#but here that's not a thing. meaning that she kept her nose and his beard isnt perfectly filled out bc they like looking trans gdi!

[fruitzbat]

it's late over here and apropos of nothing: I think that universes that allow for easy cures for disabilities and/or allow for seamless and readily available gender affirmation can be ableist and/or transphobic. in the wrong hands, they often are.

but it does add a layer, doesn't it, in places where such systems exist, when you come across someone who has low vision or someone that's visibly trans, they are that on purpose. important: that's something they prefer to be.

& I think adding that dimension, of how those are options that are available but you also have folks like that, you then make your reader consider something that a lot of abled or cis people do not: the goal of a transition is not always to seem cis. the goal of pursuing accessibility for disabled folks is not for people to become able-bodied. etc., etc.......

[wootensmith]

Eucatastrophe

Thom Rainier’s appearance in camp should not have taken Solas by surprise. He’d known for years that Rainier had joined the Wardens, a reprieve from hanging dearly bought. But Solas had not expected to meet him again. Not even here, where all the forces that could be gathered had come to face their fate. In truth, he had not intended to meet any of his old comrades again and with his accidental imprisonment in the Fade it had seemed a vanishingly small possibility to Solas until very recently. 

Rainier was huddled with Harding and the Warden Commander over a large table when Solas and Rook arrived. An enormous sword lay across the table, its scrolling gold details giving away its lineage immediately. “Is that— Glandivalis?” asked Rook, drawn immediately to it.  “It is,” rumbled Thom, turning to look at her. “A gift. Along with an offer. From…” he trailed off for a second, seeing Solas. “From an old friend,” he finished. His beard had grayed significantly and there were fresh scars on his nose, his cheek, his hands. He did not smile in greeting. Solas offered him a slight bow, but remained silent. “The Wardens stand with the Veilguard,” said the Commander. “The order is assembled. We have reason to believe our foes will be drawn to Valarian. Here.” He jabbed a finger at the large map spread on the table. “We have three days to reach position. After that—” He picked up the sword and extended it hilt-first to Rook. “Our ‘old friend’ will continue to aid us if possible but we are likely the best defense that Thedas has.” “Why there specifically?” asked Solas, only to be cut off by Rook asking: “Who’s the old friend?” The uneasy look that Harding and Rainier exchanged was answer enough for Solas, but the Warden Commander took Solas’s question instead.

“I understand our friend has largely been responsible for drawing the elvhen gods away from populated centers. Not— entirely successfully, as you are no doubt aware, but with some dependability. Rainier has more detail on this aspect of our battle plan, but in short Valarian fields are far enough from Minrathous to minimize damage but close enough for reenforcement should we fail. I assume it is also for the symbolic significance as well, hence the blade.” Rook stared at the weapon intently and Rainier took advantage of her distraction to nod to Solas, indicating he should follow Rainier away from the others.

They left the large tent, stepping into a thick, cold sleet. Rainier casually packed his pipe, ice flakes catching and melting into his beard. “Didn’t think you’d escaped,” he observed after a minute. “She told me you had, felt it somehow, I think. But after Varric told us about your—” he waved the pipe vaguely at Solas, “ritual thing— I admit I didn’t see you wriggling out of that one, no matter how slippery you might be. The Inquisitor insisted though. It’s why she sent me. Told me to convince you not to use your magic until you got to the muster point. You, in particular. The others are fine. She has more faith in both of us than we deserve, Solas. Don’t know how I’m supposed to persuade an ancient elvhen god to keep it under wraps on her say so, but there it is.” He struggled to light his pipe in the drizzle. Solas flicked a finger to light it, and Rainier caught his hand before the spark could erupt from him. “See, that’s what I mean. No magic, Solas. Not if you want this to work. I can forgo the pipe for ten minutes, can’t I?” “Apologies,” said Solas as Rainier released his wrist. “Old habits.” “Aye. Hard to teach old soldiers like us, isn’t it? For her though, try, won’t you? She wouldn’t ask if there were no reason to it.” “What reason then? What is she attempting?” Rainier shook his head with a sigh. “Wouldn’t say. In case I got caught. She said it was for the best. Can’t betray what you don’t know. Said she’d have kept me out of it too, if she could have thought of a better way. All I know for certain is she’s terrified. Could feel it soaking through her, off her like a cold wave. Like a green recruit before his first darkspawn. Like she were at Haven all over again. Kept mum. Always does. But clear as day anyway.”

“Then tell me where you left her. You should have stayed with her,” cried Solas, feeling a band of dread tighten around his own heart. “I would have, if she’d allowed it. This was more important, she said. No magic. Three days time and we must be on the Valarian fields. And this.” He reached into his cloak and retrieved a slim package. He handed it to Solas. It was still warm from resting against his chest. “What—“ “Don’t know. Didn’t ask and it were never for my eyes. Best not to know. Same as her plan. Just in case I fell into the wrong hands.” He tapped his full pipe gently against his palm, narrowing his eyes against the icy snow as he stared north toward the glow of further camps in the distance. “She’s never been a coward, Solas. Even scared, she still marches on. Every time. And I never could ease her fears before battle, no matter what I tried. Doesn’t matter, she goes on anyhow. Wouldn’t have mattered if I were there to hold her hand or not. This was the way I could help her. All of us. That—” He pointed the pipe at the bundle Solas now held, “meant something to her. What she’s doing means something. Maybe it means everything. So we’re going to do our part, right? And maybe what she sent will answer more questions than I can.” “Rainier!” The Warden Commander called from inside the tent. Rainier ducked back inside, leaving Solas to the driving sleet and the leather-wrapped package between his fingers.

Solas resisted the urge to warm himself with a spell, instead crossing to another large tent nearby where a campfire crackled and spat when lumps of ice dropped into it. He entered the tent and found it empty and dry, an apothecary table in one corner and several cots in a line. The canvas walls rippled in the wind. He blew on his fingers to loosen them with a little warmth and then tugged on the leather wrapping of the bundle. It was a book. The ghost of a smile tugged at him when he saw the title. Fade and Spirits Mysterious by Brother Genitivi. She’d stolen it from his desk after Adamant. He’d let her believe he hadn’t noticed. Whatever comfort she took from Brother Genitivi’s fumbling explanations, she never said, but the book remained on her desk until at last he had purposely caught her reading it. “Ah, there it is,” he’d said loudly and laughed as she scrambled to close it, panicking. “The book keeper has been hounding me for months. I thought I would have to sign over half of my possessions in payment.” “I’m sorry, emma lath,” she’d said, flushing. “I only wanted to borrow it a day, two. But you know how little chance we get to read for our own sakes. A day turned to a week and then a month. I— a few days more, please?” she’d asked as he held out his hand for the book. “I confess Genitivi is a good primer for those who cannot easily access the Fade, Vhenan, but you are rather past a novice now, are you not? I would wager you could write a better treatise than this, having walked the Fade yourself.” He’d captured her hand rather than the book and kissed it. “I— was hoping there was something more in his research. About— about Falon’din. About spirits like Justinia. About death and after,” she’d admitted.

Solas tried to shake himself free of the memory. Returning the book could just mean that it was intended for him. Or that she’d known he’d been trapped in the Fade. Or that— he opened the cover. Thin, smooth script in the Inquisitor’s hand covered the delicate endsheet. 

My brevity will prove a disappointment, I fear. Do not think me cold. There is an ocean of words waiting. But I cannot say what eyes will read this, nor whose hands it will pass through, nor what shore it washes up upon. In hopes that it has reached the correct one, I will say only that I have not forgotten my oath.

The reflection cannot meet its creator until the mirror is broken at last. In case that day does not arrive and this be the last drop I can send, know that centuries have not dulled the anger of your foes. I beg you to remain hidden. Know also that centuries will neither dull the love of your friends.

He struggled to read only the words she had written down and not all the ones he hoped that she meant to. He tried not to infer more than she had given. But begging him to remain hidden— that crawled into the darker spaces of his mind and stuck. It is an easy leap to make, that the Evanuris would harbor resentment, he told himself. But her insistence upon it— the only reason she risked the message was to warn him. She had to know he would expect their hatred. She would not have taken the risk if it were only to tell him what he already knew or to tell him something she only suspected. The tent flap opened and Rook entered, wiping the slush from her shoulder. Rainier followed.

Rook held out the hilt of Glandivalis to him. “You should take this. Given that you won’t be able to use your spells.” Solas shook his head. “Swords were never my forte. My own weapon serves me better. And— though she meant it symbolically, I do not like the implication.” He shuddered. “Because you do not want to be Andraste’s stand in? Or Shartan’s?” asked Rook. “Given their ends, I hope none of us are either,” said Rainier.  “Why is she so sure she can draw them to Valarian, Thom?” asked Solas. “She sends me this warning as if— as if she had already met Elgar’nan or Ghilan’nain.” “Met— no. Encountered, yes. They were not in the conversational way. Least, last time we saw them.” “You survived?” asked Rook. “How? That must have taken some doing.” “We fled. Not proud of it and neither was she, but we were in a village and she— had reason to think the Evanuris would chase her if she led them away from the others. They have been chasing her since. And will do, until they do ‘meet’ her or are distracted. Which is why you have to keep control of your magic until we get to the agreed meeting place.” Rainier clamped a hand around Solas’s shoulder. “Not panic and do something that’ll jeopardize us all, including the Inquisitor, right?” The reflection cannot meet its creator. “They’re chasing the anchor,” Solas realized. “That makes sense. It was yours, wasn’t it?” asked Rook. “And since the ritual you’ve been… off the board. Probably the first familiar sensation they encountered when the Evanuris were— escaped.” She stumbled over her words, embarrassed still by the hand she had had in the situation.

Everything— everything had changed since Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain had been locked away. Solas had felt it for himself upon waking. Everything they’d known was ruins, melted back into the stone and root of the land or taken by the wind and water, demolished to build human monuments. All that remained was almost unrecognizable. Except for the anchor. Except for his own magic.  “They’ll catch her long before the rendezvous. They’ve probably already—” “No they won’t. It’s been months, Solas. As long as she doesn’t try anything reckless, they aren’t going to find her. She has friends. Allies. People who will help her scattered all across the continent.” “But she won’t go to them.” Rainier’s hand squeezed tighter around his shoulder. “She will. If she must. The anchor’s what you’ve got in common, not method. Why do you think I’m here? I didn’t just wake up a few days ago and decide to visit the ass end of Tevinter. My friend needed help. And I answered. Trust her. She is trusting in all of us to be there when she arrives. When she lets them catch her. I know you’re itching to cast some bombastic spell right now, to whistle in the loudest possible way to turn the attention of the Evanuris toward yourself, but consider that there are thousands and thousands of lives in the balance, Solas. Three days, and you’ll see for yourself. Not so long. Not to someone like you.” Solas knew he was right. So it only further piqued his frustration when Rook casually added, “She’s waited a lot longer than that to see you, I’d guess.”

Rainier stuck close beside him through the march, at meal times, during rest. “You do not have to act the part of a jailer, Thom,” Solas told him the first night. “Not a guard,” he muttered, trying to shift his pack into a more comfortable makeshift pillow. “Just here to prevent old habits. I realize asking you not to cast spells is like asking you to hold your breath. I’m not here to stop you, don’t think I really could if it were something you were determined to do. I’m just here to prevent you unintentionally breaking your resolution. Though—” he sat up with a groan. “Not sure what happens when you fall asleep. Don’t know if your Fade walking’s going to draw ‘em. But neither of us can forgo sleep for three days and then be ready for battle.” Solas stared at the canvas roof. “If that drew them, they would already have come. I haven’t been released from the Fade for long, but it’s been long enough. Still, I will take precautions, Warden. Sleep easy.”

Do not think me cold. I have not forgotten my oath. It rang over and over in his head and though Solas had no doubt he could sleep without any real danger, he did not. Instead his thoughts spun in spirals through the hours. How powerful has the anchor become? What can she be doing to hide it from the Evanuris? It would be like a trail of bright crimson across a field of snow to them. They have already caught her. She is already gone. 

The sleet had ended and a frigid morning greeted them, becoming more arid as they traveled.  “Thought Dorian said Tevinter was always warm. Was the few times I was here before anyway,” Rainier grumbled, his knees audibly popping. “It is,” said Solas. “This is unusual for the season. It can make aches worse. If you like—” “I’ll ask one of the Wardens for a warming stone,” finished Rainier. “Yes,” Solas agreed. “I apologize.” “Nothing to be sorry for. Just habit. And I appreciate the thought. Not my first trudge through the snow. Do you remember Sahrnia? Sheer misery, that. Weisshaupt’s not exactly balmy either.” “Do you spend much time there?” asked Solas. “I thought you were happiest recruiting on your own.” Rainier flushed. “Ah. Well, that was before I could do any actual recruitment. Since my Joining I find it… more comfortable to be around others. But— no. I do not stay overlong at the fortress. There is plenty to occupy us elsewhere.” “I am glad you have found comfort in fellowship. Truly.” “Aye. It has been a useful life among the Wardens. It took a few years before it felt easy to fall in with the Order. That I’d earned my place. There are days still—” he shook his head. “Warden Blackwall saw you at the darkest, Thom, and recruited you. I am not in agreement with the Gray Wardens, but I will say that I hope they are worthy of you rather than the other way around.”

They walked in silence for a while. It was not uncomfortable, it felt almost familiar to Solas, listening to others laugh and talk around them. Still, his thoughts returned and returned to the anchor without rest. Rook fell back to them and broke the silence. “Just ask him,” she said with a scowl. “Ask him what?” said Rainier. “No, Solas needs to ask you. Don’t know why our… situation has changed so abruptly but he won’t get out of my head and he’s wearing my sanity to pieces.” “It doesn’t matter,” said Solas, “there is no answer that will alter anything.” “Look, you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep. So ask him already.” Solas hesitated. “You get absorbed by Cole?” Rainier asked Rook, “You’re making about as much sense as he would.” “Don’t know any Cole. Have enough with Solas in my head as it is.” “The anchor—” Solas blurted out, “how bad is the anchor now? It must have grown significantly for the Evanuris to notice.” “Ah,” said Rainier. “I thought you would ask— never mind. It has spread, if that’s what you mean. Dorian worries over it too. Asks me every time I see him if I’ve noticed. Hard not to. She says it doesn’t hurt, not like it used to, if you’re concerned. Not something we talk about often, even if I saw her more. I’m no mage, can’t feel it like Dorian seems to. But if you mean what it looks like, she tries to cover it, mostly, just so she can go unnoticed. Started glowing through her armor sometime between last Harvestmere and now. It’s noticeable.” “There,” sighed Rook, “that wasn’t so awful, was it? She’s not in pain. You can stop cycling through that thought so intensely and maybe this headache will go away.” “I am sorry for the discomfort. I cannot shield you from it without using a spell. I’m afraid we are stuck with each other until the battle,” Solas told her. She grumbled something and sped up, putting space between them.

“You said it didn’t matter,” observed Rainier after a few minutes. “How bad the anchor had got. Is that because there’s nothing you can do to ease it? Or because…” he trailed off. “Because we’re likely going to watch each other die in this battle? Both. But it is a relief to know she does not seem to be in pain. Thank you for that.” “Mm. You want to ask the other question yet, or are you going to wait until your new friend asks it for you?” Rainier stared pointedly at him. Do not think me cold. I have not forgotten my oath. Var lath vir suledin. He heard it in her voice, the agony of her crumbling arm, her crumbling heart, leaking through. Rook flinched and glanced back at him. Solas quickly shoved the memory away. “No,” he told Rainier. “There is no answer that would relieve me.” “Hmm,” said Rainier, his pack rattling as he adjusted its weight.

They had reached the stone slabs of the Imperial Highway before Rainier spoke again. “The Inquisitor made me go with her when the Archon summoned her, you know,” he said. “Thought she’d want Dorian to go. Do the talking for her. Argued about it almost in this exact spot.” He glanced up at the towering columns lining the road. The sound of feet upon the stone was significant now that more forces had joined them. “I told her I didn’t know an Archon from a Soporati. She told me it didn’t matter, that we weren’t going to Minrathous to play by the rules anyway.” Rainier laughed and shook his head. “I remember her scowl. ‘Radonis thinks he’s flexing his power, summoning me to Minrathous. As if I would simply come at his call. The Imperium has its Game, just like Orlais. And we can shift the balance of power just by pretending not to understand it.’ I told her there was no pretending about it. She told me just to remember that I was a Gray Warden walking into the place where the Blight first erupted. That would be enough to humiliate anyone still supporting the Venatori and their fanatical ideas. The pair of us— Radonis wasn’t ready.” Rainier laughed. “The Lucerni surged and we were invited to multiple balls. Stuck out like a pair of flaming mabari turds in a rose garden, but we went to every one. Sera would have loved it, if she’d been with us.” “I would have, too,” Solas admitted with a faint smile. “I know. Sometimes all you really want to know is that the people you care about— they go on. The things they do are powerful and healthy and brave. That they aren’t just this unmoving portrait in your mind. That they can still do things that would surprise you if you’d seen them. The state of them— their happiness or whether they’ve forgotten you or sometimes still cry because they miss you, that’s not as important. Joy or sorrow, those are as temporary as snow or wind. We pass through. But who we are… Because they were wonderful before we met them and what you really want to ask is if they go on being wonderful after we’re gone. What you really want to know is that you didn’t ruin that spark you saw in them. That’s the question you’re afraid to ask. Been traveling with the Inquisitor off and on for the better part of a decade now, Solas.” Rainier looked straight at him. “You couldn’t have stolen that spark even if you’d tried. And if breaking her spirit were ever a real possibility, you wouldn’t have fallen for her. She told me you thought we weren’t people. That we were just little talking moving chess pieces for a long time. Was an ugly thing for her to admit to all of us, but she did. She also said we changed your mind. Someone who just crumpled under your influence for good or ill— they’d never get the opportunity to change your mind. You love her because you can’t break her. For whatever it’s worth, from one old villain to another, the fact that you do, that you love her, makes me like you better. So, there’s the answer to the question you won’t ask. Hope it helps. At least Rook, if not you. Can’t imagine having you in my head for an hour let alone days.” Solas laughed softly. “Thank you, Thom,” he said. 

He slept, that second night. He was careful even in dreams, not to wander close to where he wished. There would be no wolf to haunt her.  Do not think me cold. Var lath vir suledin. Rainier abandoned him in the morning, pulled away to his Warden companions. “A few hours. You can hold on a few more, eh?” he’d asked, clapping Solas on the back. “Rest easy. I will not forget.” He nodded, pulled gently on his graying beard. “May the day be good to you,” he said. “Thom— You and I both know how quickly battles can turn. But if there is a chance— let me be the one to make the killing blow. They are blighted, but it need not be a Warden.” He hesitated, opened his mouth to respond, but the Warden-Commander’s gauntlet met his shoulder and pulled Thom Rainier away. The morning air took on a sickly orange hue as Satina began to slide across the sun. Rook called for Solas and he followed her over the plain toward the muster point.

The air was moveless, only cloudy breaths from the soldiers to stir it. Hundreds of banners drooped around them. The horses and then the people went silent as Satina ate up the light. Solas could feel Rook’s fear and it was plain upon most of the faces around him. He knew he should be frightened as well, that he, of them all, knew the magnitude of what lay ahead. But when a spark of emerald light pierced the horizon for an instant, then zipped closer like a comet sizzling over the ground, Solas felt only intense relief. Peace. He did not scrabble to escape, to find some other way. It was done. Beyond his control. What would come, would come.  The sliver of sun grew smaller and the green glow brighter. He tensed and Rook grabbed his arm.  “Not yet,” she said. “Let her bring them all the way. Let them think we’re ants until we pounce.” It might have been amusing on any other day, Rook advising the Dread Wolf to bide his time, but he only said, “I have not forgotten.”

The wind picked up at last, making what had been a chilly morning into a brittle, icy evening as Satina’s shadow grew. Great wingbeats broke the silence and the glow came to rest at the foot of a cluster of ruins. The center of the light was too bright for Solas to make out the figure beneath. Like counting birds against the sun, Cole said. Her voice though, clear as a peal of thunder. “Forth! For Thedas!” The army around Solas lunged forward, just as an enormous beast swung low over the ruins and landed heavily on a stone column. The ruins shifted and the Inquisitor dodged some falling stones but did not flee. The dragon snapped at her, trying to catch her between its jaws. She was quick to move aside, escaped twice and the army had almost swept Solas to her. She moved out of the path of a third bite only to be caught by a massive claw and Solas caught sight of her face at last.  Sheer horror as she was flung up and away from them. He called to her, but it erupted as a growl. The air was so thick with arrows that it made a breeze as they flew past. Solas pulled from the Fade, from the nearby anchor, from somewhere in the pit of his lungs, a great vortex of power fueled by millennia of rage. Elgar’nan’s head whipped toward him. What he saw was not an elf swathed in borrowed magic, but the Dread Wolf.

Rook’s voice directing the Veilguard was distant, as was the whoosh of ballista bolts being released. Fen’harel loped toward the dragon, still perched atop the ruins. The emerald of the anchor stuttered and flickered out of the corner of his eye. Var lath vir suledin. “Bring it down, Solas! We’re hobbled so long as it’s out of range,” yelled Rook.  He was too weak to stop Elgar’nan alone, that was true. But an army waited at his heels if he could simply throw Elgar’nan down. He had a flash of memory, the Inquisitor telling him the story of Elgar’nan and his father, the sun, the fiction colored by her awe. He hurled his father into the abyss and all was cold and still.

Fen’harel’s shoulder’s bunched and he sprang with a howl that reverberated against the stone. His jaw closed around Elgar’nan’s throat. The scales were too hard for his teeth to break through, but his momentum carried them both from the stone columns even as Elgar’nan tried to shake him loose. They tumbled into the turf below, carving a trench upon impact. Fen’harel snapped his head sideways, trying to tear the dragon’s throat open. A few scales cracked beneath his teeth but no more. And then Elgar’nan’s talon raked into his chest and pressed down, pinning him to the dirt.  “Solas!” Rook called. A blast of green light washed over him and the dragon screamed, shielding his face with one wing. Solas slipped back into his elvhen skin and wriggled out from under the large claw. Blood poured from a puncture in his chest, another in his right thigh. Soldiers and mages poured down into the trench around him, hacking at Elgar’nan’s claws, spinning fire and lightning against the creature’s flesh, but his armor was too thick.  “Emma lath.” The Inquisitor’s arm was around him, her prosthetic firing more lightning at the dragon.  “Ir abelas,” he gasped, “It was not enough. I need the anchor’s power. We must break his defenses.” “Then take it, fanor. Lean on me.” Elgar’nan belched blighted sand above their heads and the Inquisitor shielded them with a barrier. Solas gripped her hand at his waist and pulled from the anchor, siphoning strength from it until they both shook, her from exhaustion and he from holding too much power. He released the spell. A shockwave rippled from him, shattering Elgar’nan’s scales. They rained to the dirt, chiming like red lyrium crystals breaking. The Inquisitor collapsed. “Vhenan!” he cried. She shook her head, fumbling for a lyrium potion. “All is well,” she told him. She uncorked the bottle and handed it to him, grasping another for herself. “Go, before he recovers.” Solas gulped the bitter potion and climbed from the trench, already weaving another spell. When he had an instant to look back, he was relieved to see she was no longer there. A dim glow of emerald nearby, and then he had no more time. Elgar’nan’s fury bent upon him, great plumes of scarlet dust scraped across him and he had to fade step out of the path of teeth and talons over and over. The ballistas did not halt, piercing Elgar’nan’s hide in dozens of places. At last, at last, Satina began to retreat and light slid back into the world. Elgar’nan faltered, but so did Solas. Too much blood. Too much blight. He stumbled. He drew upon his mana once more and found it barely enough to shield him from the snap of Elgar’nan’s jaw. His vision blurred emerald. Dirt scraped against his chin and cheek as he fell and he knew no more.

“— him up, Blackwall. I can’t see where all the blood is coming from. And he’s in that— filth.” The Inquisitor’s voice wavered and faded in and out. He was lifted, the tiny wisp of consciousness he’d managed fluttering like smoke. “We’re not going to make it far, Inquisitor.” Rainier’s voice was much closer.  Solas tried to rouse himself and immediately regretted the attempt, recoiling from the raw pain that leaked through. Another arm on his other side.  “Just a few steps. The lee of that boulder there. Perhaps it will be free of the taint,” she gasped. They lurched forward and Solas again attempted to force his eyes open. Rainier stifled a groan beside him. “I know. I know. Just a few more steps and then we can all rest, Thom.” Another lurch. A pause. “You know I don’t want to say it anymore than you want to see it, my lady, but we’re— we’re covered. Here or on the far side of a rock, what’s it matter? If I could perform the Joining for you, you know that I would. Though I don’t think any of us are going to last long enough to worry about the blight.” “Yes we are. We’re going to heal up. We’re going to rest a day.” She sighed. “Maybe two. And then we’re going after the Veilguard. I’m not leaving them to face Elgar’nan alone.”

A dragging step forward. “It’s not your will I doubt. Nor even mine. Just our flesh. Don’t know where in Thedas they’ve gone and I’m not even certain we’re going to be standing by the time we get to that boulder.” “We’ll get there,” she said, but the next step stumbled. This time, Solas did manage an audible groan. “Ir abelas, emma lath. Just a little farther,” she said gently. The pain was like chilled water, shocking him into full consciousness and he managed to open his eyes. The boulder she was dragging them to was almost close enough for him to reach out and touch, yet it seemed an interminable distance.  “Wait,” Solas managed, before their momentum could carry them into another step. He struggled to right his dragging feet, getting them underneath him one after the other. His thigh burned where he had been wounded but it held his weight. Rainier took this as the signal to move on and pulled them forward another step.  “Thank the Maker,” sighed Rainier as soon as they could see green turf rather than the black and scarlet mottling of the blight. They stopped to rest for a moment with their backs against the rock. “This is going to hurt,” the Inquisitor admitted. “Are you ready?”  “Aye,” said Rainier, though he didn’t sound certain. His knees made a crackling pop as he helped the Inquisitor slide Solas slowly down to a seat. They all three slumped there, catching their breath.

