had duties and obligations awaiting them back home. But he had been determined to make the most of the time they had while they had it.

The break had been good for them both. Riley was different. Less stressed, more relaxed. She’d gone for long periods of time without seeing Liam before, but she’d been on edge, anxious about it, always checking her messages, hoping for a last minute change in plans that would allow them to see each other. She had tried to keep her schedule as open as possible.

Being in Texas with Drake was freeing for her in many ways. She knew she wasn’t going to see Liam, so she wasn’t waiting on his call, wasn’t obsessively checking her email, wasn’t wrapping her life around his schedule. She was beginning to see that a lot of her pain had been self inflicted. She hadn’t been living, she had spent the last six years just…waiting. She wasn’t waiting anymore, she was living.

She threw herself into Drake without the guilt and reservations she’d harbored in the past. She still loved Liam, those feelings hadn’t just gone away, but her love for him was slowly becoming a part of her life, not her entire life. And for the first time in a long time, she believed that happiness might be possible for her.

Plans and ideas for Valtoria bubbled through her mind with renewed vigor. She’d been going through the motions, attending council meetings and approving budgets, but it had been a while since she’d been truly invested in governing.

“And when we get back home, I want to start on that universal education initiative we talked about! Oh! And remember when you had that idea for a duchy wide set of hiking trails to interconnect all the parks and recreational areas?”

He nodded, fighting back a smile as he took in her enthusiasm, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Let’s do it! Why didn’t we do it before?”

The answer was that it hadn’t gotten off the ground because the week they were supposed to meet with the planning committee, Liam had an unexpected opening in his schedule, and she had canceled everything to run off and join him in Greece for a week. He didn’t remind her of that. He just shrugged, “I don’t know. But yes, I would still like to do that.”

She found new hobbies and rediscovered old ones.

“I’m going to miss our daily horseback rides.” She told him from atop her mount.

“Why?” He countered, “We have horses at home.”

“We do, don’t we?” Why had she stopped riding? Right, because she hadn’t wanted to be out of cell phone range in case Liam called. She felt like someone punched her in the gut as she realized that she had, over time, given up everything to be available to him on a moment’s notice. She sat up straighter in the saddle as she resolved those days were over, “Well, then let’s make this a thing.”

“Absolutely.” He agreed.

Riley found herself again in Texas. She came back to life.

Things were going well, and Riley was doing good. Their relationship bloomed, it no longer had guilt, shame or regret attached to it. It felt new, unencumbered, right.

“Let’s renew our vows!”

“What?” He laughed, “Why?”

“Because the first time wasn’t real!” She insisted.

He studied his wife’s face, “It was real enough to me. I meant every word I said.”

She felt a swoop in her stomach, “I’m sorry, Drake.”

“For what?”

“For all the years I didn’t see you. I mean, really see you!” Riley’s eyes had been locked on the best man when she’d said her vows.

He pulled her into an embrace, “Don’t apologize for that. You were in love with Liam. I knew that. I made my own choices and I stand by them.”

“I want a do over!” She insisted.

A smile tugged up the corners of his mouth, “If you really want it, I’ll do it. You should know by now; I’ll do anything for you.”

“I want to do this for you! So, do you want to do it here, or when we get back home?”

“I…don’t care. I would marry you a million times, anywhere, anytime you want.” His fingers traced down the side of her face.

“That’s what I mean, right there. You always make it about me. I’m asking what you want.”

He looked away as he fought to get his emotions under control. She wanted to prove something to him. He didn’t need it, didn’t require it, but it sent butterflies swirling through his stomach that she wanted to do it.

Plans and preparations for the recommitment ceremony were in full swing. Riley had been on the phone almost every day, reconnecting with friends she had blown off to make herself overly available to Liam, planning the ceremony, and getting the ball rolling on multiple initiatives back home.

