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xxbyimm · 2 months
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Must read! Thorin is 👌🏻❤️❤️
Knife's Edge
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Currently on AO3 here
Fandom(s): The Hobbit crossover with Legend (1985)
Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader & Darkness x Fem!Reader
Summary: You are living in Erebor. Thorin decides to admit his feelings to you after speaking with Dis, his sister and your best friend. However, you are having dreams of a creature from another world. He is becoming more powerful, trying to lure you into his world where you can be his Queen. When the lust and pull toward the creature become too much, you step into his world and meet Darkness. You have already promised yourself to Thorin. Will Darkness' seduction be enough to overthrow it all? Or will you still have enough strength inside you to follow your heart?
Warnings: Smut, graphic sexual themes, insecurity, anxiety, sex dreams, monster and human sexual encounters, violence, language, breeding kink mention, power/lust/greed themes.
(This fic is very sexually explicit and has a lot of lust/power/greed themes, while also working on the monster/human sexual references. If this is not to your liking then please do not read. You have been warned)
Comments: Currently on AO3 here / Part 2 is in the works.
Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists.
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The dreams had begun one night in the middle of winter, when the stone hallways of Erebor were bitter cold. And you woke in the witching hours, dripping in sweat, despite having wrapped yourself up tightly in the furs. The figure had visited you from the shadows, beckoning you to his palace in which all light had fled from. His voice stirred something from deep within your core, a need and a desire of which you have never felt before.
As you opened your eyes, the pulsing between your legs becoming duller, you reached for a glass of water which was beside your bed. Your hand fumbled around, almost knocking the candle off the wooden surface. Your breathing was still hitched, and your heart was racing.
The figure’s voice echoed in your mind, although his words seem to have become jumbled. All you could keep hold of was the feel of velvet and delectable pleasure which had raged through you upon hearing the voice.
***
At breakfast, which you shared with Dis, King Thorin’s younger sister, you were quiet. Her blue eyes searched for any hint as to if you were ill, or perhaps were in a melancholy mood. Humans had always been unusual beings, she thought. Not as forthright as Dwarves. But still, she loved you like family, welcoming you to Erebor when you had arrived after journeying with Thorin and his Company to re-claim the kingdom of Erebor. In fact, your very existence to everyone was a mystery. You had claimed to have come from a land only known as ‘Earth’, having appeared out on the road very suddenly.
“We have visitors from Dale this morning, and Thorin has asked we be present to welcome them,” Dis announced. Her eyes were still watching you, as you pushed a piece of bread around your plate, not having had the appetite to eat it, or any of the two boiled eggs that had been prepared for you.
Something about the dream had felt so real, and you couldn’t shake the way it had burrowed into your mind.
“Are you alright?” Dis asked, her voice sharp. “You are extremely distracted this morning. Are you ill?”
“No,” you said softly, straightening your back. “I’m sorry. I had a rough night; bad dreams and didn’t sleep well.”
***
Meanwhile, Thorin was sat in his private study. For the last week and all he had thought about was the question that he wished to raise with you. For most of the time that Thorin had known you, he had been in love with you. At first, he felt fear at the fact that his heart was yearning for one who was not of his race and from another world entirely. The idea that you were merely a novelty had crossed his mind early on, but had soon been discarded. The way his chest compressed when he saw you, and his stomach clenched, and all he could do was smile when your gaze reached him. That said it all. You were always in his thoughts. When Erebor had been close to attack from orcs at the Battle of Five Armies, and Thorin had succumb to madness, his mind was still focused on you. He wanted the gold so he could be worthy of you.
Thorin stood from his desk, straightened his robe and picked up his crown, placing it against his raven locks, which were touched with silver streaks. Even the crown upon his head didn’t feel enough for you.
A gentle knock at Thorin’s door broke him from his reverie. “Yes, come!” he called.
Dis slipped into the room and approached her brother, offering him a smile. She said your name and watched as Thorin’s head immediately turned to face her. “I’m worried about her. At breakfast she was quiet, too quiet. Her mind was away elsewhere, and while she denied being ill and blamed her mood on a bad night sleep, I’m not convinced. Have you spoken with her about your proposal?”
A doubt had snuck into Thorin’s heart at Dis’ words. “I wished to ask her to dinner tonight and pose the question, but to hear that she is like this, should I?”
“Maybe such a dinner will raise her spirits.”
Thorin sighed and closed his eyes.
“You doubt her love for you, don’t you?” Dis asked.
“How can I be so certain of it?”
“I see the way she looks as you, Thorin. There is no denying that.”
“I do not feel even this crown is enough for her,” Thorin said, his voice becoming tinged with pain and sadness.
Dis sat down on the opposite side of the desk. “You overcame the self-doubt of re-claiming Erebor from Smaug. How can you not overcome this? She is but one person…”
“Who holds my heart, Dis,” Thorin sighed. “I do not know if I could face rejection from her. If there is part of me that is cowardly, it is this. I would rather fight a thousand orcs than have to declare my love to her, only for it to be unrequited.”
***
Once the visitors from Dale had dispersed to the guest wing, you remained in your seat at the council table. The sight of Thorin had pulled you from the dreams. He raised the flutter in your stomach, the heat in your chest and a smile upon your lips.
Thorin glanced across at you and met your gaze. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of your smile, and he reciprocated that smile.
Dis smirked to herself from her seat beside you. In her mind, the two of you were complete idiots. The self-doubt was astounding, and it was the one thing that made you so alike, along with your loyalty and kindness. However, that was where your similarities ended.
One by one, everyone left the room, leaving only you and Thorin behind.
You got up, ready to leave, when he ushered you back. “May I have a moment with you?” he asked.
Thorin’s heart was pounding, but he was going to do this one way or the other. He would overcome the cowardice that was taking hold of him.
You stepped closer to him, and couldn’t help but smile again. He was incredibly handsome, and you had once dreamed of what his kiss would feel like, of what it would feel like to be one with him, and carry his child. This future you yearned for so ardently. But to be married to a king? It was a ridiculous notion.
“W…would you have dinner with me tonight?” Thorin asked.
This was the first time you had ever heard him stumble over his words. You could sense the uncertainty in his voice and posture. His blue eyes had now dropped to the floor. Reassurance was what he needed in those moments, to show him that you cared for him above everyone else. You took his hand in yours. “I would be honoured, my king,” you said.
Thorin’s gaze then locked with yours and he smiled, on the brink of a chuckle, as if relieved.
There were unsaid words lingering between you both, and the electricity was gathering momentum. Something had to break. “What troubles you?” you asked. On impulse, your free hand reached up and brushed a stray hair from his face. Your other hand was still in his.
“I…I have wanted you for so long,” Thorin whispered. His eyes were ablaze with fear and doubt. “You consume me.”
Sighing, you pressed your forehead to his. “I am not worthy of you, my king. I never was.”
Thorin reached up and removed the crown from his head, placing it down on the table, and then cupped your cheeks. His gaze sank into yours, and then the two of you kissed.
***
“I would raise you up!” the figure snarled from your peripheral vision.
It was the witching hour once more and your dreams had pulled you back to the palace of shadows. The voice now had audible words.
“I will raise you up as a queen!” the voice came again. “He will always treat you as being beneath him.”
You swept through the dark corridors, chasing the voice. The only light was a fire burning in the distance, beckoning you on.
“He took off his crown for you. I would give you a crown, my queen. I would give you the world to do with as you please. Come to me.”
Heat furled in your stomach, spreading outward, causing that pulsing to begin again at the juncture of your thighs. “Where are you?” you called.
You entered a room where the back wall was brightly lit by the fire burning opposite. A huge bed dominated the centre of the room, filled with furs and black velvet sheets. A musky and earthy scent filled the room, and immediately you sensed eyes watching you.
Fear gripped you, mingled with arousal. And suddenly you felt a hand rest on your shoulder and then move downward, ghosting over your breasts, which were now bare. Your whole body was naked, open to whoever this creature was. The hand had long, black claws and the skin was crimson. The creature’s touch caused intense heat to spark beneath your skin as it kept moving, towards your navel. Electricity was surging around you and the pulsing got more intense, making a deep groan to erupt from you.
“He will never let you ascend to the place you should be,” the voice came again. The creature’s breath was hot on your neck. You felt something wet and hot slip up your neck to the point at which your earlobe connected to your cheek. “That is not love. I would worship you as my queen and my mate. Give you everything you’ve ever wanted; give you power.”
Your eyes shot open and you gasped. Realisation hit you: you were in bed, in Erebor. Next to the bed, on your table, was a red rose which Thorin had left you. The red petals reminded you of the creature’s skin, and it made you shiver.
Since your kiss with Thorin after the council meeting, and you had had dinner with him. The two of you shared in your memories of the quest, laughing and holding hands across the table. Then Thorin had shared a glass of wine with you, his silver blue eyes gazing at you in adoration and disbelief that you felt the same way as he. The two of you had walked slowly down the hallway, with your arm curled around his. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. A blush flourished on his cheeks as you moved away.
In all the time you had known Thorin and you had always been attracted to him; his voice, eyes, presence. Everything about him made your chest ache, and cause a yearning for a deeper connection. Your heart was frantically beating, wanting him.
And now you were sat upon the edge of your bed, thinking of the caresses of a creature of the shadows. Whenever you were in the company of Thorin, all memory of the creature disappeared. And now that you were thinking upon the creature, Thorin’s face had faded.
***
After you had dressed, a knock came to your door.
You walked to the door and as you opened it, a huge smile curled your lips upward at the sight of Thorin.
The king reached for you, twirling you around, as if dancing. “I have requested breakfast be brought for us,” he said softly, pulling you in close and winding his arm around your waist.
You leaned to him and kissed him, feeling him immediately respond. Your tongues met in a pent up frustration that the two of you had held at bay for many months. All you could feel was sheer joy, delight and love radiating from your chest.
Thorin’s hands cupped your cheeks, his fingers caressing downward towards your jaw, tickling your earlobes.
A sudden flash of memory shot into your mind. The creature’s tongue leaving a trail of wet heat down your neck. The flash of memory made you jump.
“Are you alright?” Thorin asked, his eyes growing concerned.
For the first time and the creature was breaking through into your time with Thorin, beckoning you into the shadows. “Yes, I’m sorry,” you replied, holding your head in shame and disgust.
Thorin rested his finger against your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his. “You are not alright, dear one. Dis told me yesterday that you had not slept well. What bothers you? All of your cares and worries are also mine.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Thorin,” you replied, stepping back from him.
“Why do you feel I would not?” he snapped.
You sighed and closed your eyes, knowing you had deeply offended him.
I will raise you up. I will give you power beyond your wildest imaginations. 
 The voice was so real, yet still felt distant. It curled around you, making that arousal snake its way down your spine and between your legs. Your breathing sped up and you sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t,” you gasped.
Thorin’s eyes were dark in anger and rejection, your words hitting him square in the chest so painfully. “If you cannot bare your all to me as I would do for you, then…”
“Thorin,” you said again. “Please. Don’t put this between us.”
“No, you are putting it between us.”
You could see the pain and despair sitting in his eyes, making his shoulders droop in defeat. With a sigh, you began to speak again. “I’ve been having dreams. A demonic creature is somehow connected to me and won’t leave me alone.”
Thorin fell to his knee in front of you and cupped your cheek again. “My love? Look at me.”
You looked into those eyes you loved so dearly.
“The creature cannot hurt you,” he said. “I promise you that while I breathe, I will always protect you.”
Once your breakfast had arrived, you began to eat, temporarily forgetting the creature. Thorin was sat in a chair beside your bed as you remained on the edge of your bed. He watched you eat and as you ate the last mouthful, he reached into the inside pocket of his robe, pulling out a velvet pouch.
“I know that our customs are different, but I wish to indulge the Dwarf custom and ask for your hand in courtship, as is right. And with that, I offer you this ring,” he said, taking a gold ring from the velvet bag.
You looked at the bright gold band which was adorned with amethyst stones, seven of them forming a circle in the gold. “You remembered when I told you that purple is my favourite colour,” you whispered.
Thorin smiled, and that blush rose on his cheeks again. He reached for your hand and slipped the gold band onto your ring finger on your right hand, knowing the left would be kept for engagement and marriage, as was your custom.
***
Thorin wished you a goodnight, and as he did, he kissed your cheek. “If you have any unwelcome dreams again, my love, please come to my chambers.”
The two of you parted ways and you placed another red rose in a vase on your bedside table.
My queen. 
The voice swept around you again. This time it was more powerful, sounding as though it were in the room with you.
Sleep and come to me. 
 You lost all control and slipped away, all consciousness leaving you. But as your conscious mind drifted away, your body rose from the bed and stepped toward the full length mirror at the bottom of your bed. Your eyes remained closed, yet your body knew where to tread. The surface of the mirror looked like silver water, and with one step, you disappeared into it.
***
Were you awake or still dreaming? Everything around you was dark, with only the light from the end of a hallway. You blinked hard and sat up. Everything around you felt so real; the cold surface of the stone beneath your legs and the chatter that you could hear. Distant voices whispered.
She is here. Finally she is here. The Lord of Darkness has finally found his mate and one true queen. 
 Darkness? Was that his name? The red creature.
You got to your feet and looked around, everything still so dark. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest, in both fear and anticipation. The glow of light beckoned you down the hallway, just as it had in your dream.
As you reached the end of the hallway, you turned the corner and found yourself in a large room with a bed in the centre, and opposite was an open fire. Everything was as it was in your dream the night before. Even the black velvet sheets and furs on the bed.
Suddenly you sensed a presence behind you and for a few seconds you were glued to the spot in fear.
“My queen,” a voice came. That deep, velvet voice. Just the sound of it made liquid fire burn in your belly.
A hand brushed around your neck and that all too familiar scent of musk and earth hit your nose. Even his smell was beckoning you, pulling at your very core, that most primal part of you.
Slowly you turned, and there before you was a creature who towered above you. His skin was crimson, with bright yellow eyes gazing at you in lust and amusement. His face was pointed, with angular features. Huge, black horns grew from his head. His upper torso was muscular, being the body of a man. As your gaze slipped down, you saw that from his waist down was the body of what appeared to be a goat. His waist and legs were covered in black fur. Considering that his form was one that would normally make terror rise in those that looked upon it, you felt fascinated.
“You are not disappointed by what you see, my lady?” Darkness asked.
Your gaze finally met his, and you felt an intense shiver race down the entirety of your body.
Darkness reached for you and picked up your hand, placing it against his chest. It was red hot. He closed his eyes upon your touch. “I have yearned for touch for centuries.” His voice was on the edge of a groan.
You gasped at the feel of him and the pleasure which radiated from his voice. Your hand slipped up his chest, toward his neck. Suddenly Darkness grabbed your hips and lifted you, and on instinct, you locked your legs around his waist.
He walked with you to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. And as he stopped, hovering above the bed, he took your lips against his. The kiss was hot, heavy, demanding. His long tongue caressed the inside of your mouth, beckoning you forth.
As you parted from the kiss, he chuckled at you. “I will give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Pleasure beyond anything you have ever felt, power, riches. Ask and it will be yours. Never would I keep a crown from you as he does. He would see you without that power.”
Thorin. His face was so far away again, and you shook your head, trying to bring his handsome face back to the forefront of your memory but he would not come. “He knows that I do not feel worthy of him.”
“You are worthy of everything,” Darkness snarled. He lowered you to the edge of the bed and then reached for two glasses which were on a nearby table, pouring two glasses of wine. “The Dwarf would happily keep you beneath him to maintain his own ego.”
“You don’t know Thorin like I do,” you shot back.
“He thinks he can buy you with jewels.”
“And you can buy me with promises of pleasure and power.”
Darkness growled, his eyes locked on your ring. “Remove that ring and be mine; I would love you, worship you.”
You sipped the wine, feeling your body begin to scream for him once again. The intensity of his need of you, and his desperation.
You rose to your feet, placed the glass down on the table and then approached Darkness who had seated himself on the edge of the bed. For a couple of seconds, you studied his face. It was somehow handsome to you, in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You slid into his lap, straddling him and kissed him again. Within seconds and he was sucking your neck, his hands caressing your breasts, and the tips of his claws brushing over the fabric of your clothing.
Darkness’ breath was rising, that animal side of him also breaking out. His hands ripped your clothes and flung them to the far side of the room. “I will make you feel things you have never felt before,” he moaned against you as you rose up onto your knees, still resting on his thighs. Your arms were tight around is neck. “Fuck you until you are numb.”
The words spurred you on and you kissed him again, hard and ferocious. He picked you up  in his muscular arms and slipped you around, lowering you to the bed so he was now in control.
Darkness kissed down your body, his long tongue sliding across your flesh. He could taste the first hints of sweat on you, and he revelled in the salty flavour. Your breasts, down your stomach and into the space between your thighs.
“I have never known someone so wanton,” Darkness grinned. “I can smell you. The intensity of it is enough to send me to the brink. And, even better, you are ovulating. I will keep going until you bear my child, no matter how long it takes. If I have to keep you locked in here for days, so be it. I may even call the goblins in to watch.”
The words made your whole head swarm with a haze of euphoria. The pulsing between your legs was so intense now that you locked your legs around his waist again, dragging him in closer.
Darkness laced his hand in yours and eased your ring from your finger. It fell to the stone floor and rolled away. “I will bring you so much more than he could!” Darkness chuckled.
***
Thorin had remained awake that night, unable to rest at the thought of you being haunted by the demon creature. All he could think of was holding you to his chest, fighting away all of those disturbing night visions.
He rose from his bed, pulling a robe on and began his walk down the main hallway toward your chamber. Torches lit his way and as he got to your room, he opened the door, knowing you would probably be asleep. However, as he trailed the darkness, following the gentle glow of the candle at your bedside, he saw you were nowhere to be seen.
Terror rose in his chest at the thought of you having disappeared from him. He gazed around the room, noticing a blue glow coming from the mirror at the end of your bed. The surface was moving, reminding him of liquid silver.
Thorin stepped towards the mirror, confused and shocked.
***
Your whole body was on fire and you writhed on the bed as Darkness’ hands roamed you. The tips of his claws gently scratched your breasts and stomach, drawing a loud groan from you.
“Give yourself to me and seal it, be my mate and queen,” Darkness said, his hot breath wafting across your belly.
You groaned again and arched off the bed, your body needing him.
Darkness may have held the rationale of humans, but he was more animal. That need to possess you and impregnate you was becoming unbearable, and the more you groaned and writhed, the closer he was to forcing himself upon you. His member had risen and was visible through his thick, black fur.
“Will you accept me?” he asked, his tongue licking your earlobe. The palm of his hand was cupping the mound at the juncture of your thighs, and his fingers tickled, circling the aroused flesh.
All you could do was groan again. Your hands were gripping the sheets so tight that it felt you were about to fall off the knife’s edge there and then, and completely succumb. An image flashed through your mind, a picture of you standing before a mirror, clothed entirely in black. Beneath your dress was a huge belly, showing your ability to conceive Darkness’ child. The reflection you only just recognised as yourself; your eyes were completely black, overtaken by evil and the desire for power. And there, behind your reflection, was Thorin. “My love?” he whispered, his voice cracking.
“THORIN!’ you screamed suddenly, jerking away from Darkness.
Darkness growled, his whole face turning livid. “Useless bitch!” he shouted. His hand swung outwards and slapped your face, knocking you off the bed.
Terror took over as you scrambled backwards, edging away from him as he circled the bed.
“You DARE raise a hand to her!” a voice came from the room’s entrance.
Your head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was Thorin. He must have been able to slip through the mirror and had followed the corridor.
Darkness chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy this, Dwarf. I’ll make her watch every single moment of me ripping your heart out of your chest. Then I’ll eat it in front of her.”
Thorin’s face remained darkened by anger and hatred towards this filthy beast before him. He looked down to you, and in those moments, the hatred melted as he smiled at you. “Leave when you can,” he told you. “Make for the corridor.” Then his silver blue eyes turned back to the demon who was slowly approaching him.
“You think you can defeat me?” Darkness laughed. “I have lived for millennia, feeding off the pain, hate and need for pleasures. I cannot think you believe I can be defeated so easily.”
Something touched your hand, a cold metal. It was your ring. You slipped it back onto your hand quickly, and as you did, your clothing magically returned to your body, appearing around you.
Thorin was defenceless, without a weapon. His eyes scanned the room, until Darkness was upon him.
A red hand reached out and grabbed Thorin by the throat, pushing him against the wall.
A shriek erupted from your mouth and you lunged at the two glasses on the table, smashing one against the floor. As quick as a flash, adrenaline pumping through you, you slashed at Darkness’ chest, you only just being able to reach. Then as he howled and turned, you aimed for his neck. Blood began to spurt out of the wound, making him drop Thorin to the ground. The creature continued howling, twisting in pain and anger.