“You have any potions left?” she asked after they had sat for a moment staring at the muddled ruin of pockmarked plains and broken weapons that scattered across the battlefield.  “None,” said Rainier. “Some bandages and elfroot in the pack, soon as I can move. You?” Her emerald halo wavered with every motion. “One lyrium. That’s all. We could make more bandages from our clothing.” “Not for you. And not for Solas. If you aren’t already infected, pressing a tainted bandage to an open wound would guarantee it.” “I’ll do what I can then, and we will wait until I can do more or whoever remains stumbles upon us.” Solas turned his face toward her. The anchor pulsed with power, its luminous threads visible through the rents in her armor, erupting through the dust on her shoulder, her neck, her chin. She, too, was speckled with blood. Solas was not ready to investigate if it were her own wounds or another’s that had caused it. “If you allow me, I can utilize the anchor again. It will help,” he said.

“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be slinging spells Solas,” said Rainier, inching his pack free. “Besides, won’t that just bring Elgar’nan racing back?” “He’s still free?” asked Solas. The Inquisitor eased gingerly back against the rock and nodded. “Rook took down Ghilan’nain but Elgar’nan escaped. He was forced back into his elvhen form though. And is on the run. I don’t think any magic we are capable of at the moment will be enough to draw his attention yet. I don’t know how long you were unconscious. It must have happened when we were separated, but your injuries say you were vulnerable for a long time. He had no chance to stop and make the final—” she broke off with a sob. It seemed to take a century of effort, but Solas raised a hand to her cheek, sweeping away tears and dust and dried blood that became a dark mud when they mixed.

“We’ll start with Solas then. None of this is any good if he’s not around to do— whatever it is he means to do with the Evanuris,” said Rainier. “And then maybe we’ll just— maybe we’ll just sit and watch the sun a bit. Good to see it again. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to a little rain, wash this muck away.” “No, I can—” “Yes,” Rainier insisted. The Inquisitor was already struggling to maneuver herself to help him. Solas tried to focus. Her prosthetic was gone and fresh blood leaked through her shortened sleeve where twisted slivers of metal pierced it. A gash across her forehead had dried a crusty maroon though how much was blood and how much was Elgar’nan’s blighted dust, Solas could not say. Torn armor at the knee and shoulders. He turned toward Rainier. The Warden was even worse. Scorch marks across his chestplate and singeing in his beard. Burnt, bubbled flesh where it emerged from the armor. He was not using one of his arms, though he struggled with the pack.  The Inquisitor pressed a hand to Solas’s chest where Elgar’nan’s talon had pierced and he groaned involuntarily. She flooded the wound beneath with healing, relieving the agony and making it easier to draw a full breath.  “Is this the worst of it, fanor?” she asked. He could feel the spell sputtering. “I am uncertain,” he admitted. “I believe so. It is mostly exhaustion, do not waste more mana on me.” “His face,” muttered Rainier. “Can’t see how bad under the blood. Could be a serious injury. Saw him dodge a horn at one point but a claw banged him— it— whatever you call that beast you became, saw your skull bang against a pillar. There’s blood on his hip.” The Inquisitor drank the lone lyrium potion. Her spell tingled over the scrapes and cuts and welts of his face, the thick throb of his head, diminishing the dizziness. “Ma serannas,” he sighed. “I will not worsen. Let me help Thom.”

“There is a little left,” she said, slowly crawling toward Rainier. Solas helped her slide between them as best he could, still utterly exhausted. “It’s worst under the chest plate isn’t it?” she asked. “Aye. Don’t know that I’ll be able to stand removing it, my lady. Think the skin will come away with it.” “Let me draw from the anchor again, Vhenan. I will take care not to leave you as fragile as I did. I can aid him. What is left of your own mana will barely ease his pain.” She reached across herself to give him her hand. The green glow of the anchor diminished until it was barely visible and welled up within his own skin. He let her go to reach over her to Rainer, pouring healing into the Warden, who shut his eyes in instant relief. Rainier slowly clenched and unclenched his wounded arm as Solas’s spell continued. “That’s all there is,” Solas said reluctantly, his hand slipping away to rest upon the Inquisitor’s shoulder. “It’s enough,” said Rainier, carefully unbuckling his armor. There was no cloth remaining beneath and his skin was a tender pink where it had scalded. There were still scattered blisters that Solas had not been able to fully heal. “Maker’s breath, that’s better.” He dropped the armor beside him and rummaged in his pack. “Your turn,” he told the Inquisitor. “I’m ok. Nothing fatal,” she said.  He held the bandage roll up. “We have to stop that arm bleeding. The shards of your prosthetic may still—” She covered her arm with her remaining hand as if to shield it. Rainier sighed.  “I’ve seen amputations before. We’re all old soldiers here. Nothing to blush at.” Solas brushed his fingers gently across the back of her neck. “Will you permit me, my love?” he asked. She turned toward him, hesitated and then said, “Yes.”

Rainier handed him the bandages. “Good. Going to just—” he yawned. “Just close my eyes a moment. Then we’ll see if there’s anything I can reach to start a—” another yawn, “— a fire.” He wriggled, trying to make himself comfortable against the cold stone. Solas hoped it was a relief from any lingering heat the burns may have.  The Inquisitor began unthreading the remainder of her sleeve and wrapping just below her elbow, muffling a cry of pain until it was only a series of rapid breaths.  “Stop. There are broken pieces of metal caught in the weave. Let me help you, sathan.” She let go of the wrapping and gripped her own knee as he tried to draw the splinter of her prosthetic out.  “Ir abelas. Shut your eyes, Vhenan.” he whispered. She closed her eyes. He waited another few seconds so that she wouldn’t flinch. He tugged and it slid out, a small gush of blood following. The next was not as easy, twisted and crooked in her flesh. It was large enough that he could make out the edge of one of Dagna’s runes still sparkling with lyrium. Solas wished ardently for even a trickle of mana to ease her pain but reach as he might, no magic came. “I cannot be gentle for this one,” he told her. She opened her eyes, stared down at the bent metal. “It will harm you more if I try to ease it out or unbend it, my love. I need you to be very still, but I will be swift.”

She glanced at the shard again and then at his face. “Maybe— maybe we just leave it,” she suggested. “We cannot. I know it is painful but—” “Maybe there’s not enough time left for it to matter,” she interrupted, her voice wavering. “We’ve been in in this lyrium dust or blight rot or— whatever this is for hours. Maybe I’ve done what I set out to do and that’s enough. And— and Blackwall will have mercy on me when I turn if I ask. What’s the point of making you do this if—” “You have done more than should ever have been asked of you, a hundred times over,” he said, pressing his hand to hers. He tried to ignore the bloody streak his fingers left behind. “But you are not blighted.” “You don’t know that.” “I do. The taint begins having effects within moments and it has been much longer than that.” “But we’re covered in that infected dust that Elgar’nan blew everywhere.” “Yes, and we also spent months shattering red lyrium and hiking through Emprise du Lion and came out unscathed. Along with many, many others. Including, I assume by the silence and Thom’s ability to sleep here, several of the people who fought with us today. Otherwise we would have been swarmed by darkspawn hours ago.” “There were— there were hundreds, Solas. They followed Elgar’nan when he fled. I think he’s keeping them close to—” “Do you hear him? Elgar’nan?” “No,” she said, confused. “Then there is no taint in your blood. He would whisper with even the smallest infection. We will clean this dirt from our skins as soon as we can walk to water but I must remove the shard and bind your arm. Ir abelas. I wish I could ease the pain. But I will not leave it. I cannot let you go, Vhenan, not now.” He yanked the shard straight out of her arm, before she realized what he was doing. The metal tore her skin where it had caught but it was swift enough that she couldn’t flinch and make the damage worse. She screamed, and her hand rose to push him away. Rainier was there before she could, he caught her arm and held her tightly still.

“It’s done, Inquisitor, it’s done, worst is past,” he said. “Do it Solas. She doesn’t mean to hit, it’s just the pain.” Solas quickly finished unwrapping her arm. The lacerations were clean, much to his relief. The wrapping had kept the dust from her skin. He rebandaged her arm tightly. “Just another minute,” Rainier was saying, “and then maybe we can find some twigs or arrows or banner poles and start a little fire. Brew some of the elfroot into a tea and we all have a rest when some of the pain is gone.”  Solas appreciated the soothing prattle. Rainier kept the Inquisitor from thrashing as Solas finished and he wondered how many recruits Thom had had to ease in a sickroom or on battlefields just like this. “There now, it’s passed. It’s done.” Rainier patted her unwounded arm as he let her go. “Take a few breaths. Sit with Solas. I’ll make a few forays.” “I can go,” she stammered. “No now, not for a minute. And Solas has lost too much blood. I’m just going to see if I can find some wood. Maybe a little water. See if anyone’s come back.” “But—” “I won’t roam far, Inquisitor. I’m as beat as you. None of us are as young as we once were.” He hesitated, glanced at Solas. “Well,” he amended, “Maybe not none of us, but mostly.” He heaved himself up with a groan. The Inquisitor looked as if she would follow, though she was ashen and curled into herself with pain.

“Tel’vara, Vhenan,” Solas said softly. “It is so cold.” That same look of horror that had crossed her face in battle flickered now. “You need fire and something to wrap yourself in. Blackwall too, probably. I’ll—” He held out his arm to her. “I need you. If you’re willing.” She shifted him carefully, sliding herself between the chilled boulder and his back, cradling him as best she was able without causing pain. She was warm and her breathing was an unending ocean wave that lifted and lowered him. He shut his eyes. “Tell me a story, Solas,” she said after a few minutes. “My mind needs an escape. Sathan, just one.” “Certainly,” he said with a faint smile. “What would you hear? About the bones of this land? Or the grand market that once stood here, a thousand years before your clan began?” “No.” He felt her breath hitch beneath his head. “That is the past. It has its place and it is safe. I need to hear what happens next, emma lath. Rook has defeated Ghilan’nain— she sucked something into that dagger. I saw it. Something of your invention?” “In a manner of speaking.” “And she will do the same with Elgar’nan?” “We can only hope.” “Then—” there was that jagged hitch in her breath again. “If she does, what happens then? Tell me a story of this world you’ve been trying to make, Solas. You’ve said this world would end. I will not be there to see it, what harm can there be in telling me of it?”

He glanced up at her. She was staring out at the dimming horizon, watching the sun slip away, the light caught and sparkled in an errant tear. He reached up and grazed her cheek until she looked down at him. “You will be there,” he said. “This—” he waved his other hand at the blighted landscape around them. “This is what I most feared when we spoke last. It is here. And it is dire. Yet we are both still breathing. Ghilan’nain is contained and Elgar’nan is weakened and we will both be here when it is done. You will see it, my love. Though I do not object to speaking of it.” She nodded. “Go on then. What happens after Rook defeats him?” He smiled up at her. “Then you and I will return to Arlathan. And we will dissolve the Veil. It will be… as sudden as the late spring thaw.” “Are there— are there more Evanuris? Will it be the same as it is now?” “No, Vhenan. They are all that remain. It will be much gentler. I cannot— I cannot promise that it will be painless. All transitions are unpredictable. But it is necessary.” “Why? Can’t we find another method that—” “Because the Veil is crumbling. It has been since it was created. It will collapse even should I do nothing. But that would cause far more pain. So we will melt it away and hope that when it falls, it will not create a panic. It is not the process of removing it that causes the harm, but reactions to it.” “How do you hope it will go, fanor? Tell me the best ending.”

He twined his hand with hers where it lay upon his chest. “The division between the waking world and the Fade will vanish— there will not be a distinction any longer.” “Won’t that— won’t that hurt spirits? To be so much in contact with us? Cole said when he came here, he was confused and his anger made him forget his purpose and it— it hurt him.” “That was because of the way he arrived here. It was difficult for him to push through. Without the Veil, spirits can move freely. There is no control. No summoning. No banishment. No templars. No mages. Just— people. Without the Veil we cannot harm them, Vhenan. We are them.” “I don’t— I don’t understand,” she admitted. He smiled up at her, mostly to break the distress that seemed to be gathering in her face. “I told you Brother Genitivi was not an expert on spirits, Vhenan, but you would insist on reading it. It was not worth the coin you must have paid to the book keeper to take it.” Her expression shifted for an instant into a faint smile. “Do not mock, my love. That book keeper was a better haggler than Xenon.” He laughed and kissed her hand.

“I do not understand how we can be spirits, Solas. We have form and more than one emotion. We are not determined by another’s expectations.” “That— is an argument for another day,” he said. “When we are not wounded and exhausted. But I assure you, we have just clothed ourselves in fancier garb. It doesn’t change our nature.” He considered how to explain. “Do you remember the Vir Dirthara? How it was sundered?” “Of course.” “Before the Veil, spirits chose their form. Some, like Wisdom, chose to remain… singular. True to their purpose. Others focused their will and took physical form. Complexity. Permanence. We chose that permanence. To learn. To advance. To experience. As— as I enjoy exploring the Fade to find old memories now, some chose to explore the physical realm for similar reasons. The longer a spirit remained in physical form, the more distant its original purpose could become. The Evanuris remained in physical form for millennia. Became corrupted. Perhaps what the Andrastians would call a demon in this era. Most spirits returned their form after a few centuries, entering uthenera to restore themselves. Become— simple again. They forgot their griefs and their joys to find their purpose and experience it all for the first time again if they chose. Much as you did for Hakkon. When I created the Veil, it was to prevent what is happening now. A terrible weapon being loosed upon the world. I did not foresee that it would destroy the process of restoring ourselves. When the Veil was created, the entire world was sundered as the Vir Dirthara was. Suddenly and terribly. For those caught on the Fade side of the Veil, it meant they could never experience the physical realm. The opportunity to learn and grow forever cut off, unless they could find someone capable of drawing them through with magic. By bargaining and coercing to get that taste of the waking world. And even then, they could not take the forms they chose, but inhabited someone else’s. Twisted themselves and their hosts more often than not. And on this side of the Veil— you and I and every creature of the waking world, we are trapped. We can never return to our original purpose or throw off the complications of this world. We can never restore ourselves. When the weight of grief and anger and exhaustion become too great, instead of uthenera, we sicken and expire. And everything repeats and repeats, for how could it do otherwise? But when the Veil is gone, my love, we will have that ability to return. When we choose. How we choose. We can exist free of the weight of our past existences and start our journey anew.”

“I will forget you?” she cried. He smiled. “Not until you are utterly tired of me. And then, in perhaps several centuries, we will decide we ought to discover each other all over again.” He repeated the kiss to her palm. “Again and again, in as many iterations with as many faces and stories as pleases us. But that is a long way away.” “Is it? Or will you choose to do this— restoration as soon as the Veil falls?” He shook his head. “There are so many wonders yet to see. To watch you discover. And friends I have dearly missed, friends I very much wish you to know. Work to accomplish. Gentler work, yes, but no less important. We have such joy yet to come, Vhenan, and I have not tired of it. And this—” He gently traced the trail of the anchor that was visible in her skin with his fingertips, “Will halt its terrible spread, will stop stealing your breaths, your seconds from you. From us.” He pushed himself slowly up, needing to be closer. She helped him.  “What if I’m not a spirit? Maybe— maybe you were right all those years ago,” she said. “Maybe I’m not like you. If I was born into the waking world maybe there is no spirit in me.” “No. I was wrong. I wanted so badly to believe that was true. What I did had already killed thousands. I watched spirits I once knew sicken and die for a century after I created the Veil. Surely, surely I couldn’t also have condemned any new child born in the waking world. Surely they must be— different, somehow. A husk. A pantomime of what the birth of a new spirit would be in the Fade. What a fool I was. Am. As if a child were not simply the physical form of a new purpose, a new intention, just as a spirit would be. You are just the same, you will see.” “But if I am not, or if I am frightened of uthenera, of forgetting, is there any place for people like me in this new world of yours?” “You are asking if I would abandon you because I am disappointed,” he realized. “There is nothing you have done or been that has disappointed. If the end of the Veil changes nothing for you, if you are something different from myself or if I cannot prevent the anchor from claiming you or if you are not ready for uthenera in a millennium, two, ever, I will love you. I meant what I said. We will not part until you tire of me. Perhaps that is today. A week. When the Veil falls. Longer. I hope that it is longer. Regardless, I will stay with you as long as you permit and when you have exhausted whatever affection remains for me, I will return to the Fade still loving you. Then, the next time that we meet, there will be no Veil. No Corypheus or Evanuris or— or lies. And it won’t cause you sorrow when I love you again.”

She slid her fingers over the crown of his head, let them drift to his cheek. “You cannot wait for reincarnation or restoration or uthenara to be happy, Solas,” she said softly. “Not after all this time. If— If it will ease your heart to return to the Fade, to be free of this form and its memories, then do not forestall it for my sake, emma lath.” Her expression was misery, even as she offered what she thought was kindness. He desperately wanted to ease her sorrow. “Ah,” he said with a small laugh, “It was the chase you loved. After all these years you finally catch me and immediately grow bored of me. You are so fickle Vhenan.” “No, never!” she cried, then realized the tease and flushed. Her sad expression faded and Solas felt a surge of joy at the flicker of a smile. “I meant that I only want you to be free of all this— weight and sorrow.” “I know what you meant. This road is almost at an end. It did not lead where I most feared, but beyond it. Through it. I know that the end of the Veil cannot erase the damage it has caused. But it will cause no further ruin. Whatever sorrow remains has been earned—” “No, Solas, it has been eight ages and—” “Whatever sorrow remains does not mean there can never be joy as well. I am not ready to enter uthenara. Nor to forget you, not even in order to begin with you again.” It seemed to calm her, at least a little. She stared at the lyrium dust beyond them which had begun to glow in the twilight. He could see Rainier slowly gathering broken arrows and splinters of wood several meters from them. A few waterskins hung from his belt and Solas hoped he had not had to rifle through the corpses of his colleagues to find them. The Inquisitor noticed Rainier too.

“And the Blight?” she asked. “What happens?” He shook his head. “I am uncertain. It is why the Veil was my only option in the first place. I thought by keeping them sealed away it would prevent the spread, but my seals have burst one by one. I believe— I hope— that once the Veil is gone and the darkspawn are killed, their spirits will be free of the taint and they will be restored, just as we will. As the darkspawn are restored it will stop the spread. But it is not assured. What I am certain of, is that without the remaining Evanuris, there will be nothing to command the darkspawn, for a time. They will scatter, return underground perhaps. Be vulnerable. That is what the Wardens believe is it not?” “But you think the Wardens fools.” “I thought Warden Clarel’s plan foolish, yes, because she would have freed Ghilan’nain or Elgar’nan in her quest to find them. Alas, they were released anyway. I do not think the idea completely without merit, just— ill informed. But that is my miscalculation as well.”

“There will be other Corypheuses. Maybe even other Evanuris, in time,” she said. “Yes. But not in this story. They will be another’s to thwart. This story, our story, has a better end. You decreed it should, remember?” “Hmm. You have not finished the story yet.” She leaned into his shoulder. Gently, so she would not cause him pain. Featherlight, so she would not shatter either. “So the Veil will fall. And some people will return to the Fade— or go there for the first time. And some spirits will join us here in the physical. And we?”

“And we will vanish into Tirashan. Or cross the Donarks and discover what lies beyond. Or sail the Amaranthine Ocean. Find the oldest memories of the world. Delve the deepest thaigs to where new mountains are born.” He glanced sideways at her. “If— if it would please you,” he added. “I am not opposed to thoroughly ruining every dinner party Radonis throws from here on though, if that is preferable.” She laughed and shook her head. “I know you’ve said you miss court intrigue, emma lath, but I could stand to go a century or two without it.” “We could return to your clan, Vhenan,” he said quietly. “I imagine much will change and it would be— comforting for you to have a home in something familiar.” “I would like to help them understand those changes if they will allow it. But they will not be the only people who are frightened or misunderstand what is happening. I— I’m not even certain I understand it myself. Perhaps we need not vanish into Tirashan just yet. We could stay, for a little. With our friends. Do that gentler work you were speaking of. But— but I am not fond of the chase, Solas. Ar ebala ma. If it is Tirashan you long for, then that is where we will go.”  “What I long for is you. In any land, in every world. I have been well and truly caught. I will not run.” He smiled and patted his wounded thigh. “Could not, even if I wished to. I have only to complete this last task. And then, it is my turn to pursue, Vhenan. ” “I’m afraid you will find me rather dull prey, emma lath. I would not run either.” “Is that so? Then it is fortunate that it is not the chase I love either.” He ignored the flare of pain in his barely healed chest and leaned to kiss her. He had forgotten how soft she was. How warm her breath against his skin and the way her hand curled against his back every time. It overwhelmed him all over again. He tipped his forehead to hers.  “Now we are both caught,” she whispered. “There is no more chasing needed.” “That is the best ending. Though the catching part, I would not mind repeating. Forever.” She laughed. “Perhaps when we will not fluster Blackwall.” “Mm. And when we can move without injury.” “Rare days, those,” rumbled Rainier, flopping down beside them. He busied himself with the wood he’d gathered. Solas reluctantly let the Inquisitor go. “There are much gentler days ahead,” he said. “For us all.” He reached for Rainier’s pack to prepare the elfroot.

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING 13

HELLO we are back with Haymitchhh we are really happyyyyy also it's chapter 13 and we are going to District 13 lol. I feel like it's a Taylor Swift move.

MASTERLIST

*gif not mine*

13. You saved me

When you wake up you have neon lights that blind your eyes. The first thought is that you are dead. Paradise seems sort of anticlimactic, though. But then again maybe you didn’t earn your place in paradise, maybe that is another type of Other Side.

No, you can hear a noise, and all you see is a bed. Everything is white in this room, the bed, the walls, like you are in a hospital. A tiny hospital. But these are hovercraft sounds, like the one who transported you in the arena, so perhaps this is a capitol hovercraft.

A second part of the Hunger Games, for the special edition, for the Quarter Quell. That means you have to fight, but you can’t see a single thing you can use as a weapon, all there is in the room is literally a bed.

«Oh, she is awake.» A voice comes before you can see a face, but then Finnick Odair opens the door. 

You didn’t calculate the chance of Finnick Odair being there.

«What… uh?» You know it’s not very literate of you, but you are confused and as soon as you try to stand up you feel a sudden pain all over your body.

«Easy, easy.» He runs to you and he strokes your hair. You are very, very confused. But then again you are always confused when Finnick is close, you remember the parade well.

«Are we still in the Games?» You ask, and you must have your eyes wide open in a frightened expression because he sighs before he answers. 

«No Daisy, we are not. We are on a hovercraft, we saved you.» They saved us. 

They saved us.

They saved us. Or just you?

«Perla and Lora?» 

«They are okay, they were in bad shape too so now they are in their room, but they will live.»

So all the schemes were real. All the whispers you caught and the secrets were a scheme, you are not crazy.

«But Snow will kill us.» You murmur, scared. Snow is the man who killed Haymitch’s entire family and his girlfriend because he used a weapon he wasn’t supposed to find out, he is not exactly merciful.

«He is not our problem anymore, ok? We will explain everything later. Now try to sleep a little more.»

Your head is full of questions, where are you going? Is everyone okay? Where is your mom, where are the other tributes? But they all falter when you see Haymitch coming closer to you.

You really thought you would never see him again. His blue eyes are so deep, always caring, and he is taller than you remember. You suddenly want to cry.

It feels like a dream, part of you still thinks you are in the games, fighting for your life. 

«Sweetheart.» He greets you and he caresses your cheek. «You kept the promise.»  

«You are here.» You kiss him, you can’t stop kissing his face, his beard, his nose, his lips. He seems to share your opinion because he pulls you in his embrace and he tights the hug so much you gasp for air.

«You are here.» You repeat between kisses. «You saved me.»

«You pretty much saved yourself.» He points out and he kisses you once more, almost angry, all teeth and throat. Gosh you missed those lips, you missed your Haymitch. He is yours. «Or your friends did.»

«Is Effie okay?» You ask, alarmed. He just nods.

«Your Effie is okay. I will explain everything, but you have broken ribs and several issues, so you have to rest.» He takes your hand and he kisses your fingers. «You have to do as I say one more time.»

«She is not my Effie. You are my Haymitch.» You murmur but he laughs and his lips are on yours again. 

«I think me and her are both stuck on you.» He declares. You like that thought, you can smile thinking Haymitch and Effie are yours. Your loyalty is to them after all. Not the revolution, but the people you love.

«I missed you so much.» You cry, your eyes watering and your lips are trembling and he can’t help but kiss you again and again and again. This time these are happy tears, though.

«You have been so brave. So good.» He is not used to these kinds of words, you know, at least when you are not in the bed and he thinks it doesn’t count if you whisper, so you meet his eyes in a thankful gaze. In front of other people, nonetheless. You really have been on the verge of dying for him to be so careful and tender.

«You’ll stay with me?» You ask, sounding desperate, you recognize it in your voice, but you can’t get to be alone right now. He nods and caresses your hair.

«Until you fall asleep.» He promises.

You smile and finally close your eyes, Haymitch is the last person you see.  

