#she may also be getting a name change specially for that au

[sovhina]

Eriana with some nonsensical lighting because I missed her and wanted to chop her hair for funsies

[brucewaynehater101]

Just a warning, this au strays a bit close to NSFW territory in that it does talk about Sex Workers, but it does not mention or describe anything specific, mostly just discussing how they operate and some dangers they may face working in Gothem.

So, we all know that Tim would do a lot for the mission right? More than most people would. I mean, just look at Brucequest or the fact he came back after his 16th birthday or his first few months as Robin when he was basically Bruce's nanny. He also has many false life's he can slip into at the drop of a hat such as Alvin Draper or Caroline Hill. So why not add one more to those personas? A woman named Jane Doe, a sex worker who works just outside Crime Alley who everyone knows and knows everyone, but no one truly knows her nor have they ever seen her face, if she even is a woman as she uses all pronouns to get just a little more mystery added to them. Their outfit is constantly changing but also very specific, a short and highly attractive dress that doesn't look cheap and a full face mask in the style of Venetian Carnival Masks, Volto design specifically so that it covers his full face but shows striking blue eyes. Those he has colored contacts that he switches around constantly.

The reason that Tim does this is simple. Information. While Jason may be able to ask the sex workers under his protection questions, they wouldn't be as open with him as they would another sex worker. Tim can get information from them, the clients, the shop owners of the area, the homeless, anyone and everyone who is often on the street or connected to it that none of the other Bats would ever be able to get. And through his... services he gets a lot of information about up coming things thanks to a special discount everyone knows about. If you tell Jane a secret they don't already know, you get 10% off his services. Tell him 2 and you get 20%. So on and so forth, but it has to be things that Tim didn't already know and he's more than happy to hear about which rouges are hiring at the moment and when they stop hiring, after all, what easier way to predict when they are gunna do stuff than by when they get new henchmen?

A lot is known about Jane Doe, yet also nothing is known. Jane doesn't keep any of the money he makes, giving it to the other girls and often extra as well. No one knows where she keeps getting 100s of dollars to just *give* them but she does. Jane has three brothers, a sister, and a father but no mother. They don't know their names, simply knowing them as N, H, C, R, and B. Whoever they are, they're a well off family but they aren't good to Jane, bad enough that Jane feels safer on the corners of Gothem than the comfort of her home. They know from "funny" stories he tells about his family or via them asking about scars he forgets misses when he covers himself in makeup (there are so many, what have they done to you child?) And him always telling something close to the truth.

They know that N is his oldest brother and the only one who cared about him for a long time, who helped him and was the first person who ever made him feel truly happy. They also know that N took something very precious from Jane Doe without Jane's permission and shattered their trust in N. Tim never told them what was taken or that it was Robin, but in a profession like the one he shares with them, they all come to the same conclusion about what was taken and why Jane might seek comfort in this line of work.

They know that H is also his older brother and has hurt Jane often. They know that the slight scar on his neck he covers with a choker or makeup was made by H, as was the bullet scar in his leg. He laughed about that one, telling his friends how H had set down one of his guns after cleaning it, R picked it up and accidentally fired it, and it bounced twice before going clean through Tim's leg. He laughs about how mad H was at both of them and how he yelled at them to not tell B or else, using a mocking tone and laughter that only causes the others to glance at eachother in worry over their friend. Tim makes sure to reassure them that he got to the blood before it dried so it wasn't to hard to clean up. Tim may have read it as anger in Jason's voice when he said to not tell, but actually it was panic and worry about Tim's wound and how Bruce would react.

They don't know much about C, only that she managed to escape the hell hole known as Gothem and lives in another country. Sometimes she comes back for visits and Jane is always very excited when she does.

The other Sex Workers don't like R. They know that R has either threatened Jane with sharp objects or actually harmed her with them many times but has never gotten in trouble for it. Any time Tim has some left over injuries from patrol, he plays it off as either R or H getting agressive with him again and tries to calm them by saying, "oh come on. Both of them have only tried to *actually* kill me twice! It's fine guys, they won't seriously injure me." While having 5 stitches in his arm.

Jane doesn't talk about their Dad much, always getting quiet and looking away when he's brought up. They ask if B has ever hit him and Jane says, "he doesn't hit me anymore." And all of them want to kill him. They want to kill all of them (except maybe C) and bury their bodies where they'll never be found.

Of course, none of the Bats know about Tim's other nightly activities and where he gets his info from, simply shrugging and moving along. Tim is terrified of any of them accidentally finding out. But unfortunately that day could be coming soon as one of the workers goes to The Red Hood and grabs him by the jacket saying, "you're supposed to protect us right? That's what you promised us, isn't it? Saftey? Well one of the others, Jane, is in deep trouble. Their family is gunna *kill* them. Do whatever you need to do to keep Jane safe from those monsters, we'll tell you what we know, but stop them before she's just another dead body in Gothem Harbor. Do we need to pay you? We'll pay you however much it takes for you to make them pay."

This does remind me of a few fics that go over Tim's "Caroline" identity combined with the idea that Bruce was worse to Tim during his Robin years. Some fics do go into Tim having to go so far as actually having sex with people while some don't.

There are also a few fics of Tim going undercover in Crime Alley as a stripper, cocktail server, sex worker, or other when Red Hood finds out and loses his shit.

The idea of Tim using a fake identity to vent about his family issues is a really cool concept! It would allow him to see how the actions done against him were shit and not okay. He may have the mindset that his trauma is fine because it happened to him, but the separation of identities may help start that realization process. I'm also all here for the identity shenanigans of someone trying to save Jane from her family and accidentally going to one of the people who's hurt them. Lovely amounts of mixed emotions there.

This fic/AU would need to be careful to address both the trauma of Tim selling himself at such a young age as well as still treat sex workers with respect, individuality, and care. It would also be cool to see how the inner workings of the sex industry may be affected by Gotham (such as rogues, toxins, corruption, wealth disparity/poverty, etc).

But yeah! Lots to explore in this AU. I wonder if Tim, in this one, cares about pronouns or gender identity. Does he enjoy crossdressing, does he experiment with his gender identity, and does he make distinctions? I think it would be cool to indicate he's closer agender but is fine with whatever. I like to imagine, in this AU, that he simply doesn't care what gender identity he's perceived as unless that identity needs a specific gender.

Anyways, I am curious about how Red Hood reacts to his characterization by Jane. I wonder if she seems to be wary or distant from him before he finds out that's Tim. Hopefully, Jason tries not to take Jane's hesitance personally. Just because Red Hood is established as a protector doesn't mean that Jane would trust him. They may have their own reasons/experiences not to that has nothing to do with the anti-hero.

[stringsbasement]

May we get a bit more about UFY!Dalv? (Also ig in extension corn yaoi as collateral)

apologies for the Late Reply!! I've been brainstorming What To Say to this ask for days, since before this i didn't think about dalv/vlad all that much. so here's a hopefully Cohesive peek into his (and martlet's!!) character and backstory + some doodles!

(i have plans for a bigger piece that ill start Later On when i have the Time.)

i do want to bring vlad a more active role to the story in yellowfell compared to uty. but like the au itself, he and martlet are still a work in progress, so dont be too surprised if things change in the future.

one day, vlad met this strange, spunky teenager named martlet and now she Wont Leave Him Alone. she tells him she sticks around because she likes the fact he didn't try to attack her at first glance, to which she took as a cue to attach herself to him and now they're somehow on friendly??? terms? (the same thing that happened to chujin. its pretty effective, apparently.)

vlad would never admit he likes her company, if only because she wont stop bullying him about being a "lonely, sad adult who's only friend is a homeless kid," (she's right)

his response was, "if it wasn't for those stripes, you'd be fried dust," except, he didn't say that out loud because his social anxiety Wont Go Away even in the presence of a dumb teen

okay, now for the major plot divergences: kanako wasn't involved in the snowdin attack. rather, it's Vlad and martlet.

they do get hurt— vlad mostly, the scar never really healed— but luckily chujin was at the scene and chased the human away to waterfall with axis (and proceeded to Not kill them)

of course, chujin wouldn't want to get reported for hiding a living child away to poke needles at (politely), so for a while, Vlad and Martlet are made to believe they Did (indirectly, but still in some way,) caused the death of a child.

a human, but Still a child.

they try not to think too much about that, or how they could've died that day.

(it doesn't work that well)

(martlet is suspicious, but she wouldn't dare question chujin.)

then, it comes time that chujin needs a subject. he needs a monster's soul, from someone "pure" and "uncorrupted".

but no, Chujin couldn't ever touch Kanako or Ceroba. Not himself either, his family needs him; he can't be reckless, no matter how much he wants to Help Everyone. he hates hurting others, he truly does, but in this world, he Doesn't Have A Choice, does he?

he needs somebody Nobody Will Miss if they were to one day disappear.

so, he visits snowdin. he finds Vlad, already packing up to shamefully retreat into the ruins. He... "convinces" him Not To. he gives him the Opportunity to be a savior, to be greater, to be somebody other than himself. All he has to do is to come with him instead. start a New Life, somewhere far away from snowdin and those ruins.

offer up his soul because then, and only then, will his Sins be Forgiven.

possible amalgamation form?

vlad agrees, because it's easier to believe someone else's words about you serving a Greater Purpose rather than accept that you are nothing. so, he moves into a little town far east and meets someone very, very special :)

[beingsuneone]

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[deandoesthingstome]

Holiday Angel

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18K; Um. You’re welcome? Get some snacks and water.

@fvckinghenrycavill asked nicely, so I'm releasing this earlier than planned. Also, I think @mayloma might be waiting patiently?

Warnings: age difference (m 40′s, f 20′s; it’s your best friend’s dad for god’s sake), mention of cheating, mention of phone sex, masturbation (f), light!dom (m)/sub (f), praise kink, lingerie, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v sex in various positions, protected sex, light bondage, spanking and ass play; if this doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, I won’t be offended if you scroll on by

A/N: Let's be clear: I've only seen MI:Fallout once. I really only know August from Tumblr. This is an AU, where he is not a traitorous anarchist. I also am not comfortable writing a strict dom, so please take a softer August than you may be used too. Additionally, you are a US college Junior in this story (21-ish). Don't worry, I'm not 21 either. Trust me. It's okay. This is a fantasy.

I've also been extremely self-indulgent here. You're gonna see some names you might recognize. You might wonder what college you go to, where in the US you are, or what year it is. I have taken many liberties. Please absolutely enjoy them. (And if anyone was following along with this post, you may notice a scene change. Trying out my inclusivity options.)

And I have a Spotify playlist I used for various scene inspiration if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker (could anyone really tie him down?), but I do own these words and this story. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header by me. Dividers by the ever wonderful and giving @firefly-graphics.

You dropped the Blue Book for your last final on Professor Marshall's desk and skipped out of the room with glee, suppressing the urge to turn back and grab one more mental image of the grumpy professor for the road.

Christmas break was officially on!

Gemma was waiting in the loading zone outside McKinney Hall, her brand new Audi packed with both your bags and ready for the five hour road trip home.

"Bitch, what took you so long?" she teased, knowing you were actually a little early. You had breezed through the test and ran back to the dorms to meet her. She handed you your favorite iced coffee indulgence, a special treat for making it through the week.

"Let's hit it!" you shouted, turning up the volume on the Spotify playlist Gemma had primed and ready to go.

You swapped driving duties halfway, stopping at a drive-thru to grab french fries to supplement the cut fruit and snacks you packed for the trip.

"God, I am craving salt right now!" Gemma exclaimed.

"Auntie on the way?" you sympathized.

"Yesss," Gemma groaned. "And Mikey wants to meet up first thing when he flies in on Sunday. God I hope she gets lost on the way!"

"How's that been going? Long distance and all."

You were glad you and Gemma had decided NOT to room together again after the fiascos of Freshman and Sophomore year. It was only through the saving grace of several grueling classes that kept you library or study group bound for a good portion of the time that you had been able to overcome the petty drama.

It was Gemma's father who had actually suggested she move off campus alone this year and you were pleased to find a lighter class load that allowed you to spend more quality time with your childhood best friend without wanting to rip her face off every five minutes. He was so wise, that Mr. Walker.

But living apart kept you from knowing every single detail of each other's lives, so the drive was a perfect time to catch up on the minutiae.

"It's been weird, honestly. I mean, hooking up last summer was totally unexpected. I can't believe he finally let Chelsea go, but what a fucking night that was!" Gemma squealed as you tamped down your jealousy.

Everyone in high school had the hots for Mike, and you were no exception. But Gemma caught his eye at the last hurrah before heading back to college this past September and, well, girl code. Even if your tastes in men hadn’t already started changing, he was off your list forever now. Especially because he had actually seemed hellbent on making a true go of it with her, promising nightly calls that unfortunately turned weekly as the semester dragged on.

"He's seemed a little distant lately. Distracted. That missed call on Halloween really had me questioning everything he said about giving us a shot. But he's been making it up to me. The phone sex..."

"Stop. Please. I don't want to hear about him slapping one out over the phone," you laughed.

"He sounds so sexy when he comes. Long distance or otherwise."

"Ugh, god. Stop!"

"What? Like you don't love it too! What's up with you and Charlie?"

"Fuck him,” you scoffed. “D'you know, I caught him with Brigette?"

"Your roommate Brigette?"

"Yup. Right before finals started. I need to find a new living situation for next semester, stat!"

"God, why didn't you say something??? Are you okay?"

"I'm surprisingly fine. Things hadn't been so hot lately and honestly, I just don't think he's for me."

"What, missionary all the way?"

You both laughed until the tears were running.

"You should've seen his face when I asked to be on top once. It was like I killed his dog or something."

"Jesus, yeah. You're better off. You need a real man," Gemma declared.

You laughed again, but it came out with a hitch in your throat. A real man was right.

"What was that?" Gemma asked.

"What was what?" you feigned innocence, and held your breath.

"You laughed like you're hiding something. You got a thing going with one of your professors?"

You exhaled as normally as possible. Easy enough to fib your way out of this one with an opening like that.

"God, nothing's going on. But have you seen Professor Marshall? I alternately congratulate and kick myself for choosing a criminal justice major. That man is so fine to look at," you let out a whistle. "It's distracting!"

"So I've heard. Think it's too late to switch majors?"

"Why would I?"

"Not you, silly! Me," Gemma laughed.

"Your father would be so disappointed if you didn't finish your business degree. Who's he gonna leave the company to?" You winked at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with it. She was only playing along, hoping to find a college boyfriend that would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

You didn't think Mikey was it, but hey. Neither your circus nor your monkeys. You chatted for a bit longer before Gemma dropped into a light sleep. Girl could never last in the car as a passenger on long drives. The hum of the road put her out if she wasn’t in charge of driving.

While she slept, you thought about Mr. Walker. 

When did this infatuation start? You’d met Gemma, and by extension Mr. Walker, in 5th grade after your parents had moved across town and into a new school district. Mrs. Walker had already passed and you don’t know why Gemma’s father never remarried, but you also never saw or heard about him bringing a woman home to meet her.

In high school, when you really started paying attention to boys, you began to notice how good looking Mr. Walker was. But the most you ever hoped for was to meet a boy who would grow up to be as handsome. It wasn’t until lately, when some of your college professors had piqued your interest, that you began to fantasize about him, too. This might be a long week.

You pulled up the scenic drive and parked in front of the Walker residence around 8pm. Gemma blinked her eyes opened and stretched before getting out of the car.

"You sure it's okay I stay here until my parents get back?" you leaned over the gear shift to call out the door. "I can't believe they scheduled a whole house reflooring right before Christmas and then skipped town on me to boot."

"It's totally fine. Dad's probably gonna be busy 24-7 at the office so we'll have the run of the house. And thank God for heated pools!"

You kept your mouth shut, knowing if you showed any interest at all in why Mr. Walker would be so busy this close to the end of the year your face would probably melt off from the heat you felt every time you thought about him lately. Let alone the image of him in swim trunks in the pool. Or not in swim trunks.

Gemma leaned back into the open passenger door and you snapped out of it.

"Coming?"

You turned your whole body to open the driver door, desperate to hide from her the wanton desire you were sure adorned your face. Coming, indeed.

You both grabbed your bags from the back seat and headed up the pristine sidewalk towards the stately mid-century modern mansion Gemma called a "house". The thing could host a Hollywood premiere party and was decorated with such understated glamor you wouldn't be surprised if it would play backdrop to such a party one day. Or maybe a movie set.

The tall, rich wooden door had a thin vertical metal handle stretching from a quarter of the way down the right side, stopping a quarter of the way up from the bottom. A warm glow streamed through the large panels of windows stretching across the front of the house and exposing the elegantly decorated Christmas tree in the front living room surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture.

When Gemma finally tapped in the key code and opened the door, you stepped into the flagstone entryway and smiled at the white lights nestled in the pine garland covering the banisters of the floating stairs leading up to the master bedroom and sitting area loft, then down to the basement holding several guest rooms, the fitness and media rooms, as well as Gemma's room.

Another couple guest room suites could be found on the main entry level along with the custom gourmet kitchen and pantry, dining area, mud and laundry rooms. You knew Mr. Walker's home office was somewhere on this level as well, though you'd never dared venture down the hall to find it. He’d always made it very clear it was off limits. 

You were dying to sink into the oversized conversation couch that surrounded the sunken floor of the family room in the back of the house and stare off into the fire or out the back windows onto the deck overlooking the pool but Gemma called for you to follow her downstairs first.

"I have to get out of these clothes and then we'll DoorDash."