Thorin grabbed your hand and the two of you began your race back through the corridor, hearing Darkness’ loud stamps behind you.
Terror gripped you in your chest and you continued running, both you and Thorin keeping at each other’s pace.
“I’ll kill the fucking pair of you!” Darkness howled.
At the end of the corridor was the same silver shine from the mirror, which had covered the entire wall. Without even thinking, the two of you jumped through, landing back on the stone floor of your chamber in Erebor.
Thorin dashed around and grabbed the edge of the mirror just as a red arm reached through. But the demon could not win. With a flash of blue light and an animalistic howl, the mirror was thrown to the floor and smashed.
Shards of mirror sprayed across the floor, spreading the entire width of the room.
You stood still, your heart pounding so hard in your chest and felt tears spill down your cheeks. Shame and guilt hit you so hard that you placed your hands on the edge of the bed and wretched, bringing back a mouthful of red wine mixed with bile.
Thorin heard your wretch and raced to your side, curling his arm around your waist. “My love…”
“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t call me that, please.” All you could do was weep, your shoulders juddering in your throes of anguish. “I’m sorry…” you sobbed. “I was so close to being taken from you forever. I know you’ll never forgive me.” You shifted away from Thorin. “Don’t touch me.”
He whispered your name. “Please…”
“I can’t.”
Thorin took your hand, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. “I promised you that I would always protect you, and I will never stop. That beast attempted to seduce you, my love. The promise of pleasures and wealth can be easy to fall prey to. I know that all too well, yet you seem to forget that.”
“Thorin, don’t talk about that. What happened with the gold…”
“Was a seduction. Mine was of the mind and yours was of the body, but our hearts are what guides us. I heard you call my name, and it was you that called me back from the edge of being completely lost to madness.”
Tears still run down your cheeks and you turned away from Thorin, closing your eyes. You felt nothing but guilt and shame, dragging you down to the lowest you had ever felt. “I can’t do this. I can’t…”
Without another word, Thorin pulled you in to himself and kissed you. It was slow at first, warm and wanting, and then it became deeper. Your whole chest was now alight with such joy and delight; that was how you wanted to feel, not ashamed and at odds with your body. Kissing Thorin was where your whole body became synced and aligned. Your heart was beating with joy, your body was aroused by him, and your mind knew that this was true love.
“That’s how love feels,” you whispered. “It’s at the core of everything.”
Thorin pressed his brow to yours. “Forgive yourself, dear one. Let tonight pass from your memory, and in its place, we shall forge a new life together where our love and lust can exist in equal measure.”
“I cannot believe you can forgive me,” you said, kissing his temple. “I betrayed you physically.”
Thorin sighed. “My love, there have been stories told through time regarding the dark powers that can easily seduce the weakest willed of people. You fought that; this was no ordinary seduction. That beast had power. I could feel it as soon as I entered his domain. You said that he had been coming to you in dreams, beckoning you. Dream walkers have been spoke about for many years.”
“I hope he’s gone now, but I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the end. He’ll come for me again. He wanted me to give myself to him and even removed my ring.”
“Because that is a symbol of our love. Even without it, that love we share saved you.”
You brushed your fingers idly through Thorin’s hair. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” you told him, feeling nothing but awe for him. “And to think that you want me as I want you.”
“Shh, come now,” Thorin cooed. He took your hand and pulled you up from the bedside. “I will have a bath drawn for us.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” you giggled.
“I wish to pamper you and surely there is no time limit on that.”
Thorin did as proposed and requested that a bath be drawn for you both. As the hot water poured into the tiled bath, fresh towels and soaps were brought to you both. Two serving girls smiled at you in amusement as they dashed back and forth, preparing everything.
By the time everything was ready, Thorin stepped across to you and stood behind you, kissing the base of your neck. “I can feel the tension in your shoulders, my love. Come and relax.”
You both disrobed, neither of you feeling an ounce of shame, considering this was the first time you had seen each other naked.
The bath was large with two steps that led down, it reminding you of a small swimming pool. Steam rose from the water and your first step in stung slightly as the hot water met your cool skin.
Thorin stepped in after you and you couldn’t help but keep your gaze locked on his broad shoulders. He was muscular, toned by years of activity from combat and working as a blacksmith. That also meant that he was littered with small scars. As you had imagined, he was well endowed, showing off quite an impressive girth.
For a second you thought back on your feelings that had been uncovered by your time with Darkness. Everything had been pure attraction and arousal, like molten lava coursing through you. But looking upon Thorin was different; every part of you was awakened. All of your body was ignited in your love for him.
He gazed at you, his silver blue depths bright with love and admiration. There was a contentment in his eyes that you had never seen before his revelation of love. Before that and he had always held sadness in his face. It had always been your belief that behind a lot of Thorin’s frustrations was sadness and hurt. You wanted to heal him.
The two of you embraced and then kissed. Thorin’s hands were slow to move, starting off in your hair and then moving down to your neck, your shoulders, breasts. There was no force or rush like there had been with Darkness.
Thorin washed you slowly, massaging the sponge covered in soap over the skin of your upper back. “You are quiet,” he said.
“I’m just enjoying your presence, and contemplating how you make me feel.”
“Oh? Do you wish to indulge me?”
You giggled. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes,” Thorin whispered to your ear.
You turned around to face him. “I want to give myself to you, now.”
“There is no rush, my love. Considering what you have been through tonight…”
“That doesn’t matter. I want you, Thorin. Every part of you. If you’ll let me have it.”
Thorin never answered and pressed his lips to yours hungrily, letting you know his answer. It would only ever be a resounding yes.
The two of you slipped out of the bath, drew towels around your waist and made your way back to your chamber. Once inside, you stood before Thorin and let your towel drop to the floor. He rushed at you again, drawing his hands up your cheeks and groaning at the impact.
You leaned back on the bed, him following you.
Thorin’s lips trailed down your body slowly, his beard tickling the hot skin. That arousal was surging again, only this time it was mingled with something far deeper: love. This time you wanted to bond with Thorin, connect with him in every way that was possible.
You felt his fingers delve into the curls at the juncture of your thighs and immediately you felt your inner core begin to want more, so much more. A groan escaped your lips and slowly Thorin’s fingers circled your sweet nub and then delved into your womanhood.
Thorin kissed your neck as he began a rhythmic movement inside you.
You clutched his shoulders, feeling the waves begin to ascend. That all too familiar sensation of wanting to get as high as you could to feel that powerful burst. His name fell off your lips, feeling so right and such an integral part of your soul.
“My love,” he whispered in your ear. He kissed down your cheek, wanting you to feel his love radiating through his hands to you.
“Stop,” you told him, pulling his hand away. “I want you.”
Thorin swallowed deeply and felt a sliver of arousal shoot down his spine upon your words. He’d imagined this so many times over the last few months, unable to let the fantasy go. The elation in his chest made him smile at you.
His smile was the most beautiful sight to behold. “I love you,” you told him.
You kissed again, and this time, Thorin took your hands in his while his member rested between your legs.
That intense pulsing was beckoning him in, wanting him to ride you towards heaven. You nudged yourself forwards, reassuring Thorin that this was all you wanted in those moments.
As you joined, you groaned into his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. You remembered Darkness’ words about you ovulating. And as Thorin rocked against you, you saw a vision flash before your eyes. It was you in a wedding gown, with a circlet upon your head. The circlet matched the design of Thorin’s crown. Your gown was midnight blue, matching Thorin’s signature colour of choice. And there, beneath your resting hands, on your stomach, was a bump. This was the future you wanted, you needed, and which was destined.
You and Thorin continued your thrusts against each other, wanting to reach the pinnacle of physical pleasure together, and topple off hand in hand, hopefully creating that precious life you had just envisioned.
The waves of euphoria kept on building as Thorin maintained his rhythm, until the final wave crashed out, pouring heat and electricity outward from the pit of your stomach.
Thorin felt you shake and contract around him, and your moans of pleasure caused his peak to also come. He kept his lips against yours, groaning into the kiss.
Panting, the two of you embraced as Thorin withdrew from you.
Thorin didn’t have to keep reminding you of being a queen, you already knew that in your heart. All that mattered was you knowing that he loved you far more than anything else in his life.
***
The defeated Lord of Darkness sat upon his throne, a mirror in his hand. He had watched the whole spectacle unfold before his eyes; you had given yourself to the Dwarf King of Erebor, and there had been no persuasion on his part. Everything had been so freely given.
Darkness had already kicked one goblin across the room, as one gawked over his shoulder, enjoying the show inside the mirror. He enjoyed it so much that he had started masturbating behind the throne, hiding away so his master couldn’t see him.
“You cannot outrun me,” Darkness growled, watching as you and Thorin lay together in each other’s arms. “I can wait and when the times comes, I will strike again.
**
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xxbyimm · 2 months
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Hahahahaha!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
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"no worries" ah but that is where you are wrong. there are many worries
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xxbyimm · 5 months
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Wednesday, November 1st.
NaNoWriMo.
As one door closes, another door opens. So if you are feeling a little glum, a little blue, a little crestfallen this morning, as you pack your coffins, drone-controlled ghouls, pumpkins, and Normal Human Man costumes into the attic for another year, fear not. Because the passing of October 31st can only mean the arrival of November 1st. And the arrival of this date will be exciting and daunting news for y'all in Tumblr's writing community—it's #nanowrimo. 
Keyboards, touchscreens, typewriters, pens, and quills at the ready, folks. You've got 30 days to do 50,000 words. They are not going to write themselves. 
Good luck x
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xxbyimm · 5 months
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A Tale as Old as Time - Bard the Bowman x OC - Chapter 6 - Fate of a Spinster
New to this journey? Here’s chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 and chapter 5.
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A Tale as Old as Time - Bard the Bowman x OC - Chapter 6 - Fate of a Spinster
Summary: Actions have consequences. Always.
Warnings: Angst. Hold onto your seat, because this is going to be a wild ride...
Author’s note: Okay WHEWWW, there it is: the new chapter! I really, really hope that everyone will forgive me for this mess... 😭
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‘Love does not obey the mind, and turns to hate when forced.’
-Ursula K. le Guin
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Sunday.
There was no way this could be real.
Surely it was a cruel, heartless joke; courtesy of her uncle or her mother. Or if that were not the case, maybe a fever had struck her—leaving her imagination to run wild. Could it be possible she was sleeping, a nightmare visiting her in the realm of slumber and embodying the worst of her fears? Had she upset the Gods by not believing in them, and they cursed her for the disobedient nature of her mind?
Brea leaned heavily on the wooden chair in front of her father’s desk—her trembling fingers digging into the smooth surface of her refuge. Her breathing was shallow, ragged even, and her face had turned as white as a sheet. ‘No,’ she spoke again for the thousandth time, her tone wavering and her stomach lurching nervously. She knew their conversation was going in circles—her denying the fact, her father stating the duty that was expected of her once more—but she could not accept it, not yet. ‘Tell me the truth, father,’ she begged again. ‘I just did, my daughter,’ Brenion repeated himself quietly, his gray eyes observing his eldest child with sympathy and calmth. Apart from the slight tremor in his right hand, Brea’s father looked equally calm and composed—a just, wise man in control of his families’ fate. A man who was not to be trifled with.
Brea drew a shaky breath and slowly shook her head. Tears flooded in her eyes again, turning the clear image of her father into a disarray of colors. ‘You can’t be serious,’ she insisted, her lower lip trembling. ‘Please.’ ‘It has been decided, my daughter,’ Brenion said, his voice soft and soothing, as if he was trying to calm a wounded animal. He looked upon his daughter’s distraught face and clasped his hands together until the knuckles turned white. ‘You are expected to marry Alfrid on friday.’
She must have heard the dreadful news at least ten times already, but it still managed to knock the air out of her lungs each time. A desperate squeak escaped from Brea’s mouth and she braced herself, steadying her trembling fingers on the chair. ‘No,’ she mumbled as she shook her head decisively. ‘No. I will not.’ ‘Brea,’ Brenion called, his voice straining as he spoke. ‘I understand that this isn’t what you wanted, but there is no choice in the matter.’
No choice. With just those two words Brenion shattered the last of her hope that this was a joke, a nightmare, anything: apparently it was the truth. All these years she had tried to do the right thing—even when it had gotten her into trouble—and now it turned out that all those choices, all of her good intentions had boiled down to… this? Becoming Missis Lickspittle? In no more than five days?
Impossible.
‘So this is the life you wish for me to have?’ she questioned as tears spilled from her eyes onto her cheeks and dripped on the planes of her neck and chest. ‘Is this mother’s and your way to punish me for everything that has happened?!’ ‘No, of course not,’ her father replied as he shuffled in his seat. ‘We wish for you to be happy. We know this will not be easy for you, but we do believe it’s for the best.’
Desperation clawed in her chest, dragging its nails over her bleeding heart. A choked sob escaped her throat, and though Brea tried her best to keep her composure—mother’s constant hysterical fits were more than enough for the whole household—she knew she was losing the battle. On all fronts.
‘So mother and you truly believe that Alfrid, of all the men that this town has to offer, would make me truly happy?’ Brea argued, a new waterfall of tears running down her cheeks. ‘You know how much I despise him, how much everyone despises him!’ She planted her hands at her sides and tried to steady her breathing, but the utter terror gripping into her chest made it difficult to focus. ‘Who did this?’ she demanded through gritted teeth. ‘Was it mother’s doing? Or your own?’ ‘Young lady, you need to watch that tone,’ her father warned quietly, his jaw tightening. Under different circumstances, Brea would heeded the warning and changed her tactics or dropped the subject altogether—because testing her father usually meant serious trouble—but today she did not care. ‘You cannot force me to marry him without explaining to me why,’ she countered, grasping for yet another straw. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. ‘I am not one of your wares that you can trade to gain a favor.’
There was a short silence, in which her father heaved a weary sigh. ‘No, that you are not,’ he finally agreed. ‘But I am still your father and I get to decide what’s best for you, especially when you cannot see the bigger perspective.’ ‘And what is this grande, different perspective, father?’ ‘That your relationship with this bowman has been far more intimate than you have led us to believe, Brea,’ Brenion spoke, his tone cold. ‘You have lied to me and forced the master’s hand. Your mother and I have warned you that you should not mingle with the likes of Bard and his family more than what we agreed upon, but yet again you ignored our explicit wishes.’ Brea's eyes widened a little. Father couldn’t possibly know what had transpired between Bard and herself this afternoon, right?! She licked her lips before uttering the question she already knew the answer to. ‘What did I do?’ Brenion narrowed his eyes, fully aware that she was challenging him. ‘You know what you did, Brea,’ he spoke bitterly. ‘It pains me that you dare to challenge me on this.’ ‘But father—’ ‘Í don’t know the extent of your loose behavior,’ Brenion cut her off. ‘But I hope that kissing that bargeman was the worst of it.’
The little bit of blood that had been left to display the faintest color on her pale face, drained. A small part of her wanted to deny what had happened, but she could not bring herself to do so. Denying that she had kissed Bard, would demean the deep affection she felt for him.
Brea eyed her father for a moment. She had expected him to be livid with her, or disappointed even—for she had crossed a boundary she had promised never to go over again—but all she could see was the utter exhaustion written in his eyes. She could not bear to lie to him.
‘I will not deny it,’ Brea finally gave in as she straightened her back. ‘Though I didn’t mean for it to happen, you must believe that. But he’s…’ she paused, images of Bard flooding her mind. ‘Bard is…’ she continued. ‘He’s an honorable, intelligent and kind man, who works hard to provide for his family. He’s beloved by everyone in town. I tried, but I see no flaws in him, father.’ ‘He’s a widowed bargeman with three kids, struggling to make ends meet,’ Brenion countered with a sigh. ‘I see nothing but flaws; the man has nothing to offer you.’ ‘He could offer me happiness,’ Brea stated, her bottom lip trembling. ‘Something Alfrid—who you do deem worthy of me—could never give me. Why would you even consider matching a character like him with mine?’ ‘It was not my choice,’ Brenion murmured, his stature slumping in his seat as if a great weight had been put on him. ‘But that doesn’t matter; what does is that Alfrid—despite what you make him out to be—is a decent chap and makes a great living. You should be grateful that he has taken quite a liking to you and still wishes to pursue you, especially since he, too, knows about your careless dalliance with that bargeman.’
It was no secret to Brea that Alfrid had been accusing her of having a secret affair with Bard; the real question was how the master’s deputy knew about the kiss she had shared with the bowman. He must have been spying on them either way—which probably had taken great effort—because the only way to peek into the bowman’s home was through the windowpane on the front door. That vile, hateful…
‘Was it uncle?!’ Brea demanded, her mind jumping to all kinds of conclusions to find the cause of this sudden turn of events in her life. ‘Did he force you to agree?’ Brenion eyed her shortly, but his expression was unreadable this time. ‘The master has decided, my daughter,’ he finally said. ‘There is nothing to be done.’ ‘You are my father,’ Brea declared, her tone shrouded with desperation. ‘You vowed to protect me when I was born, you argued my case when Ruthron died and now you just… You just give me up willingly to that…’ she choked on her anger, her grief and her despair. The claws in her heart twitched. ‘That—’ ‘Brea, there was no choice.’ ‘There is always a choice!’ Her hands grabbed the chair in front of her and shoved it aside, the wooden legs leaving an ugly scratch in the floor. Her father rose from his seat, his face as pale as his daughter’s. He was used to his wife losing her mind but not his eldest; she was the calm one, always able to use her bright mind to come up with a fitting solution to every problem.
But not now. It was Ruthron’s death all over again.
‘Brea,’ Brenion tried as he looked upon his daughter as her carefully built composure crumbled into pieces—her gray eyes open wide in terror, her frame trembling violently and her complexion pale as the snow on Mount Mindolluin’s peaks. ‘Please,’ her father urged her. ‘Calm down.’ ‘Calm down?!’ Brea shrieked, barely able to hear her father over the roaring of the blood through her veins. Her hands found the door to the study and yanked it open. ‘You and mother just sentenced me to a lifetime of misery and now you expect me to accept my fate willingly?!’ ’Brea—’ Brenion tried once more, but his daughter was not listening. Brea stalked past the door frame and stumbled into the hall, where Jenessa—who had been sitting on the edge of the stairs—jumped from her seat. ‘Bree!’ Jenessa begged, desperation written on her tear-stricken face. ‘We have to—’ ‘We have to do what, Jen?!’ Brea seethed as she turned to her sister. ‘Last time I checked, you were free to marry any man of your liking!’
She regretted her remark the moment it left her mouth. Just like herself, Jen didn’t possess the freedom to choose whomever she liked; her options were bound too by the same framework society provided for them. Upon seeing the hurt in sister’s eyes, a pit of guilt and self-hatred coiled in Brea’s stomach. It wasn’t Jen’s fault that they were here, it was her own. And their parents.
With that thought in her mind, Brea turned to her father once more. ‘I would rather walk back to Minas Tirith and face the consequences,’ she told him in a loud, determined tone. ‘I would gladly jump into the lake to drown myself or walk into that dragon’s den, but I will refuse to marry Alfrid Lickspittle.’ ‘Brea—’ ‘NO!’ She countered harshly, cutting her father off. ‘I might have deserved my sentence in the city, but this is madness and I will not stand for it!’ ‘Don’t play me for a fool, my daughter.’ Brenion spoke, his jaw tightening. ‘You are going down the same path as you were back in the city. It was only a matter of time before that bowman would have taken advantage—’ ‘Don’t drag him into this, don’t you DARE!’ Brea huffed, planting her hands into her sides. Her eyes bore into her father’s. ‘He’s a good man and his intentions are true; as are mine!’ ‘Can’t Brea marry Bard, father?’ Jess tried from the edge of the stairs, though she must know the answer already. Brenion eyed his youngest and heaved a sigh. ‘No, sweetheart,’ he muttered in an exasperated tone, barely audible above the rushing of Mîrhel’s skirts as the Mistress of their home came down the stairs to calm down the fight that had erupted in the hall. ‘I can’t give an union like that my blessing,’ Brenion said. ‘It’s impossible.’ ‘I don’t need your blessing!’ Brea cried out as she yanked her coat from the coat rack and rushed towards the front door. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m twenty-four, I can think for myself!’
‘Can you truly?!’ Her mother cut into the conversation. ‘Look at the state of you, Brea. Haven’t we taught you to do better than this?!’ Brea raked one hand through her hair—her braid indeed was in a disheveled state—and looked up at the Mistress of the household. On the landing halfway up the stairs, Mîrhel was surveying the chaos that had enveloped down below. She looked neatly put together in her expensive green dress and perfectly styled coiffure, save for her aristocratic features that were twisted into an angry scowl. The pit in Brea’s stomach simmered. How dared her mother challenge her sanity, while Mîrhel had been the one unable to fulfill her duties as Mistress and mother many times before. ‘I’m glad to see that your spirits finally have returned, mother.’ Brea denounced, her fingers clawing in the handle of the front door. ‘Maybe you can shed some light on the recent turn of events.’ ‘Hasn’t your father been clear enough?’ Mîrhel retaliated as she strode down the last few steps and almost knocked Jen out of the way. ‘You will marry Alfrid Lickspittle,’ she swore. ‘And that’s the end of it.’