The hovercraft is still flying when you open your eyes and you hear Finnick and Haymitch voices from the other room. You still can’t believe you survived the Hunger Games, you were so sure to die on that island. And you almost did.

Someone died. Clark died. You hated his guts, but you actually didn’t want him to die. That made you a murderer, again. And he was from home.

You try to move, but you have an ache in every bone of your body. 

«No, no, don’t move sweetheart.» Haymitch runs to you to stop you and he takes your hand. It’s a vile thought, but you can get used to this worried look on his face. He is so worried for you, you are important to him.

«I wanted to get up.» You ask, not really because you want to but because you crave that look on his face again. And he looks so devoted.

«Don’t even think about it.» He strokes your hair and you can’t take it anymore, you have to taste him so you kiss him fiercely. He tastes like wood and liquor. Dear heavens, you missed his liquor too. You want him on top of you, truth to be told you want him naked on top of you, but you are suddenly very aware of the presence of Finnick Odair in the room, even if the poor boy pretends not to see.

He seems a little dizzy when you stop. «Holy fuck, I will miss you so much.»

That alarms you and you take his hand immediately. «You’re going away?»

«I have to tell you something.» He climbs on the bed, close to you. «When Katniss was in District One for the Victory tour, President Snow bombed District Twelve.»

Your heart sinks. What does it mean “Bombed District Twelve”? One thought immediately pops in your mind. «Is Holly okay?»

«Holly is okay, but… The Undersees, your friend Madge, they are dead. And most of the kids in school.» 

You gasp. You want to throw up. They are all dead? You won’t see them again. The kids you babysit. The kids your mother helped. 

«The Undersees, Dianna? Dianna Undersee?» You ask, and he shakes his head.

«She is dead, Sweetheart. I am sorry, I know you cared for her.»

The last image of Dianna that you have is from years ago. Blonde hair on a sweet face, a bright smile, deep green eyes. She spent all her life in that house. You try to think of good things about her: she loved flowers. She could sing a lot of songs with her beautiful voice. She always talked about being a mother, and she wanted to call her daughter Lucy. She was twenty four, like you, and she never got married. And now she is dead.

You change your mind, thinking about Dianna is not the best move if you don’t want to burst into tears and now you most definitely don’t.

«Then where are we going?»

«Well… the revolution has begun, and we can do that thanks to District 13. We are going to District 13.»

You look at him, puzzled. «District 13 doesn’t exist anymore.» You argue.

You remember that story like every other district kid. After the rebellion, the President - that wasn’t Snow at the time - decided to bomb District 13, the first instigator of the revolt. Thirteen was burned to the ground, all the people that lived there were dead. And it was also a useful reminder: if you will do another revolution we will burn you to the ground.

Apparently, Katniss’s actions led to that. Not that you could blame the poor kid, she has been dragged into this.

«Well, it exists. Underground, in tunnels. We will go there, you will be saved. Your mother is already there.» 

You really want to see Holly, and you are glad she is saved. You hug him tight, because you know he is the reason you survived. 

«And you won’t?» You want to know. He said he was going away, maybe he needs to be somewhere for the revolution. You didn’t get much of this revolution, but you are sure there is plenty of time now for them to explain.

«I have to… well they don’t like alcohol there.» You wrinkle your nose, and he just nods. «I know. I will stay in a room until alcohol is out of my system and my addiction is under control.» You know nothing about medicine, but this is madness. This is not how you treat an addiction. 

«Can I visit?» You ask him and you kiss him so fiercely that Finnick goes into another room. Or maybe he has to do something there. Definitely the better option.

But you have to kiss him. You won’t see him for days.

«I don’t know, I don’t think so. It won’t be a great view.»

«You are always a great view.» You flirt, he snorts but he kisses your cheek. You can’t even flirt properly, but it seems like the most normal thing to do. You crave normality right now. And you want Effie, you want her to console you.

«Try not to worry about me, okay? You survived. Try to adjust.» 

This is your time to nod. You can’t wait to meet again with Effie and Holly. And you want to say a proper goodbye to Dianna and Madge. Dear heavens, Madge. She was so nice, always so gentle. 

«But I’m here for you. I can do both, worry for you and adjust.» You try to make it sound like it’s a joke, but it’s exactly what you will do. 

«What about we see how it goes? You need to stay in the hospital for a bit, so it’s premature to get worried.» 

You bury your face in his neck. «But I want to stay with you.» You whine, like a kid. But you think this has been a traumatic experience and if you want to whine and pester you will whine and pester.

«Spoiled.» He accuses me, but he is joking. 

«Well you spoil me, so…» 

«So I might as well just shut up, you say.» 

He kisses you again, and again and again. If this is his idea of shutting you up, you are fine as hell with that.

You are shaken with a thought. «Effie is there? In District thirteen? And Portia? Cinna? The preparation team?»

You don’t know if the preparation team could be responsible for you, but Portia most definitely is. You and her shared a lot of conversations, and by the way she made you dress, in retrospect she was part of that.

His face goes blank. It’s not a good sign. «Effie is safe.» He begins, but he already told you that. «And we are not in contact with the preparation team. As for Portia and Cinna, Capitol has them.»

Now you most definitely want to get up. They have to do something! They have to save them! Poor Portia. She has been nothing but kind to you. He senses that, because he hugs you - more to take you down than to embrace you, you suspect.

«A team is going to rescue them. Do you trust me? You trust me?» 

You nod, shaken by the tears now. «Of course…»

«They are going to be okay. Without Cinna, the revolution wouldn’t have been possible. We owe him that. And we are not going to let Portia suffer.» 

«Can I help somehow?» You ask again, your voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.

«Just stay here and try to get better.» 

You just have to wait. There is nothing you can do, you can’t get up because you need a hospital and all the people in the hovercraft are, well, busy in the hovercraft. Haymitch stays with you for a while, but has work to do and as much as you don’t like it, you are not his job anymore.

You try to sleep again when Finnick sits on the bed.

«Ehi. How are you doing?» He seems genuine. He actually looks like he is a nice guy, even if he is handsome and you still feel a little embarrassed.

«A little confused.» You speak truly to him, there’s no point in hiding anymore. You are slowly realising there is not a point in acting anymore. You are not Princess Daisy anymore, there is not an audience… you are just Daisy.

«I can understand.» He places a hand in yours. 

«How are you feeling? Are you happy for Perla?» You have no idea if the other District Four tribute is alive or not, but he managed to save at least one. «She is awesome.»

«I am happy for Perla, yes. She is.» He smiles but the smile doesn’t reach his green eyes. There is something that buggers him.

«Why are you sad?» You ask, maybe you shouldn’t but he saved your life with that hovercraft, so if you can help you will do that.

«I am not sad, I’m…» He looks like he doesn’t know how to express what he is feeling. 

«...Confused?»

You laugh with him, you are both disoriented. And you suspect he is worried about something, but you are not friends so you don’t want to trespass. And yet, you sense you two can become friends, you are the same age after all. 

«My girlfriend, Annie.» He begins, «She has been taken by the Capitol as well. Peeta too, and another victor, Johanna Mason.»

Haymitch didn’t tell you anything about that, probably because he didn’t want you to get more worried than you already are. Your heart sinks for Peeta, you know the little guy since he was a kid- shit, he is still a kid, he is only seventeen. And you remember Annie Cresta, the sweet girl who managed without killing anyone, and Johanna Mason, a genius victor who played dumb until she could and then showed her true colours killing the remaining tributes.

«I’m so sorry, Finnick, really-»

He stops you. You get that if he begins to think about it he won’t be useful, and he has to be useful right now. «They are going to save them.» He says like it's a matter of fact.

«Of course.»

«He was worried sick for you, you know?» He lifts his head towards Haymitch, who is working with a… you don’t know what he is doing, something with a map. He is not listening, and that’s enough. «They, well, I am not supposed to tell you that, but they weren’t keen on rescuing the tributes this year. Katniss was the priority.»

Objectively you understand, Katniss is the face of the revolution and if she dies the revolution dies with her. Still, fuck them.

«Well, I care about Katniss… so, it’s okay?» You make a face. This is not okay. And by how he looks at you, it’s written all over your face. It is not that you don’t care about her, that was the truth, and you care for Peeta too, but it’s a little of a contradiction to say you are against the Hunger Games and then proceed not to save the tributes in the Hunger Games.

«We all objected, we cared about our tributes and we wanted to save everyone in the group, but then Haymitch said he wasn’t participating in the revolution if they weren’t going to rescue you. And without Haymitch there is not a mockingjay, Katniss is loyal to him.»

So he cares about you. Well, you figured he cares about you as a tribute and as a, you don’t know, something like a friend, maybe a little less. But to put all in danger because of you, that requires a feeling. And you don’t want to use big words, but you are grateful. And you hope a little more.

«I know he, I know he saved me. I will be forever grat-» You try to finish, but he shakes his head.

«That’s not why I told you. I know he will never say that he did it for you, and you deserve to know it.» 

«Thank you.» You squeeze his hand. «So are all the victors big softies?» You joke, then. 

«Only the good looking ones.» He answers, and you roll your eyes.

«You are such a peacock.» You murmur, shaking your head. «See, I am beautiful but I don’t show off!»

«Yeah you are the image of humbleness.» He comments and you, a twenty four years old woman who dreamed of being a teacher, sticks your tongue out and makes a face. Because you are childish like that. «Can I leave you alone or will you do something stupid? He can’t get that worried, he is old.» 

You make a face. «He is not that old.»

«Debatable.»

«Yes, Odair, you can leave me alone. Also… please do it.» He laughs, and you are happy you managed to make him laugh a little.

«Your wish is my command, pretty lady.» He winks at you (he has been able not to flirt in an entire conversation, you are proud of him) and you are alone again, with only your thoughts.

[nerdieforpedro]

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Chapter Three: Meeting the Family

Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter Series/ AO3 Link

Word Count: approx 5.2k

Summary: Maya is awoken to Dieter having a vivd dream that benefits both of them. They go off to the separate events, Maya to the start of wedding stuff and Dieter to his golf press appearance. Maya is not enjoying herself at all and Dieter continues his beef with Oscar Issac. Daisy comes through for the win.

Warnings: self-doubt, sexy clouds, Dieter is a grabby menace, grinding, biting, sucking, vivid dreams, mutual masturbation, more bad nicknames, more Oscar Issac slander, body worship, one rouge mushroom, Dieter's MOUTH

Notes: Dieter has been chillin’ in my brain for the last few weeks. After posting chapter two, I started writing chapter 3 and here is where we are. I’m going for a rom-com vibe because Pedro hasn’t been in any and that saddens me greatly. He’d be so good in one! 😫 I’m aware that Pedro and Oscar are best buddies in real-life, I just wanted to add to the comedy for Dieter having a beef another actor and since he got mad about Star Wars last time, it was perfect.

Groggy, Maya opened her eyes, things were blurry and she couldn’t make anything out. She felt warm, maybe even a little hot. Not sure why, it was comfortable so she dozed back to sleep. An hour later, she awoke again, feeling like she had a new lease on life. She didn’t remember any of her dreams, never did, but felt a sense of unexplained joy. When she moved, things became more apparent.

She’s chest to chest with Dieter, laying on top of him. One leg is draped over his hips and her hand is cradling the back of his head. Her face on his chest and hears his heartbeat, surprisingly slow to her. He’s really sleeping comfortably with her weight on him like this. More shocking than that is she didn’t feel like moving. His body was sturdy, not something she imagined when thinking of Dieter. Lips parted slightly as his chest rises and falls, just listening to him soothes her nerves. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I mean I didn’t mean to be in his bed the first night here, but like this isn’t horrible. I wonder if he’d be startled if he woke up right now, wait…what time is it?

Maya recalled what Bravo’s assistant had mentioned yesterday, that he had somewhere to be at noon. Some press thing maybe, but whatever it was, she needed to know the time now. She didn’t hear anyone else in the villa that she could tell so maybe it wasn’t quite time yet. No alarm was going off so it should at least be before eleven. Now the next question, how should she wake him up? Just push his head, pinch him, move her leg, poke him… something may already be poking. No that’s just morning wood, it doesn’t mean what you think it means. Maya took her hand off Dieter’s head and pushed her torso up off of his chest, hearing him groan as she rolled on her back, swinging her leg quickly and brushing his erection.

A soft “Fuck baby,” was heard at the loss of the softness. Dieter was dreaming he was inside a cloud, laying on a bean bag with Kit Kat on top of him. She just was making fun of how goofy his face was with his wide cheerful smile, Just enjoying the sound of her voice as she talked and the pressure from her body, but then she floated away, saying she had to go. He reached for her and was able to wrap his arms around her, pressing his face between her cushiony bosoms instead of her stomach this time. “Shit you can’t get away. This is the best feeling, You can’t go Maya, you’re my Kit Kat dammit.” He heard loud drums suddenly, they scared him so he pressed his face deeper, turning his head side to side, the friction from his beard making his face warm. His lips found what he thought was her breastbone as he kept pressing his nose deeper, tipping his chin up, he extended his tongue and licked, tasting a mix of skin, sweat. He mumbled something into her chest and started to alternate between sucking and nibbling. The tempo of the drums changed from sounding like timpani (large orchestra drum) to snare drums that were uneven. They complemented the low sighs he heard, encouraging him to only suck harder and branch out toward her breasts. Once he did, the sighs transformed into moans, the back of his head had a familiar pressure on it from four to five different small points and his back was being raked by something sharp. It didn’t matter, all of it was euphoric, Dieter had never had a dream like this.

“Sweet Lips…sta- shit that feels good…” Her moans continued, she wrapped her arms around his head, to keep his head at her breasts. Maya’s thighs pressed together, she expected to be able to get out the bed but now she was participating in whatever dream Dieter seemed to be having. A dream about her. She was pleasantly surprised, but worried, she still didn’t know what time it was and didn’t want the assistant or anyone else walking in and seeing them like this. Bravo had pulled up her shirt and bra to access her breasts, it was why she thought he was awake, but despite her increasing moans and calling his name, he didn’t respond, just kept sucking and teasing her. She knew whenever she did get up, she’d need to wash her panties and shorts as they were soaked. His hardness kept grazing her knee and thigh, moist with what was likely his own precum. “Fuck, it’s just there…Dieter it’s not fair…Mmm…” He grazed her nipple with his teeth and she yelped, digging her fingers into his scalp before grabbing the base of his neck. Using her thighs, she was able to provide some friction to his cock as he kneaded and suckled on her breasts.

While Dieter was trapped within the warmth of his Kit Kat cloud, he felt the pressure of a firm water mattress around his cock. The fabric of his pants were a hindrance in identifying the true nature of the presence he felt providing his throbbing member some relief. His hips started to jerk as he grew closer to his release, moving faster the more he heard cursing along with his name. He managed to work both nipples into his mouth as he climaxed into his pants and onto the warm water bed. Taking his head from the breasts he was so fond off, his world view began to change

He was on a mattress, but there were no water or clouds, instead there were pillows, sheets and Maya. Her shirt was raised along with her bra and her breasts were slightly swollen and in his hands as he still massaged them gently. His face cooled from the departure as he looked up at a wondrous sight, Maya panting looking down at him, her eyes fluttering trying to focus but unable to. Her hand was on his neck. He looked down and his pants were wet with not only his spend, but some of hers that had leaked from her shorts. Dieter was conflicted, he was coming down from an excellent sex dream induced high that he had acted out with the person he had been dreaming about. The question was, is she okay with what he did? He wasn’t sure if the effects of Molly had worn off yet and she was perhaps more sensitive and hadn’t been alright at all with him touching her. “Maya, are you alright? I was having an intense dream and it looks like I-”

“Dee, you’re not fair at all. How the hell are you going to be so good at that while asleep?! It’s not right, I’ve never been happier about having sore breasts.” Maya sighed and cupped his cheek. She giggled and he exhaled, that’s one elephant out of the room, the second would be equally as worrisome. “I felt more sensitive. Is that because of the juice I drank last night? What was in there?” Dieter closed his eyes and placed a hand on her hip, pulling her shirt down. Her breasts were distracting and this needed to be said with the proper attention, though he was surprised that she remembered feeling off and drinking the juice, did she remember what she told him last night?

“Well that juice was supposed to be for my two day golf press tour. I show up, take pictures and do some autographs. It’s boring but pays well. I drink my juice spiked with some Molly to put me in a better mood for it.” He explained, his fingers tapping to the drums he had heard in his dream. 

“Ah that explains it. I felt real giggly and very bendy? Flexible? No.” She paused, trying to find the right word to describe it. She had sensed something was off, but didn’t mind it. She recalled drinking a lot of water as well too. “Open! That’s the right word! Open to any and everything. It’s a fun feeling like someone took out all my worries, but scary now that I think about it. Anyway I should have asked what was in your fridge given you told me that it was the most fun you’d had just by drinking.” Her laugh told Dieter that maybe things were alright for now, he didn’t need to ask about what she mentioned in the kitchen. Her soft lips kissed his head as she rolled away from him, popping up out of the bed. Scanning the room, Maya didn’t see a clock at the bedside or on the wall. She also didn’t see her phone either. It turned out she was in her room instead of Dieter’s so it should be in here. Maybe she left it downstairs after setting the alarm. 

Dieter got up on all fours and crawled to the edge of the bed, “Looking for something?” He wiggles his butt as Maya turns and she giggled, using a finger to poke his forehead. 

“I’m looking for my phone, a clock or any indication of time. You have to be showered and dressed by noon and I should be getting to the introductory brunch with everyone.” Her hand went to his curls, using her nails to run along his scalp and she was sure he purred. Dieter lowered his head to allow her to continue, a low hum mixed in with the purrs. “Enjoy that my fluffy boy? I can massage it more later tonight.” She paused, “Oh! Sugar Li-“

“Fluffy boy or Dieter is perfect Maya.” He ran his palm along the forearm of her hand that was atop his head, he looked up and smirked, “That’s a promise Kit Kat. I’ll hold you to it. Ask me if I enjoy it again. Say my name this time.” He moved closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips, his cheek on her stomach, listening as it churned with hunger. He gave it a swift peck and nuzzled into her belly further.

This time, she used both hands to graze the top of his head, feeling his soft curls and spotting flashes of gray within the chocolate brown. She looked down, resisting the urge to pull him up and take his lips, he appeared content to hold her. Maya took a quiet rasp, closing her eyes as she explored his crown, “Do you enjoy my fingers grazing your scalp Dieter?”

“Abso-fuckin’…Yes. Yes.” Bravo panted, his hand trailed from her lower back to her round ass, filling his hand and started to knead it as he had her breasts. “Maya, what time do you absolutely need to be at that family brunch thing?” His face emerged out of her belly and peered up at her, his eyes pleading. If she came with him, he might not need the orange juice for the press interactions, though he may inspire other questions that had nothing to do with his projects. She cupped his face and opened her eyes, Maya felt she could be too easily swayed by his eyes so she focused on his lips and how pink they were. Also a bad move. 

“Need to be there by one. You can stop by after your press thing. After brunch, there’s going to just going to be some family gathering stuff and then I plan to make it an early dinner so I can bail. Though I’ll need to bring the bridesmaid dress because my mother and the bride’s mother will want to see all of us in them.” A long sigh followed. He could tell she wasn't looking forward to this at all, was it the dress itself, the people, the comparison with the other bridesmaids, both mothers? He’ll see how long he’d need to be at the golf event and as soon as he can, he’s getting out of there to come get Maya out of there. “You need to get ready though, then I can get ready.” An empty chuckle left her lips as she released his head and Dieter followed suit and let her go. He rolled to his side of the bed and retrieved his phone. It was only half after ten. He let her know and went downstairs to heat up the pizza and eat it, Maya found her phone on the kitchen island, it was at five percent so she plugged it in when she went up to her room briefly. 

Sitting and eating pizza together, they laughed and Dieter pouted when she brought up Oscar Issac again. He threw a mushroom at her, hitting her arm. She picked it off and ate it as they played around and ate. Finally when they finished, they went to their respective rooms and showered. Dieter put on a button down short sleeve shirt that was split down the middle - one half had zebra print and the other half had cheetah print on it. Daisy, who had been MIA the entire night nipped at Dieter’s ankles before he slipped on his gray boxer briefs, the elastic settling just under his round pouch of a belly and sitting on his hips. He picked up the goat and kissed her forehead. “You traitor. You left me last night. Still love you though.” The small goat baahed at him and licked his chin, its rough tongue made him laugh. He needed to pick out pants though, he didn’t really care so he pulled out a black pair when he heard a soft knock at his door. “Come in, you don’t need to knock Kit Kat. It’s only us two here and Daisy.”

Retrieving his black slacks, he set Daisy on the bed and the pants as well before sitting on the bed and putting on some white socks and his pants. He had the pants around his knees when he turned to see Maya who stood in the doorway looking away shyly. A grin crossed his face and her spun around and pulled the back of his shirt up, wiggling his ass at her. He heard her laugh, “Better than Oscar’s right?” She shook her head and he pulled up his pants and buttoned them, bitting his lips in frustration.

“Objectively I can’t lie to you Sugar Lips.” Maya chuckled, walking to sit on the bed and pet Daisy. She wore a dress that had a deep V in front, the base was white and it had lines of gold, green, brown ovals and various splashes of orange. It was nearly to the floor so only her feet poked out when she walked. Her hair was pinned up in a neat bun and she wore gold earrings. It was the fuchsia color on her lips that drew the most attention, it made her lips appear fuller then they already were. “But you’ve got other things Oscar doesn’t so don’t fret so much and I’ll try not to tease you about it.”

Dieter plopped down next to her as Daisy hopped to the floor, sauntering around. “What other things huh? And with that lipstick, I should call you Sugar Lips.” He laid his hand over hers and he remembered, “I don’t have your number Maya. I can’t send you pictures of Daisy or eggplant emojis.” 

“You’re impossible. It can’t just be texts and memes? Eggplants, really?” 

“Yeah and maybe some of the things that might be better than that man. Stupid bubble butt.” He stood to retrieve his phone and sat back down, unlocked it and handed it to Maya. “Put your number in and save yourself as…” He thought for a moment. 

“Mi Reina (My queen).” 

“Oh? What does that mean?” She did as he asked and entered her number and saved it.

Bravo laid his head on her shoulder and spoke into her ear, “I’ll tell you tonight while you’re rubbing my head again and I’m in your lap.” He licked her earlobe and scooped up Daisy who had returned, making his way to the door. One hand sent her a text to ensure she has his number too. “Let me know what you save me as Kit Kat. We should head downstairs. It’s eleven thirty.” The grin never left his face and he felt confident he had enticed her enough. Maya stopped on the way down to grab her phone, purse, brown sandals and a garment bag before meeting Dieter downstairs on the living room couch. Draping the bag over the back of the couch she sat next to Dieter and cut her eyes at him.

“Despite you being impossible at times,” Her hand touched her cool earlobe that previously had his tongue on it, “it’s also one of the charms you possess, Dieter.”

“I have charms now? Not just impossible?”

“You know you do. That mouth of yours is- ” Dieter places one hand at the side of her thighs and parted his lips after licking them. 

“My mouth is what, Maya?” He taunts, he leans like he’s going to kiss her but stops. “I can’t mess up your lipstick of course. Tell me what it does for you bebita (baby girl).” Lips graze her neck and his hands move up to her thighs, his tongue trails down to just above her breasts. Warm breath against her skin, her hands snaked to hold his soft sides. “Let me hear what I heard this morning. I’ll be thinking about it while answering those asinine questions. Por favor (please).” His chin touched her breast and he groaned, hearing Maya trying to stifle her moans only had him press his fingers into her thighs more. Dieter used his teeth to nibble gently on her breast which made her finally give him what he wanted, a deep bellow of pleasure. 

“Your mouth is dangerous, shit Dieter. Please, it’s almost time-” One hand was moving up to his head but she stopped herself and just held the back of his neck. She couldn’t pull him away, her back was curving into his face.

“Just a little longer cariño (dear).” His teeth started on her other breasts softly nibbling before a ‘swip’ was heard. Dieter stopped and peered over the back of the couch. Daisy had tugged on Maya’s garment bag and pulled it to the floor. “Daisy, you really are a traitor.” he reluctantly stood up and picked up the garment bag, draping it back over the couch as Maya straightened her dress back out.

“Daisy’s helping both of us out. That should be saved for when we’re alone.” Zack and two drivers were making their way in the villa. Dieter hadn’t heard them come in at all. The click of his tongue told the assistant that he likely had interrupted something but there was a schedule to keep. 

“Um, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but we should leave. Good morning Ms. Maya.” He smiled brightly. Dieter sighed and gave Kit Kat a peck on the cheek, she took his hand and whispered to him,

“I think I’m going to move up the time table on fucking you Sugar Lips.” Bravo’s eyes widened, she remembered saying that? Maya’s other hand gave his ass a solid squeeze. “For the record, I like your ass better than Oscar’s.” With that, she walked out with one of the drivers who carried her purse and garment bag as she hopped in the car and departed. Zack gave his boss a few minutes, thankfully he had built in time just in case the award winner wasn’t ready, but he ended up clearing his throat to bring Dieter back to reality. He made sure to grab his orange juice on the way out. The star followed his assistant and sat in the back of the car with Daisy, uncomfortably hard and looking out the window thinking of a way to bail on this event and drop by that brunch.