"No need, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the deep voice call from upstairs. "I made dinner, it's just warming in the oven. I'll get plates ready for you both, so hurry settling in."

"Dad! I thought you'd still be at the office!" Gemma exclaimed, dropping her bags and heading to the landing to give her father a hug and turning her head away to accept his kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I couldn't let you two eat cold takeout. They can never keep it warm on the drive out here." He turned, letting go of Gemma and opening his arms to you in what should have been a normal welcoming gesture if you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him half the ride home. "Good to see you again."

You suppressed a flustered squeak and pressed your lips together to stifle the drool, thankful Gemma was now behind her father and couldn't see your face as you reached for the hug. But he could. Did. For sure. Fuck.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Walker. That's very kind of you," you managed to reply while trying not to inhale his scent too deep.

"It was nothing," he let go of you and stepped back, slipping his hands slowly into the pockets of his dress slacks.

Were you staring at his muscular forearms, visible below the line of his crisp, white rolled up sleeves? God, you were. Get a fucking grip.

"We'll be right back, Dad. Thanks."

Gemma led you downstairs and sent you off to your regular overnight room down the hall from hers. You were grateful both rooms had their own bathrooms so you didn't have to pass her on your way to splash cold water on your face.

How were you going to survive these next few days before your parents came back with your aunt, uncle, and cousin for Christmas? Gemma wasn't wrong about needing a real man. You'd put up with immature boys all through high school.

Once you started college, a series of gorgeous, educated older men led your lectures over the last few years and your desires had slowly shifted. It really was no problem that Charlie had cheated on you. Perfect opportunity to drop him and move on to something more meaningful. And hopefully someone more experienced.

Has Mr. Walker been in your sights all along? No. No way. But here he was now. It wasn't right to think about him this way, but fuck he looked good tonight, that fluffy curl hanging down and that porn 'stache. What else could you call it? He even had a little of the scruff you'd really enjoyed seeing on Professor Marshall. You wondered how it would feel between your... You heaved a sigh. This can not happen.

You splashed another round of cold water and then dried your face, swapped your jeans for light cotton joggers, and then climbed the stairs to join Gemma and her dad in the dining room.

"There you are," Mr. Walker announced, standing at the head of the table with a bottle in his hand. "We thought you'd gotten lost." He flashed what felt like a knowing smirk as you froze in your tracks.

"Dad, don't be daft. She knows her way around the house." She turned to you from her seat to the right of her father and motioned to your usual guest spot across the table from her, to the left of Mr. Walker.

"Oh, let me have my fun, Gemma. Would you girls like some wine?"

"'Girls', dad? Really?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Ladies?"

Mr. Walker chuckled as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Right then. There you go, ladies."

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at you as he split his arms and passed the glasses over by the stems. You did your best to grab the bowl, but his fingers shifted up slightly as he released your glass. You heated again as they brushed the back of your hand and you took a sip immediately, trying to cover the pleasure that had to be apparent on your face.

You set the glass down and picked up your knife and fork, preparing to dig into the plate of luscious looking food in front of you. You took a bite and tried to suppress it, but a groan slipped out of your mouth as your eyes rolled closed. You closed your lips and chewed the fork-tender meat, marveling at it melting away in your mouth. When you finished swallowing, you opened your eyes to find Gemma staring at you, mouth agape.

You turned your head to find Mr. Walker's piercing blue eyes trained on yours as he leaned casually against the arm of the oversized dining chair.

"Enjoying it?"

You blinked and remembered where you were, who you were with.

"Mr. Walker, these short ribs are divine!" you declared. 

"Jesus. You act like you never ate a home-cooked meal before," Gemma snapped.

"Sorry, I just," you shook your head to clear the fog. "I mean you’ve always been a great cook, I've just never tasted anything like this."

"It's good, right?" Mr. Walker asked. “I’ve been expanding my repertoire lately.”

"It really is. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed! Gemma, I'm sorry. That was..."

You stared at her across the table with a silent plea, your eyes begging her to say something, anything. You were about to give up completely when Gemma burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

"You absolute freak!" she laughed and you let out a breath and laughed with her.

You kept your shit together during the rest of the dinner for the most part. But Mr. Walker poured another few glasses of wine and you could feel yourself getting tipsy.

"I think I need to head to bed, but do you need any help in the kitchen, Mr. Walker?" you asked.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be careful down those stairs." Did he wink at you?

"See you in the morning!" Gemma called, with a lightness that told you she had well and truly forgiven the awkwardness of just an hour or so ago.

You peeled off your thin sweater and discarded your bra, leaving just a lacy camisole and your joggers. You pulled back the thick pile of covers on the bed and were about to climb in, when a wave of thirst overtook you.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped softly into the hall. The Walkers always kept a mini-fridge stocked in the media room down here. You froze as you entered the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Walker! I was just..."

"I thought you might want a bottle of water for your nightstand."

You exhaled a small laugh as you both spoke at the same time, but then froze again as you watched the way he held the bottle. Low, at his hips. One hand on the base, the other fiddling with the cap.

" Wh..where's Gemma?" you practically whispered, unable to get your voice to cooperate suddenly.

"She's finishing up the dishes. I’m sure she'll be right down," he replied with a firm, confident tone. "Did you want this?"

He gave a slight nod in the direction of his hands, where you saw he was now tipping the bottle back and forth, before finally offering it to you with an outstretched arm and hand gripped firm around the plastic form.

"Here. Take it."

You nodded and reached for the bottle, once again trying to avoid his touch. Once again finding your fingers brushing against his.

“There you go.” 

Your stomach dropped along with his voice as you realized what a terrible idea staying here was. There was no way you were going to be able to hide your desire from Gemma if her father was going to keep acting like this. Time stood still while you tried to move something, anything. Your eyes away from his. Your mouth to say thank you. Your feet to head back to your room.

"Let's get you back to bed," he stepped forward, turning you with a hand on your shoulder, then sliding that hand down your side to your waist and guiding you down the hall.

He stopped at the door frame, pressing you gently into the room. You almost moaned at the loss of his touch as you stepped out of his reach and sat on the edge of the bed, finally finding your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

"Sweet dreams." He absolutely winked at you. Fuck.

He pulled the door shut, leaving you all alone with the crazy feelings stirring inside you. This is your best friend's father. You reclined back in the bed. Snap out of it. Girl code isn't just about boyfriends. Pulled the covers over you. Besides, he's like, twice your age, at least. Stared at the dark ceiling, while your fingers shifted under the covers and down your belly. But the way he looked at you tonight. Slipped a hand past the waistband of your pants. He wasn't just being polite. Tentatively touched the heat between your legs.

He was flirting, there was no denying it. Maybe you could have written off the hand brush at dinner, but he was showing off with the bottle of water. He wanted you to look.

You swirled a finger gently through your folds, gathering the slick and spreading it around. You thought about his mischievous grin, his tailored pants, and his strong hands before plunging two fingers deep inside, pulling them back out slowly to circle your clit.

"More," you whispered to yourself, then obliged with fingers deep again, arching your back for better positioning.

"Right there," you moaned quietly, letting the fantasy circle around your head. You pumped in and out, curling deep to find your sweet, spongy spot while you toyed with the idea of letting him touch you.

"Please," you begged, pressing a thumb against your clit, twitching with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer.

You pulled your slick fingers from your clenching walls and focused all your attention on your clit, rubbing tenderly while you imagined his mouth on you.

"God, Mr. Walker!" you gasped, finally reaching your peak. "August," you whispered, rolling to your side and clasping the blanket close around you while you worked to slow your heart rate before drifting off to sleep.

You woke late on Saturday. It was 10 am when you looked at the clock. The floor to ceiling blackout curtains had really done their job.

You skipped the shower, even though you craved one after the long drive and your private activity the night before. Instead, you just washed your face and wrapped a thin robe around yourself before heading up to find breakfast. Gemma was sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her phone, empty cereal bowl in front of her.

“Oh, good. You’re up! And you didn’t shower already, perfect. Grab a bite and then let’s hang in the hot tub this morning. I have a kink in my neck from that car ride I need to work out!”

You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and mug of steaming coffee and took a seat in a low back leather barstool next to Gemma. She let you eat in silence while she finished her text conversation.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed, slamming the phone on the counter. “I can’t believe Mike got put on shift at the end of finals week.”

“That why he couldn’t get home already?”

“Yeah, says it’s like a right of passage for all new bartenders at the club. Business is light, but they schedule you with a threat that you’ll lose shifts the following semester if you don’t stay to serve the stragglers and the few locals who pop in the bar once the college crowd clears out for break.”

“But he’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You done?” She watched for your nod. “Well get changed and let’s hit the tub.”

You headed back downstairs to your room and fished your bikini out of your luggage. After changing, you threw the curtains aside and pulled open the sliding door leading to the heated pool deck. Gemma must have had her suit on under her robe because she was already soaking by the time you stepped outside.

You slipped into the bubbling water, immediately grateful for the suggestion. The warmth began to work on your own tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding and you let out a little moan.

“I hear you on that,” Gemma stated. “I hate long car rides! They fuck with my spinal alignment.”

“Yeah, this water feels so good.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the side of the tub, sinking as deep as you could without dipping your face in the water. You snapped up when you heard the splash and blinked your eyes open to see a figure skimming under the water from the far deep end of the pool to the shallow end closer to where you sat in the hot tub.

When Mr. Walker popped his head above water and hung on the side of the pool to say good morning, you were ever so grateful for the steam hiding any lust in your eyes. 

“Hey dad.” Gemma turned from her spot to face him. 

“Are you ladies getting in the pool this morning?” he smirked.

“No, I think we’re just gonna soak and then go veg in front of the TV for a bit,” she replied, hanging off the side of the hot tub.

“Alright, well, I’m headed out to check on a few sites this afternoon. Should I plan on you for dinner or have you made other arrangements?” Mr. Walker asked.

“Dinner here sounds great, dad. Thanks.”

Gemma turned back to you as you watched Mr. Walker duck back into the water and begin a series of laps. You fluttered your eyes closed so she couldn’t see how blown your pupils were, watching him first speak with Gemma and then propel his body through the water. God, he was practically naked over there. You were practically naked over here. You leaned your head back again to pray for relief.

When you both felt loose and relaxed enough, you climbed out of the hot tub, grabbing an oversized towel from the lidded basket next to the pool to dry off. You were just bending over to reach your lower legs and feet when you heard the splash of footsteps on the pool stairs.

“Right then, that’s me done. And don’t you two load up on snacks while I’m gone. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

You held your breath as he leaned next to you to grab a towel, another mysterious smirk on his face as he rose to face you. You stood and pulled your towel up your body, pretending to wipe non-existent water from your face just to avoid any further eye contact. His body was amazing and his wet swim trunks were clinging to his thighs. If Gemma caught you staring, you were done for.

When it felt safe, you lowered the towel from your face and watched him pad up the staircase leading to the main level before entering the house. Your heart was beating a million miles per hour, but luckily Gemma was already heading inside herself.

You showered finally, then donned some comfy loungewear and joined Gemma in the media room where she’d already cued up Netflix.

“Ready to binge The Witcher?” she asked. “They just released the new season last night.”

“Ugh, that man could raw-dog me all day and night!” 

“Where is the lie???!!!???” she laughed with you.

You grabbed some water from the mini-fridge, doing your best to ignore the scene from last night that popped into your head as you settled into an oversized, reclining theater seat. Gemma paused the autoplay on the third episode and asked if you wanted some lunch. You were hungry, alright. But yeah, a sandwich sounded good.

There were still at least 3 more episodes of the season left, when Mr. Walker called down around 6.

“I’m starting dinner now. It’ll be ready shortly.”

“We’ll help,” Gemma called and flipped off the tv. You both headed upstairs to the kitchen. Gemma began to set the dining table, so you sat at the kitchen counter and asked what you could do.

“You could prep that basil for me,” Mr. Walker replied. “Here, like this.”

You watched rapt, as he proceeded to show you how he wanted you to tear the leaves gently into small pieces. When he was sure you had it right, he drizzled some olive oil in a large shallow saute pan and waited for it to warm before tossing in two packages of gnocchi. 

He stirred them around for a few minutes and when he was satisfied by their state, he ladeled them out into a serving bowl. He scooped out a few and offered them over the counter to you and Gemma. You each plucked a warm, crispy potato pillow from the spoon and you sighed when you popped it in your mouth, happy that Gemma was making the same noise and you wouldn’t be called out this time. Something about food with Mr. Walker was becoming increasingly sensual to you.

He added some more olive oil and then butter to the pan, waiting for it to melt before pouring in the heirloom cherry tomatoes he’d asked you to dry off from the colander in the deep sink. He sprinkled in some salt and gave them a quick stir, then turned to the open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He poured three glasses set on the counter and pushed two towards you and Gemma with his fingers pressed on the base of the stems. Then he raised his own glass.

“I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he tipped his glass to Gemma, and then toward you. “Both of you, of course.”

You took a small sip, watching over the rim as he did the same and you held your breath while your eyes trailed along his throat as he swallowed, hoping Gemma didn’t notice you staring. 

The three of you chatted amicably, while Mr. Walker stirred the tomatoes in the pan until they began to burst, at which point he dumped the crispy gnocchi back into the pan. You watched in awe as he lifted the heavy pan with one hand and gave it a good toss, shifting it back and forth with subtle little wrist flicks that nestled the gnocchi into the simple sauce. Then he stirred in some fresh mozzarella pearls and some of the hand-torn basil, giving you a wink of thanks, before popping the whole thing under the broiler. 

He asked Gemma to carry the salad and offered you the last pour of wine before sending you off to the dining room with a fresh bottle. Seated at your usual spot, you piled a moderate amount of the bubbly dish onto your plate, inhaling the heavenly scent of basil and tomato. Mr. Walker raised an eyebrow as he held a small bowl of shaved parmesan in your direction. When you nodded, he held the dish for you while you sprinkled the cheese over your plate, eyes watching you the whole time. The fact that he simply turned and handed the bowl to Gemma to let her hold it while she sprinkled her own cheese was not lost on you.

The white wine wasn’t affecting you the way the red had the night before, so once dinner was over, you and Gemma helped clean up and then headed downstairs to finish out the season before going to bed. 

You woke yourself up in the middle of the night with your hand down your pants again, teasing your slit while you recalled the dream. 

A rugged man with long silvery hair helped you down off his horse and led you to a blanket in a clearing near a steamy pool of water. From a small bowl, he plucked a tiny ripe tomato with his fingers and gently pressed it into your waiting mouth. You sighed as the tomato burst when you bit into it and shivered when he bent over to lick the juice running down your chin with the tip of his tongue before pressing you to your back and holding you down with a heavy kiss. You whispered his name into the night once again as you came. 

“August.”

In the morning, you peeled the covers back and stretched your way out of bed. The pleasure of the mid-slumber release you gave yourself last night still tingled in your mind. You showered and dressed, then climbed the stairs again searching for Gemma and hopefully breakfast, missing that her door was still closed. You stopped short seeing Mr. Walker alone in the kitchen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” He spoke with a suspicious tone. It was like he knew. How could he know?

You swallowed and tried to find your voice. “I did. Thank you.”

“Coffee?” He held the french press up and grabbed a mug when you nodded. “I have a frittata here, too, if you’d like some.” 

“Yes, please. Smells amazing,” you inhaled and closed your eyes slowly, remembering the meals from the last few nights as well. “You’re a really good cook, Mr. Walker.” 

“I certainly try,” he winked at you. “So what do you two have going on today?”

“I don’t know. Mike gets in this afternoon and I think Gemma wants to meet up with him.”

“Will you be joining them?”

You blinked and swallowed. How do you tell a father that his daughter is probably going to be getting railed six ways to Sunday tonight, so no, you wouldn’t be joining them?

“Uh…”

“Morning!” Gemma’s cheery greeting broke the tension and you were thankful you didn’t have to tell Mr. Walker that the reunion tonight was for Gemma alone. She gave her father a peck on the cheek and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Gemma, sweetheart, are you meeting Mike tonight?” Mr. Walker asked.

“I am!” she grinned.

“Alone?”

“Yeaahhhh…” she answered, just short of shy. “Sorry dad, I probably should have said something earlier. But you can handle a night without me, right?”

Mr. Walker stared at her for a moment and suddenly all the tension was back in the room. He had to know what was going to go on tonight. How could he not?

“I’m sure I can figure something out. But please, be safe.”

You pursed your lips and widened your eyes as you turned away from them. Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? Did he have no illusions about the extracurricular activities of his one and only daughter? Sure, she was of age and he had to know what she got up to away from home, but still. If you had to tell your parents you were going to be skipping a night home with them to get it on with your boyfriend, you’d probably melt into the furniture.

“Always am,” Gemma exclaimed cheerfully. 

“Alright, well, I’m off. I have some work to finish up here and then a few more site visits to make today.”

“On a Sunday, dad, really?”

“We’re very close to closing this deal and it has to be done before the end of the year. I want to be sure the due diligence is correct so I don’t get stuck with a billion dollar dud when everything is said and done.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“About the things I care about, why wouldn’t I be? You two have fun today. Gemma, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not before you get home, unless you’re not going into the office tomorrow?”

“To be determined.” He gave you both a short goodbye wave and headed out.

“Awk - ward…” you sing-songed, once you were sure he was out of range.

“Ugh, I know. He’s not stupid. I mean, he knows I’m active, but it’s still a little weird being so forthcoming with him about it.”

“Has he ever had anyone…” you asked before you could filter the thought.