If Brea thought she’d already hit rock bottom, she had been wrong. Her mother’s venom trickled through the shatters of her broken heart, poisoning her wounds and planting their seeds of doubt. Was she ever going to get out of this mess alive? Tears spilled over her cheeks and Brea’s breath got caught in her throat. She eyed the family she had known; the ones she had loved. Then, she yanked the door open and left.
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How could they do this to her? How could her father, the man she had trusted and loved her whole life, give her away so freely to a man of whom he knew would make her unhappy? How could he not care?
Without a clear destination in mind, Brea stumbled down the stairs that led up to her parent’s front door and rushed into town—wandering aimlessly past the market, the town’s hall and even Bard’s street before turning around and retracing her steps. Her heart ached at the sight of the bowman's home and though she wanted to return to Bard’s protective embrace more than anything, she forbade herself from knocking on his door. She already got him—and herself—into trouble, what good would her presence bring?
So instead of following her heart’s desire, Brea wandered into the cobbler’s street and ventured west. The air was crisp—even for Laketown’s standards—the warmth of the late spring sun disappearing and the night slowly setting in. Brea shivered and allowed herself to stop in the narrow streetway long enough to put on her coat, her cold fingers fumbling with the buttons that were tightly sewn onto the light blue fabric. ‘Are you lost, girl?’ A frail voice called.
Brea turned around and was met with a small, frail-looking woman with long, graying hair and dark eyes that pierced right into her soul. The woman was clad in an old, black dress and a dark mantle adorned her shoulders. ‘You are Brenion’s eldest, are you not?’ The lady asked, leaning heavily on her wooden cane. ‘What are you doing in these parts of town on your own?’ ‘I was out for a walk,’ Brea lied quickly, offering a faint smile. ‘To lift my spirits.’ ‘And your mother agreed to that?!’
Not entirely, but Brea wasn’t keen on telling the old hag the truth, for the woman looked like the type that would drag her home and give the whole household an earful about propriety.
‘She made me promise to be back for dinner,’ Brea replied before gesturing vaguely at the darkening sky. ‘So if you don’t mind, Missus, I shall return home to her.’ The old lady eyed her sternly, clearly seeing through her charade, and impatiently tapped on the boardwalk with her cane. ‘Very well,’ she then said. ‘Off you go. Be sure to wash your face when you come home. You look like you received dreadful news.’
‘I—’ Brea began, but the lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. The pit of despair simmered in her stomach, coiling into itself. Brea drew a shaky breath and briefly wondered if the woman was a witch, a mind reader or just meddlesome. News always traveled fast in this town, but surely it could not spread that fast?!
‘I might be old, but I’m not senile,’ the woman spoke, her eyes shining with an emotion Brea could not place, not yet. ‘You should be grateful the master was persuaded to let you stay, young lady. Usually this town doesn’t harbor loose women, or murderers.’
The blood in her veins chilled. ‘How do you—’ she croaked, but the lady had already turned around and scurried off—her pace much faster than one would expect—leaving Brea alone in the narrow street.
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Brea did not venture home, not yet. Her feet brought her to the ship’s wharf instead, where she lowered herself against an empty barrel that had been left at the end of the docks. She watched the fishermen wrap up their business for the day—a few hasty last deals being struck, and a lone boat returning home. The everyday scene calmed her senses, the knowledge that some things remained the way they always had been, comforting her.
Brea pulled her legs against her chest and cradled them in her arms. A weary sigh escaped her and her heart-rate slowed. All was well. She was still safely unmarried with a long life ahead of her, full of choices to be made. Furthermore, the strange, old woman probably had been a figment of her imagination. No one knew of Ruthron’s fate but her family. She was in control of her own destiny.
The fishermen bustled around her and upon noticing the distressed maiden, they shared uneasy glances amongst each other. None of them dared to speak with the subject of their concerns, because despite the fact that she was a kind, pleasant woman, none would like to suffer the possible consequences that conversing with the master’s niece could bring. Brea didn’t notice the discomfort her presence had brought to the wharf, nor did she register the fact that it had been Bard’s boat that had arrived at the dock—her mind too busy creating an alternative, more pleasant future.
Her thoughts were interrupted shortly after by sturdy fur boots that came into view. ‘Hello Brea!’ Bain greeted her, grinning happily. ‘What a day we’ve had—’ Once the eldest Bardling noticed the distraught expression on her face, his own muddled with concern. ‘Is everything alright?’ Brea smiled faintly. Though Bard’s son didn’t utter the question he had wanted to ask, she instinctively knew who and what he was worried about; Bard’s injury had taken a toll on them all. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told him. ‘Your father is fine. He’s at home, watching over your sister. Dinner should be ready soon.’ The boy nodded, visibly relieved. ‘Thank you. But what about you? Why are you here?’
She had hoped he wouldn’t press the matter, but there they were. ‘I just needed a breather.’ ‘From da?’ Sigrid inquired with a giggle. She leaned against the barrel and eyed Brea with a smug smile. ‘We know he can be a pain in the ass, Bree, but I can assure you he’s just doing his best. Has he been giving you a hard time?’ Her cheeks grew warm and Brea bit on her lip as the pleasant memories from her afternoon with Bard crossed her mind’s eye. ‘No,’ she replied softly. ‘Not at all….’ ‘You can be honest with us,’ Sigrid teased, winking at her before sharing a knowing glance with her brother. ‘We know all about it. Though—’ she seemed to recollect her thoughts before continuing. ‘Though we have to admit that our father generally seems less burdened when you’re around.’
Brea’s heart ached at that, for she had felt the same in his presence. But soon it was to be no more.
‘Your father is fine, truly,’ she told the two Bardlings. ‘There are just some family matters that are troubling me and I need some time by myself to mull them over.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Sigrid inquired, a frown appearing on her pretty face. ‘Is Jen alright?’ ‘She’s in good health,’ Brea assured her. ‘As we are all. Please don't worry about us.’ Bain shrugged and motioned for his sister to follow him. ‘We’ll see you later, Brea. That is, if you’re sure you don’t want to join us for dinner?’
Dinner. Meat pie, the very same one she had prepared with Bard after they… Tears stung behind her eyes and threatened to flood the surface. Brea swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and averted her gaze to her hands in her lap. ‘Bree?’ Sigrid said, sinking to her knees to face her friend’s sister. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
No, she was not—but what was she to say? ‘I’m fine,’ Brea said, forcing herself to offer the Bardlings an unconvincing, watery smile. ‘And I’m sorry I can’t join you for dinner. I do hope the meat pie tastes any good, your father and I tried our best.’ Sigrid put a hand on her knee and continued to observe her with a concerned glow in her eyes. ‘Do you want to be left alone?’ she inquired in a gentle tone, reminding Brea of Bard—the resemblance uncanny. ‘I can stay with you if you want.’ Brea shook her head. ‘No thank you, I can look after myself. Besides, you’re tired and need to eat.’ Sigrid smiled faintly and patted Brea’s knee before she rose to her feet. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘For dinner?’
Though it was unlikely Brea would ever set one foot in the bowman’s home again, she nodded anyway. ‘Yes.’ ‘Take care, Brea,’ Bain told her, uncertainty coating his voice. ‘You’re sure da hasn’t hurt you? Because if he did, we will—’ ‘He has nothing to do with my grief,’ Brea cut the young man short. ‘If anything, your family has been the only thing keeping me sane here.’
With that, the Bardlings had no choice but to leave their friend behind—though it troubled them greatly. Brea ignored their stares as both Bain and Sigrid turned around a few times, clearly hesitating between respecting her wish or giving her the company she truly needed.
Countless minutes passed in which Brea watched the water lap at the docks and the boats swaying in the smooth waves. Yet again the world seemed so calm, so unbothered, while her future laid in shambles before her. How was she to survive this?
A small part of her was still convinced that Alfrid’s intentions to marry her were part of some elaborate scheme—to teach her a harsh lesson about the consequences of her choices. The fact that her father had agreed with the match was inconceivable, for he was a smart man; surely he had seen how much everyone despised the master’s deputy. Why would he want to curse his daughter with such a dreadful fate?
A shiver rippled through her, which could both be accounted to the horrible thought of being Missis Lickspittle and to the cold that settled in her limbs now that the sun was gone. Brea’s bottom ached from sitting huddled up for far too long but as the pain distracted her from her heartbreak she welcomed it with open arms.
How she wished Bard was here… A lone sob erupted from her throat, the cry echoing over the dark water. Though the lake offered the soothing sound of its waves in return, a deafening emptiness settled in her chest. She had wanted to be alone, but now that she was she wished someone was with her—preferably Bard or Jen, or even Ruthron or the Bardlings. They were the only ones with whom she had felt safe, with whom she could discuss what had happened. Together they could solve…
Another sob echoed over the water. What had she done to deserve this? She hadn’t meant to fall in love with Bard, not after what had happened with Ruthron. She thought she had learned her lesson, that she would never make the same mistake twice, but suddenly she found herself falling hard for this handsome, confident and wise man. Loving Bard had been so easy, so… inevitable.
The clawing desperation in her chest returned and small sobs escaped her as Brea unsuccessfully tried to control herself. She wanted to wail without shame, to stand up and rage against this injustice, to run away and leave all her troubles behind, to find Bard and beg him to defile her—maybe Alfrid would lose interest if he did. She did nothing of that though, and stayed frozen in her seat instead; all while the tears freely ran down her face.
The docks creaked as someone entered the ship's wharf and walked towards her, but Brea didn’t bother to check—her eyes were still fixated on the waves as they slowly disappeared under the gathering darkness.
‘Brea,’ Bard’s voice called for her as he quietly crouched down beside her trembling frame. His hand tentatively brushed over her shoulder. ‘Bain and Sigrid told me they saw you here. They were worried and asked me to find you.’ ‘Of course they did,’ she noted, smiling faintly at the notion. ‘They’re decent people, like their father.’
There was a short silence in which Brea resorted to the alternative, pleasant narrative she was spinning for herself and Bard eyed her with growing concern. ‘Sweetling,’ he finally breathed. ‘Please tell me. Has this anything to do with what we… with what I did to you? Because if so, I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’
Given the few facts her bowman did possess—all from the afternoon they had shared—his conclusion made sense, but still... ‘No!’ she denied furiously, forgetting her manners and turning to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Though darkness was settling around them, she could still make out the contours of his face. ‘It was…’ she murmured, her tone wavering. Her hands found his jaw, the scruff tickling her fingertips. ‘It felt…’ she went on while searching for the right phrase. ‘It felt right, inevitable, like we were exactly where we needed to be… Like you belonged….’
How could she tell him that it had truly felt like they belonged to each other—Bard settled between her legs and his desire for her pressing against her core with a need that defied all reasoning? How she still wanted him to complete her, to take her? And how everything that she had longed for was not to be?
‘I know,’ Bard told her quietly before settling behind her and pulling her into his embrace. Brea relaxed against his strong chest, shivering slightly as his lips ghosted over her temple. ‘I felt it too,’ he confided in her. ‘And I would give anything to see you like that again.’
‘Bard, I—’ she began, but her voice cracked and she silenced herself before he could hear her cry. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, sweetling,’ the bowman urged, his arms safely wrapped around her and his hands resting comfortably against her hips. ‘I cannot stand seeing you like this.’ ‘There’s not much to see right now,’ she replied, because despite everything, the waxing moon wasn’t providing much illumination for her bowman to properly see her. Bard chuckled at that and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m glad your bright mind is still with me,’ he murmured. ‘Still, I would like to know what’s been bothering you, if you wish to share.’ She shrugged and swallowed down another sob. ‘Talking about it makes it real,’ she mumbled. ‘Can you kiss me first?’
One of his hands brushed under her chin and gently turned her face. Their mouths met in a soft, comforting caress that produced a new flood of tears in her eyes. ‘Siren,’ Bard begged against her lips. ‘Please, what happened? Have I been careless?’ ‘No, but when I came home my father called me into his study,’ Brea recounted quietly as she laced her fingers through his. ‘Apparently we have been seen kissing, which forced my uncle’s hand.’ The bowman groaned and squeezed in her hand. ‘I’m sorry I brought this upon you,’ he said. ‘Let me make this right, will you allow me to do that?’ ‘I wish you could…’ Bard pulled her closer against his chest and buried his nose in her hair. ‘You could become my wife,’ he proposed quietly. ‘If you wish to be.’ ‘Yes,’ she replied with a faint smile, closing her eyes and allowing the mental images of their shared domestic life to overcome her. ‘I wish I could be yours until the end of my days, but it’s not my choice to make.’ ‘What do you mean, siren?’ he asked and his torso strained as the meaning of her words daunted him. ‘What has happened?’ Her throat constricted at the slight desperation in his voice and Brea swallowed hard. ‘My father gave Alfrid his permission to marry me,’ she finally managed to say. ‘I shall be wed on friday.’
The bowman stiffened behind her, his arms locking around her and pushing her further into his chest. ‘No,’ he denied in a low growl. ‘Brea, tell me this is a joke.’ She sniffled. ‘I wish I could but I fear it’s not….’ ‘But he will only make you miserable,’ Bard countered through gritted teeth. ‘Does your father even realize that?’ ‘I think so,’ she murmured while a lone tear ran over her cheek. ‘He said it wasn’t his choice.’ Bard inhaled sharply at that before quietly muttering something under his breath, causing Brea to look back at him. Though she couldn’t properly see his face, she did notice that his dark brows were knitted together in concern.
‘For your sake I will try to be respectful,’ Bard spoke, anger coating his voice. ‘But I’m sorry sweetling; I cannot imagine that I would willingly give one of my own daughters away to a man I knew they would resent for the rest of their lives. Whatever the circumstances may be or how I would be affected by it, I would always choose their happiness.’ ‘As would my father,’ Brea confided in him as she turned her face towards the lake again, her eyes trying to peer into the darkness. ‘He has always protected me, even against the tribunal of the White City, and I don’t understand why—’ she drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘I—I don’t know why he thinks this is the right thing to do. I challenged him on that, but he wouldn’t tell me.’ ‘He cannot expect you to marry the master’s deputy without knowing why he would doom his own offspring to such a fate!’ ‘I shall have to talk to him again,’ Brea told herself, ignoring the dread and oppression the thought caused in her chest. ‘There has to be something—’ ‘Would you like me to go with you?’ Bard interjected, his breath coming in labored grunts. ‘We could—’
A giggle escaped her as the absurdity of the whole situation sunk down on her. She knew Bard was trying to show his support, but how was this to work? The bowman sounded like he was ready to go to war for her and murder her father on the spot—and nothing good would come of that.
‘It’s not funny, Brea!’ Bard hissed. ‘We cannot allow this to happen! This is your life we are talking about, your—’ She turned her face once more, her hand reaching for his jaw before guiding him to her lips. Their mouths melted together in a desperate, longing kiss that made the bowman grind into her bottom while Brea pushed those said curves further into his lap.
‘Can you promise me something?’ she whispered as they momentarily parted to catch their breath. ‘I know what you’re going to ask of me,’ Bard murmured quietly. ‘And I fear I cannot.’ ‘You can,’ she pressed as her fingers caressed his jaw. ‘Please my bowman, don’t do anything stupid.’ ‘Why would you think I would do something stupid?’ He inquired, his lips brushing over her own. ‘Because you have a courageous heart,’ she replied as her own swelled in her chest, for it was the truth. ‘You stand for what you believe in, but you must think of your family first.’ ‘I owe you my life, sweetling,’ he breathed before he placed a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘Without you—’ he confessed while working his way towards the other corner. ‘The children would have been orphans.’ ‘You owe me nothing,’ she countered, basking in his protective embrace and soft caresses. ‘You saved Jen first and I repaid my debt by treating you.’ ‘Then marry me.’ ‘How does that make sense, bowman—’
His mouth crashed onto hers, cutting off any more arguments that she undoubtedly could have uttered. Bard’s tongue stroked her own and Brea’s thoughts turned into mush; much like the overboiled potatoes they had messed up earlier. All she did was feel—the velvet of his tongue, his arms caging her into his embrace, the pull on the fabric of her skirt as his hands fisted in them and his desire for her pushing against her behind…
‘Say yes,’ he murmured desperately against her lips. ‘Please.’ ‘You know I want to,’ she breathed. ‘But if we did the master would cast all of us out. Where would we go?’ ‘Sweetling—’ ‘Or he would do something worse to punish you, leaving me without a husband and the children without their father,’ she reasoned with the both of them, though her mind was already picturing their shared future as a wedded couple. ‘I cannot put your family into jeopardy, not for my sake.’
A strangled groan escaped him. He knew she was right, but they both didn’t want her to.
‘I can’t—’ Bard began, before tightening his hold on her. He pressed his face against her neck. ‘I cannot stand idly by while that… that bastard takes you away from me.’ ‘You have to,’ she told him truthfully, though the mere idea of Bard being there while she was forced to marry the biggest nightmare that Laketown had to offer, was enough to make her cry again. ‘The consequences—’ she said shakily. ‘They would be dire if you—if you don’t.’ ‘But sweetling, I can’t,’ he countered, his voice laced with grief, and his hand traveled up her cheek to wipe the tears away. He had to know that it was a fruitless task, because the tears kept on coming, but he kept patiently brushing them away. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘But you have to try.’
They sat like that for a while, both lost in their own thoughts, yet clinging onto each other’s presence. If either of them had been aware of their surroundings, they would have heard a group of people hurrying around town, carrying torches and swords with them.
‘Brea,’ Bard called for her after a while, his usually calm tone sounding unsteady. ‘Sweetling, I want to tell you that I—’
‘SEARCH THE SHIP’S WHARF!’
‘Go,’ Brea ordered her bowman as they quickly scrambled themselves together. Though Bard had stepped away from her—probably to assure the search party they hadn’t been doing anything wrong—he refused to leave her side. Brea shook her head at him, silently begging him to go one more time, but the bowman remained where he was. The nearing light of the torches lit up his hazel eyes and showed a determined glow in them. Despite the risk of getting arrested, he wasn’t going to let her face the guards on her own.
The wooden docks creaked violently as the search party rounded the corner, revealing the woman it had been looking for, flanked by the man everyone had suspected would be with her. ‘There they are!’ Alfrid called loudly as he pointed at the pair with his torch. ‘And what did I say chaps? I knew Bard would be with her. They simply can’t stay away from one another, can they?’
Bard’s arms twitched and he took a deep breath. ‘Don’t,’ Brea muttered quietly, knowing too well that after seeing Alfrid’s smug face, he would be very much capable of doing something stupid. ‘Let me handle this.’
She took a step forward and eyed the surveying crowd. The torches lit up each individual face and she could tell the master wasn’t among the party, for which she was glad. Most men were looking at her with a blank expression on their faces, save for Braga—captain of the guard—and the master’s deputy himself. ‘Good Evening, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘I suspect you have been searching for me, but I must assure you that I am quite alright.’ ‘You ran away from home,’ Alfrid replied in an accusing tone. ‘You had your father worried, Miss.’ ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Brea countered with a forced smile. ‘I was just out for an evening walk, gathering my thoughts on an upcoming union I didn’t give my consent to.’ ‘Is that so?’ Alfrid asked, taking a few steps towards her, to which Bard strained. ‘You know,’ the master’s deputy continued as he eyed the bowman with a nasty grin. ‘I think your father was right to worry, Miss Brea. As you seem to seek out the advice of the very troublemaker I have been warning you and your family about. When I’m your husband, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.’ ‘Is that a threat?’ she demanded as a flash of hatred stung in her chest. ‘More like a promise,’ Alfrid told her, showing off his wide grin now. ‘That’s enough, Alfrid,’ Brenion called, stepping forward from the back of the crowd. Her father eyed his brother’s deputy fiercely, until the latter caved in. ‘My daughter needs time to reflect on her thoughts and feelings—as all women tend to do when their lives are about to change.’ Her father looked down upon the small crowd. ‘I think the married men among us all agree that the other sex can be a bit hysterical at times, can’t they, lads?’
Agreeing murmurs rose from the majority of the search party and only Alfrid seemed lost on the subject of women and their emotional states—which wasn’t surprising.