Maya wasn’t fairing much better, shifting around in the back of the car as the villa disappeared behind her. Her hands ran along the garment bag and then her thighs where Dieter’s hands had been. “Smooth bastard. I’ll need to see if they have a CVS or Walgreens here for some condoms. I can’t get it out of my head from this morning. I won’t tease him as much when I get back.” A soft smile graced her lips as she watched the trees slowly change into buildings, getting closer to the hotel. The Hilton was a nice hotel yes, but she was only looking forward to seeing her mother, father and brothers. Both sides of the now joining family proved to be insufferable at the engagement and bridal shower. It’s why she skipped the bachelorette party, a fact that the bride’s mother never failed to mention. 

Arriving at the hotel in a black audi did give her an air of satisfaction as some of the family members watched her walk in, her white dress with its pattern flowing behind her in the warm sun. Maya made her way to the main room where she knew brunch was in progress and spotted her mother, making a bee line for the short woman in her four inch heels, gray dress and gold bangles and rings. She wore them due to the residual effects of her rheumatoid arthritis but moved like a woman thirty years her junior.

“Hey Sweetie! You made it! I love the lipstick. I wasn’t sure about the dress but it suits you. You look like you’re floating.” They embraced and shared a hug, rocking side to side before they parted, holding each other’s hands. 

“Hey ma, you look beautiful. There still some food around?” Maya asked and her mother shook her head. ‘This child’ she likely thought, but she did notice a small red mark at the top one of her breasts.

“I think someone may have eaten you. You have any concealer Maya? If not, I can grab you some before they come over.” She dropped her hands and walked over to a chair where her purse was a few feet away. Removing a sponge and some liquid makeup, swished her hand to indicate for her to hold her dress to the side slightly to apply the makeup. She did and blended it out with the sponge, once happy with her work, then had Maya adjust her dress again. “Is whoever this is here or coming to the wedding?”

A long sigh left Kit Kat’s lips, “Maybe, I don’t know about today, but probably later this week. He’s…different. But it’s good I think.” Maya’s mother watches as a smile crept along her face, whoever it was, this man was someone who made her happy, which was very good.

“Well, go get some food and eat. The family’s going to bop around a bit more and then they want to do the final fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Why it couldn’t be done weeks ago is beyond me? She maybe shouldn’t have changed colors so many times.” Her mother began to gripe but stopped when she saw the look in her daughter’s face. It wasn’t the time, the complaining could happen after things were said and done. She went to track down her husband who was taking advantage of the free wine samples offered until two in the afternoon. It was one forty five so he was entitled to a full fifteen minutes of wine drinking and would not accept anything less. 

Maya went to eat some sausage, eggs, and pancakes, grabbing two of each as she had eaten pizza already this morning. It was then that the bride appeared, greeting her warmly. She wasn’t a mean or annoying woman. Well, a little annoying, but only because she didn’t listen to any of the suggestions. Which yes, it’s her wedding, Maya understood that, but she wasn’t the only larger bridesmaid and the three of them with Maya included, weren’t into the strapless design or the dress being made in lace with a slip under it. You’re in Hawaii, in a humid ass place and needed to wear shapewear in addition to a tight dress was….now you sound like your mother.

The two women hugged and briefly chatted about the trip over here. The bride said hers was smooth and really enjoyed spending time with Michael, Maya’s brother. Nodding, Maya stated that her journey here had a few hiccups but turned out to be great, knowing that she wouldn't ask any further. Maya slowly ate her food, knowing that the fitting was imminent and followed Elyssa, the bride, up to one of the eighth floor rooms where all the other bridesmaids were waiting. None of them looked excited or even tried to keep a neutral face. What had happened?

“We’re going with another new color and style ladies!” Elyssa said excitedly, everyone groaned simultaneously. This fitting just became infinitely worse.

Dieter was trying to hold off on drinking his juice. He wanted to save it for either a really tiresome interview or if he had to talk to anyone about whoever the hell was playing golf. He didn’t care, he was here because they wanted to use his appearance to promote the tournament and he could talk about some of the projects he was producing. He hadn’t found any roles recently that he wanted to be a part of since the Cliff Beasts fiasco and into writing, painting and producing. He was talking with one interviewer who was asking about some of his artwork, someone who actually bothered to do some research. It was a fun conversation, until that douche popped up. Was he even supposed to be here?

Oscar Issac - who beat him out for the Star Wars role he wanted and could frustratingly play guitar and sing. This bastard who won some nonsense poll about who had better curls between Bravo and Issac and was sporting a full well-groomed beard with splashes of gray in it. And now some other interview has mentioned his ‘cakes’ from the last movie Oscar did where he spends a fair amount with no pants on. Dieter may be in a one-sided beef with the man, but he was going to keep calm. Be cool. Just grab his orange juice to chill out. 

His assistant Zack had it though and he wasn’t nearby. “Fuck.” Dieter muttered under his breath as Oscar walked over, opening his arms for a hug. Turning on the charm, he hugged him back and patted his back, a little too hard. 

“Hey Bravo, how are you? I heard you might be here. It’s good to see you.” A pearly white smile beamed from him. Go away. I want nothing to do with you.

“Fine. Just interviews and press. What’s new with you Issac? Singing about some more hippos?” Dieter meant it to be playful, but the vitriol was clear. Oscar picked up on it and he smirked, his eyebrows raising.

“Did another stint on broadway. You ever think trying it out Bravo?” Oscar stepped closer to Dieter,  “Oh, that’s right, you’ve flamed out and can’t hack it anymore. Doing your little scribbles and paints. Cabrón (bastard).” Dieter sucked his teeth, tapping his foot as fists formed at his sides. Wasn’t one sided after all, arrogant bastard. The camera around them snapped pictures of the two men smiling and talking, unaware of the battle for the last word taking place. Daisy trotted over and took her place near Bravo’s feet. 

Oscar bent down to pet Daisy which she allowed and Dieter followed suit, it was an excellent photo op, the pair of them with a baby goat. After a few pictures, Daisy walked a foot away and the two men continued taking pictures flashing peace signs while crouched. 

“Say what you will about my acting, but my art has already made millions and I can do it well after I retire from acting. What are you gonna do? Hop on a Christmas album with Mariah Carey when she re-emerges this winter?” Dieter continued as he stood back up beaming, “You and your hippos can only dream hijo de punta (son of a bitch).” Bravo waved to the cameras, when Oscar went to stand he was met with pain. 

Not from his knees, but a bite from one Daisy who maybe was going after the back pocket of his suit pants, but got a chunk of his ass in addition to the pocket. Issac let out a loud scream as Dieter laughed, this was the best thing to ever happen at a press event. It wasn’t long before he was escorted out with his goat, assistant, and his juice he never got to drink. The organizers confirmed that yes, he would still be paid as had done the interview and pictures and that’s mainly what he needed to know, as great as it was to see Oscar finally get his, he didn’t show up there for free. 

“Tell the driver to go to the Hilton hotel. I have someone to surprise. Isn’t that right Daisy? You’re not a traitor afterall. I hope you get the taste out of your mouth.” Dieter turned to his assistant Zack who just told the driver the address of the Hilton. “You got a snack for Daisy? She couldn’t have Oscar’s taste on her lips.” His large hand rubbed the goat’s head as she softly baahed and nuzzled into his chest. Zack got out a bag that had some snacks, giving the goat some carrots to nibble on. He held onto the small animal for Dieter as he hopped out of the SUV once the arrived at the hotel. He entered and asked at the front desk about a wedding party, they pointed him in the direction of the grand ballroom where some people were standing around, some were dancing and others were eating. It seemed that they may be in between events but he didn’t see her. He knew she’d be easy to pick out in the dress he saw this morning and her figure alone. A hand appeared on his shoulder and he turned to see the top of a head so he looked down.

“You looking for someone? Are you a guest of someone hun?” A warm voice asked him, he looked down to see an older woman with reddish brown hair looking up at him with a smile. Dieter noted that she had a ring on nearly every finger and multiple bracelets on both wrists. He nodded and she chuckled, it was similar to Maya.

“I am. Would you happen to be related to Maya?” he asked as she lowered her hand, she now wore a navy blue dress with suede heels, three inches this time.

“I’m her mother, Yvette. I take it she’s staying with you. She wasn’t sure if you were coming or not. Glad that you made it.” She started to walk down a hallway. “Follow me, I’ll show you where she is. Your name hun?” Ms. Yvette looked back and Dieter scratched the back of his head, he figured things would be fine. Meeting her mom was a little weird, but it was her brother’s wedding, he’d been hoping Maya would be with him when he met her but it didn’t appear bad yet. Dieter and Yvette rode the elevator to the eighth floor where the fittings had still been taking place.

Previous: Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Four

The tag list: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @sp00kymulderr @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @musings-of-a-rose @soft-persephone @javierpena-inatacvest @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @magpiepills @handspunyarns @i-own-loki

[guessimwritingficsagain]

Wish you were here

Summary : Joel isn't good.

Warnings : Mature content, MDNI, Joel is NOT fine, memory loss, PTSD.

I'm sorry for this, I guess my great-grand mother and my grand-father loosing it aren't helping and I needed to get this out.



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

Joel was good at reading people. 

When he met you, he liked you right away. You were funny, smart, sharp, even. He liked you. 

Joel was not good at liking people, so he enjoyed you the best way he knew - from afar. 

He knew enough about you to understand you liked to do the same. You liked your boundaries respected, thank you very much - you’d hissed as much to a man who’d gotten a bit handsy, one night at the Bison. 

That had got to him - and that had gotten his hard. He could touch you, knew that, had done it before : his hand in yours to help you get up, or slightly touching your arm to get your attention … Things he hadn’t paid much attention to until he realized he liked you a whole lot. Liked you in a way he hadn’t liked anybody since he was young and in so in love he didn’t think twice about asking Sarah’s mother to marry him. 

So, to know that he was allowed to put his hands on you, even in the most innocent way, when other men were left picking up their dignity from the floor, that did something to him. 

Joel would love to fuck you. He also was not going to try anything because he was two decades older than you, had a bad ear, and a dick that took its sweet time getting there. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was getting older. 

But he was allowed to touch you. He knew that, made the mistake of thinking he was somehow special.

So why was he fighting for his life, here, looking at you wearing a dress, smiling at some boy, like you were on a date. 

He grumbled something about using the restroom and went to take a leak he didn’t need to take while Tommy and Maria kept on chatting. 

He’s pacing when you come in. 

‘Hey, Joel, let’s go back.’ You offer, extending a hand. When he takes it, you just lead him back, fingers intertwined and god how lucky is he ?

‘I thought you were busy with that guy.’ He says. 

You turn around look at him like you’ve done it a thousand times, and answer : 

‘No, Joel, I’m always with you.’

You make him sit down, then you join him, thighs touching. You take a sip of your drink and that’s when he notices it - the ring on your finger. 

Everything grows cold, all of a sudden. You’re married. Of course you are. 

He moves away, scratches his beard, coughs, looks at his brother and suddenly a thought makes him jump and move closer, his hand on your shoulder, squeezing. It’s a blur - he can’t quite get the words out at first, and you’re not helping because your hand is on his thighs and it’s confusing because he likes you-

He touches you.

He’s allowed. 

His hand goes up your thigh, lifting your dress up -he’s not supposed to do that, you’re married. He announces : 

‘Don’t forget Sarah’s game tomorrow.’ 

The answer is a stillness he doesn’t understand. You break it :

‘It’s Ellie tomorrow, Joel. She’s gonna play something. You taught her, remember ?’ 

You’re looking at him and he wishes he could kiss you. Something flashes in his mind and he remembers. 

Ellie. 

Before he can say anything, you get up and announce :

‘We’re gonna call it a night.’ 

You walk him home, and on the porch, your left hand takes his left hand and you kiss the rings there. He doesn’t know what that means, but he’ll take what he can take. So when you ask to join him in bed, he doesn’t say no, even though nothing happens.

———

Joel wakes with his nose right in your neck. You smell a little sweaty and he’s more than happy to lazily lick your neck from bottom to top. You stir, looking tired. One of his hands finds a nipple, and he whispers : 

‘Wish I could put my mouth on you properly, but Ellie’s gonna want to practice b’fore the big moment.’ 

‘Yeah, you go ahead.’ You whisper. 

‘I love you.’ He says. 

You answer in kind.  ———

Taglist

@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso@justpedropasc@mrsbentallmadge @farfromjustordinary @hnt-escape @kirsteng42

[seefullforecast]

D.M.

Captivatingly Reckless

Draco Malfoy x oc

Part 2 Prefects

Platform nine and three quarters was in Flora's sights. If she was going any faster she would be running and shoving muggles out of the way. To be going back to Hogwarts meant to be leaving home and Merlin she was desperate to be out of that house, or rather away from her mother. 

It had became the norm for her to leave for school on bad terms with her mother. This year being no exception as she thought back to the events of the night before. 

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Dinner had been served and like many other times it was just the two of them in the dining room. For such a large room with exquisite views of the grand gardens, Flora always felt it to be suffocating. Other than to save face in public, the mother and daughter only really spent time alone with each other during meal times. 

"I expect a letter in advance if you will be returning to the Manor for Christmas is that understood?" Her Mother raised her brows.

"I've got a lot of work to be doing so if you end up arriving here without notice I'll have just too much on my plate." Lilian often looked down her nose towards Flora when she spoke and it made the young girl feel so worthless, like she truly was beneath her mother and would never be good enough. 

"We wouldn't want that now would we." Flora grumbled and shoved a piece of chicken into her mouth to mask any words she spoke reaching her mother's ears. 

"Also do sort out that moulting feather duster that keeps flying into the bathroom window." Lilian was well aware it was a Weasley owl that kept crashing into the house late at night and was repulsed her daughter felt the need to associate with blood traitors. She knew however there was truly nothing she could do to stop her daughter from doing so as it seemed as of late all Flora wanted to do was antagonise her. 

"His name is Errol." Another mouthful of chicken hid that comment also.

One more night and Flora would be at school and wouldn't have to walk on egg shells constantly. 

"Oh Merlin's beard I thought I told that incompetent gardener to take out those blasted sunflowers!" Lilian thought aloud as her eyes wandered through the window to the expanse of gardens outside. 

"But I planted those. I planted them for you at the start of the holidays" Flora had dropped her fork now and her face had contorted into that of confusion. 

"You only did so because your father used to plant them and you thought it would gain a reaction from me." Lilian placed her spoon down and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

"Merlin forbid I try to add a little splash of colour around here." That time she didn't hide her words behind a mouthful of food. Her eyes wandered around the room at the sleek colourless room. 

"They're only flowers, they don't mean anything." her mother shrugged as if nothing held sentimental value to her.

"You're right, I mean you've gotten rid of everything else that reminds you of father, we both know how memories of him are such an inconvenience to you." Flora's voice was monotone as if she wasn't surprised in the least that her mother would do such a thing. 

"You really are a disrespectful, spoilt brat! I would never dream of speaking to my mother in such a manner." Lilian practically seethed, making visible the vein in her forehead that protruded mostly when Flora and herself didn't see eye to eye. 

"Just add me to the list of inconveniences you seem to be raking off. Question is though, am I behind Father or Errol?!" Flora matched the level of anger her mother was showing now, dropping her collected facade. For such a large room, the tension was enough to suffocate anyone.

"Some day your actions will have brutal consequences Flora and you'll only have yourself to blame."

"You can't have regrets for what you don't care about mother, you should know that better than anyone else."

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

It would be an understatement to say Flora was looking forward to getting to Hogwarts.

Her luggage was placed on the train and she made her way through the compartments in search of her best friend.

Elise Campbell saw Flora Dalton first as she stood at her compartment door on the train, and had been since arriving ten minutes ago, so she could finally see her best friend after what felt like the longest summer apart. 

"There she is! The one and only Ms Flora Dalton. Oh how I have missed you!" Elise had already engulfed the brunette into a tight hug slightly rocking the two of them from side to side. She clearly caught the girl off guard as she stiffened from the sudden contact before hearing the loud voice of her best friend. 

"Right Campbell let the girl breathe."Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes as he pried the two girls from one another. 

"I missed you too El." Flora couldn't help but chuckle as Elise pulled her into another quick hug after already being pulled apart by Blaise. 

"Dalton, long time no see." Flora hugged him next before sitting opposite him with Elise beside her. "Heard you caused some mischief this summer." His raised eyebrow and grin made her scoff.

"Our Flora?! Don't be absurd, she's good as gold aren't you dear." Elise stifled her giggles as she was all too aware of how Flora could be when she was either bored, or alone with her mother. During first year Elise made the mistake of spending Christmas with the Dalton's so witnessed firsthand the no good she got up to at home.

"So I assume all of our mothers are pen pals then. They're all too gossipy for my liking." Slouching back into her seat, Flora folded her arms with a slight shake of her head regarding her mothers actions. 

"Where are the others, they're usually rambling on about quidditch or something by this point?" 

"I haven't seen Daphne or Theo yet." Elise spoke with a look on her face as if she was trying to rack her brain for whether she had in fact seen them and she had just forgotten. Flora often teased the girl for having the memory of a goldfish. Without Flora, Elise would most likely forget her last name and need to borrow Neville Longbottom's remembrall.

"Malfoy and Parkinson made prefects so I think they're in a meeting in another carriage before they do their rounds." Blaise shared the information Crabbe told him when he noticed him and Goyle sitting with a group of other Slytherins when first getting on the train.  

"Can't say I'm surprised to hear that, pug face can be quite intimidating to younger years when she gets power hungry, those are some of the qualities they look for in prefects aren't they?" Flora's sarcastic comment would've sent Theo into fits of laughter if he was here but instead she received a ghost of a smile from Blaise who knew her words were true and a small slap on the arm from Elise. 

Some time had passed with the three sharing different stories of their summers. Within which Harry Potter's name inevitably came up. 

"Apparently Dumbledore was at the hearing." Elise piped up.

"Surprise. Him, along with every other Gryffindor get special treatment. Dumbledore was probably the only reason he's allowed back to school. If it was anyone else they'd be expelled and that'd be the end of it." Blaise ranted showing his distaste towards the situation. Flora got the impression that Blaise neither liked nor disliked Harry Potter, but rather hated all of Gryffindor because of Quidditch rivalry. That and probably Malfoy's obsession with the boy, automatically making him zone out of most conversations regarding the chosen one due to Draco's incessant complaining of him.

"Is someone feeling jealous that they don't get enough attention?" Elise giggled at Flora's patronising comment to which Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Im going to get a drink, anyone want anything?" Flora stood to her feet looking to the other two in the compartment.

"Perhaps something sweet since Blaise is so bitter!" Elise mocked the boy who regretted showing any emotion at all now. He knew when the girls were joking and was just grateful Theo wasn't also here as he definitely couldn't bare all three of them together. 

"Oh how you wound me Campbell." He muttered to the smug looking girl from across from him. 

Making her way through the train, towards where she thought the trolley might be, Flora couldn't help looking through each compartment window to see the different students. Some were terrified first years and others were fast asleep clearly sick of the long journey to Hogwarts.

She kept on her way until some familiar faces came into view from through one of the windows. 

"Gin hey, how are you?" Flora beamed opening the door to which four heads turned towards her now present figure. 

"Flo! I tried to find you at the station but we all got a bit caught up. How's you, good summer? Here sit down." The red head rambled and pulled Flora down next to her, giddy to be seeing her friend she wrote to all summer.

"I'm better now I've got to see you." Ginny beamed at this. 

The younger girl looked up to the Slytherin despite only becoming good friends last year when Flora helped her get ready for the Yule Ball. Ginny had been upset in the girls bathroom the week before the event because she had nothing to wear when the Slytherin girl found her. Luckily for Ginny, Flora Dalton was a sucker for a good movie makeover moment and helped the Weasley girl with borrowing one of her countless dresses. Ever since then Ginny has only ever spoken highly of the girl, always coming to her defence when her brother Ron complained about Slytherins and explaining they clearly weren't all alike. 

"Harry, congrats on not getting kicked out, close call for a moment there wasn't it." Flora acknowledged the boy next to to Ginny.

Harry was still surprised anytime he heard her use his first name, it was almost unnatural for him to hear coming from a Slytherin. Nevertheless he chuckled a her comment knowing there was no malice in her words.

"Alright Flora." He sent a warm smile her way. Flora also greeted a shy Neville Longbottom who was holding a potted plant in his lap that was unfamiliar to her but her attention was mainly focussed on a quirky looking character sat in the corner.

The girl wore a striped cardigan and an odd pair of glasses covered her face. She kept her wand behind her left ear and was holding a magazine upside-down, seeming to be reading it. 

"Oh Flo this is Loony... Luna Lovegood!" Ginny rushed as she recovered her words. "She's a Ravenclaw." The red head introduced Flora to the peculiar blonde. 

"Hello, nice to meet you Luna." Flora nodded in the girls direction with her polite greeting. Luna pulled the upside down magazine from her face and looked to the brunette Ginny had introduced her to.

"Oh so you're Flora Dalton. Padma Patil has mentioned you before." At that Luna lifted her magazine back up to cover her face as if to continue reading. This comment would spark more interest in Flora if only she knew who Padma was.

She looked to Ginny who shrugged in confusion about Lovegood's actions. Luna was indeed quite odd. Flora bid the small group a small goodbye and left Ginny the promise that they would catch up soon. 

The trolley wasn't too far away now so she got herself a drink and some sherbet balls to take back for Blaise in an attempt to be funny. They wouldn't be too far from Hogwarts now she thought and this was confirmed when she heard her name be called by none other than Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh Dalton it's only you. I was about to reprimand you for not being sat down somewhere, we'll be coming into the station soon." Pansy tried to flick her short hair as if to show the new green badge she adorned. Flora knew there was no chance of a stealthy escape now that she had been seen.

"Parkinson." Flora greeted with a curt nod. "Enjoy your rounds then." She tried to leave but Pansy wasn't finished.

"Oh I shall. Being a prefect is an important job you know, without us well you never know what could be going on. I expected to receive the role mind you. I hope you didn't have your sights set on it?" Pansy tended to blabber on, one of the reasons why Flora couldn't be around her any longer than necessary, and of course could brag until her ego exploded. 

"Well it suits you." Flora spoke through gritted teeth and a pained smile. Pansy really twisted her the wrong way and knew exactly how to push her buttons. 

"Oi you two, you're blocking the walkway." Came the drawl of a voice oh too familiar to Flora.

"Don't worry Dracey, I've got this one. Dalton was just on her way." Parkinson's voice was close to whistle tones the way it had shifted when speaking to Malfoy. The pug faced girl had turned to Draco immediately upon hearing his voice, making it now possible for Flora to make gagging motions at Parkinson's expense. 

This hadn't gone unnoticed by Draco and he did struggle to hide his smile that Pansy now thought was directed to her. 

"Dalton, pity you're not prefect we could've been doing rounds together." He spoke to the girl, missing the exasperated face of a love struck Pansy.

"Literally anything else sounds more appealing Malfoy." She began, "I'm sure you and Parkinson will enjoy all the alone time on late nights patrolling the school grounds. Almost romantic isn't it?" Flora could see Parkinson's face light up unaware she was actually teasing Draco who was slowly becoming more aware of the situation he was now stuck in. 

Draco thought Flora to be an evil little thing to be putting ideas into Pansy's head, like she knew the girl could be irritating to him so she liked to encourage the situation. It was like she enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable.

 "Anyways I have to get back and make sure Blaise hasn't hexed Elise." Flora was definitely pleased with herself when she saw Draco cringe a smile to Pansy who had latched herself onto his left arm now. 

He watched her walk away, his mothers words still with him. He questioned whether he was indeed keeping the wrong sort of company. Or perhaps Flora was just a difficult girl who was forever pushing her luck so needed someone to rein her in.

Draco could picture himself as that person. Probably not whilst Parkinson was hanging from his arm. Draco enjoyed attention but the constant oggling from Pansy was relentless and annoying. At that he felt this year called for a little shake up. He was going to take his mother's advice. 

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Read

Part 1

[friskynotebook]

You Make It Feel Like Christmas Ch. 5

An Obidala Hallmark Christmas movie rewrite!

CW: age gap, food, grief, injury, concussion

Summary: Padme and the Kenobis take in the Christmas market and share Christmas memories

Also on AO3!

Padme scrunched her nose as she woke, feeling a rough dog tongue licking her face.

“Oh, good morning, Lola,” she giggled, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you?”

Padme rolled out of bed and dressed, carrying Lola downstairs. Looks like I’m the first one up. Wrapping herself in a blanket scarf she had found in the back of her borrowed closet, she lit a match and started the fireplace.

“Perfect,” she sighed, a smile on her face.

Satisfied with the cozy early morning atmosphere, Padme headed into the kitchen to prepare the coffee as she’d watched Obi-Wan do for the past few days, humming to herself as it brewed.

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Obi-Wan’s voice startled Padme out of her humming. “It is. It’s ready, actually.”

“Lovely,” he replied, watching her pour him a cup. “Thank you, Ami.”

“You’re welcome,” she blushed, pouring her own cup.

“And I see you got a fire started as well.”

“I did,” she nodded. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he agreed. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Leia ran downstairs dressed in a plain green onesie.

“I look like a giant green bean!” Leia wailed. “I’m supposed to be an elf!”

“Oh, Leia,” Padme cooed. “At least you’re a really cute green bean.”

Leia pouted and looked down at her socked feet.

“I think I can help,” Padme said. “I would just need a sewing kit.” She turned towards Obi-Wan, a question in her eyes.

“I think I can find one of those,” he nodded.

##

“Watch your step right there,” Obi-Wan warned Padme, taking her hand and leading her into the dusty old barn.

“Thanks . . . Oh, wow. This is such a beautiful space,” Padme gasped, looking around.

“Oh, thank you,” he demurred. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It is . . .”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “Satine used to keep her horse out here . . . I’ve been wanting to turn it into an animal hospital for a while now. I’d love it if my clients didn’t have to drive sixty miles to Boulder if their animal needs surgery, you know?”