“I mean, you’re here all the time when I’m home. Have you ever seen him bring a woman around? I know he’s dated over the years, but no one’s ever good enough for him. They never last so he never wants to introduce us. It’s a little sad, really.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to have a swim and sit in the hot tub for a bit again this morning? Mikey’s flight gets in at 3, so I was hoping you and I could head into town for lunch and maybe some shopping and then you could drop me at his place and drive my car back here. Unless you want to meet up with anyone, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m honestly just looking forward to another veg fest tonight.”

You changed into your bathing suit and slipped a robe over top, then met Gemma on the heated pool deck. 

“I can’t get over how warm it is right now! Clearly no hope for a white Christmas.”

“I know! Air’s still a bit chilly, but yeah, sucks. I’d love snow for the holidays,” you replied, dropping your towel on a lounge chair and untying your robe. You slid the fabric off your shoulders, and stepped down the stairs into the warm, salt water pool. You let your body acclimate a bit before dipping your head completely under and pushing off the bottom to glide to the far side in one breath. When you surfaced, you grabbed a hold of the side of the pool and realized Mr. Walker was standing at his office windows, staring down at you.

He held your gaze for what felt like a moment too long, then turned away, presumably toward his desk, but impossible for you to see his face. Which, to be honest, was fine because for a minute it felt like he was going to burst through the windows and eat you up.

The splash as Gemma broke the surface next to you snapped you out of your reverie and she tugged you back from the side, urging you into an easy lap race. You swam back and forth the length of the pool about twenty times before stopping back at the shallow end.

“That all you got?” Gemma called, crawling away toward the deep end again. 

You stared after her, but let your gaze raise to the windows. His window. You could see nothing inside from this far away, the light tint blocking everything. But you knew he was there. Was he still sitting at his desk, typing a memo? On the phone, arranging an international meeting? Or was he back at the window, watching you with his hands in his pockets, struggling not to touch himself? Or fuck, maybe he was touching himself. You sank under the water before Gemma could reach you again.

“Hot tub?” she asked, when you bobbed to the surface.

“Hot tub,” you agreed.

You lounged in the even warmer, bubbling water for another 15 minutes or so, sending the last of your finals week jitters packing. This semester was over. Your relationship was over. There was nothing more you could do about your performance for either scenario. So you closed your eyes and let it all go with a sigh.

“There you are.”

“What?” you opened your eyes as Gemma spoke.

“You’ve been on edge. I know you said you didn’t care about Charlie, but something’s been bothering you. You just look so much more relaxed now. You good? Still okay about the plans for tonight? I don’t mean to leave you all alone, but…”

“I’m gonna be so good, Gem. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go. I want to see if that pop-up shop is still around. They have the cutest jewelry.”

“Yes!”

You found the store you were looking for and bought a few new pairs of earrings. A long, thin drop chain pair and some geometric hoops, asking the clerk if you could wear the gold bar threaders out of the store. You also found a necklace for your mom and some jade bracelets for your aunt. Christmas shopping halfway done.

Gemma pulled you into a lingerie shop next. 

“I wanna get something sexy for tonight.” She tried on a few outfits and picked out a few for you to try on too.

“This is silly. I don’t have anyone to wear this stuff for anymore.”

“Oh, just wear it for yourself. Don’t you just feel luxurious in silk?”

You agreed and bought the dark blue, high cut silk romper with black lace trim and white flower print. It was maybe the sexiest thing you ever owned. And you were single. Awesome.

You and Gemma walked arm in arm to your favorite lunch spot, grabbing a table on the heated patio. You giggled conspiratorially together about how her evening with Mike would go, making sure you cut her off before she got too graphic. You did not want the details. Those were private, no matter how much Gemma liked to brag.

You hit a few more shops after lunch, nabbing a new sweater for your dad, a book from your uncle’s favorite author, and some art supplies for your cousin. You just had stocking stuffers left, so you hit up the candy shop after dropping Gemma at Mike’s.

You pulled Gemma’s car into the garage and let yourself into the basement to drop your bags down in your room, figuring you would just stay hidden and out of Mr. Walker’s way for the evening. But your stomach rumbled and you realized lunch had been hours ago. 

Before you could make it upstairs, you were distracted by the sounds of grunting and staccato smacks. You peered into the gym to find Mr. Walker throwing jabs and punches against a heavy bag. His back was to you and your mouth watered as you watched his shoulders and traps tense and ripple with each hit. From the amount of sweat dripping down his back and soaked into his tank and shorts, he’d clearly been at it for a while. He was shifting his feet back and forth in a little sparring dance and you were about to get caught out as he rotated around the bag. But you simply couldn’t move.

Mr. Walker had just pumped his arms preparing for the next hit as he rounded his target. He grabbed the bag to still it when he noticed you staring.

“Everything okay?” he asked, chest heaving.

You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to turn and run.

“Everything’s, uh …just fine,” you smiled at him. “I was just on my way to grab a bite and heard the ruckus in here.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.” He trained an intense stare on you, head tilting to the side. “But I was just about done anyway. If you don’t mind waiting, I can whip up something after I grab a shower?”

“That would be amazing, thank you Mr. Walker. Anything I can do to help get ready?”

He strode toward you now, grabbing a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat from his face. You watched rapt as a damp curl bounced back into place on his brow. 

“If you want to open a bottle of wine, feel free, but no need to do any heavy lifting in the kitchen. I’ve got it covered,” he winked at you with a devilish grin. Suddenly his hand was at your neck, fingers gently caressing the chain hanging from your ear. “Are these new?”

You swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.

“They’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, trying not to sink to the floor before him.

You excused yourself and made your way back upstairs, wanting to simply escape his commanding presence and seek out a snack to tide you over. 

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” he called to you in the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on his way upstairs as well.

You sat with the banana you’d plucked from the fruit bowl and pondered the scene. 

Would he strip down in the bedroom or the bathroom? Would he stand under the rushing water for a bit and let the warm water loosen his muscles, hand against the wall, head hanging down? Did he touch himself? He had to touch himself, but did he use a bar or gel? Loofah? Washcloth? Or was he just running his hands all over his body now? How did he dry off? Towel over his head to shuffle those curls? Or bend over and get the legs, drying up the body first? Maybe he started with a swipe across his chest? Did he wrap that towel around his waist or just bare-ass it into the closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt? Barefoot? Slippers?

“Are you going to eat that?”

You jumped and dropped the banana that you hadn’t even taken one bite of to the counter.

“Oh, Mr. Walker, you startled me,” you gasped.

“You did seem rather in deep thought there. Anything I can help with?”

Why you expected him to be in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt you’d never know. Mr. Walker had donned an elegant pair of loose linen pants and simple cashmere turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide the muscles he’d been training just half an hour ago. He looked delicious.

“Here,” he reached for the as yet unpeeled banana, “let’s just put this away and get you something more substantial, okay?”

You made some light small talk about your recent semester and watched as he breezed around the kitchen, pulling out packages from the fridge and heating pans on the stove. In a mere matter of minutes he had turned a burner on to boil water and chopped asparagus, tomatoes, broccoli, and yellow peppers. When the water bubbled just right he tossed in a bag of fresh cavatelli. He asked about the rest of your Christmas plans while he sauted the vegetables in a fragrant lemon sauce. After draining the pasta, he tossed it in the pan along with a bit of pasta water, stirring to thicken up the sauce before adding some lemon zest and grated parm. Boyfriends? He asked as he ladled heaping portions into two wide flat bowls and set one down in front of you at the island.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” you said as you picked up your fork. “No, not anymore.”

“Please,” he rested his fists on the counter across from you.”I want you to call me August.’

“Okay. August,” you replied, as a jolt of pleasure raced through you straight to your cunt.

“Good girl.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, hoping it was masked as the enjoyment of the bite you took. August Walker wanted you as much as you wanted him. There was absolutely no doubt. When you opened your eyes, his icy blue stare greeted you while his mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

He lounged against the counter across from you, dish in hand, lifting bites of pasta to his mouth and chewing while he listened to you try to explain why it simply wasn’t working out with the men at college. It seemed to you that his breath got deeper with each failed relationship.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, licking an errant drop of sauce off the corner of your mouth. “It just feels like they aren’t really into it.”

“Into what?”

“Well, me. I guess. Into what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Something more…” you took a deep breath to stifle the jitters. You were about to proposition your best friend’s dad. “Passionate.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raised in surprise as if he did not expect that to be your answer. He set his plate down, abandoning the last bite, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants. And watched you watch. Yeah. He knew. Saw it the minute you walked in the house two days ago.

You dropped your fork to your plate and slid your chair back, standing to move around the island. 

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“Are dishes what you really want to be doing right now?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest. “August.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them against your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck, but with no pressure at all.

“So, listen. I want you to be really sure about this,” his eyes darted back and forth as he searched yours for any hint of doubt, even as you nodded. When he found none, he bent to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a simple touch, then a swipe of the tongue to ease you open and slip in. The mustache tickled your nose and the scruff felt exactly how you imagined, how you wanted it. You let your mouth fall open and welcomed the gentle probing of his tongue.You whimpered when he pulled away.

He considered you then, for what felt like an eternity before he placed a thumb on your lips and tugged down to your chin then slid his digit into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to gather whatever moisture was available. You closed your lips around his thumb and rolled your eyes back up to him, sucking slowly on his thumb and daring him to pull it out.

He huffed and sneered and pulled his thumb from your lips and tilted your mouth back up to meet his lips crashing down on yours again. When he released your mouth, he licked his lips and then turned you so he could guide you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of the bed and you stared up into his ocean-deep eyes.

“My god you are an angel, aren’t you?”

You shivered and gasped, then released your breath slowly. He smirked again.

“You like that? When I call you an angel?”

“I really do,” you whispered.

“Good. Then whenever you’re with me, alone, you are my Angel. Is that okay with you?”

“It is.”

He smiled at you then and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him bare chested in front of you. You raised a hand as if to drift your fingers through the bed of fur covering his chest and tapering down to his stomach. But he stopped you. Grabbed your wrist with one hand and tilted your chin to him with the other, holding your gaze steady and peering deep into your soul to confirm his observation. It was written all over your face. You wanted him to tell you. You wanted him to give you permission. You wanted to hear him say yes. So you asked.

“Can I touch you August?”

“Yes, Angel. You can.” He released your hand and face and you proceeded to touch him. You slid your palm up his stomach to his chest, your fingers snaking through his hair. He heaved a sigh, then placed his hand on your wrist again and pulled you up to standing. You peered into his eyes, bit your lower lip and slid your palm back down, turning your hand so your fingertips hit his waistband first, sneaking under the fabric.

“You sure you’re ready for that right now?” he asked, placing his hand on your wrist for the third time this evening. “I think you might want to rethink that.” He put your hand over the bulge in his pants so you could feel not only how hard he was already but how large. He was silently asking you if you’d ever had a lover whose cock was as big as his and you paused for only a beat.

You knew exactly how you wanted to start. “I’m a thousand percent sure,” you grinned salaciously up at him.

His nod was practically imperceptible, so determined not to let you see how your eagerness was affecting him. How would it look if he were losing all control?

You licked your lips and brought both hands to the drawstring tie, loosening it slowly, then dragging the fabric carefully over his engorged cock. You sat back on the bed as you pushed his pants down his legs, never once letting your eyes leave his.

Not until you were ready to take him in hand did you drop your eyes to drink him in. It was the most glorious sight you could imagine. Long, thick, hard. Jumping slightly as you touched the underside with your fingertips, then settling the weight into the palm of your hands. He had not been wrong at all. No other man you’d been with could compare to his size. And you had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly how to wield it.

You were hypnotized. Even if you’d wanted to look back into his eyes to ask permission before you took him into your mouth, you simply could not tear your gaze away. Your hunger evolved into something more now, and you leaned forward, tucking your tongue under the head while your lips wrapped around him.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to take his full length inside your mouth, but you wanted to try. Wanted to show him you were willing. You gathered your spit and let it glide your mouth over his cock, past the bulbous head and as far down the veiny shaft as you could manage. With a hand firmly gripped around the base, you held him in place while you moved your mouth up and down, letting your tongue drag and circle. You could do this for hours. He might have let you. But the minute you let his tip hit the back of your throat, causing a small gag reflex and a few tears to well in your eyes, he pulled you off.

“Not yet. I’ll have you undone, but not yet.”

You blinked the tears of pleasure quickly away, confused. Charlie had always loved to come in your mouth, knowing an early release would allow him to last longer with you.

“Was it not alright?” you questioned, unsure now if all those boys had been lying when they said you were the best.

“Oh, Angel. It was divine. Do you see how fucking hard I am for you? And you’ll do that again for me. I’ll insist on it. But I want to drink you in myself, first.”

He asked you to undress. You were suddenly reminded of your spur of the moment purchase and would give anything to put yourself on display in it for him. He sensed your cautious excitement, but mistook it for hesitation.

“What is it, Angel? Are you having doubts?” he asked in a gentler tone than he’d been using since you arrived in the bedroom.

“No, August. Nothing like that. I just, well…”

He furrowed his brows at you and urged you to finish your confession.

“I mean, I want this, but I really wasn’t prepared for it to happen. And it’s embarrassing to say, but I have something I’d love to put on for you. Can I do that?”

His relief shifted to a wolfish grin, as he nodded and shifted out of your way. “Please don’t take too long.” He took himself in hand and began to slowly stroke. “I don’t want to take care of this myself.”

You nodded eagerly and rose to stand before him. It took every ounce of restraint not to sprint from the room in an effort to return to him as quickly as possible, but that didn’t feel dignified. You weren’t going to start acting like a schoolgirl in front of August Walker.

Your legs carried you purposefully through the house to your room where you undressed, put your hair up, and quickly showered. After drying off, you fished the romper out of the shopping bags on your bed, tore off the tag carefully, and stepped into the silky piece. Gemma was right, it felt so very luxurious. 

A shock of cold rushed through you. How would you ever face Gemma after tonight? It wasn’t as if you’d been scheming for this to happen. But you weren’t saying no, either. You wanted this so badly. Another deep breath. You’d just have to deal with the consequences later. There was no way you were stopping now.

You searched through your luggage for your long, white crochet cardigan with the front tie. You decided to brush your teeth quickly and took a few extra minutes to dab some of your favorite perfume along your neck and wrists. A makeup touch up seemed useless at this point, but you did fix your hair.

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror and blew out the breath you found yourself holding. This was happening.

You climbed the stairs with purpose, noting the low seductive music drifting from the top floor. You smiled at the thought that August liked to use sound to get into the mood as well. You stopped at the door to his bedroom, just as he was coming out of his own en suite, clothed now in a pair of dark blue silk pajama pants that did little to hide his ongoing erection.

“Oh Angel. I thought you’d gotten lost again,” he teased. “Come. Let me look at you.” 

He reached out his hands as he moved across the room toward you. He grasped one of your hands and raised it over your head, twirling you around once slowly then dropping your arm as you came back around to face him and tracing his hand down your throat and chest, toying with the bow at the front of your sweater.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

You nodded, wide-eyed, hoping he really loved it as much as he seemed to.

“Well, don’t you look good for me?. It’s a pity this won’t stay on long.” He pulled on the strings and slipped a hand inside the sweater, grazing your side as he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you close for a withering kiss. He palmed a breast with the other hand, rubbing against the hard nub straining through the soft fabric. He pressed the small of your back and moved you inches closer to him, his stiff cock jutting against you.

As he released the kiss, he pushed the sweater off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor behind you, once again taking up your hand and pulling you with him as he moved back to the bed. This time, he sat, legs spread wide so you could step between them.

“This really is very pretty,” he toyed with the thin straps of the romper, sliding a finger under the lace and brushing his knuckle against the top of your breast. “Would you like to keep it on a little longer?”

“I would.”

“Very well then.”

He pulled the straps down your shoulders a few inches tempting you with a state of full undress, then replaced them and moved his hands to your hips, smoothing them around to cup your ass and squeeze. He kept one hand on your lower back, pulling the other back around to the front before pushing a hip just off-kilter. You were now on a slight diagonal to him and that allowed him to more easily slide his hand off your hip and down into the crease of your thigh before he slipped a finger under the silk to trace along your folds.

You watched his eyes darken as he discovered the moisture already accumulated, waiting for him. You bit your lip as he turned his gaze to your eyes. 

“You are already so wet, Angel. You’re hungry for this aren’t you?”

“Yes, August. I want you.”

He kept his eyes glued to yours as he dipped two fingers inside your core and you gasped.

“And I want you to fuck yourself on my hand. Will you do that for me Angel?”

Your whole body was buzzing now. No one had ever prioritized your pleasure like this. If you’d had your mouth on a boyfriend’s cock, that’s where it was staying until he came in your mouth or pulled out and slipped inside your pussy. But giving you control of your own orgasm? Exhilarating.

His fingers were curled inside you, stroking and stretching you, smoothing along your walls and seeking out the most delicate spaces as you began to shift your hips against his hand. The heat spread through your body, you relaxed and sank your weight into his hand, your cunt swallowing his fingers deeper. You swept a hand under the curve of your tit, squeezing gently at the hardened nipple while you grabbed a hold of his wrist with your other hand. Using the leverage of his grip, you rocked back and forth into his palm, tossing your head back when he graced you with another curl of his fingers. He had found your spot and was going to exploit that fact, teasing you with a gentle press before spreading his fingers wide inside you.

“Please, August,” you begged.

“Please what Angel?” he smirked. “This is all you.”

