So We're Doin This! - Tumblr Posts

Jesus fuck, it must be the smoke, right? Anne is hardly a woman of any strong moral fiber, but surely she's above dropping trou the minute a man touches her throat, right? She's not about to stand here and let challenge become seduction, isn't going to let Ed go any further than this on a lark. Right? ...right?

Jesus.

If she was a shorter woman, it probably wouldn't have been so damningly obvious when her knees went weak and she got a little boneless against him the second that hand got there. There are things Anne still hasn't figured out how to process: this is one of them. Hand on her throat. Love in her ear. An acknowledgement of all of...that, the things that keep Anne sleepless at night.

She swallows and feels grateful he isn't looking her dead in the face; it makes her mottled blush at having reinforced the feeling of that hand a little easier to bear, even if it still heats her cheeks and the tips of her ears. She reaches up and touches his wrist with two fingers, but she doesn't go to move it anywhere. Scared maybe Jack's hidden away in this same smoky room, and it isn't a lark but a trap. Or worse, maybe Ed thinks he's saving her or some noble shite like that, or doesn't realize that Jack says girlfriend and means wife, a thing he never lets Anne forget. If it's not a trap and Jack doesn't know, could she bear the responsibility of making a homewrecker of Ed? Jack would never forgive him. Might even if kill him if he so much as whiffed him anywhere on Anne.

He's probably expecting an answer or some shite. She opens her mouth and fights to keep breathing slow and and deep against the swelling tide of terrors at her back--including the ones she might really let in. If he's sure. If he's full sure.

"...ye have t'be full sure, Ed," she says slowly. She looks over her shoulder but doesn't otherwise move, except to wrap her hand on his wrist in a gentle, grounding warning. "He en't James. He don't share, even t'have a lark about it. Not with...," us, she isn't fucking blind but maybe he is, like she used to be, "...me. I won't let ye make a homewrecker of yerself if ye've even a doubt." Tongue to her lips. Fingers on his wrist. Grounding. Jesus, who can stay grounded in this fucking smoking parlor of his?

“You won’t break me.”

suggestive sentence starters || accepting

"I know. I'm half convinced you're more steel than woman, Anne," Ed puffed a breath through his nose, holding her from behind. He lifted his hand to gently gather her hair and move it from her neck. His fingers curled around her throat a moment later, firm enough to feel but still painfully gentle.

"Doesn't always have to hurt, love," he murmured in her ear, "not like that."