“That would be great.” Padme walked in comfortable silence with him for a few beats before clearing her throat. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about her, about Satine.”

“Oh. Um . . .” Obi-Wan looked down and swallowed. “Well, uh, she passed away a little over three years ago now.” He rubbed his nose, scratched his beard. “Sh-she wasn’t sick for all that long, which is good . . . If anything good could come from that, you know.” He turned away and kept walking.

“I’m so sorry,” Padme murmured. 

“Thank you.”

“But that’s not really what I meant.”

Obi-Wan turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“I actually wanted to hear about what she was like. A memory or something?”

“Alright,” he said, smiling softly. “She would make freshly baked cinnamon bread every weekend for the family. She loved baking . . . We would make sure to spend time together every evening at the end of the day to talk about how things went and to reconnect as a couple. That was very important to us, to do that . . . And she loved Christmas. That was her holiday. She made homemade stockings for the children, handmade ornaments . . .” He swallowed. “She always made sure the children got one present they really wanted and one present she believed would make them better people. And just about every year, the children preferred that present anyway . . . I know this might sound strange, but she had the most wonderful scent. When I woke up in the morning, even before I opened my eyes, I just knew she was there. I knew she was all around me.”

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Padme said, her voice hoarse from disuse. “You must miss her a lot.”

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to speak. He stepped over to a few boxes, starting to dig through them.

“You know,” Padme began. “If you did turn this space into an animal hospital, it would be like you were doing something for Satine, in her memory. Helping animals with this incredible space she loved so much.”

“I’ve honestly never thought of it like that,” he replied. “When you put it like that, it sounds lovely.”

Padme smiled and looked down, letting his praise wash over her.

Obi-Wan pulled a metal tin from a dusty box, smiling at her. “Sewing kit.”

##

“Excited?” Korkie asked his little sister.

“Yep!” Leia beamed, swinging her big brother’s and father’s arms as she walked with them into the Christmas market, showing off her special sparkly elf costume under her jacket.

The family gathered together with the other families as the children gathered on stage for the outdoor Christmas play.

“She’s an elf among green beans,” Obi-Wan murmured to Padme, leaning in close. Padme blushed and opened her mouth to respond when the children interrupted her.

“In Santa’s workshop far away, Santa’s elves work night and day!” Leia grinned in front of her classmates, clearly excited to be wearing such a pretty costume.

“These little elves make video games!” Santa Quinlan announced.

Leia stepped up front. “And these little elves give dolls their names!”

Padme gave Leia a dazzling smile as Obi-Wan surreptitiously went to rub his eye.

“And Santa packs the gifts in his sleigh and takes it to kids on Christmas Day!” Quinlan finished. “Merry Christmas!”

As the crowd started to disperse, Obi-Wan pulled Padme aside. “Her costume really is amazing. I cannot thank you enough, Ami.”

Padme blushed again. Probably just the cold . . . “Oh, I think I might have overdone it a little bit.”

Leia ran over and lept into her father’s arms. “There she is!” Obi-Wan cried as he lifted her up.

“I had the best costume ever!” Leia declared.

“I don’t think Leia minds,” Obi-Wan teased, grinning at Padme. He turned back to his daughter. “You did! Congratulations!”

“Thank you Daddy!” Leia clung to his neck. ##

Later that evening, the family was walking through the market, twinkling Christmas lights dancing through the crisp winter air as their boots trudged through the snow.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” Obi-Wan asked the children.

“Me!” They all cheered.

“Me too!” Obi-Wan grinned. “Want one?” he asked Padme.

“Oh no,” she replied. “I ate, like, half a turkey.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “We’ll be back. Korkie, help me bring them over?”

“Okay!” Korie said, taking his father’s hand as they walked off.

“Ami!” Mace and Depa came over to Padme, Luke, and Leia.

“Oh hi!” Padme greeted them. “Enjoying the market?”

“It’s wonderful—one of my favorite parts of the season,” Depa replied.

“Listen, Ami, I wanted to talk to you about your car,” Mace said. “We’ve been combing the woods looking for it, and I think we’re finally closing in on it.”

“How have you been feeling?” Depa asked.

“Oh, I . . .” Padme trailed off as she glanced over to where Obi-Wan and Luke went in search of hot chocolate—only to find Obi-Wan going for a polite kiss on the cheek and Siri pulling him in for a more passionate kiss.

Before she even realized what she was feeling, her heart sank. Why do I feel so . . . despondent? He can kiss whoever he wants. He doesn’t owe me anything.

Padme tried to not let her disappointment show on her face. “I’m feeling much better these days,” she replied. “Must be the mountain air.”

Obi-Wan and Korkie returned with the hot chocolates, just in time for the tree lighting.

“Three, two, one!” The crowd chanted, cheering when the Christmas tree in town square was lit up in all its glory.

##

“They are out,” Obi-Wan said as he came into the living room from putting the children to bed. “Must have been all the sugar.”

He sank down on the couch next to Padme. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the market.”

Padme sighed. “Look, Obi-Wan, I have to tell you something. I’m having the time of my life with you and your kids—at least as far as I know—I think I should find another place to stay because . . . I don’t want to be selfish and come between you and Siri.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I saw you and her in the square kissing when you went to get hot chocolate.”

“Oh!” Obi-Wan chuckled. “No, Ami, it’s not like that at all—”

“I get it,” Padme continued. “I mean, I just fell out of the sky like some crazy snowflake with no memory. There’s a whole world here that I’m not a part of, and I get that—”

“It wasn’t a real kiss,” Obi-Wan interrupted.

Padme looked taken aback. “It looked like a real kiss . . .”

“Well it was a kiss, but it was because of the mistletoe,” Obi-Wan explained. “She held a mistletoe over my head and I wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek to be polite, but she, well, went further than I was comfortable with.” He cleared his throat.

Padme frowned. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his lap. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” she repeated. “She forced you into something you didn’t want, only to make it worse by crossing your boundaries even further—and she did it in public in front of Korkie because she knew you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of him. It couldn’t have been easy for you, Obi-Wan. Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his features softening. If Padme didn’t know better, she’d think he looked touched. “Better now that I’m home in front of the fire,” he smiled.

After a beat, he continued. “We did go on a date, once. But it was so . . . wrong.  It didn’t feel right. She force-fed me some of the most slimy tofu I’d ever had.”

Padme gave him a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I’d never make you eat slimy tofu. Anyone who makes slimy tofu should not be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

He laughed. “Ami, Christmas has not been the same around here for a few years now, and having you here with us . . . You’ve made it feel special.”

“Really?” Padme asked, her voice soft.

“Really. And you are a part of this family—I mean, part of this world, here in Salida,” he quickly corrected himself. “I know you’re part of another world and we’ll figure out where that is but until we do . . . What I’m trying to say is we’d love to have you stay here with us.”

She beamed at him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Can you bring me water? I’m thirsty!” Leia called.

Padme raised her head. “Duty calls?”

Obi-Wan stood, a wry grin on his face. “Duty calls.”

No-pressure tags: @saradika @obiknights @justsaysomethingjayj @cypanache @alabama-metal-man @vic3456 @darlingamidala @celestial-alignment @your-dose-of-obidala @written-musings @fearless-too-and-stubborn

[porphyriosao3]

Buried Pasts

"I want to apologize," Gale said uncertainly from the edge of the clearing.  Tav glanced up, then away, mouth still pressed in a firm line.  "I'm not sure what... that is, I certainly didn't mean..."

"If we are going to spend much more time together, Gale, you should understand that when I say 'leave me alone for a bit' it's in your best interest to do so," the drow snapped.  After a moment Tav visibly forced his anger away, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.  "No, you're here now, I suppose.  By all means, sit."  Gale stepped forward with a cautious look, seating himself on a fallen log after a drying cantrip ensured the dampness wouldn't soak through his pants.  Tav folded down as well, though barely within arm's reach - some habits were very hard to break.

"I... thought I was paying you a compliment," the wizard murmured.  "I certainly never meant anything..." he trailed off.

"I know."  Tav's fingers smoothed across his thighs, erasing invisible wrinkles from the fabric of his trousers.  "We all have pasts, Gale."  Turning, red eyes caught dark ones in the gloom.  Tav's moon-pale hair seemed to glow in the evening gloaming.  "Tell me, then.  If I said 'it seems strange that you bother to be good at magic when you could have stayed Mystra's toy boy', how would you feel?"  Hurt flashed across the bearded face.

"Toy boy?"  Gale said, face flushing and clearly making an effort to restrain his fury.  "I never... I wasn't..."

"Exactly.  But in some contexts, it could seem that she groomed you into a loving relationship, couldn't it?  Made herself the focal point of your life, kept you from other friends, made her opinion of you - her praise - the most important thing in your life?"  Gale was clearly furious now, breath coming hard.  Tav gave a polished, brittle smile that would have made Astarion proud to give it.  "You see how things change based on how they are presented?"

"I don't have to sit here and listen to..." Gale shouted before stopping himself and taking a breath.  "Alright.  Alright.  I'm going to try to see what you're saying, and ignore how insulted I feel right now, because I'm sure there's a reason.  Please explain to me what I said that made you think saying that was justified."  Tav was impressed, in spite of himself; he was half expecting the wizard to storm off.  He wasn't sure it would have been the worst thing; he really didn't want to explain himself, but it seemed that was in the cards after all.

"As you say," Tav grimaced.  "You have survived the return strike, custom demands that you receive your explanation."  At Gale's raised eyebrows, Tav smiled mirthlessly.  "A custom of my people, you see.  Not one most survive encountering, but you have done so.  When we are hurt, we offer the same hurt back.  To fail to do so is a mark of weakness... or intentional disrespect.  I respect you enough to return the blow, and... and I will never again be too weak to do so."  The jet black features were as still as a statue made of obsidian, but Tav's eyes burned.  "Never again."

"I... see," Gale said as he clearly did not.  "Thank you?  Maybe?  Though if that is how I made you feel I apologize again.  It wasn't..."

"Words do not apologize, my sweet," Tav smiled.  "Words are a weak reed.  Deeds are everything.  Let me tell you a tale, then, so that you will understand.  Say there was a child... a noble child, but a man-child.  No future priestess, this, nor general, for all his famous blood and his family's prestige in the service of the Lady of Webs.  His name was long, his lineage storied, but at the end he was just a boy.  Useless."  Gale's eyebrows drew down, clearly visible to Tav in the gloom.  Clearly the wizard was beginning to understand.  Tav wished he wouldn't, but... honor demanded the rest of the story.  Sometimes he hated being Drow. "Say also, that this family had enemies, as all the great houses of Menzoberranzan did, and do, and ever will.  Say that those enemies demanded a penance for a wrong, real or imagined, and this family decided that their son... this useless, worthless son... be offered as their sacrifice.  He was pretty, this boy, and his blood was the purest of the pure.  He had all the marks of the highborn.  His hair was cobweb pale, his skin was clear and obsidian-dark, he... he had the web of the Lady as a birthmark."  Gale's harsh inhale was clearly audible.  He had seen that mark himself on his lover's shoulder.  "He was sent to the Houses of Pleasure, since many of the lowborn would revel in the chance to bed one of the great ones, you see?"  He smiled, a twisted, angry thing.  "To take some tiny bit of their misery out on one who could represent those who had wronged them."

"Tav..." the wizard's hand found his arm and he twitched away, not wanting to be touched.  "I'm... I had no idea."

"This boy," Tav continued evenly, voice stable as if he was telling a bedtime story, "this boy went with all the pride in his house, and for ten long years he was trained in the ways of so-called pleasure.  Pleasure for others, of course; never for him.  Even so, he was taught each step, and that vaunted pride of his was taken from him slice by slice, piece by piece, bit by bit... until there was nothing left but a fearful whore."  For the first time his voice trembled, just a bit; these were not memories he could stand to examine much.  "His name was taken, of course; there was no possible reason to allow a prostitute a name longer than a single syllable.  And so it stayed, for years.  Long, long years."

The woods had darkened while Tav spoke, and he knew Gale could no longer see in the gloom though the wizard's face was as clear to him as if they sat in bright daylight.  He knew, also, that Gale wasn't thinking of that, else he would never have let his horror show on his face like he was.  "And..." the wizard rasped, then cleared his throat before continuing.  "And what happened then?  To... to this boy?"

"Ah," Tav said, "a curious thing.  One day, this boy... now a man, full-grown, though accounted just as lovely... one day there was a shaking of the earth.  Earth tremors on the surface are unnerving, I'm told, but unless severe they are disregarded.  In the Underdark, tremors are deadly, and more than.  They are the killers of many.  Menzoberranzan is guarded by webs of spells, but Lady Lolth thinks it amusing to have them fail betimes.  It is how she keeps her faithful needy, you see... and one day, a quake struck and the web failed.  Just a bit, but enough to smash the House of Painful Flowers.  And this noble son, he saw a chance to escape his life of misery, if only by an early death, so into the rent in the wall he went.  Racing, falling, stumbling, he went, until he was scraped and bleeding, and even his eyes were failing to pierce the gloom.  And there in the deepest places he found a room lost in time.  There was a statue there, and on the statue there was a symbol that was like nothing this boy - this man - had ever seen.  And there he bargained with the thing that statue was made to represent, and there he got the power he needed to escape the guards who searched for him, to make his way to the surface, to begin to actually live after decades of living death."

"How long... how long had you..." Gale began to ask before an ebon hand sealed his mouth.

"Shut up," Tav hissed furiously.  "Not me!  Keep your tongue still, and do not offer me insult.  I do not say this is anything to do with... with... just be silent, for once."  If Gale couldn't realize that Tav would have to kill him if he insisted.  He drew in a shuddering breath before continuing.  "Some say that once this person we discuss had come to the surface, they were barely there a week before he was captured by a flying ship of the haszakkin.  But others may tell the story differently.  We may never know the truth."  With that traditional ending, he pulled his hand away, hoping the wizard had heard everything... including the bits that could not be said.

"I... yes, well," Gale said, picking his way with care.  "It seems to me that a young man in that situation - any young man - is far braver than anyone gave them credit for, and deserves nothing but the best ending to their story."  Tav was silent, ignoring the moisture on one cheek.  The hand on his back was more welcome, now; it seemed the wizard had heard him after all.  Perhaps he wasn't totally hopeless.  "And... I think now I understand why anyone would make a deal such as you describe.  So would I.  So would anyone."

"Let's go back to camp," was Tav's response.  If he held the wizard's hand on their way back... it was only to guide him safely, of course. 

[tipsypenguin31]

So I haven’t done AU’s since I was in middle school. When I reached high school I stopped doing them cause I personally don’t care for them. But I had this dream the other night where Mihawk was mad at me and he was scolding  me inside a Taco Bell. Idk. Dreams are fucking weird. So weird that I just had to share it with y’all. 💚

Word Count: 913

TW: There is implied smut. But nothing in graphic detail. 

Summary: 

Mihawk and Amaris had been arguing for the past couple of days. About what exactly? Who the hell knows anymore. 

Hell Taco 

Yesterday it was about him leaving his boots haphazardly outside the coat closet. He just couldn’t bring himself to take the extra few seconds to place them in there.

Then not even an hour later when he changed out of his shirt to go to dinner, instead of throwing it into the hamper, where did he throw it? Right beside the hamper. The lid was wide open. 

Amaris bit her tongue and held her frustration, that was until she walked into the bathroom this morning. 

There in the sink. Was Mihawk’s beard trimmings. Spread about the basin and countertop like confetti. 

She loved that he kept up with his appearance and such. But would it kill him to clean up? 

She begrudgingly cleaned up his mess….again. Then stomped into the living room, where Mihawk was sitting on the couch. The news on the tv, while also reading the news on his phone. 

That was another thing that pissed her off. He was always on that damn phone. 

She was sick of it. So she brought it to his attention. Which led into an argument that led into him storming out of the apartment. 

Sitting at one of the high top tables in front of the window. Amaris sends a text to Mihawk.

*I thought you said to meet you here at 1:30?  Where are you? *  

She hadn’t heard from him the rest of the morning after he walked out. She heard his motorcycle start and heard him pull out of the parking lot. Then at around noon she received his olive branch.

He sent her a text, asking if she was hungry and wanted to grab lunch. Of course, the only way she was going to agree is if she picked the place. 

*Of course. As long as it’s not something nauseating*

*And what do you consider nauseating?*

*You know exactly what I mean, darling.* 

She chuckles. She does know what he means. But she could care less. 

*Be ready in five minutes, i’ll pick you up* 

*No. I’ll walk.*

*Amaris….* 

She didn’t feel like wearing pants and a jacket. The weather was scorching today. Plus the place she wanted to eat at was within walking distance from their apartment. 

*Mihawk. It’s too hot. I really do not want to wear pants today.* 

*I just told you nothing nauseating.* 

*You either agree with Taco bell. Or I can just stay pissed off at home. At least i’ll be in the a/c* She knew she was coming off as a brat to him, when in reality, she was growing more and more irritated with him.  

*Well?*

*Fine. Be there at 1:30. I love you.*

*I love you too.* 

Now here she was. The clock read 2:15 and still no Mihawk. She knew he hadn’t gotten into a wreck, cause if he had she would have gotten an alert. When she goes to send another text to him, she hears him pull into the parking lot. 

About damn time. She gets up from her seat and heads out to meet him. Still sitting on the bike, Mihawk removes his gloves and helmet then runs a hand through his hair. 

“What took you so lo-” He pulls her down to sit on his lap. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand holding the back of her neck. He pushes her face in close. Nose to nose. 

“Do you know how badly, I want to take you into that bathroom and have my way with you.” He takes her into a deep, anger filled kiss. 

Amaris lets out a whimper when Mihawk pulls away. 

“I’ll keep having my way with you, well after you’ve cummed.” He drags his lips along her jawline, then down to her neck where alternates from kissing and nipping. 

She was driving him insane. Though he knows he is in the wrong for all the things she was nagging about, that still didn’t warrant the attitude she was giving him. He places one last kiss on her neck before moving back and nipping her earlobe. 

“I won’t stop until I feel your body shake from overstimulation, tears in your eyes and you’re alternating between apologizing and begging for me to stop.” 

Keeping his arm firmly wrapped around her waist. He releases the back of her neck and pulls his face away. 

Amaris looks into his eyes, her lips going into a playful smile. The thought of Mihawk slamming into her up against the wall of the bathroom, her moans and screams being heard by the employees turned her on. 

“Well, I'm glad I wore a sundress today. Though I thought you found this place nauseating?”

In his frustrated state he hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. 

When he looked her over, he saw she was wearing the infamous sundress that she had bought on their trip to Italy last summer. 

“You are making this very difficult to stay frustrated with you, Amaris. You know I cannot control myself when I see you in this dress.” 

The heat in her core explodes at the memories that had occurred after she bought the dress. With a mischievous smile on her face, Amaris leans in close to whisper in his ear. 

“Then don’t…..take me home and have your way with me..” 

She kisses his cheek and then whispers in his ear again

“Afterwards, you’re treating me to a romantic dinner of, Dr. pepper and a quesadilla” 

[dyrewrites]

Character stuff, because why not

I'm sharing my notes on the two MCs of Pale Blood, but cutting out their abilities (because that would make this way too long) and anything spoiler-y.

So, allow me to introduce Delmas and Odea;

Del (Delmas Olren)

"Oh, I’ll get mine and then all those leeches will be begging to kiss my ass."

Half-fang bloodrunner. He looks about 30, give or take a few years depending on when he’s last fed (or slept) but is around 42 (which is young for a fang but he acts more like the middle aged man he is). He’s pale skinned with medium length, messy mouse brown hair that is always getting in his eyes. His bright hazel eyes. His face is rounded but his jaw and cheekbones are distinct with a thick mustache and beard that he tries to keep trimmed into a kind of shape—round is a shape. Build-wise he's a bit of a giant at 6'5” and a bit on the beefy side, with thick arms and a soft middle(he takes issue with the term “dad bod”, as he is not a father, but he is fond of men with daddy issues), all kept well hidden under a baggy shirt and a big leather coat—his jeans are more fitted around the back, and the coat is easy to toss to the side when he's feeling flirty. Delmas looks a bit like a bear, acts more like a horny raccoon and is probably closer to a red panda. He can puff up and knows plenty of tricks but he doesn't fight unless he needs to. He talks bigger than he seems capable of backing up, but he can back it up. which is why he's still alive. He's a charming smart mouth who uses a bit more slang than he should, most of it outdated, and is more than a little flirty with all the pretty men he meets.

Colors

Black everything, sometimes gray, maybe a stitch of white here and there—Delmas is a no muss no fuss kinda guy about most things but especially his wardrobe.

Mementos

Delmas wears a seashell bracelet that he rarely removes , which was a gift from a boyfriend he didn't mean to chase off. The shells are small, shaved round, soft white and speckled in faded pinks. They're strung on a thin band of braided prismatic hair.

Odea (Odearna Mal Forna)

“What did I do to earn the attention of every weirdo in this Gods-forsaken pit of a city?”

Half-witch (Sister of Dusk, Bloodbriar Coven) phlebotomist. She’s in her 30s—she’s not entirely sure of her birthdate, as her mother wasn’t, but she’s pretty sure she’s 34. She’s shorter than most everyone, at about 4’11”. Build-wise she’s petite but curvy, bit of a short stack, who ensures those curves disappear under oversized baggy sweaters and thick leggings. Her wavy auburn hair is cut to just below her ears with wispy bangs that get caught in the thick glasses she shouldn't need. There are easy fixes for eyes but she thought they'd deter handsy thugs. Her eyes are also hazel—something they laugh about—and while she is naturally tan, life in the smog pales most everyone and she’s a bit pastier than she outta be. Even her freckles have faded to a barely visible splatter of reddish brown across her nose. She's smol but fierce, preferring to fight than run or hide and she doesn't like anything that takes her choice to do so away. She's a mixed bag, with a lot of moods that she doesn't seem to notice. Speech wise, she curses like a sailor and doesn't pull punches but she's always sincere and that's why people put up with her. It is also why she's never allowed to work the dayshift again.

Colors

Grays and pinks, mostly, preference for pastels and anything big and comfy, bonus points if it has cats on it—Odea is all soft, snuggly comfort.

Mementos

Despite no longer practicing, Odea keeps her rotwood Daughter Dusk charm around her neck at all times. It sits tight in the center of a choker made from bleak purple witchvine, the short gray thorns permanently stained with her black blood. It protects her from most magic but broadcasts her dreams to her sisters—and the Daughter Dusk.

---

Side Characters and More

[middleearthpixie]

Wanted Man ~ Chapter Thirteen

Summary: A price on his head, Loki of Asgard finds himself stranded on Earth and in need of one woman's help in order to free himself from the bounty and try to reclaim what he sees as his rightful throne in Asgard.

McKenna Carlin just wanted to put a horrible day behind her. She had no idea that things would get worse before they get better…

Pairings:  Loki Laufeyson x ofc McKenna Carlin

Characters: McKenna, Loki, Shannon

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @fizzyxcustard @court-jobi @guardianofrivendell @piggledy-higgledy @evenstaredits

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here! 

The next morning, McKenna woke up in a tangle of sheets, blanket, quilt, and god. Loki lay on his side, his arm draped about her waist, his hand flat against her stomach as if he was afraid she’d try to get away from him in her sleep. His left leg from the knee down was over her right leg. She blinked sleep from her eyes, reaching up to rub one and then the other, but that was it. She was perfectly content to simply lie there with him.

Then, with a sigh, Loki rolled onto his back, the hand that had been on her sliding off to come to rest on his stomach. She shifted, facing him and rising onto one elbow. All traces of bruising and healing cuts were gone from his face. Left in their stead was smooth, pale skin. Apparently gods didn’t need to worry about shaving, either, for there was no hint of beard to be found on him.

How many women could say they were able to watch a god sleep? She smiled. Not many, that was for sure. 

He had a face she could study for years without ever growing tired of seeing. He was just gorgeous—arched black brows, perfect straight nose, strong jaw line, perfect lips. Everything she could ever imagine wanting in a man.

But he wasn’t a man. Not an ordinary man, anyway. He promised to return, but would he? Could she trust him? No one else seemed to think him at all trustworthy, and with good reason, but did she have to think it as well? He’d kept his word to her, such as it was. 

But could she trust him with something like her heart?

She wanted to. Then again, she wanted to trust Joe as well. And the ones before him. And each time, she had her heart smashed. Her track record with men wasn’t exactly a stellar one. She trusted too soon and her judgment often grew clouded by what she wanted to see in a man instead of what she actually saw.

As if able to hear her thoughts, Loki woke. His eyes opened, the lids fluttering as he reached up to stretch his arms overhead. His back arched, and he groaned, although she couldn’t tell if it was in pain or appreciation.

Then, his head turned and he offered up a sleepy smile as he leveled an equally sleepy look at her. “Is it morning already?”

“’Fraid so.” She rolled onto her stomach, bunching the pillow beneath her. The room was cool, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. The morning sun was clear and pale, splashing across the room, across the foot of the bed.

“You look as if you’ve something on your mind,” he said, mimicking her position. “Something quite weighty.”

“No. Just the usual things. How much longer can I lay here before I start to feel like a slug? How long will it be before Shannon comes banging on the door? How bad will traffic be? That kind of stuff.”

“What is a slug?”

She smiled. “It’s like a snail, only without the shell.”

“And a snail is…?”

She sighed. “It’s about three inches long, slimy, and gross. Like a leech.” He shook his head and she said, “They’re gross. That’s really all you need to know. They’re gross and they move slow. Like me in the morning.”

His gaze never wavered. “McKenna.”