‘With all due respect,’ Bard began, making the whole party turn to him. ‘Each one of you would become hysterical—as you like to call it, master Brenion—in the case you’d be forced to do something against your will too.’ ‘Don’t you try to be smart, bargeman,’ Alfrid spat, pointing his torch at Bard once more. ‘We all know you harbor rather provocative ideas that your late wife put in your head.’ ‘You know nothing of my wife,’ Bard growled, his jaw set. His eyes glistened with anger. ‘Leave her out of it.’ ‘We know all about her,’ Braga added from his place in the crowd. ‘She was always up to no good, sprouting those progressive ideas!’ ‘You mean that married women should have a say on whether they put new life on this earth?!’ Bard questioned, his tone dangerously low. ‘I’d say your wife would agree, Braga. She wouldn’t want to bear more of your—’ Thinking better of it, the bowman stopped himself before he could deliver the insult he had in mind. ‘You're lying—’ Braga began, thrusting his torch into a random comrade’s hand. He separated himself from his men and drew his sword; the metal glistened maliciously in the warm hues.
Brea’s heart hammered in her chest as the captain of the guard paced forward, egged on by the shouts of his men. Bard’s scowl had deepened and his body tensed—like a cornered cat, carefully estimating the threat the barking dog in front of him formed. Though the bowman carried no weapon—a huge disadvantage to most—it would be foolish to underestimate him. Not only was he strong, Bard was quite resourceful. If anyone was successfully going to pry a lethal weapon from an angry man’s grip, it was him.
Nevertheless, Brea would rather avoid the violence and possible injuries that came with it; the Bardlings, herself included, would kill her if something happened to their father. With that in mind, Brea took a step forward and in doing so positioned herself in front of her bowman. She eyed Braga defiantly and lifted her chin. ‘Brea,’ Bard spoke quietly, only for her to hear. ‘Don’t. Let me handle this.’
‘What would your wife say, I wonder,’ Brea mused as she locked her eyes with the captain of the guard. ‘If she heard you are attacking unarmed town’s people now?!’ Braga scoffed. ‘I am doing my duty.’ ‘Are you?’ She questioned while a scorching pit of disgust simmered in her stomach. ‘Your duty for you and your men was to find me. And you did that, didn’t you?’ ‘But that bargeman—’
‘Brea,’ Brenion called for his daughter, effectively distracting everyone from the brawl that was waiting to happen; though it was yet unclear which party would lose their mind first. Brenion’s voice was firm, demanding, leaving no room for doubt. ‘Let’s go home.’
Though she knew fully well the consequences of her actions were going to be dire, Brea merely shook her head. ‘No, not unless you send this search party home.’ ‘Brea—’ ‘They did their job, father, though it was hardly necessary!’
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Alfrid concluded loudly, his face contorted in a nasty scowl—he probably wasn't too happy that his future wife was taking a stance, further proving the conviction she was involved with the bowman. The master’s deputy eyed his rival in disgust and waved with his torch. ‘Take him away, Braga.’ ‘With pleasure—’
Everything seemed to slow down. While Brea tried to shield Bard from Braga, both the bowman and her father seemed to have the same goal in mind. Bard pushed her in Brenion’s way, the latter catching his daughter in her stumble before she could really hurt herself. Brea’s father firmly held her in his grasp and tried to back away, but at the same time Braga and the rest of the search party surged forward to capture their target. Unfortunately the docks on the ship’s wharf weren’t spacious—not enough to accommodate a large group of people, anyway—and the master’s brother and niece were thrown into chaos as the search party stalked past them.
‘NO!’ Brea cried out as she watched her bowman being caught by the master’s men.
‘That’s what happens, Miss Brea,’Alfrid told her as he appeared at her side as if he had been conjured from thin air. Brea shuddered, but her father’s hold on her made it impossible to move away. ‘As I told your father here,’ the deputy continued, raising his voice above all the clamor and shouting. ‘You’re the master’s niece and you should be extra careful who you let yourself into.’ ‘Let him go!’ Brea demanded in a shrill tone as Bard was being pushed past her—his hazel eyes pleading her to stay safe, to not cause more uproar. ‘On what grounds are you going to arrest him, Alfrid?! He did nothing wrong! He was just worried about me, like—’ ‘Not a chance, Miss Brea,’ Alfrid replied with a smug smile. ‘I’ve waited quite some time to have that rabblemaker arrested and teach him a lesson. Little did I know that you—my lovely bride to be—would hand over the perfect opportunity today.’
Brea hissed and struggled in her father’s grasp, suddenly fully understanding why Bard found it difficult to be in Alfrid’s proximity without hurting him. She caught the deputies’ gaze and the misty storm in her eyes raged against his dark chasms of misery. ‘Brea,’ her father whispered in her ear. ‘It is done. Let us go home.’
She pressed her lips together—her eyes still burning into Alfrid’s—unwilling to give in yet. A moment passed before Brenion squeezed firmly into her arm, making Brea flinch and avert her gaze. ‘See?’ Alfrid told Brea’s father, his voice laced with triumph—apparently mistaking her defeat for obedience on her part. ‘I’ll make a good wife out of her.’
Her stomach lurched at the comment. Though Brea didn’t know what Alfrid had in mind yet, she did know it would be most unpleasant. She shot her father a helpless glance, to which Brenion offered her a reassuring smile.
The search party moved away—the target safely in its custody—and the loud shouts and clangs of metal against metal made Brea turn. Her heart sank as she saw Bard amidst the clamor. She must do something, but what was to be done? How could she help him?
Her father had no power over the master’s men, but Alfrid did. Brea licked her lips. Her intended, as he liked to think of himself, was known for his love of money and power—the latter Bard in his role as courageous, trustworthy bargeman, to some extent, possessed. Hilda-Bianca had once told her that the bowman had been named ‘protector of the people’, as he was always quick to defend the poor and misfortuned against the master’s wrath.
With a pang, Brea realized that though she couldn’t give Alfrid his desired money or power, she could give him something else; something he craved more than anything. ‘Alfrid,’ she began, forcing herself to look him in the eye once more. ‘I beg you to let Bard walk free. Don’t arrest him.’ ‘As I told you, my sweet Miss Brea,’ the master’s deputy replied with a grin. ‘I can’t.’ ‘Well, you could consider this your wedding gift to me.’
It was a cruel sacrifice—sealing her fate for Bard’s temporary safety—but it was one she had to make. Alfrid even had the decency to be taken aback by her offer, blinking a few times before awarding her with one of his nastiest grins that would even cause night terrors with Smaug himself—if the dragon existed anyway.
‘Very well,’ he concluded as he looked like someone had just told him the master had died and he now had full custody of the town’s hall’s depository. ‘So this means you accept my proposal?’ Tears burned behind her eyes, but Brea forced herself to say it. ‘Yes.’ ‘Let him go lads,’ the master’s deputy called loudly after his men, to which the whole party turned around and paused. Alfrid’s eyes shone with malice—reveling in the fact that at last he had gained the upper hand—and he reached for Brea’s wrist. His future bride coiled from his touch, but she had nowhere to go; her father still held her firmly splayed against his chest.
‘It seems master Bard has been saved by my bride to be,’ Alfrid spoke loudly for everyone to hear before pressing a wet kiss on the back of Brea’s hand. A shiver rippled through her and utterly disgusted by his touch, Brea averted her gaze. ‘Let him go,’ Alfrid ordered Braga as he caught up with the search party. ‘He gets to live to see another day, for now.’
A protesting murmur rose from the crowd, but eventually everyone—including Brenion and Brea—retreated, taking their torches with them and disappearing into the night.
A lone figure remained on the wharf’s docks, his shoulders slumped as if someone had put the weight of the world on him. He had just watched Brea being dragged away by her father, the utter dread that had been written on her face still burning in his mind’s eye. His heart beated loudly in his chest and with each drum a terrifying emptiness settled itself further in his soul. He had experienced this kind of pain before, and despite the years that had passed in between, the dull sting felt the same as it once had been.
Bard inhaled sharply, his jaw set in a harsh line. This all had been his fault. He had tried to do the right thing by staying away—and when that hadn’t proved to be enough—raising every objection he possibly could; all in order to stop the both of them pursuing the forbidden. But giving into temptation had been inevitable and once they finally had, it had felt so right. She should not have to pay the cost for it.
His hands curled into fists as he thought of the sorry excuse of a man that was going to take her from him. His chest ached once more and Bard gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter what she had asked of him: though he had learned the hard way to pick his battles—some were just not worth the consequences—he knew this was one he had to fight. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t; he fought for the things he believed were right and even more so for the things he loved.
A low, frustrated groan escaped him as he realized what he had known all along. This was no lighthearted dalliance, no fleeting infatuation; though it would have been so much easier if it had been. No, this was the kind of affection he had only experienced once before, the kind that he’d never expected to feel again.
Love. The deepest, gut-wrenching kind.
Alfrid might think that he had the upper hand, but he always underestimated his fellow townsmen—a clear sign of his stupidity. If the master’s deputy would be able to see the situation for what it was, he’d know: The poor, widowed bargeman and father of three was most passionately and irrevocably in love with his siren from Minas Tirith; and there was no way he was going to lose her.
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New to this journey? Here’s chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 and chapter 5.
Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea
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xxbyimm · 5 months
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The best of both worlds! 🥰❤️
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xxbyimm · 5 months
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RIP Matthew Perry
No one else could’ve played Chandler Bing🩵
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xxbyimm · 5 months
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Just My Imagination.
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Masterlist of fan fiction
Fandom: Spooks
Pairings: Lucas North x Original Female Character (Amy Holland)
Warnings: Undercover agents, angst, insecurity, anxiety.
Word count: 5725
Summary: From the imagine: "Imagine that you are on an operation with Lucas North, where you have to use a cover story that you’re in a relationship. Only Lucas plays the part a little too well."
Comments/Notes: Requested by anon. Requested as Lucas x Amy. THANK YOU. You know how much I love writing about Lucas and Amy. This piece was requested to be a romantic comedy, but I’m so sorry to say that it wound up just being angsty again. 
I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.
Operation Greenacre. 
Amy looked back over the folder in front of her, memorising all the information inside. Her name while on this operation was Amanda Reynolds, an office assistant in central London at a family law firm. Recently engaged to boyfriend of two years, Ben Waverley, aka Lucas North, her current operation partner. 
Amy and Lucas had been given keys to a one-bedroom flat where they would act out their pretend lives, hoping to gather more inside information from their next door neighbours, a couple who were potentially funding terrorists through their charity. 
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Lucas asked, hovering at her desk. “If you don’t feel comfortable then tell Harry and we can stand you down.”  
“I don’t want to let anyone down,” Amy sighed, giving him an anxious and embarrassed smile. Next to Jo Portman, Amy was the closest in age to Lucas, so could easily pass off as his fiancée. However, Jo was on another operation. 
Lucas pulled a chair across from the desk opposite and sat down next to Amy. “Look, you’ve never done this before, and it’s kind of going against procedure here and taking a risk. You don’t have to say yes just to please Harry or to impress anyone. Your safety and wellbeing comes first.” 
“But the only other person is Ros.” 
“So?” Lucas asked, raising his eyebrows. “Ros and I have had cover stories before where we’ve been in a relationship. We can easily make it work.” 
Amy looked at Lucas and felt the butterflies flap more viciously in her stomach. The man was gorgeous, and in Amy’s mind her being seen as his fiancée was even more inconceivable than Ros taking the place. Ros Myers had the confidence and grace that Amy didn’t. Amy was of short stature, more curvaceous, with short dark hair and what she considered more ‘plain’ features. While Amy had proven herself as a damn good analyst and office based intel officer, her confidence waned when venturing into new situations, or when in the company of Lucas. 
*
Near the end of Lucas’ shift, he tapped on Harry’s door. 
Harry Pearce, government renowned intelligence officer and senior lead of Section D, raised his head. “Yes, Lucas. Come in.” 
Lucas closed the door behind himself and sat down opposite the middle aged man. “I want to talk to you about Operation Greenacre. I don’t think Amy is ready, Harry. I’ve got a feeling that she’s accepted this to try and prove herself to you.” 
“Is this because you’re concerned about having to watch out for her, or a genuine interest in her safety?” 
“I can’t believe you’d ask me that question,” Lucas scoffed. “I’m worried for her, not me. She’s not ready for field work. Can we just ask Ros to do it?” 
“Lucas, Amy has already agreed to this and your documentation is being processed. I can’t stop this from going ahead, and Ros has, as of this afternoon, been put onto Op Hickory. I trust that you’ll be able to help her; the two of you seem to work well together and there’s something about the way she interacts with you. There’s an ease and a trust I sense.”
“I’m not questioning how we work together. I’ve always got on very well with her.” 
Harry saw a very faint blush hit Lucas’ cheeks, which was quite rare for him. Not much seemed to faze him, but this conversation appeared to be bringing out the very first signs that Lucas may have been holding a secret close to his heart. 
**
Amy woke early the next morning and rolled over to see that it was quarter to five. She had only gotten a couple of hours sleep, sporadic through the night. Her mind was ablaze with all the details of her new life she was about to live. 
Amanda Reynolds. Thirty one years of age. Born in Manchester. Older brother named Thomas. Fiancee of Ben Waverley. A gorgeous man like him wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like me….
The thoughts had trailed off many times, departing from the facts she had to memorise. All she could think about was how appearing engaged to Lucas would seem so far-fetched. She had even looked upon the engagement ring many times, wishing that it was all for real. What an absolutely stupid dream. This woman that she was pretending to be, Amanda Reynolds, had a better life than she had ever had. 
**
At around half seven, after showering, pacing her flat with podcasts playing in her ears, Amy heard her front door buzzer sound. It couldn’t have been the postman, as he normally left all mail in the boxes in the lobby. Deliveries weren’t usually this early. 
Amy clicked the intercom. “Hello?” 
“It’s Lucas.” 
Just his voice was like a wave of pleasurable electricity. It ran down her spine and made her smile. “I’ll let you in.” 
As Amy opened her door, she saw Lucas walking up the hallway. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt, with the top two buttons opened. He held something in his hands. 
“I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet, Aim,” he said softly. 
“I thought we were meeting at nine, at the flat,” Amy said stupidly. 
“I just thought you might like to have a bit of food first and relax a bit.” 
Amy let Lucas into her flat, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves begin to descend. 
“Malcolm has organised the moving van this morning, so a lot of the stuff should be there when we arrive later,” Amy told Lucas, stepping into the kitchen, with him just behind. 
“Come and sit down for a bit and don’t think about the op. Relax and take your mind off it.”
Amy looked down at the brown paper bag on the counter and then back up at Lucas, feeling something in her chest, an ache that she had never quite felt before. Not only was he gorgeous, but kind. He actually saw her, and made her feel like she mattered. Or was this purely to try and help her feel more confident to better the outcome of the op? A method of getting the best out of her. 
“Did you manage to get that sketch completed?” Lucas asked, taking a large bite out of a croissant. 
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Amy said. Only a few days earlier and Amy had been sketching a photo of her nephew at her desk in work. It was a gift that she wanted to give to her sister for her birthday. 
**
By the time that Amy and Lucas had made it to the flat where they would be spending at least the next couple of weeks, Amy felt a little more at ease. The two of them greeted the moving men. 
Every now and again, Amy would catch a glimpse of a shimmer of rainbow colours from the corner of her eye, as the sun caught the diamond on her left hand. 
It all felt natural as Amy and Lucas began putting items away after unpacking boxes. However, it all changed, when a tall red-headed woman came to their open door. She tapped on it and stepped over the threshold and into the living room. “Hello?” 
“It’s okay,” Lucas whispered to Amy as they remained together in the bedroom, still opening boxes. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he winked at her, watching as her startled face disappeared out of view. 
“Morning,” Amy said, her face beaming at the sight of the redhead. “I’m guessing you’re a neighbour?” 
“I am. I’m Pamela from next door, at number five. I heard we were getting new neighbours. It’s been so long since anyone has lived here, and I was starting to wonder if they’d ever find tenants.” 
Amy chuckled nervously. “I’m Amanda. My fiancée Ben is still in the bedroom trying to put the bed back together, so he should be out in a bit.”
On cue, just as Amy spoke those last words, Lucas appeared and approached. He curled his arm around Amy’s waist and drew her in against him. “Hi, I’m Ben. I hate moving. It makes me do some DIY which is one of my pet hates.” 
As Lucas spoke, Amy was sure that she could feel Lucas’ fingers moving in an almost circular motion against her waist. She could feel heat rising up her body at the sensation of being in such close proximity of him. 
“Is that a diamond I see?” Pamela asked, her dark eyes growing bright. 
Amy raised her hand to show her new neighbour. “We’ve been engaged about two months now.” 
Lucas pulled Amy that tad closer as she spoke, feeling a deep warmth rise upward and fill him. Without even thinking, he placed a kiss on her temple. Her skin was so soft under his lips and he could smell strawberries, no doubt from her shampoo. 
“You’ll have to come over for dinner tomorrow,” Pamela offered. “We always enjoy hosting dinners for our neighbours. Ted is ever the showman.” 
“That sounds lovely,” Amy said, her voice ever so slightly teetering on the edge of nervousness. She could feel the change in her voice now that Lucas was touching her. 
“I’ll let you both get back to it. I’ll see you around no doubt.” 
As Pamela disappeared into her front door, Amy immediately pulled from Lucas. She turned away from him and dashed away into the kitchen, where she flicked on the kettle for a drink. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her legs shaking. For a few seconds, she watched out of the window, focusing on the clouds and took a deep breath. 
“Are you okay?” Lucas asked. “You did well, Aim.” 
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little flustered, that’s all.” 
**
The rest of the day was fairly lowkey, with Amy and Lucas putting the belongings away, which hopefully wouldn’t be needed for too long. At the briefing, Harry and Lucas had explained that they hoped that the undercover part of the op wouldn’t be any more than two or three weeks. Most of it hinged on Lucas being able to wind his way into Ted Delaney’s trust and gain any hints as to his reasoning and motives for working alongside terrorists. 
At around six there was a sharp knock at the door. 
Lucas opened the door, only to see Ted Delaney in front of him. Positive ID made from all the documentation that had been gathered prior to the undercover portion of the op going live. 
“I’m Ted from next door. Pam told me you’d moved in and that she’d invited you to dinner tomorrow. Thought I’d come over and extend my welcomes to you both.” 
Ted Delany was a man who was easily in his mid-fifties. His greying hair was swept back and oiled, and his grey eyes were piercing. His clothing showed that he had money and position: a well-tailored navy suit and shined shoes. 
“Would you like a drink with us?” Lucas asked. 
“Sure,” Ted said, flashing a broad smile. 
Lucas immediately approached the whiskey and vodka bottles that were neatly placed out on a small table next to a large bookcase. 
Amy could hear faint chatter as she remained in the bedroom. For a second, she stood with her back to the wall, took a deep breath and then exited. 
“Hey, babe,” Lucas said, seeing Amy. ‘Babe’ somehow felt wrong in his mouth, and he hoped that to Delaney the word didn’t come across too alien. “This is Ted from next door.” 
“Ted, this is Amanda. The love of my life and wife-to-be.” 
I think that may be a bit too much, Lucas. Amy mused. 
Amy sat down on the black leather sofa which was opposite a matching armchair, where Ted had perched himself. 
Lucas handed the glass of whiskey to Ted and then placed himself down next to Amy. His hand rested on her thigh, again doing that circular motion with his fingers. He looked at Amy, passing her a glance. “Do you want me to get you anything from the kitchen?” 
“You’re missing out on the good stuff, love,” Ted said with a hearty chuckle and raised his glass in the air. 
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Amy replied. “I’ve never been able to hand alcohol particularly well. It just doesn’t sit well with me.” 
“I remember when we first met, and she tried to impress me by drinking a couple of pints,” Lucas said. “She’s always tried to impress me when there’s no need to. She’s perfect the way she is.” Lucas, on instinct, squeezed her leg. 
Amy felt a rod of red hot head swarm in her head, as if angry wasps were buzzing there. “I always felt I was out of your league, Ben, you know that.” 
“Pam was always like that with me, too. Some women might seem like they have confidence, but deep down they don’t, and feel they need to be something they’re not. In fact, they’ve always been the apple of your eye from the very beginning.” 
Lucas chuckled. “That’s definitely always been the way with her. She doesn’t see how amazing she is.” 
**
Ted only stayed for approximately twenty minutes, before leaving Amy and Lucas for the night. There was a silence that had grown between them both now, and as Lucas remained in the living room, Amy sat in the kitchen with a mug of tea between her arms, which were resting on the table. 
“Aim, what’s wrong?” Lucas asked, finally following her into the kitchen. “You’ve been quiet since Delaney left. Is it making you uncomfortable?” 
Lucas looked down at the table to see the engagement ring. It was in the centre of the table, not on Amy’s hand where it should have been for the op. 
“I can’t wear it, Lucas,” Amy said softly. “Not when it’s not real. I can’t close the door and still have it on my hand. It’s bad enough having to have you touch me.” 
“Amy…” 
“It doesn’t matter what I think. We see this op through and then go back to the grid and get on with things.” 