You hauled your head back to stare down at him while you undulated your hips, searching for a way to position his fingers where you needed them again.

“Would you put another finger in? Please August?”

He smiled and obliged and you shivered with pleasure, finally beginning to feel the fullness and pressure you needed to reach your peak. If you could just…You snaked your hand around his wrist, moving so you could drag your thumb down beside his and urge it up to the top of your clit. You pressed his thumb into you, guiding his motion and pulling away only when you were sure he would continue on his own.

With his thumb brushing over your pearl, you rocked harder on his fingers, shifting his hand so he had no choice but to curl up into your spot and you held his hand firm in position when he did, praying to all the gods you knew that he would remain right there for just this moment longer.

He stood as soon as you came apart, catching you with an arm around your back as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing pussy.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed at the heat radiating from your cheeks, then sought your mouth and traced your lips with his tongue, opening you up to him and licking in deep. You moaned as you imagined him doing that again, lower.

“Yes, I know. You’ll get that too,” he declared, pulling away from the kiss. “What do you say, Angel? How do you feel about taking this off now that I’ve seen you so pretty in it?”

You smoothed your hands down your body, enjoying the sensual feel of the silk, still reeling from your orgasm. You nodded as he slipped the straps from your shoulders once more, this time pushing the elastic waistband over your hips and dropping the material to the floor.

August grabbed your ass then slid his hands to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he turned to face the bed. His kiss was deep and hard as he climbed one knee and then the other onto the mattress, before easing you on your back. With your legs pinned around his waist, he ran his hands along your calves and up to the crease at the top of your thighs where he hooked his thumbs and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of your hips.

You were fully on display for him now. Nothing to stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your body, kindling the flames still licking at your skin. He eased his thumbs toward your apex, caressing your folds and massaging your slick along the edges. He let one thumb circle around your clit, pressing hard when you arched into it. He dipped the same thumb into your core, then withdrew and placed it in his mouth, licking you off his thumb like ice cream and you melted at the site of it.

You felt adored and basked in his worship, tossing your arms over your head and arching your back to press your chest out towards him. He slid his hands up your waist and over your belly to cup and knead your breasts. When he pinched, the pressure was just the other side of comfortable and you hissed with the pain. He eased up, rubbing gently for a moment before squeezing again, with the same intensity. The salacious leer on his side-cocked head sent a wave of pleasure along with the pain and you furrowed your brow and whimpered with content. Satisfied, he let you go and leaned down to kiss you again.

He unhooked your legs and directed you to the top of the bed. You eased back against the tall, plush gray velvet headboard, positioning yourself right in the middle of the California king bed.

“I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours now, Angel. And I don’t want you to touch me while I do. I want to try something I think you will enjoy. Will you let me?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded reluctantly, unsure what it would mean.

August climbed up to the head of the bed, knees straddling your waist as he reached behind the headboard. Your heart beat noticeably faster when you saw the thick strands of silk cord he pulled over the top. Holding them both in one hand by the plush lined leather cuffs at the ends of each, he peered down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever been restrained, Angel?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slowly once, chin lowered with a shyness you hadn’t yet felt this evening. August grasped your jaw to tilt you towards him.

“Never be embarrassed, sweet thing. This isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I know.” He dropped one line and your chin at the same time, holding the second cuff in front of you and caressing the line. “You have options here. Let me explain. If you want, you could simply hold onto the rope. It’s soft and won’t burn or cut your hands when you squeeze tight. But the risk here is how easy it would be for you to drop it when you are unable to control yourself.”

You blinked with anticipation for the next option, then closed your eyes when he gave you a few more.

“You could always wrap the rope around your wrists or use the cuffs with a loose buckle as well, but still…” He unbuckled the cuff. “I think your best option, the one that will ensure you are able to enjoy every minute of my mouth on you, would be for you to let me tighten these around your wrists.”

He held the cuff wide for you and waited as you opened your eyes to give him an answer. With a wave of confidence surging through your body, you lifted your arm for him.

“Good girl.” He pulled the strap through the buckle and found the right fit with ease. Firm, not too tight, but certainly not loose at all. He tugged your arm down to demonstrate how little reach you had now and raised an eyebrow again with a last chance to beg off. You met his question with an unwavering gaze and he closed and opened his eyelids slowly with a smile before attaching a cuff to your other wrist.

You tested this one yourself with a tug and another thick swallow to calm your nerves and remind yourself you wanted this. So badly.

You could leave your arms winged back toward the headboard or bring your hands in front of your face, with elbows bent close by your side, but you’d never be able to touch him while he was tucked between your legs. As he began to retreat, you reached reflexively for him, even though you were unable to catch him as the rope went taut.

As if reading your mind, he bent then and allowed you to place your hands on either side of his face while he kissed first your brow, then your cheeks below each eye, the corners of your lips.  He finally slotted his mouth against yours and you leaned into it and kissed back hard.

You let out a soft whine when he finally pulled away, but he pressed a finger to your lips to quiet you, then held it there as he eased down your inflamed body, rotating soft kisses and sharp nips.

No high school boyfriend had ever gone down on you. And Charlie wasn’t the first in college, but he’d been the best so far. August blew him out of the water.

When he arrived at his destination, he pulled his hand down your throat and over your chest, fingertips skimming your belly and lifting away right before he reached your mound. 

He stared at first, eyes devouring the site before him. He tilted his head first one way then the other, as if trying to determine the perfect approach. He pushed your knees wide again when you began to tip them in, nervous about the scrutiny. When he finally eased closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation, but the warm wet sensation never came. You felt only his hands slipping under and around your bent legs, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs and holding you in place. You opened your eyes when you heard him inhale deeply and saw his own eyes flutter shut and open again. As he exhaled, the air drifted and teased, first warming and then cooling across your delicate skin.

He turned to nuzzle into the crook of your thigh, nipping and licking lightly on first one side and then the other. When his beard brushed your skin, you shuddered. It was an exquisite tickle, prickly and soft at once and everything you’d imagined. He pulled his arms from under you then, smoothing his hands along the insides of your thighs and pressing your knees wide and still he wouldn’t touch you where you ached for him.

“Please, August,” you pleaded, head straining toward him.

“Patience, little Angel.”

Only when you placed your head back against the headboard, did he dip low again, still nuzzling gently around the edges of your desire. You felt a brush of fingertips down your inner thigh and the back of a finger running up one side of your aching cunt and down the other. Then a finger along both sides, smoothing up then drifting down. At the bottom he captured your pussy lips between the knuckles of two fingers and squeezed, gently opening and closing and finally providing some of the friction you craved. But as soon as you tried to arch into it, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

“I know what you think you need, Angel. I’m here to tell you there’s more. We’ll get there. And I should have said something sooner. It would be better for you to hear this in a less vulnerable state, but if you want me to stop, at any time, I will. Do you understand?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to articulate even the word yes properly, but he wanted to hear it.

“Say it.”

“I understand August,” you spoke softly, then cleared your throat and responded with more conviction. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He placed a hand on your belly now, heel of his palm pressing just above your clit and rocking back yet still avoiding the tender spot. Then he lifted his palm and swept his finger toward your thigh again, massaging the flesh gently between his fingers and thumb. He did the same on the other side and finally, finally, because you were being so good and laying still for him, he eased a knuckle into your slit and held it there.

And then he craned his neck closer, pulled his finger up through your folds, and let his tongue drag in the spot where his finger was. He pressed his thumb onto your clit and rubbed small circles while his tongue lapped at the slick already forming. When he pulled his mouth away, he slid his thumb down inside you, deep and then shallow as he returned to pressing at your clit.

All you wanted was to lift your hips up to meet his pressure, but you sighed out a low moan instead, trying to be good for him. As if to reward your self-control, he let the tip of his tongue meet his thumb at your sensitive nub and then pulled his hand away so he could close his mouth and suck. When he pulled his lips away, he tugged the kernel with him for a moment before letting it go, then rubbing it with his thumb again.

When his mouth met your pussy once more, it was to press his tongue wide and flat into your folds before curling the tip up and in. He repeated this a few more times, tipping deeper and deeper each time while his thumb still strummed along your button before he finally plunged the length of his tongue right into your core and just like that wrapped his lips around your clit to pull out and away.

You closed your eyes, so he couldn’t see them begging him to put his mouth back where you wanted it, but the anticipation was stoking a fire and you didn’t want to put it out just yet. You felt his fingers push up along the soaking path, tipping into the bud and then dragging back down, middle finger dipping in on the return now. He ran this finger up and down, in and out, circling, sliding, coaxing, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore and you were about to break, he pressed his other hand low on your belly and held your hips in place, like he just knew you were about to shift and search for more friction.

When he could sense you would be good for him, he moved the hand from your belly to cup under your thigh before adding a second finger and rubbing them both furiously from side to side briefly, before splitting his fingers and spreading your labia wide. He dove in to kiss your lower lips, tracing the wide opening before licking in deep and you gasped your eyes open at the memory of his earlier kiss and promise.

As if on cue, any tension you’d been holding in your body at the thought of being tied up, forced to remain still, and eaten out while you couldn’t fully participate just vanished. You sank infinitesimally further into the bed, your arms dropped by fractions of millimeters, and your legs fell open even wider. 

August knew it. And he rewarded you for it. His mouth was on you in earnest now, kissing, sucking, nibbling, licking, lapping, prodding. His fingers were inside you and on you and around you. Two fingers twisted inside, pressing down and spreading you open. One tongue laved at your core, coaxing the heat and juice from you. When it came, you thought he would stop because this is when they stop and climb up your belly and slide their cocks inside you and grind into the wet wet heat, but he didn’t stop.

No he kept going. He kissed your quivering pussy and tongued along the folds, gathering up as much of your essence as he could. He spun those two fingers up now, caressing your walls and seeking out that most favorable spot. The one he already had you coming on earlier. The one he made you make yourself come on. God, what did it matter who was doing what? 

The fact of the matter was, August Walker was giving you your third orgasm of the night with nothing more than his mouth and hands and he still hadn’t let you touch him for very long with either your fingers or your mouth. And he certainly hadn’t placed in cock deep inside your aching cunt.

But what he was doing was continuing to worship at your altar. Well past the point that you could think straight. Was this now four or five? It was all a blur and all you knew was that if August didn’t stop, you might explode. Suddenly it was a problem that you couldn’t move your arms much past your shoulders. 

August was past caring about you thrashing your hips with one aftershock after another. Didn’t mind about having to hook his arms under your thighs and tug you back down the bed each time you tried to grasp the wrist cords and pull yourself off his face. He only wanted you to stop straining so he could show you how much better it could be. He wanted you to relax just like you had right before he’d really started in on you in earnest.

You felt his hand snake up your belly between your legs, creep over the swell of your breast, and rest against your collarbone. At first you resisted the weight, but then you welcomed it. Wondered if it might not be better if he just climbed his whole body right up on top of yours and crushed you into the mattress.

But he wasn’t going to do that, because instead he was going to ensure you came one more time while he scissored his fingers inside you and licked you into oblivion. When you screamed his name, he grinned a kiss against your thigh, crawled out from between your knees, and gently, ever so carefully, eased your legs together and unbent them. 

He traced his hand back up your heaving belly and chest, wrapped his fingers around your throat and tilted your neck towards him.

“So, so beautiful when you come, Angel. I wanted it to last forever for you.”

You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue and whimpered into his mouth because you suddenly realized you wanted that too and it was too late.

“Is it too late?” you whispered and he chuckled at you. 

“You should pace yourself.” He knelt beside you and unbuckled your wrists, kissing each one as he freed you from the cuffs, then dropping to his back beside you. “Thank you, for opening yourself to me.” 

“How in the world are you thanking me after that?” you laughed, still shaking from the explosions, but moving toward your next goal. “And also... Can I get back to this now?”

You began to scoot down between his legs, dragging his silky pants with you and tossing them to the floor. 

“If you’re sure you're ready.”

You trailed your fingers up his thighs as you moved back into position on your belly. He was still hard as rock when you reached for him. You licked your lips at the sight, then sent your eyes straight to his while your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock with a smile. You worked him slow and methodically, tonguing along his length, tasting his warmth. You were salivating for this man, dribbling spit to help ease your tour of his member, and yet you knew you’d never reach the base. You let your hand twist around him, squeezing and grabbing while you worked your mouth down to meet it.  

“Your mouth feels so good on me, Angel. You like doing that, don’t you?”

You peered at him through your lashes and nodded, attempting another wide smile to agree. His hands smoothed up your arms, over your shoulders, and into your hair. You didn’t need him to hold your head against his cock, but he grunted and shifted his hips to press deeper into your mouth. You would have done this for him all night. Let him lay back and enjoy being worshiped the way he had worshiped you.

But with one hand on your nape and one right on top of your head, August helped himself to the pleasure you were offering without hesitation and began fucking your mouth in earnest. With each thrust, you felt him edge deeper until he finally found the back of your throat. 

“There you go,” he grunted. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so deep.”

You could do nothing more than open wide and let him drive, feeling the saliva drip from your mouth with no opportunity to swallow. He set a steady, punishing pace and while you were enjoying it, you also couldn’t help but imagine this must be what your aching pussy would feel like shortly. Your tears were flowing freely now, too, spurred on by the constant stimulation.

Suddenly, he pulled you off and you were confused for one brief, maddening moment until you heard him command you.

“Hands and knees.”

You pressed yourself up as he shifted to his knees as well before returning his hands to your head and dragging your mouth down his cock once again. You felt his grip on your hair at your neck tighten, his pace even faster than before. In just moments, with your watering eyes rolled up as far as they could go to watch him sneer down at you, you felt his release coat the back of your throat, hot and salty, as he came with a growl.

He hauled you up, shifting his knees forward to meet you, pressing his chest against you, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the tears from your cheeks and praised you. He settled back against the headboard, taking you with him and scooping your legs over his, nestling your head against his chest and holding you close. You could feel his heart pounding, the intensity matched only by the speed at which yours beat. His fingers traced along your spine, caressing your shoulder and at the same time he held your hip on his lap and tortured you with tender touches along the flesh of your thighs and legs.

You trailed your fingers over his chest and angled your head to nip at his neck. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft. You bit the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I loved every second of it.” You punctuated your response with a kiss, cupping his cheek and tonguing his mouth open to lick into the softness.

He groaned and kissed you back for what felt like forever until you began to feel a nudge at your thigh. You reached down between your heated bodies to find him, wrapping your hands around his girth and stroking him to full erection. Without breaking the kiss you began to shift, sliding a leg to either side of his hips. Just as you had raised up, ready to slide him deep inside you, he gripped your shoulders tight and pulled away.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Without answering, he easily lifted and deposited you on your back beside him, before rolling to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled out a foil packet and bottle of lube.

“Because I care about you.” He tore the packet and pulled out the condom then squeezed a few drops of lube in before rolling it over his engorged length. He added a few more drops and pumped a few times, before dropping to his back again beside you.

“Now, where were we?” he grinned.

He slipped his arm underneath you and pulled you to him, guiding your leg over his hip again. On your knees, you took him in hand but before you could position his tip at your entrance, he pressed two fingers deep in your slit, massaging and stroking, scissoring you wide. You felt the heat building again and dropped your head back with a moan, still dragging your hand up and down his length. Your pussy was squelching with the juice he was coaxing and you felt his hand slip out then wrap around yours as you both directed him inside you.

With just the tip, you already felt fuller than you ever had and you sat with that feeling for a moment, hands still wrapped around the rest of his cock and keeping you from sliding all the way down.

Once you felt yourself relax around him, you nudged his hand away with your own and began to sink, slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensation. His hands gripped your hips all the while as he gazed in wonder and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” you replied, rocking back slightly to view the point of his disappearance inside you.

“Do you remember what I told you before?’ he asked, a little more heat and darkness creeping into his voice.

“I can stop you at any time.”

“Yes. And if you can’t get the words out, pinch me.”

You were going to nod your understanding, but remembered he liked to hear it as much as you did. “Yes, August.”

“Good girl.”

August began a slow roll of his ups, nudging up into you and shifting you off balance for a moment. You caught yourself with your hands on his chest, then sat back up to start a slow grind of your own. For several long minutes it was just you riding him slowly, like an easy afternoon stroll, completely in sync with his movements.

When he began to pump faster, you braced your hands on his legs behind you trying to hold on for dear life. He gripped you by the hips and held you in place while bucked and then he ran his hands up your sides and hauled you down to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close, kissed you so hard, rocked even deeper into you than you ever thought possible and just when you thought it was about to hit you like a ton of bricks, he flipped you to your back.

He started a slower pace now, still holding you close, still ravishing your mouth. But when you wrapped a leg around his back, he lifted himself onto his arms and looked down between you then over to the leg at his side.  With a devilish grin, he reached back and under that leg, shifting it up over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, returning to the steady jackhammering you’d experienced while on top. And while you didn’t think deeper was possible, here he was, moving your limbs around to find more space. He pulled your other leg up now, no longer leaning forward, but up on his knees, holding you open before him while he pounded away.

This was more than you’d ever felt before. This was precision fucking at it finest and you were barely holding on. 

“You can let go, Angel. You can come around my cock, squeeze me hard. I won’t break,” he commended you, letting go of one leg and reaching down to massage your clit again with his thumb. That was all it took.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, August, Fuck!” 

“That’s it, Angel. I can feel you right now,” he growled. “Feel all the heat bursting inside you, feel your walls squeezing around me. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. My god. Fuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Please,” you pleaded, panting and feeling like you were about to pass out. “Please.”