She couldn’t tell him what she was really thinking about. It made her sound like an insecure dolt and she didn’t want to come across that way. She was never one to have those What do we mean to each other talks. They always sounded so whiny and stupid. 

“What? We should get up and get moving. I don’t feel safe here any longer. S.H.I.E.L.D. is just in Point Pleasant,” as she spoke, she slid across the bed, away from him, “and I’d rather—oof!”

He’d lunged, snaked an arm about her waist, and hauled her back. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low. “What is troubling you?”

“It’s stupid. Really. Not worth the time it would take to tell you.”

“McKenna.” He shifted, coming up to pin the upper half of her body into the pillows. “Just tell me.”

“I just have a bad feeling. Like my hair’s standing on end, only it isn’t.” It was the first time she’s been able to put a finger on what was bothering her in addition to her foolish insecurity. “Like it did the day the Chitauri showed up at my apartment.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to scold her about lying to him, but then something in his eyes shifted. They went from soft and teasing to far more serious. “You do? All right, then.”

He slid away from her and out of the bed, crossing to the windows to stare down at the beach. It was a good thing they were three floors up. Loki wasn’t shy about walking around naked. Why should he? He was magnificent.

He braced his hands on the windowsill and leaned forward to peer out toward the beach and she had to look away before she overheated. And as she wasn’t nearly as blasé about her state of undress, she tugged the quilt with her, wrapping it about herself as she shuffled into the bathroom to start the shower. 

It heated and she dropped the quilt to step into the glass cube. As she shampooed, she expected the door to whoosh open and for Loki to join her, but he never did. She finished showering without interruption, although her heart was a little heavier. Perhaps he was annoyed with her.

But when she emerged, it was to find him still standing at the window, staring down at the beach. “What do you see?”

He shook his head. “Not a thing out of the ordinary.”

She came up behind him, slipping her arms about his waist and pressing her cheek into the swell of muscle on his back. “Maybe I’m just imagining things. My mother used to say my imagination was always overactive. I’d tell her I saw ghosts and she’d tell me it was because I created things that weren’t there.”

“You saw ghosts?” He straightened up, gently turning to face her.

“I thought they were. It used to happen a lot when I was a kid, but the older I got, the less it happened.”

“Where they people you knew?”

She frowned. It’d been a long time since she thought about some of the odd things that happened to her when she was younger. She learned at an early age to keep them to herself, because everyone either teased her or dismissed her about them. “Some were, I think. I saw my grandmother once, only I didn’t realize it until I was a little older. And some weren’t. When I was about seventeen, I saw a girl about the same age. She would come into my room and just sit on the edge of my bed.”

She looked up to find him gazing down at her with rapt interest. He believed her and didn’t think she was either making it up or trying to get attention. “She looked so sad and when I’d ask her what was wrong, she would shake her head and vanish. Then, when I came home from college, she stopped coming around. I always kind of missed her because I wanted to know what had happened to make her seem like she’d given up all hope.

“I know, that sounds corny, doesn’t it? Shay likes to tell me what a sap I am.”

Loki shook his head. “I don’t think that makes you a sap, McKenna. As I said once before, you have a good heart.”

“Maybe. I think it just makes me an easy mark sometimes.”

He nodded. “It can, I’m sure. I’ve studied your people enough to see many will look to take whatever advantage they can of those they perceive to be weaker. It’s part of the reason I wanted to rule over your kind. I thought it might bring some sort of peace, seeing as how no Midgardian can overpower me.”

His eyes softened then and a smile played at his lips. “Save for one, I think.”

“Me? Jeez, if I’d known that when you crashed into my apartment—”

“You’ve already done it, Midgardian.” His eyes searched hers and he curved one hand against her cheek. “I’m yours to command, love.”

Her heartbeat sped up and it felt like that bevy of sparkling white butterflies had been set free in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry, but she managed to whisper, “That could be dangerous.”

“I’ll take my chances.” It was only a whisper and yet, as he caught her lips in a soft kiss, she felt it clear through to the center of her being. He touched a place inside her, one no one ever took the time to explore, and as he brought his arms about her, she melted into his embrace, not even flinching when her towel hit the floor.

***

“What took you guys so long?” Shannon shaded her eyes with her hand as Loki and McKenna came out of the B&B and walked over to her car. Then she grinned. “Wet hair. At the same time? Never mind. I know what it was. Plenty of room for two in those glass boxes, eh?”

“Indeed,” Loki replied, and McKenna's cheeks grew hotter as his gaze fell on her. 

“Some girls just have all the luck,” Shannon jingled her keys in her hand and pushed the unlock button on the remote. “So, I’ll give you a call later and let you know what Scott says, but if he gives me shit, I’ll talk him into it anyway. Where are you going to be?”

“We’re going to head toward L.B.I. The further I get from S.H.I.E.L.D., the happier I’ll be.” McKenna shivered. The breeze had died down and the sun splashed all around and yet, she was cold. Loki wasn’t touching her. It made no sense.

Then she felt a tingle rush along the surface of her skin and her stomach rolled over painfully as it felt like every hair on her body rose to stand on end. Without thinking, she reached back, for his hand. “Loki…”

Their fingers touched. The first blast came from seemingly nowhere to throw her away from him. She went flying across the pavement, slamming down hard with a bone-jarring thud.

The air left her body in a mighty whoosh to leave her gasping and struggling to breath. She heard Shannon scream, “What the fuck!” and heard another horrifying crash. She managed to lift her head to see Loki between her and some of the most frightening-looking creatures she’d ever seen.

They were skeletons. Reptilian skeletons. With bulging eyes and a mouthful of what looked like razor-sharp teeth. 

“How dare you,” Loki's voice sounded so far away and was deep, almost raspy, with fury. “Do not touch her again.”

Pain burst through her skull as she turned her head and as she caught sight of Loki, it chilled her to her core. 

Gone was the Loki she’d come to know in jeans and shirts. Somehow, he was clad in the same green, black, and gold leather outfit he’d been wearing when he landed in her apartment. Only now, he wore a golden helmet as well, one with golden… antlers?

Her head felt so foggy, her thoughts so muddled. Loki was positively fierce as he faced the Chitauri with no weapon save for his magic and his wits. “Leave her be. Your fight is with me. Not her.”

“True.” One of the Chitauri spoke. Or perhaps it was all of them speaking at the same time. She couldn’t tell. The voice was low and gurgly, as if the speaker were gargling with broken glass, and it split through her head like a sword. “But the Other had grown tired of the chase.”

“So tell him he can have me.”

“No…” McKenna grimaced as it hurt to force the words out. She tried to stand, only to find herself blown backwards again. This time, she lay on her back, stunned as she stared up at the cloudless sky.

“I warned you,” Loki growled.

She saw a blue-white flash, heard a howl of pain, and found herself being lifted up. Actually, thrown into the air was more like it, and she let out a cry of pain. She couldn’t help it. Something wrapped about her wrists and ankles that felt like shards of hot glass tearing at her skin. And when she opened her eyes, she found herself dangling over them, and saw Loki staring up at her with an expression she thought she’d never see on his face.

He looked terrified.

But, he faced the Chitauri again. “Release her and I come willingly. Harm her, and I will see to it every last one of you is erased from the universe.”

“The Other is no longer interested in what you have to say, Asgardian. He will take her as payment in lieu.”

“NO!”

Loki's voice reverberated in her ears, swelling in pitch and tone until she thought her eardrums would burst from it. She dropped to her knees (or she would have, if she hadn’t been a dozen feet in the air) and clapped her hands to her ears as the noise continued to rise.

Then it felt as if something snagged her about the waist and jerked her forward. The air rushed from her body again, like it would on a roller coaster or the Tower of Terror in DisneyWorld. She screamed as the sky raced toward her, the clouds burst as she tore through them.

Then everything went black. 

[masterwords]

a hundred years of blood (pt. 2)

Summary: One of Jessica's favorite clients is an old hermit who lives deep in the woods. When he stops answering his phone, she fears the worst and asks Hotch to come with her...just to check it out. Bad things are about to happen. When Derek realizes Hotch is missing and he might be in danger will the team be able to save them in time? Or will they, too, only find themselves in danger?

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (established as usual, they just exist as husbands in my head)

Warnings: in this chapter, we talk about cannibals and heroin and broken arms and hotch is definitely drugged and being held captive.

Words: 2.9k

Notes: This chapter is all Hotch being held captive and marched through the woods and...unhappy. Next chapter we'll see where Jess is and what she's up to.

Read on AO3: a hundred years of blood

** CHAPTER LIST **

**

“There are cannibals in these hills.”

Aaron scoffed; his attention faraway on the echoes of footsteps through the woods. His steps, familiar, one then two at a cadence he found fascinating. Left foot heavier than the right, he thought. Maybe, maybe not. His gun was gone and yet...it still felt heavy. Every so often he stumbled and was jerked upright by rough, sure hands. Back onto his uneven footsteps.

“That's what they say, anyway. I been here all my life and never seen 'em, I guess, but maybe you wouldn't really know huh? Probably look just like you and me. Not like they'd just out and say hey the name's Bill and I ate ol' Larry the mechanic's left butt cheek last night with potatoes and carrots like a pot roast, huh? But you might just make their acquaintance tonight. Little further now.”

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, out in this starchy bright sunlight filtered through scabby old pine trees, ragged and overgrown with wizard beard lichen. Everything looked dried out, smoked woods, lazy silvery greens and dusty oranges and sickly yellows. Up here, elevation so high, nothing lush grew...it was all barely alive, like a movie with all the saturation turned way down, littered with giant rocky growths that looked like half-buried Stegosaurus. A paleontologist's playground. he thought of Jack and his chest constricted painfully.

The air was thin, and he sucked it eagerly into aching lungs through his nose.

“Right up here,” came Elmer's foggy rich voice, so thick with the hills that Aaron got lost in the words. Every sentence was enchanting, a spell spoken in a whisper of wind through molasses. “This was my daddy's cavern. Kept his stills here. Granddad, he kept his in the old mine down below. See what my daddy didn't realize is that this cavern, you go far enough in, you dip and you wind and maybe you trip a few times over wet old rocks...you get to that mine. They were connected, see, and didn't even know it. Spose no one ever thought to look, what with the tale of the trolls in the hills scaring the kids away. Course there's no trolls, least I don't think there are. Maybe they're about as real as the cannibals, huh?”

Aaron whimpered, the pull of the rope on his broken arm getting to him. He was able to ignore it while it was loose, while there was slack, but when his feet stuck in the murky underbrush, and he stumbled that rope pulled at broken bones bandaged with rough old materials that only pressed and ground them together. The feeling, painful as it were, was far away too. It still belonged to him but was estranged.

He thought the cannibals were a far likelier threat than trolls, but at this point he couldn't afford to pick and choose what he believed and what he didn't. Trolls, sure. He'd be on the lookout for trolls. Why should I worry? Why should I care? Billy Joel's voice echoed through him, became an off-kilter mantra to drown out Elmer's spells. Derek would find him, would bring him home and they'd watch "Oliver and Company" and maybe after this ordeal Derek wouldn't be mean about Billy Joel's singing...it was just enough to keep him putting one foot in front of the other.

He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he knew he'd been drugged. That was about all he needed to know. He had just enough experience with that disconnected from your body feeling, no longer Captain of your own ship floating lost at sea, to know this was no accident. No way his mind should be wandering off to the land of Disney movies when he was in mortal danger, and yet here he was.

“You know I did some digging. Looked your family up. Hotch-ner. Seems you got a lot of sway through these old hills, your name carries some weight...what I understand, you got a little shine in your bloodline too. But your mama, she's too proud to admit she's got cousins up here huh? Yeah, figures. You got some hill in you, that's what makes you...right.”

Aaron couldn't have spoken if he wanted to, his mouth duct taped shut with a sock stuffed deep inside. One of his own, he knew and though it wasn't ideal he figured it was better than any other alternative. Maybe that was why his left foot felt heavier, it was still socked. Right foot was slipping around sweaty in his shoe and he could already feel the blisters rubbing themselves into existence. His tongue felt dry, wasted, the taste of river water and air drying all he could think about. Every sense he had was on overdrive but disconnected from anything corporeal.

The tea, he'd been force fed more of that tea. At first it was just a gently seductive quieting in his skull, and it did dull the ache in his arm. Jess had smiled at him dreamily and drifted off to sleep on that sofa bed snuggled up beside him while Elmer told them stories about...something. Hill people. Aliens. Moon People? But the tea didn't keep him beneath the pain in his arm and after a while he started coming to, eyes open watching Elmer whisper in the shadows to something oily and shapeless in the corner of the room. Elmer must have heard him move, because he'd come flying toward the bed so fast and he came with the tea, but it wasn't really tea anymore it was more of a syrup that tasted like ambrosia and evil and Aaron floated away on a thick honey golden ray of light into the ether. He had no idea what was in it, didn't really matter now, not really.

By morning, he'd woken with a beat at his skull so hard he really thought something was wrong. That he was dying. It was sharp, an ice pick in his eye. His memories of the night before were vague, floaty and painful. It took more time than it should have just for him to come to his senses and realize that Jessica wasn't beside him.

Her car was gone, and he was alone with Elmer Chambers.

“She's gone to fetch a doctor for you, alright son. You just lie here and stay quiet. You're sick as a dog. Musta come on you sometime in the night, fever sky high.” With every thread of rational thought, everything he could cling to like water through his fingers, he just hoped that she'd called Derek. The team could figure it out from there if she could just get them to Elmer's house. He had to assume Elmer had led her away on a wild goose chase though...that doctor couldn't possibly be real, could he?

Jess and her heart of gold. Her unfailing and unyielding belief in the good of people. Isn't that why she stuck beside him, even after what happened to her sister? To her family? He couldn't blame her, not seeing this side of Elmer, he was good. Probably one of the best Aaron had ever seen. He'd laid back on the futon with his eyes closed for most of the early morning, miserable and willing himself not to be sick in the bed sheets while Jess visited with Elmer and worried over him. He remembered hearing her wind chime voice. It had soothed him to sleep more than once, no matter how bad he felt she was there. And Elmer was endearing. Sweet, charming old man. Anyone would have been taken in. He wasn't hiding anything; it was almost like this was a wholly separate person.

Without actually being that. This wasn't an act; this wasn't a diagnosis...this was something else entirely and Aaron in his drug addled mind couldn't figure it out. It had taken him too long to even realize that he was being drugged, that's how good Elmer was.

“Drink this son, it'll help the pain in your arm...old family recipe. Gosh, I am sorry about that.” Yeah, easy. He drank it, set that ceramic mug right to his lips and sucked that mug dry. It tasted good, all those fleeting summery flavors of honeysuckle and blueberry. Like something his mother used to give him at night when he was anxious or sick. It tasted like the most saccharine comfort. “The ginseng will settle ya right to sleep.” It didn't sound right, but he was in no condition to argue. His arm hurt so bad he probably would have done anything to make it stop howling. Truthfully, no matter how he hated that sticky resin in his veins, it had taken the pain away even faster than the tea and he hadn't minded it a bit.

“Why are you doing this?” he'd asked when Elmer tied the ropes too tight around his wrists and began tugging him toward the door.

“Well, son, you see...I ain't got no choice. One of those Dumont morons went and violated the contract, and that means he got himself killed. I was well within my rights. But retaliation laws as they are, my Trudy was taken as collateral. Ain't fair, see...I can't...it ain't right. She bein' all I had left in this world. But they said if I sacrifice something important maybe I get her back.”

Aaron stumbled and fell to his knees with a cry, curling himself up around his painful arm. “I'm not important.”

“Naw but see...that's where you're wrong. I thought maybe Jessie was the one I should pick, but that'd only hurt me, and I don't think that's good enough cos I love her. I love that girl. She's like the daughter I never got. Killin' her won't do no good, they'll seek more. No, I gotta break her heart and let her live...breakin' her heart, that's already killin' me. So, I know it's right. You. Losing you will break her heart, see?”

Aaron didn't think that sounded right, it sounded insane, like the ravings of a complete lunatic but he wasn't in any state of mind to argue logic. Especially not with a man who had so completely given logic up long ago. “My team...” he whispered, waiting for Elmer to tug him to his feet again but Elmer only let him rest. He was old, he needed the moment too. They had plenty of daylight left.

“Yes, your team will come, I reckon. Maybe not today, if they're smart, but tomorrow when they got enough daylight. Sure thing. And hell, one of 'em might kill me...but not before the others get to you. Lotta blood gonna be spilled in these hills, they'll be fed good tonight.”

Everything was unnaturally still, no wildlife chirping or buzzing or mewling. It was just the sound of their breath. Elmer's was heavy, winded, he was too old for this trek and his body was letting him know. Aaron should have been able to do it easily except for the strange concoction of Elmer's drugs in his system and the intensity of the swollen, black and blue throbbing in his arm.

It was quiet after that, the way they trudged through the pine needles and oak leaves, scattered, dried to a crisp but wet far enough beneath to know that some slippery slimy creatures were enjoying themselves plenty. Feeding on a bountiful harvest of sweet decay. He thought about offering Elmer a deal, something to make him stop, plead for his life with some sort of dignity but there wasn't a single damned thing he was willing to offer a man who would try to hurt Jessica. Claim to love her and then do this to her. No, he wouldn't offer a thing, he would just have to resign himself to staying alive long enough to bring her back up that mountain with a doctor and the team in tow.

“What was in that tea?” he asked, almost thoughtfully, coherently. He'd gathered enough of his wits to know he needed to keep Elmer talking...he wasn't any different from any other old man. He loved to talk, to tell stories, to ruminate like a cow chewing cud on the past and spit it out thoughtfully. Old memories made anew on the tip of his tongue.

“Old family recipe,” he replied quietly, tugging at the rope fast enough to make Aaron skip a step and stumble again. His legs flew out from under him, and he struggled to get them back, to land upright, but he hit chest first right on that arm and he cried out again. Couldn't help that. Wasn't going to try. Eventually it would get old. “Oh we got some peppermint, some chamomile, some turmeric and marshmallow root...” his voice was soothing, in direct opposition to the way he jerked Aaron to his feet harsh and fast. Strong for a man in his eighties. “Ginseng, of course. And you promise not to give away the secret ingredient?”

Aaron swallowed hard and nodded, as if he cared, as if it was important. Just stalling. Elmer smiled.

“Papaver somniferum...” he drawled that last bit and Aaron shut his eyes, closed them tight and willed his stomach to stop flipping and flopping anxiously. “I see you're familiar with it. Well, son, guess you might as well know my fortune doesn't solely come from those decades' old stills or that damned rotten root that eats up my life, makes me and everyone around me bleed...no, I got my own gig. When I was a kid, I thought they were pretty. Wanted a field of 'em, just like in Wizard of Oz see. First color movie I ever saw and it was somethin'...never seen poppies before, couldn't get 'em outta my mind after. You ever seen anything so beautiful in your life? But just like my granddaddy and his ginseng, my daddy and his moonshine, those lights in the sky opened a door into my head and they spoke to me...boy you know what they said?”

“Opium,” Aaron whispered to himself. Elmer clapped his enormous hands, tugging Aaron's together painfully too.

“Right oh! Boy, it's easy, and just like those lights changed the ginseng and the shine til they were something special, so they did my poppies. Can't get anything like it in the whole world. Course Ms. Brooks doesn't know about the poppy field. Thinks all my money comes to me from my daddy and his stills. Seein' as either you or me is about to die I figure it's fine if I divulge. Just a little. I'm a lonely old man and unburdening myself to a good listener such as yourself feels downright nice.”

“You gave me...” he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it.

“Opium. That's right. It's easy enough to hide in tea, at least small amounts. The rest you'll find went in easy in other ways once you were dead to the world. And when it starts wearing off...”

That was when the sock went in, pulled out of the sawdust and dirt filled pocket of Elmer's pilled old flannel, followed by a strip of duct tape that was going to rip out more than a few of his hairs and maybe his lips when all was said and done. That was when talk of cannibals began. Aaron thought he'd be sick but that sounded damned awful, and he did his best not to give much thought to the way his stomach lurched, fought to eject everything he'd put inside over the last day. If he didn't give it power, maybe he could hold it at bay. Why should I worry? Why should I care?

The cave was cold, the sound of water dripping echoed through every one of his senses. It hummed a deep earthy song that rattled around in the marrow of his bones. Through the inkblot shadows they walked, he stumbled, and then down down over crumbling rocky steps...so far down. The steps seemed carved into the stone, so crisp and clean they couldn't have been as old as Elmer claimed they were. So far, so far down.

He kept his back to the cave wall, dragging his shoulders against it for some relief to the falling feeling of going so deep. Above them, there was only a pinprick of light left, nothing to walk by, and Elmer seemed to know the way by something other than light. He just...knew. “You just keep followin' me, don't try to look for nothin, don't stumble...we got a long way here, son, but you just keep pressin' forward and the steps will guide you. Don't know how, but they will. Darndest thing.”

Solid ground came after a time, but his legs stumbled and turned to jelly as he tried to take another step that wasn't there. He crashed to the ground and couldn't get back up, not on his own. He just lay there panting, half-breathing the dank musty air. Around them were walls covered in old barrels, piled high high high. Stacked precariously, some of them, leaning like a child's block tower and ready to fall. Elmer didn't bother to try and move him, just left him lying there sprawled on the ground with his sweaty face in the dirt and his heart thundering a wildly erratic drum beat in his chest.

“Gonna take that sock outta your mouth now. You can scream and holler all you like from in here, ain't no one gonna hear you 'cept the wrong sorts of people I reckon, so it might do you good to stay quiet. There's bound to be someone guarding each of the tunnels, see. Never know who you'll run into, who lives so deep in here. Might be best you stay put in this cavern, see. Don't try to go back up, neither, you'll never make it without me. Just stay put and maybe this turns out okay for us both, huh?”

[ask-bluesman]

A summary of changes

I spent the past couple of weeks on sick leave after having my tonsils removed, which means I had some spare time to take another look at my characters and their colours. I'm going back to work tomorrow, so let's take a quick glance at the tweaks (that may or may not be permanent.. man, I don't know anymore)!

Boatswain got his baggy pants back, though somewhat lighter this time. I was going through my sketchbook and figured I liked those just a little bit more than the slim ones. Bos is small, so it's not odd for him to wear oversized clothes! I changed the bandana to an earthy orange & his cap is slightly off-white (dirty) now, with a brown rim. Went back to bubbles coming out of his pipe instead of regular smoke. The very, very first boatswain I've ever drawn was blowing bubbles!

I decided to keep the lighter beard, soles and toe claws, I believe they make him just a tad more interesting. Ol' gramps certainly enjoys having a full set of claws, no doubt about that. I keep making his nose turquoise instead of cyan. Maybe it wants to stay this way? I like both!

Captain's white cap got swapped for a dusty, dark blue one. I wanted each lad to have a different hat, just to highlight the difference between their ranks. Blue caps are generally associated with aviation, but I think it still works well for him! The little fish is made of cardboard. Packie draws them himself and glues them, then proudly parades with them on his head until they eventually fall off and he has to do that again, haha.

I experimented with his colour scheme for quite a bit, but eventually kept it as it was. Very minor change to the jacket colour. I also shaved the fuzz off his scarf and threw a checked pattern on it instead. He deserves fancy neckwear! I hope Sakura never discontinues manufacturing the particular pen I draw these lines with because the colour is just perfect.

The way I approached admiral was pretty intuitive. I didn't look at any older doodles of him and simply drew what felt right. His outfit lost some details this way. His white hat is here to stay - I just changed the shape and look of the badge a little; not sure if I want the rim to be this dark blue or brown. I made his shoulder insignia simpler, as I meant to do it earlier. Completely forgot that little buckle on the strap and the third row of buttons on his boobies. These might come back, I don't know yet - I'm sloppy, so I have to cover small details with masking fluid (that prevents them from being painted) and just like 90% of watercolourists... golly, I hate using masking fluid.

I had quite a dilemma with his gloves and boots. Ultimately made them much lighter and I think this is how I prefer them. They add some much-needed contrast as up to this point his colour scheme was on the darker side and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't a fan of that. I believe I'm not skilled enough to make proper use of dark colours, especially in traditional media, but it's ok! I enjoy the vintage feel of admiral's current colour palette.

And as for the main colour of his uniform? I had to ditch that previous indigo because I couldn't stand how the paint handled :( The one you see here is a custom mix, which, hopefully, won't be too hard to replicate. What I like about it is that it looks like a duller shade of Prussian Blue. A colour I tend to use sparingly because it fades, but otherwise love very, very much!

Nothing really changed about Taffy except that I made her ribbon lighter here. For some reason my scanner wasn't happy about that! The purples are very pink-leaning in the scanned version, while in person they are considerably cooler. I like them in person, but here... not so much. It could be the paper though, so I'll give it another go once I use up this particular supply (I'm about to)!

Her eyes are ever so slightly green-tinted, but it doesn't show here, does it? I will add a touch more green next time. This thing is surprisingly hard to balance because with too much green in her eyes she starts to look kinda spooky.

You have to wait for a bit before you hit your final form, Taffy!

I like Mia's colours, but it took two attempts to get them right and my gosh, was the first try icky and clashing. I'm going work on her overall look at some point in the future. I hope I can push her proportions to be somewhat more cartoony & her face to be more expressive. I took a glance at my older doodles of her and she looked as if she was a Disney princess' horse, haha. We want none of that here! Silly & homely looking horses all the way.

Rookie didn't change much either, I only picked a more vibrant shade of yellow for her scarf. I'm most likely going to go back to the older, more toned-down version. I enjoy punchy & vibrant colours - just not on my little ol' characters!