**
Lucas lay on the sofa, while Amy had the bed, and thought on her words. It’s bad enough having you touch me. Was she disgusted by him? That very thought made his jaw clench and an ache rise in his chest. That was why she had dashed from him when Pamela had been at their door; Amy found him disgusting and couldn’t stand him touching her. And that touch had been real, so real in Lucas’ mind. To hold Amy next to him had felt like everything was perfect, and nothing was an act. The kiss on her temple...that was all from Lucas’ heart. 
Amy tossed in bed, replaying the events. The way Lucas had touched her, and those words. They seemed to be somehow as though he was telling her, behind a mask of someone else, that…. Of course he wasn’t! 
Lucas is good at his job. He’s done this so many times before and played the part well to get what’s needed for the case and then move on. Nothing is different about this operation whatsoever. It’s just my imagination. 
Being in a different bed meant that Amy couldn’t quite get comfortable in the bed, and would keep peering out of one eye at the clock on the bedside table. The bed was big, enough space for her to roll around, but it reminded her of how isolated she felt. Cut off. Unwanted. 
It was just after four ‘o’ clock and Amy knew she wouldn’t sleep any more that night. It was like the night before, just a couple of hours made up of half hour dozing phases. A dull thump was already starting up behind her eyes. As Amy pulled herself out of bed, she heard the whishing of blood in her ears. 
She staggered out of the room and across the living room, heading for the kitchen. There, on the sofa, sprawled out was Lucas. He was on his back, mouth wide open. The patchwork quilt had fallen off him, so Amy tottered over to him, and placed the quilt back over his sleeping form. He twitched as the quilt touched him, let out a loud snore, and then rolled over. 
Amy made a cup of herbal tea and sat in the kitchen, her eyes stinging and head thumping. It seemed as if Lucas slept easily, not worrying about the operation and certainly not about the tension that had risen between them. Was it only Amy that sensed any kind of tension? She was starting to assume it was. 
By the time it had turned half six, Amy got dressed into a fresh strip of clothing, choosing jeans and a frilled white blouse: the attire of Amanda Reynolds. Amy Holland, MI5 analyst, would have opted for jeans and a rock band T-shirt with a waistcoat, or a bright coloured hoodie. Sophistication wasn’t something that Amy felt she had. 
The streets were fairly quiet and Amy slipped into a café, ordering two bagels and two Americano coffees. Then she walked back to the flat, feeling that she could finally find a sense of peace out in the chilled mid-March air. 
By the time Amy got back to the flat, she walked in to find that Lucas had vacated the sofa. She could hear the splashing of bathwater and an offkey singing voice coming from the bathroom. 
Amy giggled and placed the breakfasts down on the coffee table in the living room, waiting for Lucas to re-appear. 
When he finally made an appearance, Lucas sauntered over to the sofa and sat down, leaving a gap between Amy and himself. 
“I hope you like bagels,” Amy said, giving a smile. “You brought breakfast yesterday so it’s only fair I do so today.” 
***
Amy ventured out the flat after breakfast, deciding to get out of Lucas’ way for a few hours. The cover story was that Amanda and Ben were on annual leave for a week while they moved into their new property. Ben, being the owner of his own accountancy firm, had left the company in the capable hands of his best friend, and co-director, Patrick Lange. If any kind of phone call was needed to or from Patrick, Tariq had been asked to step in and lend his vocal skills. 
First off, Amy sat down in a coffee shop and watched people wander past the window; tourists, residents. Some of them she could tell immediately as residents of London, carrying briefcases or dressed sharp for an upcoming meetings. Tourists tended to walk slower, some with cameras around their necks, and gazed around in excitement and wonder. 
Her phone chimed. Well, Amanda’s phone. It was one of the many iPhones that were kept on the Grid specifically for operations, with disposable SIM cards. 
Ben: Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t seem yourself this morning. Love you. Xxx
Of course all text messages had be sent in character, in case the devices were ever compromised. No personal devices were allowed. One very basic Nokia 3310 model was kept in order to report back to Harry in case any challenges occurred, and that was in Lucas’ possession. 
Amanda: Yes, I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be back later.  xx
Sweetie. Acting out this whole made-up scenario was angering Amy. 
Amy continued on walking, disappearing in and out of shops. All of the money she had was in physical cash. No personal credit and debit cards were to be used while on operation. Every aspect of who she really was had been erased. For the next two or three weeks, Amy Holland didn’t exist. When she looked into a mirror, Amanda Reynolds looked back. Amy could imagine the reflection smirking at her, the diamond sparkling so brightly on her left hand, with Ben’s arm wrapped around her. Ben’s steel blue eyes looking back, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the mere sight of Amy. 
Like I’d ever look at you twice.
Back at the flat, Lucas put more items away, concentrating on the kitchenware. However, his mind couldn’t stop spiralling into thoughts of Amy. She was confusing him and it was twisting his gut so tight. Suddenly he got up from the tiled floor, where he had been putting pots and pans into the cupboards, and called her. 
“Amanda?” he asked. 
“Ben,” she replied matter-of-factly. 
“Are you alone?” he asked. 
“No one is directly around me.”
“We need to talk on neutral ground.” 
“Please, no. We can talk when I get back.”
“We have to be careful as we can be compromised, you know that.” 
“I’m on my way back now. We’ll talk more after the dinner. I’ll be back in about half hour.” 
The line then went quiet as Amy terminated the call. 
Lucas sighed in frustration. In all the months that he had known Amy, which was almost a year, he had never known her be so aloof. She was naturally a shier person, but he had never known her react like this. 
Amy got back to the flat within the half hour that she had promised. She stepped into the living room to see Lucas sat on the sofa. The gorgeous bastard looked up at her and smiled sadly. 
“After the dinner, we’ll go for a walk,” she proposed. 
***
Amy and Lucas prepared themselves for the dinner with their new neighbours at around six. 
Lucas was dressed in a black suit jacket and white shirt, with the top two buttons popped open. It was complimented nicely with a pair of dark jeans, giving a casual edge. 
Amy stepped out of the bedroom, her short pixie cut freshly washed and neatly brushed. She wore a black dress with frills on the wrist, and paired with black dolly shoes. Her whole look was sophistication mixed with a sense of comfort. 
As Lucas looked at her, he swallowed hard. She was wearing a dark eyeshadow and mascara which accented her deep green eyes perfectly. He could sense her discomfort at the get-up, knowing that this wasn’t her usual style, but he couldn’t help feel it suited her so well. 
Amy tried to avoid eye contact and made her way to the door in silence. 
Lucas followed on behind, feeling his stomach twist yet again at her distance from him. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table by the door, and then closed it behind them. 
Pam was the one to answer the door. She grinned at her new neighbours and let them in. “Take a seat. Dinner won’t be too long now. I’m preparing smoked salmon, topped in my special sauce. Chef’s secret as to the recipe. Everyone who has ever tried it has raved over it.” 
“Good man!” Ted exclaimed, taking the bottle of red wine from Lucas. “Priorities.” 
Amy glanced around the living room, noticing that there was far less in it than hers and Lucas’ temporary abode. The flooring was wooden, and the lights bright. Everything felt too clean and sterile for Amy’s liking. She sat down on a black leather sofa, and then tensed as Lucas perched beside her. He took her hand and rested it on his knee, then caught her gaze and smiled, giving her a very slight nod. 
“So, how did you two meet?” Pam asked, preparing glasses as Ted popped open the wine bottle. 
“Do you want a coffee? You said last night you don’t drink,” Ted asked Amy, interjecting himself into the conversation before anyone else could speak. 
“Oh, yes, please. That would be perfect,” she replied with a grateful smile. 
Lucas began to talk, still holding Amy’s hand. He rolled out the spiel that he and Amy had been given as part of their briefing pack. Amanda and Ben had met through mutual friends at a Christmas party. 
The words rolled effortlessly off Lucas’ tongue, Amy mused. And how she wished all of it was true. To be loved, wanted, proposed to, lived with. She desperately wanted it all. Life was cruel. Rather than be dealt such a lucky hand, she instead had to act it all out, pretend, and live behind a happy mask, where her heart beneath was breaking. 
“You definitely struck lucky, love,” Pam told Amy with a wink. 
The conversation between Lucas and Ted seemed to flow without much thought. However, Lucas’ hand moving up Amy’s thigh, curling further into the inside of her leg. 
Shivers began to race up Amy’s spine as she felt his fingers caress her skin through her thin tights. 
Most of the conversation seemed to merge into a mindless chatter as Amy concentrated on Lucas’ hand on her leg. She studied the veins in the back of his hand, which then caused images of him touching her in more intimate places to flicker through her mind. 
By the time that dinner was ready and the group had moved into the dining room, which again was a sterile looking room, Lucas had finally got onto the topic of conversation that he needed: Ted’s work. 
The table was only small, considering that the flat was large. It gave way for more kitchen space and cabinets. This meant that Amy was sat directly next to Lucas again, with Pam and Ted opposite them. 
“How long have you owned the charity, Ted?” Lucas asked, slipping into his seat. 
Ted began to answer while Pam laid out all the dishes in the centre of the table, her hands covered in oven gloves. “The charity was actually started by my father, who died five years ago, so it was handed down to me. He always spent his life helping disadvantaged children; it was all he cared about.” Something flickered across Ted’s face. Resentment, anger? Lucas couldn’t quite tell. But maybe that was where he could probe further. 
“Are you alright, love?” Pam asked, sitting down directly opposite Amy. “You look a bit pale.” 
“It’s probably the new foundation I’m using. I decided to try a lighter colour as the one before, by Clinique was too dark.” Where had that response come from? Maybe Amy wasn’t quite as bad at this acting while undercover thing as she had originally thought. Suddenly she felt something on her leg and jumped. Thankfully, Pam had started talking to Lucas and Ted again, so none of them noticed her jump. Why was Lucas touching her leg? Their lower halves were concealed beneath the table, which meant he didn’t have to touch her in order for anyone to believe they were lovers. 
While Amy eat her meal, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lucas’ hand coming back to her leg. 
“So, how did you choose to propose?” Pam asked, grinning. “I always adore love stories.”
Lucas blushed and then looked at Amy, catching her gaze. Then, he touched her leg again. Only this time, Amy didn’t flinch. In fact, upon instinct, she leaned her leg into his touch. “I just knew that I couldn’t live without her in my life. I wanted to wake up next to her, have kids with her. Cliché, I know. So I took her away for Christmas, to New York where she’d always wanted to go, and proposed in front of the Statue of Liberty.” His eyes were still locked on hers as he spoke. 
A sudden wave of nausea hit Amy and she leaned to the side, away from Lucas. 
“Are you okay, babe?” Lucas asked. “She’s been like this on and off the last couple of days.” 
Pam’s bright blue eyes lit up in excitement. “Maybe it’s the pitter patter of tiny feet.” 
“I’m going to have to head back to the flat. I’m so sorry to both of you,” Amy said, bolting up from her seat. 
Lucas got up beside her and wound his arm around her waist. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, but she comes first.” 
“Of course,” Ted chuckled. “We’ll have to re-schedule for a better time.” 
Amy and Lucas bid their farewells to their guests and head back to the flat. Amy dashed inside and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door. Rather than vomiting, she got to her knees on the floor and felt the tears of sadness roll down her cheeks. 
The door opened and Lucas stepped inside. He looked down as she sobbed and fell to his knees beside her. “Aim, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “You’re scaring me.” 
“You don’t have to keep the act going, Lucas,” she snapped, glaring at him. “Pam and Ted aren’t here.” 
“Get dressed into something more comfortable and warmer. We’ll go for a walk,” Lucas said, his voice becoming authoritative. 
“I don’t want…”
“While we’re on this operation, I’m the senior officer. Please get changed and we’ll go for a walk.” Lucas felt a stab of shame as he spoke those words, knowing he was using his own position for gain, but he needed to know what was happening. Her behaviour was becoming more erratic. Not only was she worrying him for her wellbeing, but if she continued to act like this then the op would be compromised. 
Fuck the operation! I care more about her. 
Fifteen minutes later and Amy walked beside Lucas, the darkness and cold evening air wrapping tight around them. Once they were a few streets away from the flat, Amy and Lucas sat down on a bench in a small park. 
“You really are scaring me, Amy. What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “This is me asking because I care for your wellbeing. It’s not an act.” The word ‘act’ dripped with anger. He noticed that, yet again, she’d taken the engagement ring off. 
Amy noticed him look at her hand. “I can’t wear that ring, Lucas. Please don’t make me wear it when I don’t have to.” 
“We’re on surveillance and undercover twenty-four seven with this operation. You shouldn’t take it on and off when you please like this. This goes deeper than that, Aim. I know you hate me touching you, and I’m sorry I have to do it.” 
“I know it’s all an act for the op, Lucas. Don’t apologise.” 
“Is it all an act?” he asked. His gaze locked on Amy’s. “I know I shouldn’t have touched you under the table. There was no need for that. The truth is, none of this has been an act for me.” 
Amy’s eyes were wide in shock and sadness as she stared at him. “It’s not just my imagination?” she whispered. 
“No,” Lucas replied with a smile. “And when you said about not wanting me to touch you…”
“I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you to touch me. It’s I…I’ve liked you for a while Lucas, and it was getting too much. Playing it all like a game when deep down it’s something I want. I’m living another woman’s life that I want.” 
Lucas slipped closer to Amy and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Is it me or Ben Waverley that you want?” 
“Of course it’s you I want.” Amy replied, her face broad with a huge smile. 
Lucas moved even closer to her still, until their lips touched. The kiss started as a simple peck, a moment of uncertainty, but Amy’s hand tugging Lucas’ jacket spurred him on. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues meeting and warmth rising. 
As they both parted, Lucas smiled upon the slight of Amy’s beautiful flushed cheeks. She looked so innocent and angelic in those moments; her eyes sparkling in happiness, her cheeks flushed and her lips plump. 
“Does this mean that if you want Amanda’s life that you’re planning on leaving MI5?” Lucas chuckled. “Pack up and go work as a solicitor’s secretary. We’d miss you.” 
“Maybe I don’t want that part of her life.”  
“If we do this, Aim, and have a relationship, we won’t be put together undercover again, you know that, don’t you?” Lucas asked. “Harry can’t risk any compromise. We’d be a weakness to each other.” 
“Maybe on this op we can draw strength from each other. It’ll definitely make the act easier to keep up.” 
Lucas and Amy walked back to the flat hand in hand. The whole time and Amy was beaming, unable to hide the happiness she was feeling in those moments. Her gaze would drift down to their joined hands every few minutes. 
Back at the flat, Lucas let Amy in ahead of himself, his hand brushing against her lower back. He followed on behind her and closed the door. The way she turned to face him and looked up smiling, her cheeks still flushed, made his heart skip and his stomach flutter. She was so beautiful, with innocence shining brightly in her eyes and love curling her lips upwards. 
Lucas stepped forward and wound his arm around her waist, drawing her in and then leaned down to kiss her again. 
Their kiss grew hot very quickly, with their bodies entwining. 
Amy opened her eyes slowly, looking up into the silver blue depths of Lucas’ gaze. That all too familiar smirk began to form in the corner of his mouth. 
Amy slipped out of his hold and walked slowly into the kitchen, looking down at the table. The engagement ring was still in the centre where she had left it. 
Lucas moved around her and picked up the ring. Then he gently lifted her left hand. “I know you don’t want to wear it, Aim, but please do this for me.” 
With a sigh, Amy watched as Lucas slid the diamond solitaire ring onto her hand. It felt as though the ring had been sized perfectly and belonged there. “Maybe one day I’ll have someone doing it for real.” 
Lucas smiled sadly, feeling a lump form in his throat. Words swarmed in Lucas’ mind. Just one sentence to respond to Amy’s sad comment. But the right one would not come. Instead, he remained quiet. Perhaps one day it might have been him putting a ring on her hand, and meaning it. However, for now, he would have to wait and see, and hope for that future to come. 
***
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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This was a small rollercoaster ride! For a second you had me thinking that Thorin was dead (and we all know that didn't really happen ofc 👌😄).
It was so cute that Dwalin came to get her ❤❤ And I feel Thorin, but at least he's alive and there to make it up to the reader 🥰🥰🥰😈
4. “I don’t want to talk to you" and/or “Don’t be nervous, you can come closer” with Thorin?
(I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting, hun) 
Prompt Request Masterlist
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“I don’t want to talk to you.” That had been the last thing you’d said to Thorin before he disappeared into battle to meet face to face with Azog the Defiler. And now you had no idea what was happening. Had you somehow cursed Thorin to die that day? His dragon-sick mind had forced you to push him away; he was no longer the Thorin you greatly admired. He was an arrogant, greedy shell of the great man he had once been. Now he was dead. 
You had hid away inside Erebor, finding a place within the many halls to be safe away from the battle ensuing outside. From within the mountain and you had heard the clatter of swords, the screams of pain...and then silence. Was it over? 
Then you must have fallen asleep, only to feel yourself being shook awake by someone. “Lass?” a deep voice came. 
“Dwalin?!” you called, instantly pulling yourself up from both sleep and the cold ground. “How...is everyone....?” You had no idea how to word your question. Who was alive? Who was dead? 
“Thorin has been gravely wounded. We don’t know if he’ll make it,” Dwalin replied, concern and sadness gripping his voice. “He is with the healers as we speak, along with Kili.” 
“May I go....?”
“Let the healers go about their work first,” Dwalin said softly, placing his hand on your shoulder in a consoling manner. 
***
It must have been twenty four hours later when you finally received any kind of news of the king and his nephew. The rest of the Company were in good health, with only minor cuts and bruises. 
Oin stepped into the large hall where you had been seated, sleeping on and off. “You can come and see them now,” he told you. “The king specifically asked for you.” 
You were nervous, shaking as you followed Oin towards the healing chambers. Both of you walked through debris which was strewn across the floor. Statues had been destroyed by Smaug. There would certainly be much re-building to do in order to restore Erebor to its former beauty. 
Suddenly you stopped, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. Thorin was lying on a bed, bandages wrapped around his middle and there was a gash down his face from his brow down towards his right eye. Your feet would not move and your whole body felt like a block of ice. 
“Don’t be nervous. You can come closer,” Thorin told you, his voice gravelly and husky. He held his hand out towards you. “Come.” 
Kili was in a bed next to Thorin, smiling at you. But all you could focus on was the Dwarf king who had your heart. And slowly, you stepped closer towards him. 
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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HAHAHA!! Because it IS me. And you!!! 😂😂😂😂 Always secretly worrying a third way...
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62K notes · View notes
xxbyimm · 6 months
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(Anti-) Hero - Joel Miller x OC
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Chapter 1 - Welcome to Texas
Summary: September 2002. In the aftermath of her father's death, Jess Young travels to Austin. With her life enough in shambles as it is, her goals are simple: sort through her father's possessions and then sell the Texan home. Things in life are never that simple, though. Especially not when her father's friend-and neighbor from across the street-tries to keep an eye on her. Joel is a total piece of ass, which is highly distracting Jess from said goals. Will Joel capture Jess' heart... And panties? 😈
Warnings: Joel being hot AF, but sadly that's it (for now...).
Wordcount: 6k.
Author’s note: Ahhh Joel Miller... I. Am. Obsessed. I couldn't help myself and somehow this idea for yet another multichapter monster emerged. There's much filth that needs to be written. 🥵🔥 A special thanks to my dear friend @fizzyxcustard, who listens to me rambling about my Joel obession. You mean the world to me!! 🥰🥰❤
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“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
-Seneca
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Thursday 26th of September, 2002.
The taxi had brought her from the Austin International Airport to the suburbs of the city and though Jess usually enjoyed taking in the scenery along the route or talking to the cab driver, today she would not even have noticed if a purple elephant had been rampaging across the street. Even the cab driver—a handsome guy named Earl—had fallen silent, for his client was too distraught to even tell him who she was visiting or where she was from.
As she sat on the worn backseat and vaguely registered Nickelback’s ‘How you remind me’ coming from the stereo, the synthetic fabric burned against her bare legs—the Texan heat making it even more uncomfortable. Jess suppressed a groan and shifted in her seat. She knew she should have opted for her long sundress, but the denim shorts and flimsy Metal band-shirt she wore instead were rather comfortable; it made her feel safe within herself. And though Jess had spent the first years of her life in the south, apparently it was easy to forget how unforgiving the Texan sun could be—hence her current, uncomfortable state.