“Please what, Angel?”

“Please…” you didn’t exactly want him to stop but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“I want you to come. Please August.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and flipping you one more time to your hands and knees. You could barely hold yourself up, sinking to your forearms, head into the mattress. But your ass was still in the air and your pussy was still on display for him and he took you one more time. He lined himself up again behind you, sheathed himself in one long simple stroke, holding still for one moment.

“You're still coming, I can feel it. God, you are amazing. You’re taking me so good.”

Incoherent babble is all he got in return. Even if you’d wanted him to stop, you could no longer form full words, let alone sentences. And how would you ever find the strength to reach back to even graze his skin, let alone pinch it? Whatever. You were riding a wave of the longest high you’d ever been on while August resumed his magnificent assault on you.

After a few more strokes, you felt him swell even larger than he already was, filling you up more fully than he already had. With one final animal roar, he released himself with a hand pressing against your lower back, slowing stilling as he filled the condom inside you. You shuddered with an aftershock and wanted to drop to your belly with him on top and never pull that blanket off.

After just a short moment, you felt his hand at your entrance, fingers drifting lightly through your folds before he gathered himself and the condom in hand and pulled all the way out for good. He pushed against you lightly to urge you flat. You vaguely registered words of praise coming from his mouth, but you were so spun off into oblivion you couldn’t be sure what they were.

From some far off place, you heard water running, then felt a dip beside you, and the wet warmth of a tender caress between your shaking legs. Somehow, you were maneuvered to your back to receive another gentle swipe, before you felt his lips press against your mouth, his tongue seeking your own.

It took everything you had to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze.

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked.

“It’s a start.”

August chuckled and gently eased himself to the side of the bed, swinging his legs off and standing. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening a few kinks before he strode with purpose into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a blue silk robe and helped you into it once you stood from the bed. He tied the belt around your waist, then reached to the floor for his  matching pants. As he stood, he gathered you in his arms for another kiss before he took your hand and led you back downstairs.

Trailing behind him, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself deposited on the deep plush conversation sofa. August flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace and leaned over to drop one more kiss on your lips, then told you to sit tight.

The warm glow of the fire mesmerized and hypnotized you, not that it was hard. You had been overstimulated and now the exhaustion was settling in. You felt high, completely spaced out. You had never felt so thoroughly and completely fucked in your entire short life. 

August returned a few moments later. Or was it hours? You had no idea. All you knew was that he placed a live edge wooden serving tray holding a few bottles of water, some fruit and cheese, a few small bowls of olives, almonds, and fig jam, some cut baguette, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly on the low ottoman in front of you, then eased himself onto the couch next to you.

“Let’s get you hydrated,” he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle from the tray.

“How did you know I’d want that?” you teased, harkening back to your first night home.

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” August opened the bottle and pulled you close, tipping the cool, sweet water into your open mouth, eyes watching you closely to see when you’d had enough.

“Only for you,” you purred, reaching for the bottle so you could take another drink for yourself. When you pulled the bottle away from your lips, August bent to steal another kiss from you.

“A little dangerous, too.” He shifted a knuckle along your jaw, catching the soft indent in your chin to bring your face back to his. He kissed you for what felt like a millenia and you could have stayed that way all night. And then it hit you.

“Dangerous how?” you asked, when you pulled away reluctantly.

August closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, still leaning forward from the broken kiss. He sat up straighter when he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“My sweet Angel. I really didn’t mean to spoil our moment, but in a million years could you ever imagine this night could happen again?”

He held your gaze, and wouldn't let you turn away. You could see the anguish in his eyes. This wasn’t a lie. 

“But why would…?”

“You deserve to know the passion you crave. I wanted to help you learn about your desire. You are a strong, intelligent, thoughtful, and gorgeous woman. I wanted you to see you are capable of getting everything you want. You only need to be sure of it. And perhaps understand you can ask for more.”

“But I want you.”

August didn’t reply immediately and in the silence you knew he was thinking of exactly the same person you now were. If you were ever going to keep this night a secret from her, you’d have to make it a solitary event with no hope of a repeat. How were you ever going to deny your craving?

“Come here.” August set your bottle of water aside and drew you into his arms, leaning back against the sofa as you relaxed onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand slowly up and down your back.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured.

“Life rarely is, Angel. Come on, let’s just enjoy the time we do have. What d’you say, hmm?”

You nodded and sniffed away the beginnings of your tears. August gently sat you up, then prepared small bites of food from the tray and brought them to your lips. You soaked in all the attention, certain you’d never feel so safe and loved again in your life.

With some energy back, you felt your mood lighten. August was right. You should make the most of what time you have left. You reached for the champagne bottle, peeled off the foil wrap, and untwisted the thin metal cage surrounding the cork. August chuckled as he watched you struggle with the cork, so you stuck out your tongue and handed the bottle to him.

“Please?” He popped the cork with ease and poured the golden liquid for you both.

“A toast?” He raised his glass to yours and watched closely as you mulled it over.

“To one night only.”

“One night only.” He smiled with a nod and watched as you took a sip, then stole a kiss before taking a drink from his own glass. He grabbed a strawberry from the tray and held it to your lips as you took a bite. “Now another drink.”

You almost squealed as the flavors exploded in your mouth. 

“When you try this on your own, be sure to get an extra-dry champagne,” August cautioned. “Moet brut won’t work with this flavor combination.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind when I replenish my champagne cooler at school,” you teased. “What about this one?” You took another bite of strawberry and a sip of champagne, then leaned in for a kiss letting the flavors swirl in your mouth alongside his tongue. August continued the kiss, even as he set his glass aside and grabbed for yours to set it down as well.

He eased you to your back on the couch and slipped the tie loose from your robe before he finally broke the kiss.

“That’s also a good one. You’re quite the quick study.” He pushed the fabric aside, baring your chest and stomach, then appraised you for a moment before running his fingers over your breasts and down your belly, letting his mouth follow the trail.

You let out a soft moan and spread your legs involuntarily as he shifted to the floor and tugged your hips around so your ass was hanging off the sofa to give him better access. He let your legs rest over his shoulders and you sighed as he once again slipped his tongue and fingers through your folds, ravishing your core to bring another orgasm crashing over you. 

You barely had a moment to recover before you felt the belt of your robe sliding out from underneath you and in a swift heartbeat, August had you flipped over, urging you onto your knees on the cushions with your arms leaning on the back of the couch. You peered back at him, while he shifted the fabric of the robe over your back, letting it drape off to the side and leaving your bare ass and legs completely exposed to him. He watched you carefully as he rubbed a large hand over one cheek, then drew back and spanked you hard. He was already caressing the red mark before the shocked gasp left your lips. He quirked an eyebrow at you in a silent question. Again?

You pondered the feeling and decided that yes, August Walker could spank your ass. You turned your head to peer over the back of the couch and jutted your hips back towards him wordlessly asking for more, which he gladly gave. The sharp smacks were sometimes single, sometimes doubled up, but always tempered with a gentle caress before he dealt another blow.

You were dripping for him. When he dragged two fingers through your soft petals to gather the nectar, you glanced back to see him wrap his lips around his fingers and lick your taste off them. Then he reached his hand in the pockets of his pants and withdrew another foil square before dropping his pants altogether.

“You planned this,” you cried in feigned scandal.

“I hoped for it. Not the same thing,” he gently replied, rolling the condom over his swollen length. “But it’s always good to be prepared. Speaking of which…” 

August reached forward to grasp the silk belt he’d tossed aside, then drew one of your arms back behind you.

“May I have your other arm, Angel?”

You offered it without hesitation, shifting off the back of the couch so that all your weight was now on your knees. You felt him loop the belt around both wrists separately before he wrapped the tie a few more times around both. Holding the binds of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to guide his sheathed cock to your soaked pussy, gliding easily into your core. Once his hips met yours, he started a commanding pace, pumping in and out of you all the while holding you in place with your hands.

As if he could feel you losing control, unable to stay up straight any longer, August let the belt slips a few inches through his fingers before gripping tight again, giving you enough room to bend forward and rest your chest on the back of the couch while he continued to pump in and out of you with a devastating pace, the juice from you squelching around his cock.

“You fucking take me so good, Angel. Such a pretty pussy. Can you hear her talking to me? She says the sweetest things.”

He set a hand on your low back and pressed his against your stretched entrance, letting it drag along his cock as he moved back and forth and gathering some of your slick on the pad. You felt him ease his hand up, fingers pressing into the flesh of your asscheeks before he teased around your puckered rim with his thumb. When the moan escaped your mouth he knew he was on the right path and wasted no more time. He slipped his thumb right into your hole and held on while you bucked back against him.

“Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fucking my cock so good. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. August, fuck yes.” You could barely form more words so moans of pleasure and squeals of delight were all he heard but they were enough to spur him on and lead him down the path of his own release just as soon as he felt yours.

With one practiced tug, he released you from the bind and eased himself out of your still pulsing pussy, then guided you to stand before him, pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck while he pulled the spent condom off his softening dick. He grabbed a napkin from the tray and wrapped it in a wad before spinning you to face him and kissing you hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He led you upstairs one last time, abandoning the snack platter and half-full champagne bottle. He took you through to his bathroom, turned on the warm spray jets of the tiled shower, then disrobed you completely. You stepped into the glass cabinet and turned to grab his arm to bring him with you.

Without prompting, he grabbed a bar of the same bright citrus scented soap you always found in your guest room and lathered you up. If you weren’t about to fall asleep on your feet, you’d succumb so easily to the way his fingers danced across your skin, caressing every nook and cranny like they knew the way by heart. He spun you into the water to rinse and set to cleaning himself.

And now you had your answer. It was body wash, with a woodsy, pine scent. He rubbed it all over his body with his bare hands. He watched you watching, mesmerized at the way his muscles moved and the carefree way he gathered his own package and lathered it with suds before shifting you gently out of the way and rinsing off under the cascading water. 

Yes, he leaned an arm against the wall, but that could be just because you were with him and he wanted to encase you while he kissed you, tongue probing gently and mouths moving in unison. He groaned as he pulled away.

“We’d better get some sleep.”

The fluffy towel he dried you with was heavenly against your skin. He toweled himself as well before leading you back to his bed. 

“Are you comfortable sleeping here with me tonight?” he asked. “If you’d rather wake up in your own bed, I’d understand.”

It was uncharacteristically sweet, the way August was now wondering how you would feel in the morning, knowing you could never have him again. 

“I’d like to stay with you for tonight, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He pulled the covers back and slipped in, holding them up for you to join him. Wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, you found yourself drifting off faster than you would have liked. You loved pillow talk, but supposed you’d managed that with him before, during, and a little after downstairs by the fire. Besides, pillow talk was for lovers. Which you were now assured you were not.

You woke later than you’d planned, your body still clearly recovering from the unexpected vigorous activity. August was not with you and though you knew the morning would not be a time to whisper sweet nothings, still you’d hoped to wake in his arms, just as you’d fallen asleep. The robe he’d lent you last night was draped across the foot of the bed and your lingerie was folded neatly on a chair nearby. 

You shrugged into the robe and grabbed your things, then headed downstairs where you could smell coffee already brewed but found no sign of August in the kitchen. You continued down to your room where you realized you’d left your phone all night. Shit.

When you picked it up, there were about ten messages from Gemma and you braced yourself as you opened the app to read them. Yes, in the end she wondered where the fuck you were and why you weren’t answering her but there was no urgent call to get her immediately. The night with Mike seemed like it had gone exactly as planned.

She only wanted to let you know Mike’s friends were throwing a New Year’s party and of course you were invited. Mike even had a university friend coming in from out of town for the party and Gemma wanted to set you up with him. The guy in the picture she sent looked cute enough. Apparently he sailed and had dark, wavy hair, a little shorter than Mike’s. His smile was amazing, but to your eyes, he was a boy. He would never compare, you were sure.

Just as you were contemplating how to let him down gently, your phone rang and Gemma’s number appeared. You took a deep breath and hoped nothing in your voice would betray you.

“Hey!” you answered brightly.

“Whoa, too much. Too loud. Calm down.” Gemma was hungover, for sure.

“Sorry,” you quieted. “Everything okay?”

“I think I drank a liquor store last night. Mike’s still passed out, but I need my bed. Can you come get me?”

“Now? Yeah. Of course. Let me just get my shoes on. See you in thirty?”

Gemma agreed, though she wished you’d ignore some of the speed signs along the way and you laughed, promising to grab a Vitamin Water from the fridge before you left.

You noticed another message come through just as you hung up with Gemma. August was in his office. He didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned, but he had to get an early start for meetings and wanted to let you sleep in. You texted him you were off to get Gemma. Chat bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before a solitary frowny face finally appeared.

With no idea how to respond and not a lot of time to spare hashing it out, you dressed quickly, grateful you’d already washed off last night’s extravagance. You grabbed the keys to Gemma’s car, grabbed a water from the gym, and headed back out to the garage.

Gemma was still too dazed to inquire much about why you were absent from your phone last night and you didn’t offer any conversation about it. The whole drive was pretty quiet except for the radio. August was gone when you got back and while Gemma couldn’t care less, you were a little let down. You’d hoped you’d be able to at least sit with him a bit while Gemma slept off the rest of her hangover, but that wasn’t to be.

He kept himself pretty scarce the rest of the week, too, texting Gemma he wouldn’t be home for dinner any of the nights until you were scheduled to head back home for Christmas Eve. Four long-suffering nights and days filled with late breakfasts by the pool and dinner and drinks in town with Mike and other friends. You barely got to say goodbye to August as he breezed off to one final meeting the morning of the 24th before Gemma came upstairs to grab coffee.

Christmas was low key with just the six of you at your parents. No other relatives were traveling in and no one else nearby had invited you over for anything special. Gemma always celebrated alone with her dad, too. Your aunt wanted to take you and your mom to the sales the day after Christmas and that was an all day, exhausting affair. You were in bed by 9.

Over the next five days, you visited with Gemma and Mike, old high school friends, and your parents a few times. But never August. Gemma said as wonderful as Christmas was with him, he was stressing about the deal and spending all his time at the office since the day after. He needed to get the deal signed by the 31st at the absolute latest. And his company’s New Year’s Eve gala was set for the Grand Hotel downtown. He’d offered you both tickets, but Gemma really wanted to hang out with Mike.

Will was nice enough, if a little on the arrogant side. He was a good kisser and you could kinda imagine what he might be able to do with that mouth placed somewhere else, but then you really thought about it and decided the missing facial hair would change the feel. Nevermind. He was at least gracious about the letdown.

The drive back to school was a little somber. You were still trying to figure out if there was any possibility of a roommate swap. Gemma offered to just put you up at her place for the semester, but you didn’t want to sleep on a couch fantasizing about her father while she was in the other room. Maybe Brigette would just spend all her time at Charlie’s, like you should have.

A few days after the start of classes, a small package arrived for you in your mailbox. You’d grabbed it on the way to your Criminal Procedures lecture and stuck it in your backpack to open later. When you got back to your room after taking advantage of office hours to clear the theme for your research paper, you sat cross legged on your bed and opened the small, cardboard box. Inside, nestled in tiny, delicate packing peanuts, was an even smaller, embossed white paper sleeve surrounding a small, red velvety square box.

Inside was a thin, delicate gold chain, with a charm of black onyx arranged in the gold outline of an art deco wing. An angel's wing.

You searched the box for a card and finally found one buried under the packing material once you realized you’d opened the box upside down. There was a simple message to you.

'Angel. This belongs on the part of you I never got the chance to chain. Remember all you are worth and take it as you can. Yours for one night. - A’

Taglist (if you are crossed out I can’t tag you)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @feelmyroarrrr @beck07990 @mysweetlittledesire @mollymal @summersong69  (Old times sake? @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sebbytrash @anotherwinchesterfangirl )

Holiday Angel: @angelcavill66 @lizzystuffsthings​ @plaidcat4815 @augustsprincess  @alexakeyloveloki @gofirityouguys

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.8

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, themes of Non!Con! beware, canon type violence, Y/N badassery, murder, Crosshair is turned on by Y/N committing murder, sorry but we know he would be, I don't make the rules I just enforce them.

I don't know why I loved writing this chapter so much it was so fun like imagining and creating a civilization in the star wars vibes. Also having a tiny homage to slave Leia iconic outfit lol don't mind me.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Still recovering from your heat, this long ride to wherever the Mimbanese were taking you was wearing you down. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling incredibly sore between your thighs, not to mention the pain in the rest of your body. Having four alphas at your disposal for a week had done sinful things to your poor body. 

To say you were sore was an understatement. 

Now your back was starting to hurt as his rifle bit into your spine with every gallop.

You had planned to lounge around for a few days before expecting to properly get back on your feet, but your plans had been derailed and now you were in the hands of a stranger and a strange people. 

You were aware of the fact you were experiencing anxiety, but the last remaining embers of your heart still licked at your hindbrain dulling your senses a bit. All you could think about were your alphas. 