I also didn't grab my best black for Roo, but thankfully I have a replacement. Notice the tiny white dots all over the black parts? This is an undesirable trait in watercolour, some pigments do it naturally, but in some cases it's the formula or paper (or both). Sometimes I'm tempted to colour her black parts with a pen, but I think that would look too harsh. But you never know before you try it!

*****

Whew! That's it for the changes. I know these may not look like much (and it's true), but in reality I ended up removing and replacing a good portion of my paints for better alternatives. This means I had to build a new palette from scratch, holy smokes. I'd better stick with these tweaks because I really don't want to do this one more time!

EDIT: Oy, one last thing I wanted to add - looking at those doodles, I realised I need to try and fix my inking. It's not very good! I typically ink with fineliners (that's the easiest and simplest way), then colour, then go over my lines again to make them darker and thicker. But it also gives them this unappealing, rugged look. Next time I'll do just a single round & see how that looks!

[worksby-d]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐈𝐭

Pairing: Chris Evans x fem!Reader

Request: “Chris x Reader where they’re friends and had a one-night stand that resulted in a child between them, and although they aren’t together romantically, they maintain a close friendship while raising their kid. The kid is like 3 or 4, and Chris is dating someone, but he hears her make a comment about how Reader just got pregnant on purpose to trap him for his money...”

Warnings: RPF, mention of a one-night stand, dad!Chris, Chris’ ex gf is shitty, starts a little slow maybe?? but stick around for some classic protective!Chris and friends to lovers vibes hehe

Word count: ~1,500

series masterlist

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ••• ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ••• ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Barging into Chris’ house in a hurry, the first thing you hear is your son’s feet hitting the hardwood floor as he runs to greet you. “Mom!”

“Oh,” you chuckle seeing him run around without a shirt on. Crouching down, he runs into you, opening his arms for a hug. “Hi buddy. Did you have fun? Where’s your dad?” You continue asking him about his weekend as you stand back up, and take his hand, pulling him along with you to find Chris. “We gotta get home. He has plans tonight, and I’m late–”

He's standing there laughing when you turn the corner into the kitchen where he just got done cleaning up from dinner. “Very late,” he teases, hoisting the boy up on the counter so he can put his shirt back on him.

“I'm sorry,” you cringe, genuinely feeling bad even though he's clearly not bothered by it. “My meeting just kept going and going. No one would shut– be quiet,” you correct yourself in front of little ears. “I sped here though! I know you have a date, so–”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, cutting off your rambling. “I don't want you speeding, by the way,” he warns playfully, shooting you a look. “Why don't you stay and give him a b-a-t-h so he’s ready for b-e-d. Maybe he’ll s-l-e-e–”

“Wow okay, yeah.” You wave your hands to get him to stop talking and help your son back onto the floor, telling him to race you to the upstairs bathroom. “I had too long of a day for you to be spelling things at me. But that’s a good idea. Then we'll get out of here, I promise.”

“Take your time,” he smiles, watching you turn away to book it up the steps.

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It’s only a couple minutes later when his girlfriend arrives. Setting her stuff on the counter, she heads to the bathroom to freshen up quickly before they go out.

While he waits, he rummages for a spare key to lay on the counter for you so you can lock his door when you leave, but in the process he gets distracted by her phone vibrating loudly against the marble countertop. She mustn't have locked it before setting it down, so without meaning to, he finds himself engrossed in the text conversation she was having with a friend just minutes before.

Maybe that's what I should do. She's set for life now, is what the newest message reads. He wouldn't have given it a second thought if he hadn't caught a glimpse of your name a few messages up.

His face falls as he scrolls through the chat bubbles, even more so realizing she was sat just outside in her car having the conversation.

Oh God, Y/N is still here 🙄 Probably trying to talk him out of going out with me.

Who?

His baby mama. Apparently they're still best friends. They had a one-night stand five years ago, I guess. Hence he's stuck with the kid.

That was no accident lmao

That’s what I say. She obviously did it on purpose to keep him and his money around.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice from across the room when she sees him looking at her phone barely fazes him, anger having taken over every one of his senses.

Exhaling a deep breath through his nose, he finally looks up, running a hand over his beard, trying to gather his thoughts. “Just reading these nice messages you were sending about Y/N.”

“Oh, come on,” she tries to wave it off. “I was kidding… You know?”

“Kidding about which part exactly?” He looks back down to reread the messages to her. “The part here where you imply I’m stuck–” He emphasizes the word with air quotes. “–with my son. Or… This part where you accuse Y/N of being some kind of gold digger? Which part was a joke?”

“I'm sorry,” she says carefully. “But everyone thinks it, Chris.”

“No,” he shakes his head, finally putting her phone down. “No, not people who know me and her. People who know me know I love my son, and I love his mother. She is one of my best friends. Sometimes my only friend, I think.”

“Babe, don’t say that–”

“Stop.” He steps back when she reaches to rest a hand on his arm. “You need to leave before they come back down here.”

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Upstairs, you were oblivious to the entire exchange until the very end. The only part you hear is Chris telling her to leave when you step into the hallway to quickly grab a towel for your son.

Not knowing what caused it, you take your time getting him in his pajamas and getting all his stuff together to go home, giving Chris a minute alone.

When you finally reappear downstairs, he’s sitting at his table with a beer, tie removed and buttons on his shirt undone, clearly not going anywhere anymore tonight.

“I thought I heard someone come in,” you break the silence, deciding to play clueless, not wanting him to know you heard anything. “Where'd she go?”

“Oh,” he jumps, sitting up straighter now that you guys are standing there. “She decided she wasn't feeling well,” he shrugs. “So she left.”

Nodding slowly, you let it go for now, and start to tell him you're on your way out, but he’s quick to interject.

“It’s getting late. Would you guys just wanna stay the night?”

“Oh, I don't know,” you pretend to ponder, as if you don't already know what your son’s answer is going to be. “Buddy,” you squeeze his hand and look down at him. “You want to spend one more night here with dad?”

“Sleepover with daddy!” He nods excitedly, running off with his blanket to claim his spot on the sofa, knowing that means a movie night is in store.

“Sleepover with daddy it is,” you laugh.

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The young boy ends up falling asleep pretty quickly, his head resting on Chris' legs while the rest of his body separates the two of you.

“Hey…” Your voice softly pierces the quiet of the dark room to get his attention. “What really happened before? I heard the part where you told her to leave.”

He drops his head back and lets out a deep sigh before facing you and telling you everything.

“I wish I was with you for the money,” you scoff jokingly when he's done. “You haven't given me any!”

“Yeah because you refuse to take it,” he laughs, but pauses suddenly and looks at you more seriously for a split second. “Do you want money?”

“No,” you chuckle, shaking your head. Silence consumes you both again momentarily while you move over to sit closer to him, having to lift your son’s legs so he's on your lap too. “Oh my God,” you groan. “He's heavy. Gonna be fucking huge like you.”

“Uh yeah, better be. I wanna see him in that Patriots defensive line in 30 years.”

“Whatever,” you snort. “I'm sorry your night went to shit.”

“Nah, it didn't go to shit,” he assures you. “I’d rather spend time with you guys anyway.”

You hum and both turn your attention to the movie again for a few seconds.

“Did I tell you about my last date?” He shakes his head no. “He left halfway through because he saw my lock screen, which is a picture of him,” you explain, pointing at your sleeping kid. “I usually don't tell them right away, but he asked so I had no choice, like who else's kid would it be, you know? So he got real nervous acting and did the classic go-to-the-restroom-and-not-return move.”

“Gees,” he sighs, letting out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“I'm just gonna stop letting guys convince me to go out with them. Never ends well, I swear.”

“Maybe we’re both just meant to be perpetually single.”

“Maybe,” you nod, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Would you ever let me convince you to go out…” His question comes out slow and quiet, once again averting your attention from the TV. “On a date with me,” he clarifies. “I meant.”

“Is this really how you're asking me?” He can't see it, but the grin on your face is impossible to repress. “With Nemo still playing while our kid sleeps on us?”

“Yup,” he laughs quietly. “Apparently so.”

“Well,” you sigh, lifting your head to look at him. “I suppose I let you knock me up… I don't see why I shouldn't let you take me on a date.”

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Tag list: @chris-butt @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @princess-evans-addict @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @bluemusickid @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @flovds @starlightcrystalline @stargazingfangirl18 @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @christhickevans @cevansfans

[anonymooseforever007]

The Boy in the Bookstore

(Word Count 5300ish)

Hey y’all! ❤️ This is the third part of THIS imagine and the Second part of it is HERE. While y’all don’t need to have read the second part to understand what is going on, it would help to read the first. These chapters are out of chronological order and I wanted them to jump back and forth between different points in the past and present, so this one takes place in 1927 while the last took place in 1914. If y’all haven’t noticed, this story does go off cannon, but I have kept a few things/people that y’all may recognize… but enough rambling. I had a fun time writing this even in the midst of exams so I hope y’all enjoy :) ❤️❤️ Also I don’t know if I should put a trigger warning but there is what could be considered dark humor in relation to school grades at the beginning so… ? Summary: Dogs, Children, Books, and Murder….. what do these things have in common? Why they can all be found in London Town, even on a sunny day…

“This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.” — The Princess Bride

Series Masterlist    Main Masterlist

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London, January 1927

       It was a beautiful day in London. The sun was shining and the streets were bustling with dozens of people. It was if the entire city had come to life with the start of the new year only a few weeks ago. Despite the occas…..

     “Wait! No! Come back! You missed me!”

     “You wanted the car to hit you?”

     “I still haven’t written the essay for Professor Jones or done the biology project for Professor Gilbert. And both are due tomorrow…. At this point I don’t care if it’s a stray bike wheel that hits me as long it does its damn job.”

     “As long as it does its job it kill you?”

     “Well, I mean I was going for a sprained wrist or two, so I didn’t have to write the stuff, but if it also means I don’t have to sit next to James Orwell in my nursing class….”

     “NELLY NO!”

      The other four girls who hadn’t spoke yet, laughed at Ruth’s sudden outburst, in response to Nelly’s ‘near death encounter’ as she would later boast about it, during the english lecture the following week. In reality, the car had been on the other side of the empty street, nowhere near close to hitting the raven haired girl, who had now jumped into another dramatic tirade of all the thing about James Orwell that repulsed her. Most of them involved the raunchy things he was know for saying, or his habit of looking a few inches lower than the eyes of any girl he spoke to actually were.

      “Oh and you wouldn’t believe what he said about Anna Hearth just la…. DOG!”

      The girl had suddenly interrupted her own heartfelt speech to point out the large mastiff lumbering down the same side of the path the girls were currently stopped on.

      And just like that all thoughts of, “Crusty James Orwell” had vanished, as the group of six turned to smile and wave (to the dog), each with little variations  of, “Hi Puppy”, “Oh there’s a dog”, and one, “Mornin’ Big Boy, you’ve stealing from the pantry, huh?’” towards the passing beast.

      It was the last of these comments which made the dog’s owner, a large bearded man with a top hat and cane, give a small snort from his nose and a quick (yet not cold) side eye to the young group as he continued forward. The comment had also resulted in the less subtle head turn of the man’s friend walking behind him, a nervous, younger looking man who’s head had snapped over so fast it appeared to have be built on a wheel. It was almost as if he couldn’t believe such a comment had been so carelessly made in the vicinity of his friend. Not that the girls understood why though.

      The dog himself, had also seemed to register the new attention he was getting. As if understanding the words that escaped the girls’ mouths, he appeared to have stood up a bit straighter, raising his head, slightly slowing his walk to take longer strides, and it even seemed like he held his ears a little higher, so to even further his mighty size. And as he began to pass directly by the group, his owner a few feet behind, the mastiff had turned his head slightly towards the girls, as if to give them a better view of his face. This, of course, sent most of the girls into another chorus of, “Oh handsome boy!” and, “I bet you make all the lady dogs swoon!” resulting in a now more obvious wagging of the dog’s tail as the praises reached his ears (and possibly another chuckle from the bearded man).

      And then, if it hadn’t been for his owner’s gruff, but not threatening command of, “Ah right dog, stop with the fucking flirting, we got lots of bread to make” who knows how long the dog would have stayed, showing off for his new friends. With one more quick pose his his head, the dog continued lumbering down the street and then around the corner, followed by the nervous young man and the dog’s owner, who gave a quick nod to the small group, before he himself vanished from their sight.

     Leaving the small group of six to spend a few seconds longer talking about the dog. Then they finally brought their focus back the original problem being discussed before Nel’s “close” encounter and educational woes….

     “I STILL think we should head over to the bar that Anna Low told me about in the communal showers one day before winter holiday.”

       “And I told you Betty, if me mum finds out I went to another one of those unsafe clubs, I’d loose more than just my life! She’d tear pull me out is school and send me to a  nunnery! A NUNNERY!!!”

      “Ah right! And what’s wrong with being a nun? Two of me sisters joined and they see it just fine! Besides, it’s not like none of us aren’t old enough to get inside the damn place! Your mum just doesn’t want you to have fun!”

     “Ok! Would you two please shut it! We came to London to have a fun women’s day for the last of our long week, not bring out the whole city with you screeches, yeah! Ruthie, fine, we don’t have go to the bar today, but Betty is kinda right. You can’t always walk around worried how your mum back in Leeds will react to you trying new things. No ones gonna make you drink or smoke or any of that stuff if you don’t want to. In fact, if anyone tried to force ya hand I’m sure Betty Boo here will be the first to break their hand for your honor. But don’t you want to at least see what all the fuss is about even once? ….And Betty, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to take part in a nunnery. You just know how our Ruthie here feels on having a tight schedule she’s not in charge of. But I do agree with her that maybe the bar wouldn’t be the best way to spend our last hours in London. After all, we are still expected to be in Dr. Walton’s class tomorrow at 9:45. Surely, you remember how well it went last time you showed up after a night out? Besides, we can always come back another time with the boys one day. Then they can join the fun too, AND we won’t have to worry about any creeps following us back to the station. I’m sure Peter would be very happy if you decided to show him how you do the Charleston now…”

       It was the last of these statements, said by the red-headed Louisa Grant, in an impromptu effort to prevent Betty and Ruthie from (once again) butting heads. And it wasn’t that the two girls, Betty and Ruthie, didn’t get along, when in fact, among the small group they probably had the closest relationship as a pair.

       On their very first days at the university, the group of Betty, Ruthie, and Louisa had come together upon finding themselves placed in the same dormitory. And though each girl in the group had different interests, they still made fast friends upon realizing a problem they would have in common. That problem being the boys living in the dormitory room only one floor above, who all seemed to believe that 2:30 in the morning was the perfect time for their wrestling practices.

        It was as if the constant banging above and the near constant thuds if bodies on the floor, sounds which were far more prevalent than any others noises to be heard (a large blessing in everyone’s opinion), had given them a reason to come together and find a common enemy. And once the enemy was found, the bond was formed and the girls quickly became fast friends.

        There was a forth girl in their room as well, though in her quiet nature and absolute aversion to making decisions, she had yet to give her input on where the group should go. Eliza McGarett was her name, and despite her eagerness to visit London for the first time, she was still concerned about the consequences that would come with the impromptu trip. Eliza was always this way, often feeling the need to push herself to finish work early and critiquing her work until it was perfect. And while this earned the girl one of the highest rankings in her studies, it often lead her to forget to relax and let herself focus on opportunities other than work. Nevertheless she had joined the group today, if only because the early beginning of the new semester meant there was not work yet assigned for any of HER classes (none of which were shared with poor Nelly). And despite her worries of a spontaneous essay being assigned, in which she would have not time to write, Eliza would admit that she was quite enjoying herself today.

       Once Louisa had said her peace, and both Betty and Ruth had wordlessly agreed to bury the shovel (for now), the group was for a third time brought to silence by the the looming question ahead.

      Now that they had finally reached London, what were they do to?

      It was as if someone had flipped a switch in the girls’ heads, having decided where NOT to go, none of them knew where TO go. No one could think of any place they really wanted to visit. After all, they had decided to go to London as a way to spend their first long weekend after the new semester began, and that was about as far as each had planned. They all figured, that as soon as they got to the busy city there would be no need to search for something to do. Yet, an hour into their destination, and they were still contemplating where to explore.

      The silence prevailed for a few seconds more, before Eliza (as usual in this instance) was the first to call,

     “NOT IT!”

     Before bringing her hand to the end of her nose and holding it there, signifying that she would not be the one forced to make the decision. This sudden declaration brought a scurry among the others girl, each hurrying to bring her hand to her own nose and announce a claim to NOT choose where to go.  

     “NOT IT!”

     “NOPE!”

     “I’M NOT CHOOSIN’!”

      “HA! NOT ME!”

      “Wha…ohh nose! …Faa…I don’t want do it. Please don’t make me choose.”

      A round of laughter came from the other girls, as the last of their group finally realized what was going on. Having been, once again, distract by the thoughts in her own head, Y/N Herbert (once Shelby) had not even barely missed the start of the game. It was only half way through the others’ calls, she had turned her head from the pair of squirrels playing who had caught her eye, and noticed what was going on. But still not wanting to be the one to make the ultimatum, she too brought her hand to her face, nearly concussing herself with the force of it. Though seeing as by the time she did so the other girls were starting at her, all with grins on their faces and all of who’s’ faces were partially covered by the hands on their own noses.

      Resigning to her fate, Y/N gave a quick laugh and a final (unrequited) plea with her eyes to be given a second chance. A slightly dramatic sigh then left her mouth, before the girl once again moved to her thoughts, only this time of entertaining places to go. And a few moments later, a spark ignited in her eyes, as a kind but impish smile appeared on her face and she began to speak.

      “Alright! So here’s an idea. Instead of going to one just place, why don’t we take a tour I’ve heard of. To see the sites. It could be fun….”  Upon hearing this the rest of the girls moved closer, eager for their friend to continue, “First we start out over by Bucks Row, in Whitechapel. Then we can make our way over to Hanbury Street in Spitalfields and hang around there, before heading back over to Berner Street in Whitechapel. And I guess if nothing happens by then we can always go back over by Dorset Street in Spitalfields and see if he’s hanging around over there,” finished Y/N with innocent smile as if it was the most exciting tour to ever be held. But the rest of the girls were confused.

      “What? That makes so sense Y/N. What kind of tour is that,” stated Louisa, who while usually very supportive of her friend’s odd ideas, couldn’t bring herself to give in this time.

     “It a tour to find Jack of course,” the girl in question replied, her smile beginning to grow.

     “Jack? Who’s Jack? I don’t think we know anyone named jack,” Ruth said, glancing back at Betty to confirm her thoughts. Betty shook her hesitantly. 

     “You lot don’t know Jack? The Jack! Wow, I’m awfully surprised! It’s Jack! He was really big a few years back! A really lady killer they called him. No one’s been able to tame him down, even to this day they sa—“

     “WAIT! DO YOU MEAN JACK THE FUCKING RIPPER! The serial killer who never got caught! You want us to look for him!!!” Nelly spewed out as she caught on to what Y/N’s plan was, causing Y/N to burst out in laughter, proud of her own joke, along with Eliza who had caught on as soon as “Jack” was mentioned. The remaining girls rolled their eyes in amusement, as two who came up with the plan finished their giggles.

     “I mean, you did want me to give ideas for where we could go,” Y/N finished with a chuckle, still smiling at her own humor, before finally reveling an actual idea for the trip, “But I suppose if that doesn’t catch any of y’all’s fancy we could always try going to the bookstore we saw on Oxford Street. The one over by the little cafe. Maybe we could all go there and see if they have any new books, and then go get a warm drink and explore the park. I can’t think of anything else to do right now, but I do know Arthur Doyle finally released the last Sherlock book! I heard it came out and want to get it before they’re all sold out!”

       After waiting to hear any negative comments from the other girls about this new plan, none came. At last it seemed like the girls had finally found a place to go. Those who wanted to get a new book could find one, and the rest who didn’t could just go with them and wait a few minutes before they all went to the little cafe. Then after they ate they could walk around to peruse the “little” shops on the rest of the street, maybe even catching the final showing of the newest film. Finally, they could hurry back to the train station and head back to their respective dorms (or apartments in the case of the two neighbors, Nelly and Y/N) so they could make to their respective classes the next day.

     So the group set off in the direction of the shop, chatting animatedly about what books they would look for, drinks they would get, and in Nelly’s case, why a date with Jack the Ripper would be so much more enjoyable than one with James Orwell.

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      With a firm shove of the warped old door and the short tinkle of a bell attached to the top, the group arrived at the old bookshop. Covering the walls were hundreds of books, some big, some small, some new, some old, but inside each was a story to be told.

       The girls split off in different directions, each hoping to find a new story to bring home. Ruth and Nelly headed towards the section that seemed to hold romance novels, though the kinds Nelly would be looking for were certainly not the same ones “Proper Ruth” would have her eye on. Betty found her book rather quickly, she had already been planning to buy another copy of Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” after hers was left at the fair, the girl went too a few months back, and luckily the story kept a few of them on display up front. Eliza first drifted into the section for the store that held more technical writings, about scientific theories and business practices, but if one payed attention they would notice her slipping over to the classical horror section only a few moments later. That left Louisa and Y/N to chat quietly as they headed over to the mystery section where they both hoped to find the newest tales of Sherlock Holmes.

      The girls searched quietly along the rows of books with the occasionally comment of how, “this one looked good” or, “I dare you to give this one too….” And sometimes passing books between so that the other could read a short piece of it.

      It was one of these books, passed from Louisa to Y/N, which made the latter freeze as she read the title on the reddish-brown leather cover. It was if the publishing company had decided to redesign the cover to give it a new flair, after twenty five years of it being read though the world.

      But Y/N was not going to buy this book in her hands, because it was one she already had. The book in her hands was one she had known by heart for a long time, and she truly believed she could recite it word by word, though she hadn’t read any of them herself in years. Her own copy was tucked away safely in her apartment by the university, on her bedside table, right next to a picture of her and her (step)dad, from the day he first let her drive his car. And inside the book she already had, was another picture of a different man, who shared the same title as the first, though each man was each equally deserving to be called such a name. However, had been a long time since Y/N had been able to call this second man by that title to his face. And anyone who knew her story would know, that it would be many more before the girl could called this man by that title again. Many years has passed since the man was lost, and it would surely be many more before this girl, so full of life, would follow in the man’s footsteps, and find peace in the eternal rest. For now, she had the faded picture, the worn book and a few other trinkets, not taken away by the woman who should have been her greatest comfort. Now, of the few things she still had of him, the man who’s picture held the place in the book, all these things were cherished greatly and thought about often.

      Though the book in her hands was new, the story within was far from being so… at least for her.

      In her hands, Y/N held not one but two stories. One being spun by the words on the pages, and the other spun on distant memories in the far past. Memories now faded around the edges, but of the same man who often smiled and held close to his chest a little girl, who would play with the buttons of his shirt or the tips of his hair as she drifted off to sleep. And as the girl grew older in the memories, the story from the man’s mouth remained the same. Yet with each word spoken, the girl found herself unable to pull her attention away and let herself be distracted by the world outside the fantasy. Even as she had heard the story a hundred times by now, never reading them herself, as she had only just begun to understand how different letters pieced together different words.

      Yes, the book in her hand held two stories, and even as one had been read many times before, both had yet to be finished. The story of the girl, Y/N Shelby (now Herbert, as was her stepfather’s last name), was not over, as Y/N still had time to grow and a full life to live ahead. In fact, as far as she saw it, it was more likely that her own story be finished before the one the book told was….at least this time. Years ago, she had promised not to turn even a single page before her father returned from the war, wanting to wait until she could do so nestled close into his side, listening to his calming voice under the covers of the bed which she often shared with him (and on stormy nights her youngest uncle). However, even as the war left France, her father never did, and so the pages of the book remained unturned, except for when they were opened so that old picture could once again see the sun of day.

      “Do you like that book?”

Interrupted from her thoughts, Y/N turned her gaze from the leather bound cover to the speaker of the innocent question.

      Surprisingly, these hadn’t been Louisa’s words, but a quick glance at the girl allowed Y/N to see her friend was also wondering the same. Instead it was another young girl, maybe nine years old, who had spoken, and just behind her followed two even younger boys. The older of the two, maybe seven or eight, was wearing a simple, but nice brown coat and holding on the hand of the youngest. Judging by their similar features, Y/N would guess they were siblings or at least cousins who had decided to roam the store on by themselves while their mother(s) conversed.

      Smiling softly at the children, Y/N, with the book still in hand, crouched down slightly, not to patronise them, but rather so she could better look in their eyes as she spoke to them. And as she responded her smile grew when memories of of the story came flooding back.

      “Hello, this book you ask? This is my favourite book in all the world, though I have never read it. It’s got just about everything any person could ask for in a story… It has princesses, pirates, adventure, love, friendship, jokes, and so much more I can’t even begin to describe it all, without just telling you the story. If there ever was a story that anyone would like it would be this one. I truly think if I could only have one story for the rest of my life it would be this one. If your want a story to last a life thine this would be the one.”

      And just like her friends had earlier, as Y/N spoke the children moved closer, entranced by her words of a tale so fascinating. The youngest of the children, a small boy, who was maybe at the end of three years old, had finally brought his face out from behind the back of the older boy. When the children first approached he had been clasping on tightly to his brother’s hand, and he still was, only now he stood in front, next to the girl, eager to hear what happened next.

       Finishing her summary, Y/N looked at the children and then Louisa who had stopped reading the cover of the book on her own hands to listen. Waiting to see if her answer was sufficient, or if the children wanted more explanation, which she would have been happy to give. The Princess Bride (the name of the book) was always something Y/N was more than willing to talk about.