‘It’s hot today, don’t you think darlin’?’ Earl tried, his last attempt to engage in a polite conversation with the lady. ‘Yeah,’ Jess agreed, her deep blue eyes fixated on the back of the seat in front of her. She heaved a sigh, feeling a bit guilty she hadn’t obliged in some casual banter earlier. ‘I hadn’t expected it to last. October is right around the corner.’ ‘Summer’s not your favorite season, then?’ Earl asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror. His handsome hazel eyes observed her with interest. ‘You strike me as a lazy summer type of gal.’ Jess chuckled at that. ‘No, I am not.’ ‘Christmas, then?’ She momentarily thought of her mother and her overfondness of Christmas decorations, and shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’ ‘Spring?’ Earl tried. ‘No? Are you more of a Halloween and pumpkin flavored drinks type of lady?’ ‘Yeah, I do love fall.’ Jess caved in as she brushed her long, raven curls over one shoulder before glancing outside. She recognised the block they were driving on, which meant they were almost there. ‘What about yourself?’ ‘I like all seasons,’ the cab driver replied with a grin, and it made her wonder briefly if Earl was one of those people who liked to stay impartial on most topics—either too scared to make a bad impression or too dumb to function. ‘Every season has its benefits,’ Earl went on, stopping at a red light. ‘But if you’re makin’ me choose, I would pick summer. I like the warm weather and the late night parties that come with it… Where we smoke somethin’, if you know what I mean.’
Jess eyed his golden curls, and a small smile tugged on the corner of her lips. ‘Are you abusing substances that you shouldn’t, good sir?’ She quipped. ‘Nah,’ Earl countered. ‘Just the occasional bit of pot, you know. To chill.’ ‘I hear you.’ ‘Really?’ Earl said, watching her through his rearview mirror again. His hazel eyes flashed with interest. ‘You smoke?’ ‘Just the occasional bit of weed,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘A bad habit I picked up in highschool, mostly to annoy my mother.’
Their conversation was cut short, for they had arrived at the end of the street and consequently her father’s home. Earl stopped the car in the curve of the cul-the-sac and took in the suburban bungalow. Jess’ father had painted it in a faded blue color awhile ago and the color went nicely with the low, gray roof, white painted window sills and the patch of grass stretching out before it. Even the red Ford F-250 that was still parked in the driveway matched the color scheme nicely. ‘Nice place,’ Earl remarked. ‘Is it yours?’
Technically, it was. Or would be soon. But since Jess didn’t want to share the details of her life with a practical stranger, she settled for the easy answer. ‘No, it’s my dad’s,’ she replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the cab door. ‘I’m staying here for just a while.’
Earl got from his seat to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk of the car, while Jess gathered her bag from the backseat before following him. She slammed the door behind her and eyed the silent street while waiting for her baggage. It was around half past three, the sun just coming down from its daily peak. Since it was a Thursday most of the neighborhood was at work, except the elderly couple sitting in the shade of their front yard across the street—the Adlers, if she remembered it right. They had been at the funeral.
‘Hi sweetheart!’ Mister Adler called as he waved enthusiastically her way. Jess couldn’t help but smile at that and waved back.
‘Here,’ Earl said, directing her attention back again. ‘Here’s your suitcase.’ ‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘What do I owe you?’ ‘Twenty bucks?’ he said with a laugh, though he had driven her all the way from the airport which must have cost her much more than just twenty dollars. Earl watched her retrieve the money from her purse. ‘And…’ he continued after he had accepted the money, scratching the stubble on his chin. ‘Maybe I can call you sometime, y’know?’
The move was cheesy, but sweet. Her first instinct was to decline—she had a fiancé, after all—but then the realization hit her. Like her dad, Adam wasn’t in her life anymore.
‘Sure,’ she said with a nod and rummaged through her bag again, now for her notebook and a pen. She scribbled her phone number on the paper and tore it from the book. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘That’s my cell.’ ‘You got a mobile phone?’ he remarked as he accepted the piece of paper. ‘Nice.’
There was a small awkward silence, in which both of them didn’t know what to say. Jess shuffled on her feet, unsure how to continue. ‘I have to go,’ Earl finally said. ‘Have to get back to the city. I’ll call ya, okay?’ She nodded and watched as he got in his car, started the engine and turned in the cul-the-sac. Forcing herself to smile, she waved her ride goodbye as he disappeared in the street.
Then, she paused at the front of the yard—keys in one hand and her suitcase in the other. She knew she was stalling, but she granted herself a few seconds regardless. For entering her dad’s home like she owned the place, meant also accepting the fact that he truly was gone.
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Dad’s place looked exactly like how they had left it the day after the funeral. Jess dumped her suitcase under the staircase in the small hallway, and moved to the living room on her right. She eyed the sparse furniture—her dad had been a practical man, not needing more than a television, comfortable chair, a couch no one sat on and a small dining table.
She heaved a sigh and moved through the living room into the kitchen, where the breakfast bowl she had used on the morning after the funeral still stood in the kitchen’s sink and a forgotten glass of water sat on the counter. Mom had been eager to catch their plane, pushing her daughter and daughter’s fiancé to hurry up.
Jess leaned against one of the bar stools, half expecting her father’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, excited to see her. ‘I miss you, dad,’ she mumbled, a lump forming in her throat. Her fingers traced aimless circles over the stone kitchen counter. ‘Wish you were here… You’d know what to do with me…’
The silence was deafening. ‘Please,’ Jess whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Her fingers faltered. ‘I… I don’t know what to do, dad… You’re gone and he—’
She couldn’t bear to say the words out loud, for the memory was still too fresh. Her chest burned, like someone had ripped her heart out of her cage. Adam had betrayed her, and the worst thing about it was that she hadn’t seen it coming. At all.
Diiiing.
‘Shit,’ Jess mumbled, quickly rubbing away the tears from her cheeks before making her way through dad’s home to the hall. Why mister Adler already was calling on her after she had been here for just five minutes was beyond her, but because she wasn’t exactly familiar with the neighborhood it would be wise to be on her best behavior. So when she opened the door, she was surprised to not find mister Adler, but Sarah Miller standing on her porch.
Jess knew the thirteen year old a bit, for their dads had been best pals from the moment the Millers had moved into one of the homes across the road—now six years ago. Though Jess’ father was twenty years Joels’ senior, the Millers had been quick to adopt her father as a part of their family and as a consequence, Jess had heard much about the family before even meeting them in person. Apparently Joel was a single father who had just started as an independent contractor in the construction business and Sarah was this quiet kid that—upon closer inspection—turned out to be equally funny and smart. So when Jess finally visited her father a few months after the Miller families’ arrival, she had expected to meet a typical American dad and his bright daughter. But as it turned out, her father had left one important detail out.
Joel Miller was anything but the typical American dad: he was a total piece of ass and he didn’t even know it… With his dark, tousled hair, his deep brown eyes, scruffy facial hair and sweet smile Joel had captured Jess’ heart—and panties, let’s be fair—the second he had greeted her, effectively turning her into this weird, clumsy gal she didn’t recognize.
Sure, she had experienced her fair share of crushes and dalliances before, but this was different. Something switched whenever Joel came around the corner; she laughed too loud, choked on her drink or said something extremely stupid. Her dad—who knew her too well—had teased her endlessly about her crush and at one point Jess had suspected him of matchmaking. Which, as she had told her dad, was highly inappropriate, for at the time she had been in a relationship with Adam.
‘Jess?!’ Sarah inquired with a small chuckle. ‘Are you in there?’ ‘Oh,’ Jess said, a genuine smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘Hi Sarah! I didn’t expect to see you this soon! I just arrived five minutes ago.’ ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ Sarah quickly greeted her neighbor. ‘But my dad isn’t home yet and I forgot my keys. He will murder me when he finds out. I saw you entering mister Young’s—Carl’s—house, and I know he kept a spare for us. So I thought maybe you could help me find them and save my life?’
Jess laughed at the girl’s direct approach and leaned against the doorway, the hard wood uncomfortable against her shoulder. ‘I would gladly help you, but I have no idea where my dad kept your key, so you have to help me look. Deal?’ Sarah quickly obliged, her beautiful hazel brown curly hair bouncing as she nodded. She straightened the blue backpack that hung over her shoulders. ‘Come in,’ Jess said while stepping aside. ‘Do you want something to drink?’
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Unfortunately, their search for the spare key turned out to be futile and after an hour, both Jess and Sarah had to accept the fact that they would never find out where Carl Young had kept the Miller’s house key—or his own spares, for that matter.
Both girls had resorted to the couch, initially exhausted by their search. Though it was nearing half past five, the Texan heat was still quite unforgiving, and the only way to cool off was lying splayed out on the couch, allowing the fan to wash over them—a cold glass of Coca Cola in hand.
‘How long are you staying?’ Sarah inquired, watching Jess taking a sip from her drink. ‘Dad said he wasn’t sure anyone would come back here….’ ‘I don’t know,’ Jess mused, watching the ice cubes float in her drink. The fan brushed over her face, her own hair ticking her cheeks. ‘A month, maybe two. I need to sort out all my dad's—Carl’s—stuff and I have an appointment with the notary to settle some affairs next week.’ ‘What will happen to the house?’
Jess shrugged, unable to present the teen with a clear answer. ‘I need to figure that out too. Maybe I will sell it, maybe I’ll stay.’
It was weird saying the idea out loud, for it only had existed in her own mind since she had boarded the plane. With her relationship with Adam in shambles and her mother living in the big city, the only thing that tied her down to Staten Island was her job. The school board hadn’t been too happy with one of their teachers taking unpaid leave when the term had just started, so Jess wasn’t even sure her spot would be there when she came back. If she’d come back.
In the background, the first tunes of INXS’ ‘Need you tonight’ emerged from the radio. Jess grinned brightly and despite the warmth she jumped from the couch. She had been addicted to this record back in 1987, when she had been just sixteen. ‘Sorry, I have to,’ she told Sarah—who was watching her in both typical teenage annoyance and amusement—and placed her drink on the radio before turning on the volume.
‘All you’ve got is this moment,’ Jess sang along with Michael Hutchence as she bust out her best dance moves. ‘Twenty-first century is yesterday….’
Sarah watched Jess making a fool out of herself and rolled with her eyes, though a small smile adorned her lips. ‘You look like my dad right now,’ she told her neighbor over the music. ‘’And trust me, it’s not a compliment. How old are you anyway?’ ‘I’m turning thirty in December,’ Jess replied with a laugh. ‘Which is—as my kids at school inform me—the equivalent to the age of the dinosaurs.’ ‘Yeah,’ Sarah agreed before taking a sip of her own drink. ‘That’s pretty old. Though my dad is even older than you are.’ ‘Oh, really?!’ ‘He turned thirty-five today,’ the teen told her. ‘So if you are turning into a carnosaur, don’t worry—dad’s probably of the herrerasauridae family.’
Jess laughed at the girls’ smart-ass notion. ‘Well played, young Miller,’ she quipped. ‘Have you bought him a gift?’ ‘Not yet,’ Sarah said, a frown now decorating her forehead. ‘I wouldn’t know what to get him and besides, he probably will be home late again. All he does is work.’ Jess heaved a sigh and turned down the volume again. She picked up her drink, absentmindedly rubbing away the condense the glass had left on the radio. She felt sorry for Sarah. Spending time with her dad must be important to her, especially because he was all she had.
‘We could start with buying a cake,’ she offered. ‘And see what Walmart has to offer that could be to Joel’s—your dad’s—liking?’ ‘You would do that?’ Sarah chimed, her dark brown eyes pleading for her neighbor to say yes. ‘But I have no money.’ ‘It’s nothing,’ Jess replied with a vague gesture from her hand. ‘I need to get some groceries anyway, and I think we should do something nice for your dad, don’t you agree?’ The teen nodded. ‘One problem, though,’ Jess murmured, her eyes scanning through the living room. ‘We still have to find the keys of my dad’s truck….’
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It was around seven when the girls returned from their shopping spree. They had picked up some pizza on their way home—caprese for Sarah, pineapple for Jess, and pepperoni in case Joel showed up—and now were lounging on the couch while enjoying their meal and watching Legally Blonde that was showing on tv. Jess watched Sarah as she enjoyed her pizza, and laughed with her when Elle reprimanded Warner with the iconic burn of 2001: ‘What, like it’s hard?’
Sarah had picked up an Aerosmith and Nirvana CD—‘then he can finally listen to them on repeat in the car instead of one song on the radio’—and had chosen the most elaborate cake design they could find. And though the thirteen year old swore she would pay Jess back, the latter one refused kindly. It must be hard for Sarah that her dad was doing overtime on his birthday, and Jess hoped that Joel would return home soon.
She had just taken a huge bite of her pizza, when the doorbell rang again. ‘That must be dad,’ Sarah concluded, scrambling herself together. ‘Got it,’ Jess muffled with a mouth full of pineapple and rose from her seat. With the last of the pizza part still in her hands she walked towards the door, quickly swallowing her food before opening.
Joel Miller was still as hot as she remembered. He was leaning against her porch, his dark brown hair tousled from his day at work and his dark eyes observing her in a curious, though friendly manner—but if one would look closely, one could easily see the exhaustion written in them. Joel possessed a so-called ‘roman nose’, with a prominent curved bridge that ended in a sharp, though rounded tip. His full lips were crowned by a thick, dark mustache and his cheeks sported a messy scruff. It seemed like he had just arrived home: there was some construction dust on his temple and he still wore his work clothes—a simple black t-shirt that clung nicely to his defined torso and gray, worn jeans—both in the same rugged state. In his hands he held the note that Sarah had hastily scribbled on Jess’ counter before they left for the store, the post-it paper looking small compared to his palm.
‘Hey neighbor,’ Joel greeted her, his lazy southern drawl wrapping around her like a silk shawl. ‘I’m lookin’ for my daughter. She left a note on the door, sayin’ she would be here.’ ‘Yeah, she’s with me,’ Jess said, eyeing him with a small smile while she told herself to just breathe. ‘She forgot her key and said she’s grounded forever now.’ ‘She tryin’ to find an ally now?’ Joel said with a smirk. ‘Smart girl, raised her well.’ ‘Well, it is working…’ Jess commented. ‘I mean, come on, Miller. Is forgetting a key such a big offense?’ Joel laughed at that and ran the hand that wasn’t holding on to the note through his hair, tousling it further. His tanned arm flexed. ‘It is when there’s no one to let her in,’ he argued. ‘Carl had one, and I don’t like t’give the Adlers access to my place, if y’know what I mean. Can’t leave my daughter stranded.’ ‘No, definitely not,’ Jess agreed, thinking of mister Adler. Her dad had told her that though the couple was kind, they were very meddlesome; the type that would rearrange your home while you were away—just to help, of course. ‘Though,’ she went on. ‘In the event I hadn’t been home… I can imagine spending a free afternoon with the Adler’s would have been enough punishment, don’t you think?’ ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘She can count herself lucky that you were here.’
There was a short silence, in which they observed each other—gorgeous chocolate depths burning in their deep blue counterparts. A small twinge burned in the pit of her stomach, the same one she had felt at the funeral when Joel had shook her hand to pay his respects. It had struck out to her that even in her grief-stricken state a simple touch from him was enough to make something spark within herself.
‘How are you holdin’ up?’ Joel inquired gently, pulling her from her thoughts. ‘Hadn’t expect to see you back soon.’ ‘Me neither,’ she replied, stepping aside to let him in, and vaguely sensing the cold half-eaten pizza part in her hand. ‘But I have to handle some affairs here.’ ‘How long will you be stayin’?’ Joel asked as he brushed past her, his eyes not leaving her frame. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘As long as I need to. To go through his stuff, I mean.’ Her throat went stuffy at the reminder of the enormous task of cleaning her dad’s home and sorting through his belongings; she wasn’t ready for that yet. Joel nodded, offering her a sympathetic smile. ‘Lemme know f’you need my help, okay?’ ‘You already work too much, birthday boy,’ she told him while she sent him a cheeky smile. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose on your free time.’ Joel groaned at that. ‘She told you, huh?’ ‘Happy birthday,’ Jess congratulated him as she waved with her pizza part. ‘I hope you’re hungry, we got you pepperoni.’ ‘Y’didn’t have to—’ ‘Yes, I did,’ she argued before taking a bite of her pizza. In her haste she accidentally gobbled down a larger chunk than she’d bargained for; of course her clumsy, nervous ass did. Joel watched her struggle to maintain her dignity—which meant not coughing herself to death in his presence—but her trachea protested against her ego’s wishes. Jess toppled forward and went into the very coughing fit she had been trying to avoid. Joel was eyeing her with growing concern and after a few moments of hesitation, he carefully rubbed her back. ‘Keep it up,’ he instructed, his tone calm. ‘It helps.’
Of course it did, she knew that. But it also meant that she turned into a watery eyed, tomato faced mess; and that was a look she didn’t particularly pursue. Jeez, the man was only in her vicinity for a minute and she already had to make a fool of herself?!
‘You’re not allowed to cook on your birthday—’ she began, her voice unsteady because at the same time her throat managed to get the loose chunk of pizza in the right place. ‘It’s one of my dad’s rules,’ she added while looking at him through tear stricken eyes, ‘and it’s bad luck if you do. The fact that you dared to mention it almost made me choke, Miller!’ A grin tugged on the corners of his mouth, whether it was from her pun or her current disheveled state, she didn’t know. ‘I remember him sayin’ that last year,’ Joel remarked, his hand still on her back. ‘Carl took us out for burgers.’
Jess slowly rose from her huddled position and smiled faintly. The sweet taste of pineapple burned in her throat and she still couldn’t see properly through the tears, but her heart stung at the memory. She should have visited her dad more often, but at the time she had been so busy with her own, Adam-infused life… ‘S’okay,’ Joel murmured as his fingers brushed over her t-shirt once more, which set off a confusing array of emotions in her system.
‘Dad?! Jess?! What are you two doing?!’ Sarah called as she jumped from the couch and made her way through the hall. Upon eyeing the pair she laughed. ‘What happened here?’ ‘Didn’t you hear me almost choke myself to death?!’ Jess croaked, internally groaning when she felt Joel’s fingers leave her. ‘I almost died.’ ‘That’s for eating pineapple on your pizza,’ Sarah quipped as she turned on her heels and sent a knowing glance to her dad. ‘I warned you, Jess. People like you belong in hell.’ ‘You’re one of those?!’ Joel asked Jess with a grin while the three of them made their way into the living room. ‘She is,’ Sarah agreed as she eased herself onto the couch once more, her eyes sparkling with joy. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on!’ Jess defended herself half-heartedly, though she knew her chances persuading pineapple pizza haters to come to the dark side was usually a fruitless task. ‘Nah, it’s disgusting,’ Joel tutted. ‘The state of New York is ruinin’ your taste buds.’ He lowered himself next to Sarah on the couch. ‘Hi, kiddo. What are you watchin’?’ ‘Legally Blonde,’ Sarah said before pulling her father into a hug. ‘It’s pretty cool. You wouldn’t like it.’ ‘Lemme decide f’myself!’ ‘Dad! I’m telling you, it’s a girl’s movie!’
Jess let the pair bicker and went to reheat Joel’s pizza in the oven—a skill she had perfected over the past few years—doing overtime and still having to cook makes a girl creative. She tossed the cold remnants of her meal into the garbage bin; another consequence of nearly suffocating on her beloved pizza was that she had lost her appetite. As she listened to Sarah’s excited chatter and Joel’s low hum, she fetched two beers from the fridge. She knew his favorite—thanks to her dad—and as her hands searched for the bottle opener in the kitchen drawer, her mind drifted to Joel’s pretty eyes and to—
Ugh, he had no reason to be this hot, it was borderline criminal. Especially not after a long day at work, where he undoubtedly had busted his butt ordering others around and hauling stuff across the construction site. Jess peered in the drawer, her mind fixated on the way Joel’s biceps had bulged under his t-shirt. She shouldn’t think of him like that, she really shouldn’t—
‘D’you need some help?’ ‘What?’ she gulped, her hands randomly grabbing a knife, and he hissed at the sting it caused. ‘I was just—’ ‘Carl kept the bottle opener on the side o’the fridge,’ Joel told her as he made his way towards the sink and gestured at the drawer. ‘No need for searchin’ in there.’
Ah. Of course. Her father had been practical about life. He surely would have hated to spend hours searching for a bottle opener. Tears burned behind her eyes and Jess quickly grabbed the object from its place against the fridge. After lifting the cap from both bottles, she offered one beer to Joel.
‘Thank you darlin’,’ Joel rumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter before taking a sip. As he studied her with his dark eyes, Jess busied herself with inspecting the shallow cut she had made in her fingers. It drew some blood and she hissed at the sight. She was many things and possessed many talents, but blood—especially her own—always made her knees weak. And not the good kind of weak.
‘S’just a little cut,’ Joel remarked with a small smirk. ‘Hold it under the tap and you’re fine.’ ‘I’m not one of your men,’ she countered with a huff, eyeing him defiantly. ‘I don’t haul dangerous stuff around all day.’ ‘Glad y’don’t,’ he murmured, while planting his beer on the counter and turning on the faucet. Without ceremony, he got hold of her hand and pushed it under the cold stream. ‘I don’t think you’d be of use at the side,’ he continued. ‘You’d keep hurtin’ y’self.’ Would have t’fire you on your first day….’