They must be so worried.

~~~

The red clay earth rapidly changed, and soon a lush jungle neared you. The other riders sped up, forcing a tight formation as the animals approached an opening in the jungle wall. As you passed through, you noticed the flora and fauna matched the red and oranges of the mud fields too. Over the thundering sound of hooves, you could hear bird species screeching in the trees above and a rustling as the leaves danced in the wind. 

You were trying to take everything in knowing this information may serve in your escape.

It didn’t take long for you to reach a clearing. 

Upon approach, you watched the jungle reveal a massive stone wall that seemed to go on forever. You gawked as massive gates opened, allowing the war party to pass through before closing behind you with a massive locking mechanism falling into place. 

You looked around, noticing villagers everywhere watching you strangely as the clan leader continued on his path to wherever he was taking you. You looked nothing like them; you were positive that's why they were staring so intensely. Then you realized the clan leader was taking you somewhere specific.

Up ahead, there was another tall wall inside the perimeter wall. More guards opened up the double doors, and you gasped. 

Inside, there was a massive temple surrounded by gardens and billowing trees taller than those in the jungle outside the city. 

All around these grounds were other females clad in crimson fabrics pausing what they were doing to watch you.

The Clan leader trotted to a stop, allowing you to take in the sight in its totality. 

You were suddenly lifted from the saddle and settled into the grass below. 

You looked around frantically, trying to find a potential escape, but you were greeted by other women… some human… you looked at them confused before they parted, making room for a smaller Mimban elder who scuttled over to you. You sucked in a breath as she approached.

She exchanged some words with the clan leader, who bowed his head in respect to the woman. She pushed forward, analyzing you with a scrutinizing eye. The clan leader then seemed to be explaining his actions while gesturing to you. 

You swallowed thickly, feeling your anxiety eclipse whatever numbness you might of had.

She then took your hand into hers and studied the bruises around your wrist. You were certain those belonged to Tech. Then she clicked her tongue as she moved your collar to see Crosshair’s love bites.

She turned to the other women and said something before turning back to the temple. Very quickly, they flocked to you. You squeaked as they gently pushed you to follow the elderly woman, suddenly running their hands over your own in a friendly manner.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked, hoping they might understand basic.

One of the human girls whispered, "Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. It’s safe here."

You just looked at her, studying her face. It was painted with red designs, and her hair was plated back, showing off her dainty neck and collarbones. She donned a flowing red dress with luxurious-looking fabrics showing off her pale skin.

"Where is here?" You asked as the temple entrance approached. "I want to go home. Tell them to take me back to my pack."

"Are you mated?" She asked, taking your hand.

You shook your head no.

"Then you’re better off here," she nodded.

"But my alphas…" You whined, stepping inside the ancient building. The stone walls instantly made the temperature drop ten degrees and you shivered.

"They’ll understand soon," she gave you a sweet smile, taking the lead bringing you to the heart of the temple grounds.

~~~

"We gotta follow them!" Wrecker roared, feeling like his insides were being torn apart. 

Like his brothers, he was horrified to watch you be wrenched from them. Taken from the nest with brute force. 

"We are, Wrecker!" Tech snarled, looking at his data pad.

"They just took her! They fucking took her!" Crosshair was losing his mind. For the sniper engineered to be patient and still, it seemed his alpha instincts overrode his basic programming. He couldn’t deny the way his skin crawled with worry.

"What do they want with her?" Wrecker winced. "Why would they take Y/N?"

"I don’t even want to think about that," Crosshair hissed as his thoughts went to the absolute worst.

"Do you have their position?" Echo asked, looking to Tech.

"I do." He showed everyone his datapad. During the struggle, when he realized you were being taken from them, he slipped a tracker onto one of the guards. "It seems they took her to a city called Alise."

"How far?" Hunter growled.

"A few hours on foot," Tech replied, doing the math in his head, “We might be able to get there by sun down.”

"Let’s pack up and get moving," Hunter sprung into action.

They geared up and restocked their supplies before following the endless sets of hoof marks in the clay earth. Crosshair and Hunter hadn’t seen anything when they scouted a few days ago. He was hoping Tech’s info was correct.

~~~

"I- Ah!" You screamed as the Mimbanese women plunged you under the warm bathwater. You came back up coughing and sputtering, trying to wipe your eyes to see.

They had brought you to a natural hot spring inside the temple, and without warning, had stripped you down to your birthday suit. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before you were being guided to the water, where they swarmed you with various scrubbing tools and soaps. 

You looked up at the girl who had spoken to you moments before, but she just curled up on a fabric draped lounger with her friend while they talked, as if you weren’t being waterboarded by strangers just a few mere feet away.

You looked around, noticing there were only women here. The temple seemed to be a sacred space of sorts, as more of that same fabric was draped around the columns and ceilings. The floors were covered in red carpets, and lounging furniture was littered everywhere.

A warm cloth was brought to your skin as some sort of exfoliating cream was buffed into your flesh. More skilled hands worked some hair cleanser into your scalp. You fought back a sigh. It felt really nice to have someone else clean you. 

It’s not like your alphas didn’t care for you, but they’re still men at the end of the day, and their hair washing skills were limited.

The warmed mineral water was doing wonders for your soreness. If anything, that made this a little enjoyable you felt yourself disarm a bit at their touch.

When they were satisfied with the job, they helped you out before cleaning themselves. You were brought over to the girl from before, and she stood up, extending a hand to you. You wrapped the crimson fabric around yourself a little tighter as she led you out to one of the windows. Here, were multiple vanity tables with mirrors and various creams and potions. She sat you down as her friend perched herself on the stool next to you with a kind smile.

"What is your name?" She asked, picking up a wooden comb from the table.

"I’m Y/N," you said quietly.

"Hi Y/N, I’m Taryn," she then gestured to her friend who had golden hair, "That’s Starla.”

"Where am I?" You asked, rubbing the fabric wrapping over your damp face.

"The city is called Alise," Taryn said, moving your hair to your back as she started gently running the comb through your tangled locks, "But this place is called the fortress." She waved the comb around at the temple.

"Why was I taken?" You shivered, fighting back tears. The only thing you wanted was to be in the arms of your alphas in your comforting nest right now.

"Tarook said he found you in the mud fields?" Taryn said, watching you nod in confirmation. "Anywhere outside the fortress isn’t safe for the women. They built this place to keep us safe."

"What’s in the mud fields?" You asked.

"Monsters," Starla said gravely, and you gasped.

Taryn gave her a disapproving look, "The men keep us safe here. They bring us everything we could need. There’s no need to worry."

"Can I leave?" You asked, and Taryn just eyed you through the mirror.

That was a no, you guessed.

"Who are these women?" You looked around.

"The elders, mothers, and the unmated," Starla said, "This place is a sacred site to their religion, but they use it now to protect us from the outside."

"Do the men ever come here?"

"Partners, sure. But not unless they’re mated. This place is just for us."

Taryn finished off a simple braid going down the back of your head and tied off the ends before standing to get Starla’s help finding you something new to wear. When they came back, they held various pieces of crimson fabric, and they got to work wrapping you in it.

You were thankful they covered your private bits, but the rest they let be exposed. The pieces all flowed into a skirt but left large slits on both sides trailing all the way up to your hips. The Mimban breeze blew the fabric softly and teased your legs. 

You looked in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a dress on nonetheless something like this. You felt like one of the pin ups on in five’s bunk.

"So you blend in," Starla smiled and grabbed one of the pots on the vanity. She dunked her fingers in the red paste and brought it over to your face where she drew two thick lines from under your eyes all the way down your cheeks to your neck.

"You have an alpha?" She asked, noticing the love bites decorating your shoulder.

"Four. Actually," you were hit with sudden sadness, hoping you get to see them again.

"Four?" Starla’s eyes widened in shock but slightly impressed.

"Well, actually, there’s a fifth, but he’s platonic," you sighed, fighting back tears.

"Tarook took you from them?" She asked, a little horrified.

You nodded, "They tried to stop him, but there were too many."

Starla looked to Taryn, who looked a little distraught at the idea.

"That would explain these," Taryn picked up your wrist gently.

"I had just gotten through my heat when I was taken from them," you felt a tear slip, "I just want to go home." You gave them your best begging eyes hoping they’d take pity on you.

They sighed, sympathizing but in the end nothing came of it.

"I’m wondering if Tarook thought you had been hurt," she turned over your bruised wrists, "He might be strict, but he does care for us."

"My alphas are warriors. They can be a little rough, but they’d never hurt me," you sighed, pulling your wrists back and holding them close to your heart, "I don’t understand why your leader would do this."

"The fields are close to the Alooke," Taryn said.

"The Alooke?" You hadn’t heard that word before.

"They’re a clan of monsters," Starla whispered, "They’ve been terrorizing Mimban for generations. Alise was built to keep them out. They came from a nearby star system and have been taking the Mimbanese and killing them for sport."

"If you’re taken. You don’t come back," Taryn sighed.

You swallowed thickly, wondering how lucky you had been for the past two weeks.

"They particularly target women and children," Starla said, gesturing to all of the women moving about the temple, "That’s why they built the fortress."

"But you’re prisoners," you whispered.

"It’s better than the alternative, and we’re treated well."

You sighed in frustration. This was archaic, no matter the reasoning. A cage was still a cage regardless of title.

You had to get out of here. Alooke be damned.

"Will you show me around?" You asked, watching some of the elders locking arms and walking through the various corridors. You needed to learn this place and learn it fast if you were going to make an escape.

"Sure," they smiled and did the same. The three of you left the bathhouse to explore the inner city.

It was a lot larger than you had realized.

The inner city had multiple temples and many smaller private living domiciles. They showed you their rooms that they share with a few other human girls on the upper floor of the smaller western temple. 

Between these ancient buildings, the gardens flowed along with a river that cut through the center of the city. The inner city was big enough you couldn’t see the walls from the other side. It gave the illusion that you weren’t trapped in a cage. It seemed like two thousand women resided here from what you estimated. They all wore the same color and had similar face paintings. 

They seemed to be content. They laughed and gathered playing games you had never seen before in the little grass areas. There was an abundance of fruiting trees and gardens. 

It almost seemed… like a utopia? No wonder they had no desire so leave.

Starla and Taryn found an empty bench under a huge tree and plucked a few fruits from a nearby basket handing one to you. It was a perfectly ripe meiloorun.

"Women from outside Mimban usually have an occupation," Taryn said, biting into the juicy fruit, "What do you do?"

“I’m a medic for the Grand Army of the Republic," you bit into the fruit, moaning at how sweet it was. You hadn’t had a fresh meiloorun in years, and the GAR ration packs tasted nothing like this, "I was stationed with the 501st battalion for a few years since the start of the war, then I transferred to my unit now. They’re a small group of commando soldiers. We’re sent on special missions that the other soldiers can’t do."

"Wow," Starla said in wonder, "So you’ve been all over the galaxy?"

You nodded, "I’ve been to many places. Each a little stranger than the next," you laughed quietly.

"Do you enjoy it?" Taryn asked with a hint of skepticism, "It sounds dangerous."

"Sure it’s dangerous," you smiled, remembering all of the adventures you’ve been on, "We’ve encountered pretty much anything you could think of. It is kind of nice not being shot at, I’ll admit. But I love my boys, and they work really hard for the GAR."

"War is hard," Starla sighed.

"It is," you agreed, "How did you both end up here?"

"My family was trying to flee Separatist occupation when I was brought here as a child," Starla explained, "The Alooke took them, and the elders took me in and raised me here."

"Similar story for me too. My family tried to rebuild a new life here when the Separatists showed up to try and start up a mining operation. Republic forces got us out in time. My mother is mated and lives in the outer ring with my father," she gestured to the gates.

“You know the GAR?” you asked.

Taryn nodded. “The clones, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Brave warriors,” she nodded.

“I wonder if it was my boys,” you laughed. “What color were their armor?”

“Green,” she reminisced.

“Ahh no, that wasn’t us.”

“How crazy would that have been,” she smiled, taking your hand and resting it in her lap.

As the crimson moon rose, the inner city of Alise was cast into eerie darkness. Torches and lanterns were lit to keep the gardens out of darkness. You were all summoned to dinner with a sound bell ringing from the main temple. 

You and your new friends made your way through the gardens before stepping up the temple steps to wash your feet and hands before entering. 

Once inside, you smiled seeing how many women of all ages gathered, including children. They played music, danced, and sung while the others ate. It was shocking to see, but nonetheless, it made you happy. There weren’t many places in the universe like this you realized.

Starla grabbed your hand and led you over to where the prepared food was. It consisted of some things you’d never seen before, but she eagerly filled your plate before her own and marched you three over to a pile of stacked pillows to lounge on and watch the festivities.

“Is it always like this?” you asked, digging into the delicious food.

“Yeah,” Taryn smiled. “We have a very close community.”

“I can tell,” you smiled. Okay, fine, maybe Mimban wasn’t so bad. You were slapping yourself for being too judgmental. It must be the hormones. 

~~~

"I don't see her," Crosshair remarked, peering down his scope at the massive city below. The rocky hillside they perched on provided a perfect view over the jungle.

"There are two rings," Tech informed, looking at his data pad. "The inner ring has ancient Jedi temples. I think she'd be in the outer ring; that seems to be where the villagers live."

"Jedi?" Wrecker asked, pulling out his scope.

"Yes, that's what I said," Tech replied, grabbing his own to peer down.

"Notice anything strange about this town?" Crosshair drawled clearly noticing something.

"What..." Hunter zoomed in with his lenses.

"There are only men," Crosshair observed, moving his scope to survey the rest of the city.

"Where are the women?" Hunter asked noticing the crowd in the streets is only men.

"What's that?" Wrecker asked, ignoring Hunter's question.

"What's what?" Hunter looked to Wrecker.

"The temples," Wrecker zoomed in. "There are people walking around."

Crosshair honed in on the flickering lanterns of the temple. "The women…”

They all adjusted their macro binoculars to focus on the inner city. That's when they saw all of the women happily skipping towards the main temple grounds, holding hands and dancing to what they assumed was music. They were covered head to toe in crimson, looking joyous and happy.

"She has to be there," Hunter declared.

"Assuming the clan leader isn't holding her hostage himself," Crosshair added, not entirely convinced.

"I don't think he would," Tech interjected, reading through the information about the Mimabnese. "I think Alise was built to protect their women. It says here that they have a long history of battling off a pirate stronghold called the Alooke. The pirates colonized this land and have been enemies of the indigenous for many generations, stealing their women for breeding."

Hunter didn’t like the sound of that one bit…

"So, you think they're keeping her in that temple?" Crosshair asked, looking through the various corridors from the outside. He couldn't really tell the difference between the various females; they were all wearing the same thing.

"Most likely," Tech affirmed.

"Alright, let's get moving before—" 

Crosshair cut off Hunter, "We got movement in the north."

On the other side of the city, a dust cloud formed in the distance. Upon closer inspection, they noticed dozens of speeders making their way from the direction of the Marauder.

"You don't think they found our ship, do you?" Echo was getting a little worried now.

"It would be likely," Tech informed. "I'm guessing it's those pirates."

"They didn't bother us for two weeks. I don't think it's reasonable to think they'd start today of all days," Hunter watched them heading full speed for the city.

"What did that guy say to us earlier?" Echo narrowed his eyes through his binoculars before turning to face his squad. "He said that this place was no place for a female. Then he took Y/N…”

"Don't remind me," Hunter said, growing angry.

"No, I think he knew they'd come."

Crosshair crossed his arms. "We were sitting ducks for two weeks. If they were going to raid us and take Y/N, they would have done it already."

"Not if they didn't know she was there," Echo pointed out.

Suddenly, they realized you barely left the ship because of how upset you had been after the crash. The only time you had left was to help push the ship in the earlier days.

Echo pointed to the city again, "You saw their reaction when she popped her head out. They were shocked, and they had been watching us for who knows how long before I noticed."

"You think they saw her go into the city?" Hunter asked.

"She was fresh out of heat. No doubt they're hunting her scent trail," Echo's mechanical heart started beating a little faster, realizing you had probably unintentionally led them right to the hidden city.

"Why would they attack the city? It's massively fortified," Crosshair noted, observing all of the sentries patrolling the upper rim of the walls and the guard towers looking outwards. There were only two gates, one on the north end and one on the south. The place was like the citadel. "They'll sustain massive casualties."

Echo shrugged. "Maybe for an omega, they would risk it?"