They ate dinner with Bianca and Leona most nights, but sometimes they drove into town for dinner and dancing or a movie. When they first arrived in Texas, they had rented a hotel room and spent two weeks in San Antonio, exploring the Riverwalk, the Alamo, Natural Bridge Caverns, the Botanical Gardens and the San Antonio Museum of Art. They had spent a day at Sea World and another at Six Flags Fiesta Texas.

His favorite nights, though, were the ones at the ranch itself, the ones where he took her out to lay in the back of the truck bed, or on a blanket on the ground to watch the stars, or to run, laughing and splashing into the river, swimming naked under the stars and making love on the shore.

Their new life couldn’t have been going better. So he was surprised when he walked into their shared bedroom and found her crying. His stomach dropped like a rock as he hurried across the room to climb onto the bed with her, “Riley, baby, what’s wrong?”

She sat up and leaned into his embrace. She cried into his chest for a moment then lifted her head to look him in the eyes, “I…I’m pregnant.”

He went still for a moment as he tried to read her expression, “Okay….”

“Okay? That’s it?”

He smiled softly as he tipped her chin up, “A baby is wonderful news, but you’re crying so I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong. Aren’t you happy? I thought you wanted a baby?”

Liam’s baby, he thought to himself, she had wanted Liam’s baby.

“Brooks? Riley…” Drake sighed as he ran a hand down his face. “What did he do this time?”

“Nothing! Just….last year he said maybe this year but….” She turned away from him, her head in her hands, sobbing.

He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms, “The baby thing again?”

She nodded as she leaned against him.

Riley and Liam’s original plan had been to start trying for a baby right away, on their honeymoon. But there was no marriage, so there was no honeymoon and no baby. Riley still wanted a baby and the draw toward motherhood became more urgent with each passing year. But the time was never right, according to Liam. Of course, Liam had his heir.

The man was his best friend, and Drake did understand the implications of a scandal of that magnitude but as the years went on, he was leaning more and more heavily toward the belief that Liam should either say fuck it to social propriety and give Riley everything she deserved, or give her up entirely so that she could heal and move on. And he’d told him as much.

It had only caused a fight.

But he was tired of seeing her hurt.

“You know….” He hesitated, unsure how his offer would be received.

“What?” She sniffled into his chest.

“I could give you a baby. I mean, if you wanted me to.”

Her tear stained face turned up toward him, “I…I can’t, Drake. Liam….”

He just nodded his head as she buried her head into his chest again, “It’s ok, I get it. But if you ever change your mind, the offer stands.” 

Her eyes held a mixture of emotions as she asked him, “Aren’t you going to ask me who’s it is?”

“Nope.”

“No?” She stared at him in bemusement, “You don’t want to know?”

“I already know it’s your baby, Riley. That’s all that matters. I will raise this baby as my own no matter whose DNA it has, if that’s what you’re worried about, and my ability to love a child isn’t conditional upon that child carrying my genetic material.”

The smile that broke out across her face lit up his world. “I was crying because I’m happy, Drake! And a little sad, for other reasons….”

It was bittersweet, the pregnancy, the fact that she was so happy about it and that she had put off motherhood for six years waiting on a man that would never be able to give it to her. She had mixed emotions about Liam still, but her feelings about this baby were pretty simple. She was overjoyed.

He hugged her tight to his body, “If and when you tell Liam is up to you. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“There’s nothing to tell Liam. I can’t be more than six weeks along. I got pregnant here. The baby is yours!”

And mine, she thought to herself. A child with Drake, not Liam. A child that was completely theirs, not an heir or a spare or Cordonia’s anything. A marriage, a family, a life that was hers, not something secret she was constantly competing for or stealing from another woman.

If the baby had been Liam’s, he wouldn’t have been able to claim him or her publicly, and she knew in her heart, that would have broken her. Watching Liam openly love his child with Madeleine while having to deny his child with her would have finished her.