That remained to be seen. If Joel stayed out of her way, she would be fine. If not… Well, then she was fucked—and again not the good kind.
Jess observed the water as it poured over their hands and slowly turned into a pleasant temperature. After a short while Joel pulled her fingers close and inspected the damage. ‘S’fine,’ he concluded before shutting off the tap. ‘It doesn’t even bleed, see?’ ‘Are you judging me, Miller?!’ ‘F’course not,’ he replied as he retrieved his hand and dried it on his shirt. Jess—her own fingers still hovering over the sink, dripping with water—couldn’t help but notice that his hands were littered with scars, roughened from his days at work. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she quipped, narrowing her eyes. She reached for the kitchen towel. ‘Remember I’m a highschool teacher, Joel. I can smell lies and omitted truths from a mile away.’ ‘Yeah, I was told to be careful around you,’ he replied with a grin as he leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘Teachin’ these unruly kids like my daughter must be a callin’ or somethin’, I really couldn’t.’ ‘Ah, they’re not that bad,’ Jess said. ‘I can boss them around all day, just like you do with your crew.’ ‘Why’d you think I’d do that, huh?’ ‘I got it from a very reliable source,’ Jess said as she fetched her own beer from the counter and took a sip. As the rich, deep flavor swirled through her mouth, she eyed her father’s friend’s handsome features. ‘I imagine you had the same source,’ she mused with a smile. ‘Tell me… What do you know about me that you probably shouldn’t?’
Joel sipped from his beer and observed her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. There were a thousand things she’d rather not have him know. The first and obvious one was the fact that she had a crush on him, but after that there were a few cringeworthy childhood memories she’d rather forget. It would be embarrassing if Joel knew how she had caught herself in barbed wire during one summer—trespassing farmer Jack’s property had seemed a good idea, until the world turned upside down—or how accidentally had dyed her hair orange instead of blonde.
‘Why are you lookin’ at me? I’m not tellin’ you,’ Joel finally remarked with a vague smile. ‘Promised him not to.’ ‘Aha! So he did tell you stuff he shouldn’t!’ ‘Not much,’ Joel admitted, despite his previous statement not to reveal any of the information he knew. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and now was replaced with genuine concern. ‘Just that he hoped Adam takes good care of you.’
Though Joel couldn’t know about their separation, his revelation still stung. Jess shrugged and bit on her lip. ‘He never told me that.. Did dad—Carl—have his doubts?’ ‘S’not my place to say,’ Joel confessed, his brows furrowing together. He shuffled on his feet and watched Jess sink to her knees to check the oven. The smell of pepperoni pizza filled the kitchen.
‘Almost,’ she commented quietly, her mind still stuck at Joel’s remark. It didn’t surprise her that her father had worried about her relationship with Adam; usually when her mother pressed her to do something—like pursuing a relationship with Adam—her father had been against the idea. Jess had often wondered if this had become her parent’s typical dynamic or if they truly were two opposites in every choice life had to offer.
‘Your dad was somethin’,’ Joel changed the subject. ‘Must be weird f’you, to be back here. With him not bein’ around here.’ ‘Yeah, it is,’ Jess agreed with a heavy heart. She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘I miss him terribly and to be honest I don’t want to be here—no offense of course. It’s just…’ she heaved a weary sigh while her gaze swept through the kitchen. ‘Everything reminds me of him.’ She rose to her feet and retrieved a plate from one of the cabinets. Joel watched her as she placed it in the sink and opened the tap. ‘Heating the plate will keep your pizza warm,’ Jess explained as she waited for the water to get hot. ‘I learned that from a chef I once dated. He was an ass, but he did teach me a useful trick or two.’ ‘Never thought of that,’ Joel murmured. ‘Cold pizza ain’t that bad, why complicate it?’ Jess laughed at that. ‘I bet single dads don’t have time to complicate their dinners,’ she told him as she dried the hot plate and fetched dad’s mittens from a drawer to retrieve the pizza from the oven. ‘Give it a try, Miller,’ she teased as she handed him a mitten and his plate. ‘It won’t kill you.’
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Joel, Sarah and Jess spent the evening like a normal family would—at Sarah’s request they watched the rest of Legally Blonde while Joel ate his late dinner. Though the latter wouldn’t tell Jess if the heated plate had made his pizza better, Jess liked to think that it had. After Legally Blonde had ended, Sarah told her father and their new friend about her day at school and Jess was obliged to share the details of her trip from Staten Island to Austin. Jess could not bring herself to explain her breakup with Adam—it would surely result in a tsunami of tears—so when the topic landed on her ex she simply stated that her fiancé had been too busy to help her out. Though Sarah seemed to accept the story right away and chatted about Carl’s tendency to hoard stuff he liked, Jess felt Joel’s eyes burning on her. He probably sensed there was more to it, but he didn’t press her to share. She would probably have to tell him the truth, in time. But for now, his birthday turned out to be the perfect diversion for unwanted questions.
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It was around half past ten when Jess found herself leaning against the doorframe of her porch, waving at Sarah who had just ran across the street with her father’s keys. Joel had stepped down from her porch—about to follow his daughter—but had paused at her lawn. ‘She’s a great kid,’ Jess told Joel as they watched Sarah disappear behind the front door. ‘I know a lot of teens, but Sarah’s one of a kind.’ ‘Yeah,’ he agreed quietly as he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without her, y’know?’ ‘Well, for one you would not get roasted all the time….’ Joel chuckled. ‘I could do without being called old, yeah…’ He shuffled on his feet. ‘Listen, I wanted to thank you. For takin’ care of her and everythin’. You didn’t have to.’ ‘It’s okay,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘I didn’t mind.’ ‘At least let me pay you back,’ Joel offered, his right hand shifting to his back pocket and retrieving his wallet, which was in a rugged, worn state. ‘No!’ Jess cried out as she raised her hands defensively. ‘Not a chance in hell. We’re good. I have to thank you for the company, especially on your birthday!’ Joel shrugged and his hands fumbled over the worn leather. ‘I wouldn’t have done anythin’ special,’ he confessed. ‘Not after a twelve-hour shift. Probably would have ended up on the couch, watchin’ somethin’ stupid.’ ‘Legally Blonde doesn’t count as stupid?!’ she teased with a smile and was awarded with a cute grin. ‘It was okay,’ Joel concluded. ‘I was enjoyin’ the company, Young.’
There was a short silence in which their eyes met and Jess almost drowned in the beautiful molten chocolate hues. ‘Before I forget; here’s my number,’ Joel murmured as he retrieved a business card from his wallet. ‘Just in case. Y’dad would want me to keep an eye on you.’ ‘Very fancy,’ Jess commented as she took the card—careful not to brush her fingers across his. ‘Was an idea of your dad,’ Joel explained. ‘He told me I needed to be more professional or somethin’.’ ‘Though I also heard you have no trouble finding work,’ Jess replied as she admired the design. It was simple, neat—very Joel. ‘So you could always use the pile my dad probably made you buy to pick up ladies. Chicks like stuff like that.’ Joel laughed at that and Jess reveled in the sound. ‘And about keeping an eye on me…’ she went on as her gaze met his. ‘I can take care of myself, Miller. I’m not a damsel in distress.’ ‘I know that,’ he agreed. ‘Y’dad told me as much. But just… Don’t be stubborn and call me when y’need me. Or swing by.’
‘Even when I have night terrors?’ Jess heard herself question, but by the time she realized how flimsy—and filthy—that must come across, it was too late. She bit on her lip, unsure how she could save herself from her clumsy mouth. Joel didn’t seem taken aback by her comment. He grinned broadly, an amused twinkle in his eye. ‘Yeah, Young,’ he replied in a soft tone. ‘Especially then.’
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Thank you for reading this first chapter 🥰🥰 Feedback is highly appreciated, so if you have a minute to spare I'd like to know what you think of my work!
Until next time. ❤❤❤❤
Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea Let me know if you like to be added or removed!
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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Thorin Oakenshield Masterlist
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Here is the masterlist of my Thorin Oakenshield stories. Enjoy!
📜 ONE-SHOTS:
✨ The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ Forest Gold (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ The Winner Takes It All (Thorin x Reader, rated E) ✨ Boop! (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Imbolc (Thorin x OC, rated: T, gothic fairy tale) ✨ Blacksmith Needed (Thorin x OC, rated: M) ✨ Far Under the Misty Waters Cold (Thorin x Reader, rated: T) ✨ To Home Afar (Thorin & Dis, my TRSB21 entry, rated: G) ✨ Strong (Thorin x Reader, hurt/comfort fic) ✨ A Good Night's Kiss (Thorin x Reader, rated: M) ✨ The Gift (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Mistletoe (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ How Do You Shop for a King? (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Thistle. A Midsummer Night's Dream (who is the woman in prince Thorin's dream?, rated G) ✨ The Tinderbox (Thorin x OFC, rated: G) ✨ The Crossover (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Best Day of My Life (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Never (Thorin angst, rated: G) ✨ Dream Come True (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Kind of Magic (Thorin x gn!Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Pint Too Far (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Wild Strawberries (Thorin x OC, rated: E) ✨ The Arrival (Thorin x OC/Reader, rated: G)
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📜 LONGFICS:
✨ The Weeping Willow (Thorin x Reader, angst, dark fairy tale, rated T, complete): [1] [2]
✨ All Is Fair in Love and Trade (Thorin x Reader, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [Chapter 1 scene from Thorin's POV] ✨ Heart of Stone (Thorin x Reader, The Hobbit Pirate AU, an interactive story, rated M):  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] (to be continued) ✨ Third Time's the Charm (Thorin x Reader, rated T, complete): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Sun and Stone (Thorin x Reader, rated G, complete) [1] [2] ✨ Springtime at the Lonely Mountain (pre-Smaug AU, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E) ✨ How to Kiss a Fairy (collab with @avaria-revallier , Quest of Erebor with a twist, rated G, complete): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 ✨ Blame It on Cider (Thorin x fem!Dwarf OC Yrsa, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ... 💎 Soulmates (Modern AU take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship)
✨ If on a Winter's Night (Thorin x Reader, Modern AU): [1] [2] [] [] ✨ The White Raven (Thorin x OC, rated: T/E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] []
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➡️Other Masterlists
Lathalea's Main Masterlist
Writer's Month 2021 Masterlist
Tarot Imagine Ask Game 2021 Masterlist
The Hobbit Advent Calendar 2021 Masterlist
Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist
You can read all of my works on AO3 (Lathalea).
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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ARE YOU TODAY’S DATE?
BECAUSE YOURE 10/10
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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“Always be kinder than you feel.”
— Unknown
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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they had so much fun on their date
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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every single person you know has something in their life and past that is probably worth collapsing to the ground in an uncontrollably sobbing heap over, so be nice to each other and tell good jokes
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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The first chapter of my new obsession 😈😭🙈
(Anti-) Hero - Joel Miller x OC
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Chapter 1 - Welcome to Texas
Summary: September 2002. In the aftermath of her father's death, Jess Young travels to Austin. With her life enough in shambles as it, her goals are simple: sort through her father's possessions and then sell the Texan home. Things in life are never that simple, though. Especially not when her father's friend-and neighbor from across the street-tries to keep an eye on her. Joel is a total piece of ass, which is highly distracting Jess from said goals. Will Joel capture Jess' heart... And panties? 😈
Warnings: Joel being hot AF, but sadly that's it (for now...).
Author’s note: Ahhh Joel Miller... I. Am. Obsessed. I couldn't help myself and somehow this idea for yet another multichapter monster emerged. There's much filth that needs to be written. 🥵🔥 A special thanks to my dear friend @fizzyxcustard, who listens to me rambling about my Joel obession. You mean the world to me!! 🥰🥰❤
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“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
-Seneca
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Thursday 26th of September, 2002.
The taxi had brought her from the Austin International Airport to the suburbs of the city and though Jess usually enjoyed taking in the scenery along the route or talking to the cab driver, today she would not even have noticed if a purple elephant had been rampaging across the street. Even the cab driver—a handsome guy named Earl—had fallen silent, for his client was too distraught to even tell him who she was visiting or where she was from.
As she sat on the worn backseat and vaguely registered Nickelback’s ‘How you remind me’ coming from the stereo, the synthetic fabric burned against her bare legs—the Texan heat making it even more uncomfortable. Jess suppressed a groan and shifted in her seat. She knew she should have opted for her long sundress, but the denim shorts and flimsy Metal band-shirt she wore instead were rather comfortable; it made her feel safe within herself. And though Jess had spent the first years of her life in the south, apparently it was easy to forget how unforgiving the Texan sun could be—hence her current, uncomfortable state.
‘It’s hot today, don’t you think darlin’?’ Earl tried, his last attempt to engage in a polite conversation with the lady. ‘Yeah,’ Jess agreed, her deep blue eyes fixated on the back of the seat in front of her. She heaved a sigh, feeling a bit guilty she hadn’t obliged in some casual banter earlier. ‘I hadn’t expected it to last. October is right around the corner.’ ‘Summer’s not your favorite season, then?’ Earl asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror. His handsome hazel eyes observed her with interest. ‘You strike me as a lazy summer type of gal.’ Jess chuckled at that. ‘No, I am not.’ ‘Christmas, then?’ She momentarily thought of her mother and her overfondness of Christmas decorations, and shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’ ‘Spring?’ Earl tried. ‘No? Are you more of a Halloween and pumpkin flavored drinks type of lady?’ ‘Yeah, I do love fall.’ Jess caved in as she brushed her long, raven curls over one shoulder before glancing outside. She recognised the block they were driving on, which meant they were almost there. ‘What about yourself?’ ‘I like all seasons,’ the cab driver replied with a grin, and it made her wonder briefly if Earl was one of those people who liked to stay impartial on most topics—either too scared to make a bad impression or too dumb to function. ‘Every season has its benefits,’ Earl went on, stopping at a red light. ‘But if you’re makin’ me choose, I would pick summer. I like the warm weather and the late night parties that come with it… Where we smoke somethin’, if you know what I mean.’
Jess eyed his golden curls, and a small smile tugged on the corner of her lips. ‘Are you abusing substances that you shouldn’t, good sir?’ She quipped. ‘Nah,’ Earl countered. ‘Just the occasional bit of pot, you know. To chill.’ ‘I hear you.’ ‘Really?’ Earl said, watching her through his rearview mirror again. His hazel eyes flashed with interest. ‘You smoke?’ ‘Just the occasional bit of weed,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘A bad habit I picked up in highschool, mostly to annoy my mother.’
Their conversation was cut short, for they had arrived at the end of the street and consequently her father’s home. Earl stopped the car in the curve of the cul-the-sac and took in the suburban bungalow. Jess’ father had painted it in a faded blue color awhile ago and the color went nicely with the low, gray roof, white painted window sills and the patch of grass stretching out before it. Even the red Ford F-250 that was still parked in the driveway matched the color scheme nicely. ‘Nice place,’ Earl remarked. ‘Is it yours?’
Technically, it was. Or would be soon. But since Jess didn’t want to share the details of her life with a practical stranger, she settled for the easy answer. ‘No, it’s my dad’s,’ she replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the cab door. ‘I’m staying here for just a while.’
Earl got from his seat to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk of the car, while Jess gathered her bag from the backseat before following him. She slammed the door behind her and eyed the silent street while waiting for her baggage. It was around half past three, the sun just coming down from its daily peak. Since it was a Thursday most of the neighborhood was at work, except the elderly couple sitting in the shade of their front yard across the street—the Adlers, if she remembered it right. They had been at the funeral.
‘Hi sweetheart!’ Mister Adler called as he waved enthusiastically her way. Jess couldn’t help but smile at that and waved back.
‘Here,’ Earl said, directing her attention back again. ‘Here’s your suitcase.’ ‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘What do I owe you?’ ‘Twenty bucks?’ he said with a laugh, though he had driven her all the way from the airport which must have cost her much more than just twenty dollars. Earl watched her retrieve the money from her purse. ‘And…’ he continued after he had accepted the money, scratching the stubble on his chin. ‘Maybe I can call you sometime, y’know?’
The move was cheesy, but sweet. Her first instinct was to decline—she had a fiancé, after all—but then the realization hit her. Like her dad, Adam wasn’t in her life anymore.
‘Sure,’ she said with a nod and rummaged through her bag again, now for her notebook and a pen. She scribbled her phone number on the paper and tore it from the book. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘That’s my cell.’ ‘You got a mobile phone?’ he remarked as he accepted the piece of paper. ‘Nice.’
There was a small awkward silence, in which both of them didn’t know what to say. Jess shuffled on her feet, unsure how to continue. ‘I have to go,’ Earl finally said. ‘Have to get back to the city. I’ll call ya, okay?’ She nodded and watched as he got in his car, started the engine and turned in the cul-the-sac. Forcing herself to smile, she waved her ride goodbye as he disappeared in the street.
Then, she paused at the front of the yard—keys in one hand and her suitcase in the other. She knew she was stalling, but she granted herself a few seconds regardless. For entering her dad’s home like she owned the place, meant also accepting the fact that he truly was gone.
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Dad’s place looked exactly like how they had left it the day after the funeral. Jess dumped her suitcase under the staircase in the small hallway, and moved to the living room on her right. She eyed the sparse furniture—her dad had been a practical man, not needing more than a television, comfortable chair, a couch no one sat on and a small dining table.
She heaved a sigh and moved through the living room into the kitchen, where the breakfast bowl she had used on the morning after the funeral still stood in the kitchen’s sink and a forgotten glass of water sat on the counter. Mom had been eager to catch their plane, pushing her daughter and daughter’s fiancé to hurry up.
Jess leaned against one of the bar stools, half expecting her father’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, excited to see her. ‘I miss you, dad,’ she mumbled, a lump forming in her throat. Her fingers traced aimless circles over the stone kitchen counter. ‘Wish you were here… You’d know what to do with me…’
The silence was deafening. ‘Please,’ Jess whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Her fingers faltered. ‘I… I don’t know what to do, dad… You’re gone and he—’
She couldn’t bear to say the words out loud, for the memory was still too fresh. Her chest burned, like someone had ripped her heart out of her cage. Adam had betrayed her, and the worst thing about it was that she hadn’t seen it coming. At all.
Diiiing.
‘Shit,’ Jess mumbled, quickly rubbing away the tears from her cheeks before making her way through dad’s home to the hall. Why mister Adler already was calling on her after she had been here for just five minutes was beyond her, but because she wasn’t exactly familiar with the neighborhood it would be wise to be on her best behavior. So when she opened the door, she was surprised to not find mister Adler, but Sarah Miller standing on her porch.
Jess knew the thirteen year old a bit, for their dads had been best pals from the moment the Millers had moved into one of the homes across the road—now six years ago. Though Jess’ father was twenty years Joels’ senior, the Millers had been quick to adopt her father as a part of their family and as a consequence, Jess had heard much about the family before even meeting them in person. Apparently Joel was a single father who had just started as an independent contractor in the construction business and Sarah was this quiet kid that—upon closer inspection—turned out to be equally funny and smart. So when Jess finally visited her father a few months after the Miller families’ arrival, she had expected to meet a typical American dad and his bright daughter. But as it turned out, her father had left one important detail out.
Joel Miller was anything but the typical American dad: he was a total piece of ass and he didn’t even know it… With his dark, tousled hair, his deep brown eyes, scruffy facial hair and sweet smile Joel had captured Jess’ heart—and panties, let’s be fair—the second he had greeted her, effectively turning her into this weird, clumsy gal she didn’t recognize.
Sure, she had experienced her fair share of crushes and dalliances before, but this was different. Something switched whenever Joel came around the corner; she laughed too loud, choked on her drink or said something extremely stupid. Her dad—who knew her too well—had teased her endlessly about her crush and at one point Jess had suspected him of matchmaking. Which, as she had told her dad, was highly inappropriate, for at the time she had been in a relationship with Adam.
‘Jess?!’ Sarah inquired with a small chuckle. ‘Are you in there?’ ‘Oh,’ Jess said, a genuine smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘Hi Sarah! I didn’t expect to see you this soon! I just arrived five minutes ago.’ ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ Sarah quickly greeted her neighbor. ‘But my dad isn’t home yet and I forgot my keys. He will murder me when he finds out. I saw you entering mister Young’s—Carl’s—house, and I know he kept a spare for us. So I thought maybe you could help me find them and save my life?’
Jess laughed at the girl’s direct approach and leaned against the doorway, the hard wood uncomfortable against her shoulder. ‘I would gladly help you, but I have no idea where my dad kept your key, so you have to help me look. Deal?’ Sarah quickly obliged, her beautiful hazel brown curly hair bouncing as she nodded. She straightened the blue backpack that hung over her shoulders. ‘Come in,’ Jess said while stepping aside. ‘Do you want something to drink?’