"Then we need to go," Hunter stood up, grabbing his pack. “Now."

~~~

You smiled, holding hands with the little girl who led you around the dance floor. You didn’t know why the little Twi'lek girl picked you, but you couldn’t deny her. Her mother seemed content letting her play with you, so you just smiled and followed her lead.

Starla and Taryn clapped along with the music, giggling as they watched you enjoy yourself.

When the song was over, it seemed that everyone was eager to retire to bed. 

The girls walked with you back to where you’d be staying with them until the this whole thing can be resolved.

Once inside the large converted bedroom, they helped you build a pallet of pillows and blankets like their own by the breezy airway. 

You washed up before bed in one of the metal basins, and Starla helped you take the pins out of your hair, freeing your now dry and clean locks.

With a quiet goodnight, you curled up on the pallet and pulled the woven blanket up over you. 

You sighed, feeling a bit of anxiety over the whole situation. Dinner was a good distraction, but now that you were left to listen to the river down below and the call of the night birds, you were left with your own thoughts.

Were your alphas coming for you? Were they already here? Or were they injured in the struggle? 

What if they needed you to heal them and you weren’t there? You were starting to feel the tears again as the pull of your heart pained in your chest. You knew they were coming. 

They always came for you.

You tried your hardest to find a comfortable spot that would allow you to close your eyes and try to forget the situation you were in, but you couldn’t help but hear some kind of commotion outside. 

It was like there was a shift in energy, and it forced you up into a seated position. You looked around at the other girls, but they seemed to be comfortably asleep, not hearing what you were.

Something made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as you tried your hardest to listen. You wished you had Hunter’s hearing, but whatever was making your body alert, you knew it wasn’t good.

Standing up, you wrapped the blanket around yourself and stepped out from under the cover of the marble columns onto the exposed patio. Your hair whipped around in the breeze as you looked out over the inner city. 

The torches and lanterns danced in the breeze, casting orange light everywhere. That's when you noticed something moving in the distance: the wall just off to the right had guards jogging back and forth, guns in hand.

You narrowed your eyes, making sure you were seeing the right thing, when you felt Starla near, rubbing her eyes and approaching you. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Something’s wrong,” you replied, pointing to the wall guards.

She squinted her eyes, trying to see in the dark. When she realized the guards were not in their normal watch positions, she gasped and skittered back into the room, waking Taryn.

Was it your alphas? You wondered, feeling a bit of hope fill your chest. They were coming to rescue you from this gilded cage.

Taryn awoke a little grumbly, but her attitude changed when she finally saw what was happening.

“There’s been a breach,” her eyes widened like saucers. “Go warn the others,” she turned to Starla, who sprinted out of the room.

“What do we do?” you asked, stepping back from the patio and back into the bedroom.

“We hide,” she said, leading the way to a red carpet hanging on the wall.

“Do you have weapons?” you asked.

She just gave you a look.

“This place is so ass-backwards,” you shook your head and followed her as she lifted back the tapestry, revealing a narrow passageway.

From beyond the stone walls, you heard a loud warning siren go off, letting you know Starla was successful. The blonde came running back shortly after, squeezing into the passageway with the two of you.

Just beyond the narrow pass was a small room with a candle and matches, which Taryn lit to light up the room. 

From inside, you could see the ancient carvings from a time long ago. It seemed like a meditation room if you were correct. There were star maps of the entire galaxy and ancient primordial beings that seemed to be carefully depicting the beginning of the Jedi.

 You’d seen this particular mural before on Coruscant… This place was a Jedi temple?

Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of blaster fire.

The two girls yelped upon hearing it, but you were just trying to figure out how many guns were firing. It was way more than five, you deduced. It wasn’t your boys; that was for certain. 

This was something else entirely.

“We need weapons,” you whispered.

“We’ll be fine,” Taryn held Starla close, trying to console the girl. “They’ve never made it to the inner city before.”

“We don’t even know how to use blasters,” Starla trembled.

“Well, I do. We won’t last long without them if whoever that is out there is as bad as you say they are,” you were listening to the gunfire and the screaming. 

These were all sounds you were used to, and something was telling you this was no normal siege. It was starting to sound like the front lines of Felucia. 

“They won’t find us here,” Taryn’s tone was confident despite her panicked features.

You just sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the blasters to silence.

~~~

Hunter was panting heavily by the time they made it to the outer wall. “The pirates have drawn their fire. Let’s get up there before they come back,” he said.

Crosshair loaded a repelling cable into firepuncher and pulled the trigger, watching it latch onto the rim of the upper wall.

Quickly, the five soldiers scaled the wall like they had hundreds of times before. Hunter hauled himself up first, checking if the coast was clear. When it was, he motioned for the others to swing over the edge, grouping up into formation as they jogged in the opposite direction of the action.

Just as Crosshair had said, there were only men in the outer ring, and they all seemed keen on grabbing their weapons to join the fight. 

From what they could see from the wall, the pirates managed to make it past the blockades with some kind of repurposed Separatist battering ram. It must have been left over from a previous battle.

“Over here!” Echo called out, finding a stone stairway that led down into the city below. They began quickly running down the large flight of stairs. That was until the battering ram sounded again.

“They’ve breached the inner city,” Tech said, using his infrared to see how many pirates were trying to rush the guards into the temple grounds. Luckily, most of them were being held back by the Mimbanese, and only a small handful slipped through.

“We need to hurry,” Echo urged.

~~~

The noises suddenly changed when you heard a massive pounding. It sounded like metal on metal, and you knew they were going for the massive doors protecting the inner city.

“They’re coming,” you said, slipping out of the shelter to confirm your suspicion. Taryn tried to grab you, but you were too fast. Nudging past the tapestry, you jogged over to the balcony, peeking out slightly just to see the gate had been basically disintegrated, and the guards were openly firing against a horde of what you could tell were pirates—the Alooke.

Running back to the safe place, you very carefully arranged the tapestry back to normal as you slipped back inside.

“They’re inside,” you whispered, blowing out the candle, leaving you in total darkness.

Starla started whimpering like a scared pup. You put your hand on her shoulder, trying to quiet her, but it wasn’t helping much. 

You flinched when you heard women’s screams echo throughout the hall and knew they had infiltrated the temple and they were close. 

 It wasn’t long before they’d kick down your door. You just prayed they would move on and not notice your hiding spot.

You closed your eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Maker, hoping they’d take mercy on you.

You jumped when you heard the wood of your bedroom door smash open into the stone wall with a bone chilling bang. 

Taryn covered Starla's mouth with her hand, keeping her silent. You took a deep breath, trying to still the racing adrenaline in your body so you could hear over the pounding in your ears.

You heard the man tear apart the room, throwing everything around, growling as he yanked apart the bed pallets frustrated.

“I can smell you… Omega,” he rumbled, making your stomach drop. “I know you’re in here. I know you’re close…”

He continued destroying the room, knocking over the furniture and smashing the pottery of flowers, and you cursed yourself for not thinking about the fact you were totally unmedicated and nothing was suppressing your scent. You were positive it was pungent. 

“I smell alpha on you too,” he chuckled, “too bad he’s not here to save you,” he threatened. 

You heard his boots getting closer to the tapestry as he rooted around in the box of body jewelry next to your hiding spot.

You looked to the two cowering girls. You knew what you had to do. You knew it was a matter of time before he discovered you. At least if you acted now, you’d have the element of surprise.

Leaning forward, you grabbed the metal candlestick and flipped it upside down before returning to the narrow passageway.

Taryn tried to plead with you, but you just shook your head, trying to convey that you had a plan… kind of… you knew Hunter was absolutely going to chew you a new one if he ever found out you were this dumb.

Nudging the tapestry aside, you saw the ugly creature prowling around the center of the room, admiring all the gold shiny jewelry he had found. 

Adjusting your grip slightly on the candle holder, you crept forwards silently, leaving the safety of your hiding spot and approached him in practiced silence.

Rearing back, you went to make the swing and brought down your makeshift club hard, connecting with his wrinkly head. He let out a bark and doubled over, feeling his blood start to rush from the injury.

You raised your arm again to finish the job. He was quick enough to spin around and grab your wrist, holding the weapon. You yelped as he squeezed, forcing you to drop it.

“There you are!” he spat, “Nice of you to come out. You’ll do well. Onka will be pleased to have a new toy.” His free hand shot out to grab at your throat, and something in that moment changed, and suddenly your weeks of combat training kicked in like instinct.

With a growl, you dodged his hand and used your knee to hit him in the gut. He grunted and tried to wrangle you again, but this time you spun around and used your weight to roll him over your back onto the wooden lounging table. He let go of your wrist as he collided with the hard surface, forcing his back into a painful arch with a pop.

You backed up and arched your leg into a high kick, bringing down your heel to his sternum. You heard a crack and knew you hit your target. The man wailed in agony, gripping at his chest as it was no doubt broken.

It was loud enough. Another man entered the room curiously to find you standing over his comrade. You only had a second to react before he rushed you. Grabbing a large metal dish Starla used to hold her combs, you reared that thing back before whipping it across the pursuer's face. 

He snapped to the side, spinning around, trying to recover from the strike. 

His cheek was bleeding, and you were panting. Thankful for the freedom of movement this makeshift dress offered, you got back into a fighting stance, waiting for his move.

“An omega that can fight,” he sneered, raising his fists, “That’s new.”

“You have no idea,” you adjusted your grip on the plate.

He narrowed his eyes, studying you before he flinched. You decided he was taking too long to make a move and flung the plate at him like a frisbee, watching it connect with his neck. He stumbled back, shocked and struggling to breathe, when you launched yourself at him like a wild tooka.

Just like Hunter had showed you, you leaped up onto him, wrapping your bare legs around his shoulder and chest before twisting yourself down, taking him with you.

Hunter always told you that because you’re smaller, you have to bring the fight down to the ground if you want a chance at winning. You knew you had to keep this man on the ground or else he could over power you.

You rolled, throwing him into a spin on the ground. He grunted and reached out, grabbing your bare ankle, yanking you down with him. He tried crawling over you, but you kicked him in the side of the face, hearing his jaw snap viciously.

You crawled away, grabbing one of Taryn’s hair forks, holding it like a shiv.

When he tried to grab you again, you spun on him, driving the fork into his arm and twisted, hearing him scream in agony.

Just as you thought you were making some headway, the one from before got up, grabbed you by the hair, dragging you out onto the balcony and away from his friend. You screamed, feeling the burning pain as he yanked on your locks mercilessly.

“You’re one hell of a problem, aren’t you, sweetheart!” he grabbed your neck, squeezing it harshly. You scrambled and clawed at him feeling the oxygen start to leave you.

You spat at him, watching it land on his face and drip down his scaly cheek.

“Feisty,” his friend laughed, pulling the fork from his arm and letting it fall with a clatter.

The other let go of your hair to wipe his face off.

“I’m fucking her first before we give her to Onka.” He snarled, “fucking payback for the struggle.”

You bared your teeth and he just laughed spinning you around forcing you over the balcony railing at the hip. You kicked back connecting with this shin making him howl. He grabbed your hair again, smashing your face into the stone roughly. 

“Damn bitch!” He started running his hand over your hip before reaching the high slit in your dress. 

Just as you thought it was all over, you heard the sound of a single blaster shot and the tell tale sound of a body hitting the ground. 

You couldn’t see what was happening but you nearly cried when you heard a familiar voice. 

“Fucking drop her.” Crosshair’s menacing voice cut through the air like a vibroblade. 

You were suddenly yanked up and whipped around, being used as a human shield. In front of you, you sighed in relief upon seeing Crosshair’s mask and firepuncher aimed right at your attacker. He slowly approached, stepping over the dead pirate.

You felt dull metal being pressed to your head, and you knew it was a blaster. “Don’t come any closer,” the pirate warned.

Crosshair stopped his advance and stood scarily still.

“Is this the alpha I could smell on you earlier, sweetheart?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “What a pretty little thing you are, so many men fighting to have you.”

Normally, you would have been frightened to be in a situation like this, but looking at Crosshair now, you knew no harm would befall you. You knew he would do what needed to be done. You had full trust in the sniper. 

Your tense shoulders fell, and you became eerily relaxed feeling the calm wash over you.

“Hand her over, and I’ll let you live,” Crosshair spoke through his vocoder.

“No chance,” the pirate laughed before coughing due to his fractured sternum, “Put down your gun, and I won’t shoot her.”

Crosshair waited a moment, calculating the risk before deciding to slowly set firepuncher down on the ground, deciding your life was the top priority.

“Kick it to me,” the pirate ordered.

Crosshair begrudgingly kicked his beloved rifle into the center of the room. The pirate huffed, satisfied.

You were then violently shoved down onto your knees with a cry as the pirate pushed you over to have a go at Crosshair. You felt his steel-toe boot bite into your side as he kicked you.

The Pirate wasn’t ready; Crosshair was too fast, too trained. Before his boot had ever left your side, Crosshair lunged at him, knocking the blaster from his grip. The two men fell into a nasty brawl.

Gaining your senses back, you watched your beloved alpha fend off the pirate to the best of his ability. 

The ugly fucker grabbed a knife from his belt and swung it at Cross. You watched in horror as Crosshair dodged him masterfully, but your adrenaline was on overdrive. 

Without much thinking, you crawled over the debris of the room and grabbed firepuncher. You held up the rifle, tucking it into your shoulder and raising yourself to your knees, bringing one foot forward to plant confidently on the floor. 

Raising the gun up into the air, you felt your heart calm and your breathing still. 

In that brief moment of clarity, you aimed the weapon, putting the god-ugly pirate into the crosshairs of the scope before pulling the trigger.

You watched that blue plasma bolt pierce right through the back of the pirate’s skull as he collapsed on the ground mid-swing. 

Crosshair stood there in awe as the smoke from the blast still lingered in the air. He felt like the air had been punched from his gut seeing you kneeling there holding his gun with that determined look in your eyes. He felt the blood rush south realizing you had just saved him... with his gun. He wanted to throw you down on these cushioned floors and ravash you. Shaking himself back to his senses, he took a deep calming breath in.

You took a deep breath too, setting the gun down as Crosshair leaped across the room to kneel down on the floor and embrace you.

You tightly wrung yourself around him, finally feeling the adrenaline wear off and the tears start to flow.

“Cross!” You sobbed, squeezing him.

“Mesh’la,” he took his helmet off, setting it down to the side, and shoved his face into your neck, holding your head like you were the most precious thing to ever live.

“Are you hurt?” He suddenly drew back to get a real look at you. He finally had a second to take in what you were wearing. If the situation wasn’t so dire, he’d probably have a boner right now. 

Your bare legs knelt on the ground, and your nearly naked torso shone in the moonlight, and that damn red on you. It was making his blood warm seeing his little omega on display like this.

“I’m okay,” you replied, grabbing his face and bringing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. He leaned over you, supporting your back with one hand and holding the two of you up with the other, he squeezed you tightly to his chest plate.

“Y/N?”

Crosshair grabbed his gun in a flash between your bodies, placing the end on his shoulder rifle rest for stabilization. You were still dazed from the kiss when you noticed the others had come out from hiding.

Taryn and Starla squeaked with the gun being pointed at them clutching onto one another.

“It’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on the rifle, “They’re friends.”

Crosshair slowly lowered the gun and looked back at you, “We need to go.”

“Where are the others?” You asked, letting Crosshair help you stand up. He put his helmet back on with a hiss.

“They’re fighting off the pirates. Echo spotted you from the balcony. I ran up here as fast as possible, but we have to go while we still can.”

“What about them?” You asked, looking to your frightened friends.

“We don’t have time,” he ushered you out towards the balcony.

You looked over your shoulder, pointing to the discarded pirate blasters, “Use those!” You pointed to the weapons. Taryn scrambled to grab them as Crosshair wrapped a strong arm around your back, bringing you to his front.

“Hold on adi’ka,” he said, aiming another repelling cable towards the floor above. You wrapped your arms around Crosshair as he engaged the lift, bringing the two of you off the ground. Once you were up, you noticed Echo squatting on the roof, firing at the wall filled with invaders.

“Echo!” You smiled, still holding onto Crosshair.

“Hey, Tiny!” He nodded at you, continuing to squeeze off more rounds, “Glad to see you… what the hell are you wearing?”

You looked down, forgetting about the strange revealing attire.

“Later!” Crosshair growled.

He grabbed a zip cable grip, placing it onto the zipline from the top of the temple over to the wall across the way.

“Don’t let go!” He said, grabbing you again.

“What?” You asked before squealing as he whisked you off your feet, letting the grip slide across the cable carrying you over the war zone towards the wall deck. He dropped the grip, landing the two of you safely on the wall. Your bare feet hit the stone with a stumble as you shook with renewed adrenaline.

“I got her,” Crosshair radioed in as Echo zip-lined across the gardens to the wall, “meet us at the rendezvous point.”

You felt Echo put a gloved hand on your shoulder before falling into formation, leading the way. Crosshair held your hand as he dragged you through the chaos. Fire and plasma blasts flew everywhere. The entire city was under siege. You watched in horror as the Mimbanese fought with everything they had. 

They were fierce warriors; you could give them that credit despite their strange customs.

Your feet were definitely getting cut up from running over the debris, but you couldn’t feel much over the adrenaline. Before long, you were nearing the outer wall as Crosshair and Echo ducked behind a vendor cart, pressing you between them.

“Now what?” You asked, holding onto Echo’s flesh arm.

“We wait for Hunter,” Crosshair said, throwing one of his reflector pads on the wall to keep an eye on the action behind them.

A particularly loud explosion had you clenching onto Echo.

“I don’t know how you guys do this every day!” You flinched as more debris rained over the vendor cart.

“Part of the job, Cyra’ika,” Crosshair checked the locator on his vembrance, “They’re close.” He got up, holding his rifle ready to fire but lowered it seeing Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker arriving on stolen speeders.

When they pulled up, Crosshair led you to them. You went to throw yourself at Hunter, but Crosshair shoved you onto the back of his speeder instead, “Reunions later! Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You snuggled up to Hunter’s back, clinging onto his armor as Crosshair slid in behind you. The Sargent gave your leg a little pad letting you know he was happy to see you.

Echo jumped onto Tech’s bike while Wrecker’s had two massive engine parts strapped to the back. Presumably stolen you deduced. 

In a flash, Hunter whipped the speeder around, taking off, leaving the war zone behind.

You sped through the smoke as you neared the city gates. Crosshair kept a firm hand on your head, shoving your head down when a stray bullet whizzed by. 

You gasped, seeing it explode into a basket of fruits to your left.

“Careful,” he growled.

You reached an arm back, putting it on his thigh plate, giving it a squeeze as a thank you.

Once you passed through the gates, you finally could release a big exhale. You watched the city of Alise disappearing into the background as Tech navigated you all back to the Marauder. 

You knew it would be a long journey, but you finally felt free. You leaned back into Crosshair, letting your head lull against his shoulder. 

He wrapped a hand around your waist, keeping you close. You were finally back with your pack, back with your alphas. Everything was right again…

You felt the way Crosshairs gloved fingers slipped onto the slit in the pathetic excuse for a dress you were wearing. 

You could tell he disapproved as his fingers slid inwards realizing you had no panties on. But the other part of your grumpy alpha was turned on beyond belief. 

Having you in his grasp again was making his heart race and his codpiece incredibly tight. He couldn’t help himself but to drag his hands away from you core and explore higher, he ran his hands over your exposed sides and back then up your chest to where Taryn had tied a flimsy piece over your breasts. Then he thumbed the piece that wrapped around your neck holding everything together. 

You squirmed feeling yourself get wet the more Crosshair touched you. It didn’t help having the humming speeder between your legs as he returned back to massaging your exposed thighs. 

Hunter felt you squirming around and tilted his helmet to the side to make sure you were okay. What he didn’t expect to see was you tucking your head into Crosshair’s neck under his helmet as he groped you shamelessly. 

He shook his head going back to focusing on getting everyone back to the ship. He’d deal with Crosshair’s horny ass later. 