Riley stood staring down at the pack of pills in her hand. She hated taking them. They made her nauseous, they made her irritable and they prevented the one thing she desperately wanted.

Riley wanted a baby, but Liam couldn’t risk the scandal. Not yet. Maybe next year. For six years, it had been maybe next year. But maybe she didn’t need Liam’s input. For the first time she considered what having a baby with Drake would be like. Why had she never considered that before?

She hadn’t considered it because of Liam. Liam would be pissed. But Liam had a child. Liam might not be able or willing to give her what she wanted, but Drake could, and would. She knew without asking, because he’d offered before. He’d watched her grieve as she had begun to give up on the idea of motherhood and he’d told her “I’ll give you a baby.” She’d said no. Because of Liam.

But Riley was done living for Liam. She had accepted that he would never give her a child, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have one with someone else. Why had she surrendered so much control over her own life? Liam hadn’t demanded it, hadn’t asked it. She’d just done it. It had happened gradually over the years. She hadn’t even noticed. She was noticing now, and she was done with it.

Riley Brooks was taking back her life.

She dropped the pills into the trashcan as she left the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Drake asked as his hand went to her stomach.

“Yeah.” She affirmed, as she placed her hands on top of his, “And I’m so glad it’s yours!”

He looked up in surprise, “You are?”

“Of course I am! Don’t you remember that night?” She asked.

A blush crept across his neck and spread up his face. He knew exactly what night she was referencing.

Riley lay panting on the bed as Drake lifted his head from between her legs with a smirk, “Someone liked that.”

“Shut up and get up here!” She tugged at his body to encourage him to move.

He kissed his way up her body before settling over her. He gazed down at her, enraptured, as her fingers ran through his hair, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She answered, “Now put a baby in me.”

“What?” Shock coursed through him.

“I want a baby; I want your baby!”

He hesitated, “Riley, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Yes, I remember, but I didn’t think….I mean….I didn’t want to assume things and you were crying so I wasn’t sure….”

“Is it okay? You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” She asked with apprehension.

“What? How could you ask that? I meant it last year when I offered. A baby with you….I can’t think of anything better! What about you? How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m so excited! We can start prenatal care here and transfer records when we get back home. We’ll wait until after the vow renewal of course, but not too much longer, we have a lot to do back home to get ready! Which room do you think we should use for the nursery? Oh! We have to tell your mom and call Savannah! They’re going to be so happy! And Hana! And Max!”

And just like that, there was an expiration date on their little Texas interlude. Of course, he’d known from the beginning there would be.

“Hey.” He tugged on her arm.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll tell mom and Leona tonight at dinner, maybe get Sav on speakerphone. Or, we wait util the ceremony and tell everyone then.”

Riley’s eyes widened, “Oh, that’s brilliant! You’re a genius!”

He pushed her back and pinned her to the mattress as he smirked down at her, “I know. About damn time someone else saw it!”

“What would I do without you?” She beamed up at him.

“Let’s never find out!” He told her as he surged forward to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

“Never.” She murmured against his mouth.

And she meant it.

~~~~

A/N 2: Once I decided to have Riley fall pregnant, I really went back and forth between whose baby it would be....just when I decided to make it Liam's, @dcbbw pointed out how much more angsty it would be for Liam if Riley comes home pregnant with Drake's baby and she was right.

I originally thought having Liam's baby would help heal something in Riley but then I realized having Drake's baby would heal it better, because a baby with Liam would have her constantly comparing his love for his child with her child against his love for his child with Madeleines child, which I explored a little in the part where she realizes that seeing Liam claim Alexander while having to deny their child would break her.

I am not blaming Liam here, he is pretty much a prisoner to the crown, the court of public opinion, duty, obligation, etc. But the effects on Riley are the same nevertheless. He would want to claim the child, but could he? So it was time for Riley to have something of her own.

#the agreement #angelasscribbles #trr #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #choices #drake walker #liam rys #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr poly #why choose