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Unfortunately, their search for the spare key turned out to be futile and after an hour, both Jess and Sarah had to accept the fact that they would never find out where Carl Young had kept the Miller’s house key—or his own spares, for that matter.
Both girls had resorted to the couch, initially exhausted by their search. Though it was nearing half past five, the Texan heat was still quite unforgiving, and the only way to cool off was lying splayed out on the couch, allowing the fan to wash over them—a cold glass of Coca Cola in hand.
‘How long are you staying?’ Sarah inquired, watching Jess taking a sip from her drink. ‘Dad said he wasn’t sure anyone would come back here….’ ‘I don’t know,’ Jess mused, watching the ice cubes float in her drink. The fan brushed over her face, her own hair ticking her cheeks. ‘A month, maybe two. I need to sort out all my dad's—Carl’s—stuff and I have an appointment with the notary to settle some affairs next week.’ ‘What will happen to the house?’
Jess shrugged, unable to present the teen with a clear answer. ‘I need to figure that out too. Maybe I will sell it, maybe I’ll stay.’
It was weird saying the idea out loud, for it only had existed in her own mind since she had boarded the plane. With her relationship with Adam in shambles and her mother living in the big city, the only thing that tied her down to Staten Island was her job. The school board hadn’t been too happy with one of their teachers taking unpaid leave when the term had just started, so Jess wasn’t even sure her spot would be there when she came back. If she’d come back.
In the background, the first tunes of INXS’ ‘Need you tonight’ emerged from the radio. Jess grinned brightly and despite the warmth she jumped from the couch. She had been addicted to this record back in 1987, when she had been just sixteen. ‘Sorry, I have to,’ she told Sarah—who was watching her in both typical teenage annoyance and amusement—and placed her drink on the radio before turning on the volume.
‘All you’ve got is this moment,’ Jess sang along with Michael Hutchence as she bust out her best dance moves. ‘Twenty-first century is yesterday….’
Sarah watched Jess making a fool out of herself and rolled with her eyes, though a small smile adorned her lips. ‘You look like my dad right now,’ she told her neighbor over the music. ‘’And trust me, it’s not a compliment. How old are you anyway?’ ‘I’m turning thirty in December,’ Jess replied with a laugh. ‘Which is—as my kids at school inform me—the equivalent to the age of the dinosaurs.’ ‘Yeah,’ Sarah agreed before taking a sip of her own drink. ‘That’s pretty old. Though my dad is even older than you are.’ ‘Oh, really?!’ ‘He turned thirty-five today,’ the teen told her. ‘So if you are turning into a carnosaur, don’t worry—dad’s probably of the herrerasauridae family.’
Jess laughed at the girls’ smart-ass notion. ‘Well played, young Miller,’ she quipped. ‘Have you bought him a gift?’ ‘Not yet,’ Sarah said, a frown now decorating her forehead. ‘I wouldn’t know what to get him and besides, he probably will be home late again. All he does is work.’ Jess heaved a sigh and turned down the volume again. She picked up her drink, absentmindedly rubbing away the condense the glass had left on the radio. She felt sorry for Sarah. Spending time with her dad must be important to her, especially because he was all she had.
‘We could start with buying a cake,’ she offered. ‘And see what Walmart has to offer that could be to Joel’s—your dad’s—liking?’ ‘You would do that?’ Sarah chimed, her dark brown eyes pleading for her neighbor to say yes. ‘But I have no money.’ ‘It’s nothing,’ Jess replied with a vague gesture from her hand. ‘I need to get some groceries anyway, and I think we should do something nice for your dad, don’t you agree?’ The teen nodded. ‘One problem, though,’ Jess murmured, her eyes scanning through the living room. ‘We still have to find the keys of my dad’s truck….’
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It was around seven when the girls returned from their shopping spree. They had picked up some pizza on their way home—caprese for Sarah, pineapple for Jess, and pepperoni in case Joel showed up—and now were lounging on the couch while enjoying their meal and watching Legally Blonde that was showing on tv. Jess watched Sarah as she enjoyed her pizza, and laughed with her when Elle reprimanded Warner with the iconic burn of 2001: ‘What, like it’s hard?’
Sarah had picked up an Aerosmith and Nirvana CD—‘then he can finally listen to them on repeat in the car instead of one song on the radio’—and had chosen the most elaborate cake design they could find. And though the thirteen year old swore she would pay Jess back, the latter one refused kindly. It must be hard for Sarah that her dad was doing overtime on his birthday, and Jess hoped that Joel would return home soon.
She had just taken a huge bite of her pizza, when the doorbell rang again. ‘That must be dad,’ Sarah concluded, scrambling herself together. ‘Got it,’ Jess muffled with a mouth full of pineapple and rose from her seat. With the last of the pizza part still in her hands she walked towards the door, quickly swallowing her food before opening.
Joel Miller was still as hot as she remembered. He was leaning against her porch, his dark brown hair tousled from his day at work and his dark eyes observing her in a curious, though friendly manner—but if one would look closely, one could easily see the exhaustion written in them. Joel possessed a so-called ‘roman nose’, with a prominent curved bridge that ended in a sharp, though rounded tip. His full lips were crowned by a thick, dark mustache and his cheeks sported a messy scruff. It seemed like he had just arrived home: there was some construction dust on his temple and he still wore his work clothes—a simple black t-shirt that clung nicely to his defined torso and gray, worn jeans—both in the same rugged state. In his hands he held the note that Sarah had hastily scribbled on Jess’ counter before they left for the store, the post-it paper looking small compared to his palm.
‘Hey neighbor,’ Joel greeted her, his lazy southern drawl wrapping around her like a silk shawl. ‘I’m lookin’ for my daughter. She left a note on the door, sayin’ she would be here.’ ‘Yeah, she’s with me,’ Jess said, eyeing him with a small smile while she told herself to just breathe. ‘She forgot her key and said she’s grounded forever now.’ ‘She tryin’ to find an ally now?’ Joel said with a smirk. ‘Smart girl, raised her well.’ ‘Well, it is working…’ Jess commented. ‘I mean, come on, Miller. Is forgetting a key such a big offense?’ Joel laughed at that and ran the hand that wasn’t holding on to the note through his hair, tousling it further. His tanned arm flexed. ‘It is when there’s no one to let her in,’ he argued. ‘Carl had one, and I don’t like t’give the Adlers access to my place, if y’know what I mean. Can’t leave my daughter stranded.’ ‘No, definitely not,’ Jess agreed, thinking of mister Adler. Her dad had told her that though the couple was kind, they were very meddlesome; the type that would rearrange your home while you were away—just to help, of course. ‘Though,’ she went on. ‘In the event I hadn’t been home… I can imagine spending a free afternoon with the Adler’s would have been enough punishment, don’t you think?’ ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘She can count herself lucky that you were here.’
There was a short silence, in which they observed each other—gorgeous chocolate depths burning in their deep blue counterparts. A small twinge burned in the pit of her stomach, the same one she had felt at the funeral when Joel had shook her hand to pay his respects. It had struck out to her that even in her grief-stricken state a simple touch from him was enough to make something spark within herself.
‘How are you holdin’ up?’ Joel inquired gently, pulling her from her thoughts. ‘Hadn’t expect to see you back soon.’ ‘Me neither,’ she replied, stepping aside to let him in, and vaguely sensing the cold half-eaten pizza part in her hand. ‘But I have to handle some affairs here.’ ‘How long will you be stayin’?’ Joel asked as he brushed past her, his eyes not leaving her frame. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘As long as I need to. To go through his stuff, I mean.’ Her throat went stuffy at the reminder of the enormous task of cleaning her dad’s home and sorting through his belongings; she wasn’t ready for that yet. Joel nodded, offering her a sympathetic smile. ‘Lemme know f’you need my help, okay?’ ‘You already work too much, birthday boy,’ she told him while she sent him a cheeky smile. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose on your free time.’ Joel groaned at that. ‘She told you, huh?’ ‘Happy birthday,’ Jess congratulated him as she waved with her pizza part. ‘I hope you’re hungry, we got you pepperoni.’ ‘Y’didn’t have to—’ ‘Yes, I did,’ she argued before taking a bite of her pizza. In her haste she accidentally gobbled down a larger chunk than she’d bargained for; of course her clumsy, nervous ass did. Joel watched her struggle to maintain her dignity—which meant not coughing herself to death in his presence—but her trachea protested against her ego’s wishes. Jess toppled forward and went into the very coughing fit she had been trying to avoid. Joel was eyeing her with growing concern and after a few moments of hesitation, he carefully rubbed her back. ‘Keep it up,’ he instructed, his tone calm. ‘It helps.’
Of course it did, she knew that. But it also meant that she turned into a watery eyed, tomato faced mess; and that was a look she didn’t particularly pursue. Jeez, the man was only in her vicinity for a minute and she already had to make a fool of herself?!
‘You’re not allowed to cook on your birthday—’ she began, her voice unsteady because at the same time her throat managed to get the loose chunk of pizza in the right place. ‘It’s one of my dad’s rules,’ she added while looking at him through tear stricken eyes, ‘and it’s bad luck if you do. The fact that you dared to mention it almost made me choke, Miller!’ A grin tugged on the corners of his mouth, whether it was from her pun or her current disheveled state, she didn’t know. ‘I remember him sayin’ that last year,’ Joel remarked, his hand still on her back. ‘Carl took us out for burgers.’
Jess slowly rose from her huddled position and smiled faintly. The sweet taste of pineapple burned in her throat and she still couldn’t see properly through the tears, but her heart stung at the memory. She should have visited her dad more often, but at the time she had been so busy with her own, Adam-infused life… ‘S’okay,’ Joel murmured as his fingers brushed over her t-shirt once more, which set off a confusing array of emotions in her system.
‘Dad?! Jess?! What are you two doing?!’ Sarah called as she jumped from the couch and made her way through the hall. Upon eyeing the pair she laughed. ‘What happened here?’ ‘Didn’t you hear me almost choke myself to death?!’ Jess croaked, internally groaning when she felt Joel’s fingers leave her. ‘I almost died.’ ‘That’s for eating pineapple on your pizza,’ Sarah quipped as she turned on her heels and sent a knowing glance to her dad. ‘I warned you, Jess. People like you belong in hell.’ ‘You’re one of those?!’ Joel asked Jess with a grin while the three of them made their way into the living room. ‘She is,’ Sarah agreed as she eased herself onto the couch once more, her eyes sparkling with joy. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on!’ Jess defended herself half-heartedly, though she knew her chances persuading pineapple pizza haters to come to the dark side was usually a fruitless task. ‘Nah, it’s disgusting,’ Joel tutted. ‘The state of New York is ruinin’ your taste buds.’ He lowered himself next to Sarah on the couch. ‘Hi, kiddo. What are you watchin’?’ ‘Legally Blonde,’ Sarah said before pulling her father into a hug. ‘It’s pretty cool. You wouldn’t like it.’ ‘Lemme decide f’myself!’ ‘Dad! I’m telling you, it’s a girl’s movie!’
Jess let the pair bicker and went to reheat Joel’s pizza in the oven—a skill she had perfected over the past few years—doing overtime and still having to cook makes a girl creative. She tossed the cold remnants of her meal into the garbage bin; another consequence of nearly suffocating on her beloved pizza was that she had lost her appetite. As she listened to Sarah’s excited chatter and Joel’s low hum, she fetched two beers from the fridge. She knew his favorite—thanks to her dad—and as her hands searched for the bottle opener in the kitchen drawer, her mind drifted to Joel’s pretty eyes and to—
Ugh, he had no reason to be this hot, it was borderline criminal. Especially not after a long day at work, where he undoubtedly had busted his butt ordering others around and hauling stuff across the construction site. Jess peered in the drawer, her mind fixated on the way Joel’s biceps had bulged under his t-shirt. She shouldn’t think of him like that, she really shouldn’t—
‘D’you need some help?’ ‘What?’ she gulped, her hands randomly grabbing a knife, and he hissed at the sting it caused. ‘I was just—’ ‘Carl kept the bottle opener on the side o’the fridge,’ Joel told her as he made his way towards the sink and gestured at the drawer. ‘No need for searchin’ in there.’
Ah. Of course. Her father had been practical about life. He surely would have hated to spend hours searching for a bottle opener. Tears burned behind her eyes and Jess quickly grabbed the object from its place against the fridge. After lifting the cap from both bottles, she offered one beer to Joel.
‘Thank you darlin’,’ Joel rumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter before taking a sip. As he studied her with his dark eyes, Jess busied herself with inspecting the shallow cut she had made in her fingers. It drew some blood and she hissed at the sight. She was many things and possessed many talents, but blood—especially her own—always made her knees weak. And not the good kind of weak.
‘S’just a little cut,’ Joel remarked with a small smirk. ‘Hold it under the tap and you’re fine.’ ‘I’m not one of your men,’ she countered with a huff, eyeing him defiantly. ‘I don’t haul dangerous stuff around all day.’ ‘Glad y’don’t,’ he murmured, while planting his beer on the counter and turning on the faucet. Without ceremony, he got hold of her hand and pushed it under the cold stream. ‘I don’t think you’d be of use at the side,’ he continued. ‘You’d keep hurtin’ y’self.’ Would have t’fire you on your first day….’
That remained to be seen. If Joel stayed out of her way, she would be fine. If not… Well, then she was fucked—and again not the good kind.
Jess observed the water as it poured over their hands and slowly turned into a pleasant temperature. After a short while Joel pulled her fingers close and inspected the damage. ‘S’fine,’ he concluded before shutting off the tap. ‘It doesn’t even bleed, see?’ ‘Are you judging me, Miller?!’ ‘F’course not,’ he replied as he retrieved his hand and dried it on his shirt. Jess—her own fingers still hovering over the sink, dripping with water—couldn’t help but notice that his hands were littered with scars, roughened from his days at work. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she quipped, narrowing her eyes. She reached for the kitchen towel. ‘Remember I’m a highschool teacher, Joel. I can smell lies and omitted truths from a mile away.’ ‘Yeah, I was told to be careful around you,’ he replied with a grin as he leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘Teachin’ these unruly kids like my daughter must be a callin’ or somethin’, I really couldn’t.’ ‘Ah, they’re not that bad,’ Jess said. ‘I can boss them around all day, just like you do with your crew.’ ‘Why’d you think I’d do that, huh?’ ‘I got it from a very reliable source,’ Jess said as she fetched her own beer from the counter and took a sip. As the rich, deep flavor swirled through her mouth, she eyed her father’s friend’s handsome features. ‘I imagine you had the same source,’ she mused with a smile. ‘Tell me… What do you know about me that you probably shouldn’t?’
Joel sipped from his beer and observed her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. There were a thousand things she’d rather not have him know. The first and obvious one was the fact that she had a crush on him, but after that there were a few cringeworthy childhood memories she’d rather forget. It would be embarrassing if Joel knew how she had caught herself in barbed wire during one summer—trespassing farmer Jack’s property had seemed a good idea, until the world turned upside down—or how accidentally had dyed her hair orange instead of blonde.
‘Why are you lookin’ at me? I’m not tellin’ you,’ Joel finally remarked with a vague smile. ‘Promised him not to.’ ‘Aha! So he did tell you stuff he shouldn’t!’ ‘Not much,’ Joel admitted, despite his previous statement not to reveal any of the information he knew. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and now was replaced with genuine concern. ‘Just that he hoped Adam takes good care of you.’
Though Joel couldn’t know about their separation, his revelation still stung. Jess shrugged and bit on her lip. ‘He never told me that.. Did dad—Carl—have his doubts?’ ‘S’not my place to say,’ Joel confessed, his brows furrowing together. He shuffled on his feet and watched Jess sink to her knees to check the oven. The smell of pepperoni pizza filled the kitchen.
‘Almost,’ she commented quietly, her mind still stuck at Joel’s remark. It didn’t surprise her that her father had worried about her relationship with Adam; usually when her mother pressed her to do something—like pursuing a relationship with Adam—her father had been against the idea. Jess had often wondered if this had become her parent’s typical dynamic or if they truly were two opposites in every choice life had to offer.
‘Your dad was somethin’,’ Joel changed the subject. ‘Must be weird f’you, to be back here. With him not bein’ around here.’ ‘Yeah, it is,’ Jess agreed with a heavy heart. She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘I miss him terribly and to be honest I don’t want to be here—no offense of course. It’s just…’ she heaved a weary sigh while her gaze swept through the kitchen. ‘Everything reminds me of him.’ She rose to her feet and retrieved a plate from one of the cabinets. Joel watched her as she placed it in the sink and opened the tap. ‘Heating the plate will keep your pizza warm,’ Jess explained as she waited for the water to get hot. ‘I learned that from a chef I once dated. He was an ass, but he did teach me a useful trick or two.’ ‘Never thought of that,’ Joel murmured. ‘Cold pizza ain’t that bad, why complicate it?’ Jess laughed at that. ‘I bet single dads don’t have time to complicate their dinners,’ she told him as she dried the hot plate and fetched dad’s mittens from a drawer to retrieve the pizza from the oven. ‘Give it a try, Miller,’ she teased as she handed him a mitten and his plate. ‘It won’t kill you.’
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Joel, Sarah and Jess spent the evening like a normal family would—at Sarah’s request they watched the rest of Legally Blonde while Joel ate his late dinner. Though the latter wouldn’t tell Jess if the heated plate had made his pizza better, Jess liked to think that it had. After Legally Blonde had ended, Sarah told her father and their new friend about her day at school and Jess was obliged to share the details of her trip from Staten Island to Austin. Jess could not bring herself to explain her breakup with Adam—it would surely result in a tsunami of tears—so when the topic landed on her ex she simply stated that her fiancé had been too busy to help her out. Though Sarah seemed to accept the story right away and chatted about Carl’s tendency to hoard stuff he liked, Jess felt Joel’s eyes burning on her. He probably sensed there was more to it, but he didn’t press her to share. She would probably have to tell him the truth, in time. But for now, his birthday turned out to be the perfect diversion for unwanted questions.
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It was around half past ten when Jess found herself leaning against the doorframe of her porch, waving at Sarah who had just ran across the street with her father’s keys. Joel had stepped down from her porch—about to follow his daughter—but had paused at her lawn. ‘She’s a great kid,’ Jess told Joel as they watched Sarah disappear behind the front door. ‘I know a lot of teens, but Sarah’s one of a kind.’ ‘Yeah,’ he agreed quietly as he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without her, y’know?’ ‘Well, for one you would not get roasted all the time….’ Joel chuckled. ‘I could do without being called old, yeah…’ He shuffled on his feet. ‘Listen, I wanted to thank you. For takin’ care of her and everythin’. You didn’t have to.’ ‘It’s okay,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘I didn’t mind.’ ‘At least let me pay you back,’ Joel offered, his right hand shifting to his back pocket and retrieving his wallet, which was in a rugged, worn state. ‘No!’ Jess cried out as she raised her hands defensively. ‘Not a chance in hell. We’re good. I have to thank you for the company, especially on your birthday!’ Joel shrugged and his hands fumbled over the worn leather. ‘I wouldn’t have done anythin’ special,’ he confessed. ‘Not after a twelve-hour shift. Probably would have ended up on the couch, watchin’ somethin’ stupid.’ ‘Legally Blonde doesn’t count as stupid?!’ she teased with a smile and was awarded with a cute grin. ‘It was okay,’ Joel concluded. ‘I was enjoyin’ the company, Young.’
There was a short silence in which their eyes met and Jess almost drowned in the beautiful molten chocolate hues. ‘Before I forget; here’s my number,’ Joel murmured as he retrieved a business card from his wallet. ‘Just in case. Y’dad would want me to keep an eye on you.’ ‘Very fancy,’ Jess commented as she took the card—careful not to brush her fingers across his. ‘Was an idea of your dad,’ Joel explained. ‘He told me I needed to be more professional or somethin’.’ ‘Though I also heard you have no trouble finding work,’ Jess replied as she admired the design. It was simple, neat—very Joel. ‘So you could always use the pile my dad probably made you buy to pick up ladies. Chicks like stuff like that.’ Joel laughed at that and Jess reveled in the sound. ‘And about keeping an eye on me…’ she went on as her gaze met his. ‘I can take care of myself, Miller. I’m not a damsel in distress.’ ‘I know that,’ he agreed. ‘Y’dad told me as much. But just… Don’t be stubborn and call me when y’need me. Or swing by.’
‘Even when I have night terrors?’ Jess heard herself question, but by the time she realized how flimsy—and filthy—that must come across, it was too late. She bit on her lip, unsure how she could save herself from her clumsy mouth. Joel didn’t seem taken aback by her comment. He grinned broadly, an amused twinkle in his eye. ‘Yeah, Young,’ he replied in a soft tone. ‘Especially then.’
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Thank you for reading this first chapter 🥰🥰 Feedback is highly appreciated, so if you have a minute to spare I'd like to know what you think of my work!
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xxbyimm · 6 months
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Look at them 🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️
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