      “Wait… what do you mean you’re favourite, you’ve never read! You can’t know a story if you can’t read it!” The girl stated, rocking back and forth on her feet slightly as she did so. And it was a fair statement of course. How many stories can one know such detail, that they’ve never read themselves? Sure there were films, but even the tales told on the black and white screen seemed quite limited compared to those on a page at this time. Y/N knew this, and with a short laugh explained her first response.

       “You’re right, it sometimes be hard to know a story without reading it. But this story is special for me. My dad probably stated reading this book to me when I was your age,” she said pointing to the littlest child, who once again hid his face at the attention, “and he continued to do so until just after I turned your age” she finished, now pointing at the oldest boy. “He read it to me every night, doing all sorts of voices and sometimes bringing in my stuffed animals as characters. So even though I’ve never read the story myself, I know it better than any other today.”

       There was beat of silence among the children, as they processed the information before the boy in the brown coat opened his mouth.

     “Me dad’s dead.”

      The statement was said in such a matter of fact way… the way young children often say things, as if what is said is said, and there should be no worry of how others may react, even if what is said is heavy. It was something Y/N noticed more as she got older. Children often spoke without thinking about the responses their words would bring. Often to them, what was being said was true (or they wanted it to be), and if what was being said was true, then there would be no reason NOT to share their truth with anyone…No matter what that truth may be. Hence why Y/N learned long ago, never to talk about her misdoings around a chatty three year old who followed her wherever she went. Even when the three year old was often a partner in said misdoings.

       Louisa gasped and covered her mouth as the sudden comment, not knowing how to respond. Y/N’s eyes widened for second before she brought her face back to its original position, a small half smile and tilted head she reserved for young children and all dogs. As she had understood stood how the words were spoken, she only hesitated slightly before she replied.

       “He is? Well, I’m very sorry to hear that sweetheart. Do you want to know a secret?…. My dad, the one who read me the story? He’a dead too.”

       “Really!” The boy said, as if he couldn’t believe anyone else’s father could have died.

       “Yes, he is. In fact, he died right when I was probably about your age, so it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him.”

      “So your dad’s in heaven too? That’s where my mum says mine is.”

      “Yeah. My dad’s right up there too… Hey, I tell you what? Why don’t our dad’s be friends?”

      “Friends?” This time it was the girl who spoke, cocking her head at the idea of two dead men being friends.

      “I don’t see why not? Now I promise my daddy was a very nice man. And you lot seem so pleasant, I don’t see why he wouldn’t not want to be friends with anyone related to you.”

     “Our dad’s could be friends? Would they play games and stuff?” It was the older boy again, though the younger had his blue eyes on Y/N just as intently.

     “Of course they could play games, there are plenty of games for them to play! Why don’t you think of games you like to play, and they could play those! I know my dad loved to play hide and seek with me!” Y/N was now leading the children, slowly but surely, away from the topic of their lost loved ones, in a way she hoped wouldn’t make them feel as if she was brushing such off. If there was one thing she hated it was when people (her mother) brushed things which a child like Y/N thought important to bring up when she was younger. The top of those things included her father, even if it was only to let someone know why she wouldn’t let anyone else touch her story book anymore. As she grew, she never wanted to make a child feel like what they had to say wasn’t important, but she did realise that at time there were topics (such as a lost parent) that may have been best discussed other than in public to strangers. So she gently tried to redirect the conversation to one which hopefully wouldn’t lead to a crying child and angry mother for opening the gates to such ideas.

      “I like to play hide and seek too! And Catch! And Tag! And Climb Trees! And sometimes me and my cousins play robbers and pretend to shoot guns at each other! Maybe our dad’s could do that! And they could be best friends!” The boy bounced up and down on the ball of his feet with each word, in turn causing his brother to also be bounced up and down as he still held on.

      “See those are all wonderful ideas! Now our dads have so NoThough I do hope they aren’t real guns, our dad!s will be pointing at each other! That could be dangerous. But I think they could absolutely be best friends, your dad and mine! They would be best friends!” Y/N smiled as the older children began to trail off, talking to each other about games they enjoyed, while they younger one shot his head back and forth between, occasionally looking at Y/N and smiling shyly in a way the reminded her of a boy she knew long ago.

      It was soon after this when Nelly and Eliza came to gather other two girls, while Ruth and Betty were at the counter buying their books. While Y/N had continued to talk to the children, who’s mother she learned was sorting new books in the store’s back room, Louisa had finally found two copies of the Sherlock Holmes and was patiently waiting for Y/N so they too could make their purchases. Standing up from her crouched position and smoothing out her dress, Y/N looked at her approaching friends.

      “Since you all seemed to have found your books, who’s gonna pick what cafe we eat at?”

     There was a beat of silence among the older girls and the children before….

     “NOT IT!”

     “NOT IT”

     “NOPE!”

     “I WIN THIS TIME!”

     “NEVER HAVE I LOST!”

     “I have a nose too…”

     Laughter came from everyone (along with a groan from Betty who lost) as the little boy in the blue coat spoke for the first time, his palm laid flat out, covering his nose, mirroring Y/N’s own hand positioning, with a small grin on his proud face. Evidently, he had seen the older girls make their claims, covering their own noses and decided he had wanted to win too. The girls congratulated him on his “win” each with a comment of “good job buddy” and “you win!” making his smile and the other childrens’ grow, even as his hand remained in his face.

     Once Louisa and Y/N made their purchases, they went back over to say goodbye to the children who had stared to play a new game. One involving who could pull the most books from a towering stack before it came crashing down. Though both girls doubted this would end with out at least one scratch, they bid the kids goodbye and good luck with their game.

     And as Y/N exited the store, the tinkle of a bell once again signalling the door opening to the busy London street, she heard the call of one of the children to his mother, about a new book he wanted her to read that night. And while she’d never be certain, Y/N’s lips pulled up at the thought of which book it could be…

Series Masterlist    Main Masterlist

✨✨a/n: Ok! So there’s the third part, I’ve already started a bit on the fourth part, but I also want to work on some other stories so I don’t have a definite time when it will come out. But I hope y’all liked this part! Not too many Shelby’s in this one, but since the next part jumps over to 1916 hopefully we’ll see some more then! I hope y’all have a great day! ❤️❤️

[sinner-as-saint]

Just A Little Too Much.

(Dark) Mob!Steve Rogers x Innocent!Reader AU

Run-through: You met Steve after your parents got divorced. He was your mom’s ‘special friend’, and you soon began living at his place, along with your mom. You were just 18 and a half then, and Steve became the only man you looked up to after you learnt that your father was sent to prison for unknown reasons. Soon, Steve became the only family you had after your mother started going away on even more trips for work, then came the time where she stopped coming home altogether. But that was alright, because you had Steve. You were his Princess, and he often told you that you needed no one else but him. He would do anything for you, he loved you - perhaps just a little too much. 

Themes: innocent!reader, manipulation, dark!steve, smut, fluff

You woke up from your nap with a faint smile on, feeling a pair of lips leaving soft, warm kisses all over your cheek. 

Steve. 

You immediately felt so warm just knowing he was here; his powerful scent wrapping around you, making you feel safe. 

“Wake up, Princess.” He murmured. “It’s your birthday, you can’t be napping.” He said it like it was the most ridiculous thing one could do. 

You heard Steve’s voice, and felt his beard trail after his lips all over your face. You opened your eyes, giggling and realizing that you had fallen asleep on the couch in your bedroom. You looked up to find Steve above you, his strong arm placed on the back of the couch as he bent over slightly to look down at you with his pretty blue eyes. He was dressed in one of his many expensive, well-tailored suits which gave away that he had just finished some call or video conference regarding work. 

“Hi Stevie.” 

His soft gaze roamed your body. “Hi Princess. Come on wake up, you don’t wanna sleep all day.” 

You smiled up at him. “Yes I do.” You said, making him raise his eyebrows at you; smirking. “It’s my birthday, I can nap all day if I want to.” You did make a fair point, he had to admit. 

His smirk morphed into a gentle, calming smile as he reached out to caress your cheek softly. “But I miss you.” 

You shrugged, lazily. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” 

His lips parted in fake surprise. “Is that so?” 

The moment you saw his hands reaching out towards you, you knew he was planning to tickle you till you ran out of breath and begged him to stop. So you shot up and slipped from his grasp, running away as fast as you could; giggling uncontrollably. 

Steve chased you, chuckling each time you escaped his grasp. “Come here, Princess. You can’t run from me, you know that.” He chased you around the room, watched you as you jumped over the coffee table, the pouf and just as you were about to run into the walk-in closet Steve managed to grab your hand and tackled you down on the bed. 

He had you trapped, giggling and squirming under him. He was a happy man as he looked down at you, pinning your wrists down on the bed above your head, his face so close to yours that he was certain you and him were sharing the same breath. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

You eventually stopped fighting and squirming. You looked up at him and smiled as big as you could. You stared up at him and saw the man who was your everything. 

Steve was your everything. Your family was… absent. Steve said none of them cared about you as much as he did. Steve also said that your father was not a good man, and that’s why he was locked up in jail. You never asked why, or what he did to deserve such punishment, but Steve said that it wasn’t important for you to know so you let it go. Your mom was not here either, she was always out of the country, working. Steve said your mom made work her priority over you, but that was okay too because you had Steve. And he was all you need. 

Steve looked down at you, admiring how pretty his Princess was. When he first saw you around four years ago, he knew he had to protect you forever. You were too precious, too innocent for this world. He couldn’t just stand there and watch this world corrupt you in any way, so he kept you close. He did what he had to in order to keep you under his roof and protection all the time. He made sure you’d never have to worry about anything, ever. 

“Hi Princess.” He murmured again, still on top of you. You gave him a smile which always melted his heart ever since day one. You owned him, and you probably had no idea about all the things he was willing to do for you. 

“Hi Stevie.” To you, he had always been Stevie - your best friend, your family, your protector - your everything. You don’t know where everyone went, or why everyone gradually disappeared from your life once you met Steve. But you had him, and he was all you needed. 

“Happy Birthday.” He whispered, wishing you for the fifth time since this morning when you woke up in his arms. Steve leaned down to kiss the side of your mouth. 

You relished his touch. Steve always made you feel good just by being there, and having all his attention on you was all you ever wanted. You giggled as he kissed his way down your neck. “Thank you.” 

He hummed as he kissed along the neckline of the dress you were wearing. “Did you like your gift, Princess?” Steve asked, kissing along the top of your breasts. 

You let out a quiet gasp of pleasure as you felt him gently nip at your skin. You nodded, “I did. Thank you, Stevie.” You whispered, getting lost in the way he made you feel. You thought of the gift he had given you this morning, it was currently parked in the twelve-car garage of the house, sitting there with a pretty, red bow on top of it. It was your shiny, new dream car. 

“We can go on a drive later, if you want.” He murmured against your skin, one of his hands releasing your wrists, lowering to undo the buttons at the front of your dress. 

You shivered as you felt the warm, slow touches of his lips and fingertips all at the same time. He was always so gentle with you and always so mean to others. He always said that was because you were his precious Princess and other people meant nothing to him. 

A drive with Stevie sounded amazing. Only, he’s always working these days. Would he even have the time? “We could. But then what about work?” 

He froze for a moment, hearing the hint of sadness and uncertainty in your tone. He hated it. He hated that he had been so engrossed in work this past week that you noticed he wasn’t spending enough time with you. 

Steve pulled away and looked up at you. “I’ve been too busy with work lately, haven’t I?” He asked, knowing the answer. The little, sad nod you gave him made his heart hurt. “Aww…” he cooed, reaching up to kiss your nose, “I’m sorry, Princess.” He murmured against your skin and pulled away to look into your eyes again. “How about this, you have me all to yourself for the whole day today and the upcoming week? Sounds good?” 

He didn’t care about how much that would affect the many people who worked for him, all he knew was that his Princess needed him and he would do anything to make her happy. 

You smiled brightly. “Perfect!” 

He chuckled before leaning in to kiss your lips. Slow and gentle at first, before growing more and more needy for you. He pressed his body against yours, allowing you to feel the urgency of his need. You gasped into the heated kiss as you felt his hardness in between your legs. Steve shoved his tongue past your lips, tasting you, stroking the inside of your mouth. You whined when you felt him roll his hips against yours. 

You felt warm, burning with need just as much as he was. And he knew. 

You shivered in pleasure as you felt him kiss his way down your body again, unbuttoning your dress with impatience, his need overpowering his entire being. He needed you, needed to taste you and have you come undone on his tongue, he needed your taste embedded in his brain, not wanting to risk ever forgetting it. 

Steve kissed down the middle of your breasts, down till your belly button and stopped at the waistband of your light pink, lace panties, which matched the bra and the dress you wore. Wanting to tease you just a little, he stuck his tongue out and licked along the edge of your underwear before licking up and down your wet, clothed core. 

He watched you squirm on the bed. Smirking devilishly, he kissed along your inner thigh just to mess with you a little more. He could tell you were slowly giving into the haze of pleasure which washed over you even though he had barely touched you yet. 

“Stevie…” you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head back as he nibbled along the soft skin on your inner thigh. “Please…” 

He had to give in. His cock twitched in his pants, straining against the zipper at the sound of your soft moans and pleas. 

He pulled your underwear away from your skin and to the side, exposing your dripping wet folds to his hungry eyes. He could tell just by the look of it that your sensitive clit was throbbing. He hummed in satisfaction, “Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen…” He whispered more so to himself, reminding himself - not that he would ever forget - that you were his. “Spread your legs for me, Princess.” 

You did, just like you did everything he asked. You parted your legs then supported yourself up on your elbows, watching him. Steve once mentioned that he liked it when you watched him as he pleasured you. 

You let out a moan the moment his mouth touched you. His lips moved along your wet folds as his tongue teased your entrance. His beard scratched your sensitive skin, as your arousal spread all over his mouth. 

“You taste so sweet, Princess.” You watched how Steve closed his eyes, savouring your taste. You were a moaning mess in no time, your whole body electrified at his touch. “Like strawberries and honey.” He moaned at your taste alone, humping against the bed discreetly. He could always fuck you later, but right now was strictly about you. 

Steve moved his hand which was caressing up and down your thigh towards your core. He pushed his two fingers past your entrance and pumped them in and out of you slowly, gradually increasing his pace. He felt your walls clench around his fingers as you moaned louder and louder with each stroke of his fingers against your walls. His mouth moved to your throbbing clit, teasing you further until you felt like you were losing your mind. 

“Stevie…” You struggled to hold back your moans. 

Steve took one look at you and he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You never could last long under his touch anyways. But he was always more than happy to pleasure his Princess. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, Princess? You can’t hold back from cumming all over my tongue, can you baby?” 

His husky voice made your body throb even more, along with his warm breath fanning your damp skin. You whined in response, dropping down on the bed - your upper body having no strength to hold you up any longer. Steve chuckled. 

“It’s okay, Princess. Cum for me.” He whispered and placed his mouth back on your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of your relentlessly. He noticed the way your legs were shaking slightly. You couldn’t hold the pressure in between your legs anymore so you let go and came violently around his fingers and mouth. 

You moaned out loud, squirming as you came, and Steve lapped up everything you had to offer. He licked each and every drop of your cum as it spilled out of you before kissing his way up your body again. He reached your lips and kissed you deeply. 

You giggled into the kiss. It made Steve smile, he always found it adorable how you were always so giggly after he made you cum. 

Steve pulled away after a while, looking down at your swollen lips and the shine in your eyes. “Want me to order your favorites for your special day? Strawberry and chocolate donuts?” He asked. Those damn donuts were your kryptonite. He often wondered if you loved them more than you loved him. 

You gave it a thought. “Nope.” 

Your answer worried him. And he opened his mouth to ask you why but you spoke up before he could. “Let’s make some cupcakes instead. With strawberry and chocolate icing.” You had missed him so much and you desperately wanted to spend time with him, and what was better than baking together in the kitchen? 

Steve smiled, almost reading your mind. He knew exactly why you had proposed so. He felt a little guilty but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Then he remembered… 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Princess,” it sounded like a warning. “You remember what happened the last time we tried to bake something, right?” His voice sent shivers dancing down your back. 

Of course you remembered. It involved a lot of kisses, chocolate ganache and eventually ended with Steve fucking you right there on the kitchen floor. Your face felt really as that memory resurfaced in your head. 

You nodded. “I promise that won’t happen again, Stevie.” You were the one to blame for that, since it was you who kept teasing him in the first place. 

He hummed in your ear, the sound making your body throb again. “We’ll see about that.” He pulled away and stared down at you. “Okay, come on. Let’s go make some cupcakes for my Princess.” 

You jumped out of bed the moment he got off you. He pulled you close again, buttoning your dress for you while you looked up at him like he hung the moon. 

By the time you made it to the kitchen, Steve had already removed his suit jacket and tie. The black button down shirt was doing things to you but he didn’t need to know that yet. It should be illegal for a man to look that good. While you took out all the appliances and utensils you needed for the cupcakes and icing, Steve’s phone vibrated on the counter. 

He grabbed his phone and took a look at who the caller was. You noticed the frown on his face. 

“Who is it Stevie? Is it work?” 

The discontent in your tone didn’t go by unnoticed. But this phone call had to be dealt with. “No, Princess.” Steve stepped closer and kissed your forehead. “It’s… an old friend. I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” He kissed your lips briefly and left the kitchen. 

You pouted for a moment but then shook it off. 

Steve went as far away from the open kitchen as he could, just to get out of your hearing range. He had to cross the entire living room to answer the call. Bitterly. 

“What?” He spat at the caller. And he was immediately greeted by a sobbing woman. 

“Just let me talk to her, at least please. She’s my-,” 

Steve cut the crying woman off, like he always did. “She’s your nothing! Nothing, you hear me? She’s mine. Only mine. It’s not my fault you’re a terrible mother who doesn’t care about her daughter’s well-being.” 

He heard more sobbing on the phone. “I didn’t do anything, I just-,” 

He cut her off once again. “Stop lying! You tried to take her away from me!” 

The woman raised her voice. “Because I realized that you’re crazy! I regret the day I met you, the day I let you in my life, in her life. You were a big mistake, and now you won’t even let me talk to my daughter?!” Her anger could be heard despite the tears. “You won’t even let me come home, I can’t even step out of this damn place because your men are everywhere!” 

Steve chuckled. Your mother was abroad, not allowed to come anywhere close to you because… because he didn’t like the thought of having to share your love or attention. You were his. You had him, you didn’t need anyone else. 

“You’re in a luxurious house, with everything one can ever need in it. What are you complaining about? You could’ve been dead, you know? I could have had you killed instead if I wanted to, but I didn’t. You should thank me for that.” 

He received a series of swear words as a reply, which only made him smirk wider. 

“It’s her birthday, Steve. Let me talk to her. I won’t tell her anything about this, please.” The woman begged. 

Steve scoffed. “She doesn’t need you. She has me. Now, don’t ever call here again or I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another day.” He ended the call right in the woman’s face. He carelessly tossed his phone on one of the couches as he walked back into the kitchen. 

You were taking out all the ingredients, weighing them on the scale carefully. You had somehow managed to get some flour on your cheek in the process. Steve smiled, his heart melting at the sight of you. So precious, all his. 

He walked over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his head to kiss your exposed shoulder. “Hi Princess.” He murmured, softly. 

You smiled. “Hi.” 

“I love you more than anything, Princess. You know that, right?” He placed another kiss on your skin. 

You turned your head to the side a little, smiling, “I know, you tell me everyday. I love you too, Stevie.” 

-

Midway through, while your cupcakes were in the oven and Steve was getting the icing ready, he noticed a slight frown on your face as you sat on the counter not far from him. 

“What is it, Princess?” He placed the bowl down and stared at you, giving you his undivided attention as always. 

“Hmm?” You looked up at him, “Oh, nothing.” You lied. And he caught it immediately. You were never a good liar. 

Steve walked over to you, stepping in between your legs and placing his hands on your thighs, caressing your skin gently. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

You looked down at your lap, his hands inching higher and higher up your thigh. You wondered if you should bring it up, because it always upset him. But before you could stop yourself, you were blurting out the words, “I was wondering why my mom didn’t call me today. She did last year. You think she forgot my birthday?” 

Steve was upset for a moment, before being clouded by jealousy and possessiveness. He tried smiling to hide it. “You don’t need her. If she cared, she’d be here right now. Don’t you agree, Princess?” 

You nodded, lowering your eyes, but Steve could tell you didn’t agree. 

“Princess, look at me.” He spoke, you looked up. “You don’t need anyone. You have me, right?” 

You nodded again, more firmly. “I know, Stevie but-,” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Steve slid his hand into your hair and tugged on it gently to make sure he had your attention. “Because what, huh? Is my love not enough for you? Am I not enough?” His tone was gentle but bitter. His eyes were glossier than before. Anger, jealousy, it all ate him up on the inside. 

You stared into his eyes, your own watering a little. Oh no, you didn’t want to upset him. “You’re my everything, Stevie.” 

Those words shook his entire being, and he released your hair immediately. He looked down for a moment, sighing loudly. He placed his hands on either side of you on the counter, pressing his forehead to your chest. “You’re mine, Princess.” He whispered as your fingers slid into his hair, massaging his scalp to calm him down. It was working. “You’re mine and you don’t need anyone else.” He whispered. “We don’t need anyone.” 

You spoke up immediately, “I know. I don’t need anyone. I have you.” You felt him kiss his way up your neck soon after. 

“But you’re still thinking about your mother, are you not?” He sounded bitter. “She doesn’t care about you, Princess. She never has, neither did your father. They never cared or loved you like I do.” He said softly, but his jealousy was hard to ignore. 

“I know, Stevie.” 

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was in a bad mood. He eventually said so himself, “You upset me, Princess.” He murmured then resumed kissing your skin. “I do all this for you, buy you what you want, do everything to keep you happy but it seems I’m not enough.” He whispered against your skin and you shivered at his tone. 

“No Stevie, that’s not-,” 

He shut you up by placing his mouth on yours. He kissed you with all he had in him, pouring out all his emotions - the good and the bad. His hands gripped your hips as he kissed you hard and fiercely, not caring that he was biting your lips carelessly. 

You couldn’t help but gasp into the kiss when he swiftly slid you off the counter and set you down on your feet. Steve pulled away and stared into your eyes with love and anger. “I’m all you need, Princess. Why can’t you just accept that?” 

Before you could say something, he turned you around so your front pressed against the edge of the counter and your back to his torso. You gripped the counter as he grabbed your dress on either side and pulled it up until it bunched around your waist. You felt his mouth at the side of your neck; licking and biting and kissing - making your heart race and that intensified when you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

“I’m gonna show you that I’m enough.” He whispered into your ear. “That I’m all you need, because no one is going to love you as much as I do, Princess.” The sincerity and certainly in his voice sent tingles down your spine. 

You felt him lower your underwear until it reached your ankles. Your heart fluttered and raced all at the same time. You could feel him, pressing against you. His hands on either side of your waist as you pressed the palms of your hands against the cold counter. 

You waited for a moment. Then you felt the tip of his cock press against your folds, slowly rubbing up and down; parting the lips at your entrance. “You’re all mine, Princess.” Steve moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you.

Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming sooner than you thought. Steadily, Steve filled you up; stretching you all the way like he always did. And he had you whimpering in no time. 

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was foggy as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.” 

You felt all of him. Each time he filled you up entirely, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot, and you moaned out loud each time; your walls clenching around him. 

“I’m yours…” you whispered. Your mind was hazy, by him slamming into you. His thrust was animalistic, and rough. Each time he slammed into you, your front crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that.

“Louder.” He growled. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it; tipping your head back. “I said louder, Princess.” His voice sounded menacing. 

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours, Stevie” You said, louder like he wanted. 

The sounds of your skin slapping against one another was downright obscene, and the grunts leaving his mouth was even more sinful. You couldn’t see him, yet you knew he looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, eyes closed, his lips parted as occasional groans escaped his lips. You could imagine him with the frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you. 

“You better remember that, Princess.” He growled into your ear. “You are mine. I love you, and I am the only one you’re allowed to love back. You hear me?” 

You nodded, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. 

And when your walls clenched violently around him, Steve knew you were close as well.

“You’re gonna cum for me, Princess?” he cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. Seeing you didn’t reply, he tugged on your hair and tilted your head back a little more. He leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did. 

“Cum for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonizingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him; you came, hard.

He did too. With a few strokes against your walls, he came right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, leaving behind his presence as your body shook against the counter.

Carefully, he pulled out. And smiled, satisfied, as he watched how his cum trickled out of you and past your folds. He adjusted his pants and zipped it up. He pulled your underwear up, then finally fixed your dress. 

He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Your back was still against his torso, and his arms were around you. Unable to trust your own body, your hands gripped the counter still. He nuzzled your neck, kissed your skin and moved his lips to your ear. 

“Now tell me, Princess, do you need anyone else? Anyone at all?” He mumbled. 

You shook your head, still hazy. “No, Stevie. You’re all I need. You’re my everything.” You replied, repeating the same words he constantly told you. “I love you.” 

Steve smiled against your skin. “I love you more, Princess.” He added, “Perhaps a little too much.” He meant what he said. 

He didn’t care how many times he’d have to remind you. He would do it as many times as it took, all for you to realize that you belonged to him. There was no one else. No other love, no one else to turn to, nowhere to run. Just him. 

“Now come on, we have cupcakes to ice.” He kissed your cheek before pulling your trembling body away from the counter. 

You smiled up at him. Your Stevie… How could you ever bother about whether anyone else remembered your birthday or not? Stevie was here for you, and he was all you ever needed. He was your everything. You loved him. Only him.