~~~

What felt like an eternity later, the Marauder was finally in sight. When Hunter slowed down the bike to investigate the damage, it was apparent that a large group of raiders had been there. 

There were footprints all around the ship, including inside. From what you could see, nothing seemed to be taken except for a few items of clothes strewn about outside, no doubt used to confirm your identity and scent.

“Stay here,” Hunter instructed as he got off the bike with the others to ensure the ship was indeed empty.

You stayed on the bike with Crosshair as he got up to take his helmet off and kiss you properly. You sighed into the kiss, feeling his firm grasp on your chin. His strong hands ran down your sides squeezing your exposed hips he stood between your spread thighs. You whimpered feeling a jolt electrify your entire being.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “For finding me…”

“You put up a hell of a fight, Adi’ka,” he smiled, kissing you again, this time with more force, making you whine with need as he ground his hips into your throbbing core.

“Alright, quit making out,” Echo interjected, walking back towards the speeders.

You pulled away, blushing, letting Crosshair scowl at the ARC trooper for inturpting. You had heard about the post battle need to blow off steam. Some troopers went to 79’s to drink, some found hookers, and others well.. you weren’t entire sure. But you knew it was real, the adrenaline was making you want to jump Crosshair’s bones. 

“What happened?” Echo asked, putting his hand on his hip. The others quickly returned, wanting to know as well. “Where are your shoes?” The arc trooper raised a brow.

“They took them,” you replied, looking down at your wrecked and bloody feet.

“Okay, start from the beginning,” Hunter said, kneeling down in front of you to look at your injuries, pulling a shard from the ball of your foot gently giving your ankle a little rub.

“That crazy man took me. His name was T-Tarook or Tanrock or something like that.” You waved you hand dismissively,  “Then we were riding for hours on that stupid horse before we got to the city. Then they brought me to an old lady who took my clothes and forced me into a bathspring. 

They dressed me, painted my face, then let me go into that garden prison. I met two human girls who had been victims of the war who ended up there with their families. 

Nothing else really happened. They fed me and brought me into their community. There were so many I couldn’t believe it. Then they converted these old Jedi Temples into living spaces and that’s when Crosshair found me. 

Well, actually the pirates found us first and I tried my best to fight them off, but in the end, Crosshair saved me. Echo and him got me out and now we're here… I still don’t know where my shoes are though,” you sighed, feeling exhausted; it had been a wild 48 hours.

“An old lady took your clothes?” Echo repeated amused.

You shook your head. “It was so strange.” You were trying to understand the whole ordeal.

“Does that explain that?” He gestured to your barely there attire. You nodded again crossing your arms over your hardened nipples.

“Looks like something the Hutts would like,” Hunter commented, crossing his arms.

“I’ve seen more clothes on a stripper at 79’s,” Crosshair joked. You slapped him.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice if you didn’t notice,” you scowled at him. “Now, will one of you carry me inside so I can change?”

“Sorry to break it to you, Mesh’la, but… they took most of your clothes,” Hunter nodded in the direction of the ship.

“Fucking perverts.” You growled, “They better not have taken my favorite civvies!” You slid off the speeder and into the mud feeling it squelch under your toes no longer caring about getting dirty. You were already covered in plasma powder and maker knows what. 

"Hey, I'm just glad you're okay, Pip!" Wrecked exclaimed, pulling you into a massive bear hug and rubbing his chin on the crown of your head scenting you. You relaxed into his embrace, allowing him to set you down gently.

Tech then gave you a quick embrace, followed by Hunter, who tilted your chin up to get a look

at the blooming bruises around your neck. He gave a disapproving huff, but you just smiled and placed a reassuring hand on his chest. He let you go and watched as you made your way back to the ship, your long legs shuffling through the clay, fussing with the fabrics flowing from your waist.

They all watched you trot to the ship eagerly, a little mesmerized by the outfit. Hunter then snapped out of it and pointed to the stolen engine parts, "Alright, let's get these parts installed and get the hell out of dodge," Hunter said snapping the others out of their stares. 

Wrecker got to work quickly, knowing there was limited time before the locals or the pirates showed up to poke around and Tech grabbed his welding kit.

~~~

"Are we good to go?" Echo asked Tech, who began the launch sequence. The ship groaned slightly as it pulled away from the surface of Mimban. You sat in your jump seat, feet cleaned and bandaged, wrapped in a blanket, and preparing for the cold of space.

"We’re clear," Tech said, angling the nose of the ship towards the blackness of space.

"Thank the maker!" you cheered, thrilled to get the hell off this rock. “Fuck Mimban!”

You heard Wrecker laugh.

"Launching to hyperspace," Tech announced, pushing the throttle forward to prime the hyperdrive. Within seconds, you were all zooming through space with bright blue and white lights. 

You could cry, honest to the maker. The relief of never having to go back to Mimban ever again was like a weight off your chest.

Hunter chuckled at your enthusiasm, watching you happy dance from your seat.

"We’re at cruising speed," Echo said, unbuckling and turning to face you directly.

You perked up. "What is it, Echo?"

He crossed his arms and smirked.

"What?" You started to feel anxious under his playful stare.

"Oh, nothing…" His smirk only grew. "I just didn’t know you had such…voracious tastes."

Your eyes widened like saucers, reminiscent of the one you chucked at that pirate earlier.

"Oh, don’t play shy now," he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "I had to listen to how not shy you were for the past week!"

You wanted to vanish into the floor. You felt your entire body flush, and you knew they could see it because half of it was on damn display.

"You can’t blame me!" You crossed your arms, trying to defend yourself.

"Actually, I think I can," he laughed. "I thought omegas only picked one…"

"You said you’ve shared before!" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"She wasn’t in heat," Echo smiled.

"Is this what you two talk about when we’re on missions?" Hunter leaned against the galley doorway crossing his arms.

"Well, excuse me, you all smell remarkably similar. It’s a little difficult when you’re all different versions of the same person!"

Echo chuckled. "We all know that’s not how that works, sweetheart."

You couldn’t help but leave your mouth agape. "Can’t you just be happy I’m not dead? Must you tease me before we even get back to Coruscant?”

"I just didn’t know this about you," he stood up, shrugging and keeping his playful tone. "I never would have guessed our Tiny…Little sweet Tiny, would roll like this." He laughed.

You threw the blanket you had at him, making him laugh and bat it away.

"Alright, enough, quit playing with her," Hunter gathered you up, keeping you from playfully smacking Echo.

"She likes it," Echo flicked you on the forehead, making you yip as he sat back down in his copilot seat. "I want all of them," he mimicked your whiny voice with a snicker.

"Ahh!" You screamed, covering your face. "Shut up, Echo!"

"Help me, Alpha!" He smiled and laughed, watching you flail around in Hunter's arms, trying to kick him.

"Are you not wearing panties?" Echo gasped pointing a finger at you. The others whipped their heads around.

"Echo!" You screamed.

"Alright, someone has to be the responsible one and get you cleaned up," Hunter spun you around and walked you to the fresher, “Shower. Then we should probably talk before we get to Coruscant," Hunter said, running a gentle hand over your head affectionately.

"Can I borrow some civvies?" You asked, gesturing down to your dress.

Hunter scratched the back of his head. "They took ours too… sorry, pip." He felt bad. You sighed and nodded, letting him close the door, giving you some privacy.

You sighed. You’d be lying if you weren’t a little anxious about having the talk. The second you hit lucidity again after being in heat, you knew it was coming, but the way Crosshair kissed you at least gave you a little hope they weren’t going to just kick you to the side and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

At least not the sniper; the others? You weren’t as confident. 

Stepping into the fresher, you took a deep breath, letting the hot water wash away the past 48 hours. 

It was going to be an uncomfortable journey back home.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

So I usually HATE when someone puts images of clothes they had visualized for a fic, but because I struggled so much describing the image, I'm attaching my inpso images here (ahh I'm sorry I'm a hypocrite) and also Pip's iconic tray toss (just like daddy Crosshair)

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

[j0ss-4rt]

If you have any more details about how the Team Escope x One Piece AU, please share them. I'm dying to know now.

omg…I’m getting back so late but thank you for indulging me. took me forever to get the motivation to draw the doodles

I’ve been thinking abt this au and will probably expand it (assigning marines and other crews and whatnot) but for now it’s just the Escope Pirates!!

Of course they are led by captain Escope, aka Izzy, who is similar to Luffy in the way she annoys people until they join. I’ve made up the “vine vine” fruit (name subject to change) for her, which gives her Dionysis-like powers of creating chaos, inflicting people with madness, and also growing vines. This power also gives her a special affliction with snakes! She also has a knack for creating bombs, it’s her favorite getaway method. Her goal as a pirate is to create problems for the world government and live that sweet pirate life.

We then have the first mate/information specialist/navigator/voice of reason, Noah! He is absolute dogshit in combat, which is why he specializes in laying low and gathering intel. Usually Eva or Owen will have to bail him out of fights, but he can use his intellect to get the upper hand. might give him a devil fruit for espionage…hm…

To contrast this, “Iron Woman” Eva is a demon in combat, and would much rather fight first and worry about escape later. She was a bounty hunter before she got caught up with Izzy and ended up sticking with her because Izzy doesn’t care how much destruction she causes.

And then we have Owen! He is also a great fighter, and although he doesn’t have a devil fruit (for now), he’s like zoro in that he can kind of manipulate his body for strength boosts?? After a good meal he can be deadly as he’s full of energy and basically bouncing off the walls. I’m thinking of him being the shipwright. He’s also the reason for any alliances they may get, because he’s the most (perhaps only) likable one of their crew.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @choicesficwriterscreations

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[bigdumbbambieyes]

hello lovelies!! surprise! here's another snippet of my Regency AU for the @bigbangharringrove event 🤍

and as an extra special treat, here is a sketch of the boys that @hellfirefucker drew - he is so talented, he really brought the boys to life for us!!

'moonflower, mine' snippet below the cut!

A month ago, Billy had believed that the hardest part of this endeavor would be getting Max to refine herself further, but that was before he realized that he still had to convince his father of letting her go to London with him.

“Absolutely not,” Neil frowns over dinner in late December, “Maxine has no business in London, especially not now.”

He can feel Max’s gaze on the side of his face where they sit at the table across from their parents. He’s thought of reasons as to why Max would need to go, but they are all feeble. Still, he has to try.

“She may not have any business in London,” Billy agrees, “However, her cousin has been writing to her often in hopes of her visiting.”

“Which cousin is this?” Susan asks, her brows a little furrowed as she looks between the two.

“Cousin Darcy,” Max pipes up, looking at her mom and doing her best to keep her face neutral because Billy knows that her cousin Darcy has not written to her in years – not since he moved to Scotland with his wife, “He will be in London during the Season, to visit family.”

Neil doesn’t look convinced, and neither does Susan, but she has this understanding look in her eye, like she knows they’re lying but is trying to figure out why.

“That sounds lovely,” Susan hums as she looks at her husband, “Doesn’t it, dear?”

Neil grunts as he scoops some boiled potatoes onto his plate, but says nothing else. 

This is good.

“I have not seen London since we moved to Fairhollow, mother – I would very much like to see how it’s changed.” Max says, looking at Billy again, “And I would be safe, with Billy.”

“Yes, I agree. And not to mention, it would look good for Max to be somewhat well travelled, would it not?” Billy adds, looking to Susan and trying to silently beg for her help.

And Susan is not an idiot, she’s definitely caught on to them, but she’s also willing to give that help that Billy is so desperately asking for because she agrees with a light, “Yes, I believe it would. Mr. Beaumont has spoken on such things before, has he not, Mr. Hargrove?” 

The three of them look to Neil, who glances at each one of them in silence, because he knows he’s lost. 

So, with a long-suffering sigh, he nods in agreement and mutters, “Yes, he has.”

“Then it is settled?” Billy asks, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

Neil stares at him, almost through him, and points his knife at Billy, “You are to keep her safe at all times. She is to represent me and our home and she will not embarrass me – if I hear that anything has happened, or that she has done anything to ruin our name, then you will pay for it, William. Understood?”

Swallowing back the bitter taste on his tongue, Billy nods, “Yes, sir.”

[punkeropercyjackson]

Came up with a Jercy take/au so i remembered those hcs i promised @kitkatperce LMFAO Here you go Sar🤟🏼

Black4Black obviously-Percy's monoracial and Jason's mixed because Sally's afro-dominican third gen inmigrant and the gods are black.Jason's a natural dirty blonde and has brown eyes and lightskin swag /lh

Certified t4t couple.Jason's a wolfgirl turned werewolf-adjacent trans man who's the walking embodiment of positive and healthy masculinity and is fully transitioned with top surgery scars and Percy is a pastel punk trans woman who canonically acts extremely femme eggy so she's a blue hair and pronouns mermaid-esque gamer girl and her new full name,Persephone,was chosen because the og gave her Metamorphose,food that's been blessed by Aphrodite to give the eater their ideal apperance so it's basically hrt for trans people,as a gift and Percy wanted to thank her

Also transhet4transbi demi4demi and autistic4autistic but Percy's got no masking game and Jason's got all of it but he don't play with her ever

They were kinda meant to have a spark in every way-Tons of similarities but a few significant contrasts that don't lead to toxicity but instead them being complimentary and good for eachother,the beef between Zeus and Poseidon and how much Percy fucking despises her dad and Jason wanting to be completely free of Jupiter,Percy's severe older men trauma and Jason's defiement of what men are 'supposed' to be that's influenced by his transmasculinity but also a genuine effort on his part and connection with Percy that women are inherently better caused by the misogyny he also faced pre-egg cracking and even some afterwards from particularly big jerks and Jason being Hazel's pseudo-dad pre-Hoo and Percy being Nico's pseudo-mom before All That Fuckshit.Obviously they're not perfect together based off that last part alone and Jason's mostly a hc but it's certainly better than adultifiying Hazel!!

Percy's tgirl ass was glad to be friends with a guy who was taller than her for once and Jason found her 6' height hot on sight and immediately wanting to shock himself for because JASON THAT'S INNAPPROPRIATE,SHE'S A LADY AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HER!!!!!!(There was minus zero nsfw thoughts going on and he's just a prude)

'She's Lois Lane........But with Aquaman's powers.Does that make sense?'-Jason telling Piper about his Percy love epiphany and she rightfully laughed at him for it and he fumed in humiliation

Piper is a false romantic lead but there's no jealousy on Percy part and none on Piper's part either actually because she never actually liked Jason and only used thinking she did as a heterosexual allusion to avoid confronting her internalized lesbophobia(which is the general term for anti-sapphic in case y'all get mad,i know she's canon unlabeled and mspec)and Jason realized he's transhet instead of bi transmasc like he thought and just had envy of Piper's butch swag so they were on great terms afterwards

Huge on physical touch,quality time and words of affirmation.Percy can't keep her hands to herself once she really falls in deep for him and he's loving every second of it but is completely oblivious to the change,they do parallel play on a daily basis but also share a few special interests now thanks to infodumping and participating in them together and they're training partners and aside from direct verbal validation,they also leave sticky notes with sweet messages('Even if you weren't perfect today,you're still my Superman'-Your Blue Kryptonite/'Hey,the sea may not liked to be restrained but i heard she likes this'-Bolt Boy')and talk good things to others even when they're not around

Outcast gf x Popular bf but they cut the bullshit and go straight to best friends with zero judgement and only sunshine and clear rain.Them getting together by Boo would be forced asf so instead they're a Ghostflower situation:Besties with implied subtle crushes > Significant seperation period causes their hearts to grow fonder and they're fullblast soulmates by choice > They settle into it for a long while so they can be a real couple and true true love.This includes Percy having a Jason tributed hairstyle change as she dyes her faded from gray to white streak sky blue and Jason asking for tons of Percy sculptures to be made in her honor and she's as flattered and flustered and teasing about it as Gwen was and Jason has the rizz Miles does too

Back to the Percy older men trauma thing,i think we all picked up on how Weird And Unnecessary Luke is towards her in canon and i won't get into it so it dosen't get triggering but even though he never dated her,his frequent and looming presence combined with his again canon pedophile status to her own best friends(Annabeth and Thalia)and another friend of hers she felt awful for not keeping an eye on(Silena),he left scars on her regarding manhood that only fueled her transfemininity and hatred of the gods and Apollo in particular due to his treatment of the Hunters and 'history'.Jason's entire Percy appeal is despite the looks,he acts nothing like how boys are taught to and punished if they don't and the closest exception is how gentlemanly and chilvarious is he but even then that's black dude swag specifically

Percy is 4d,Jason is 4c.Her usual style is comics!Starfire hair i.e down to her hips and BIG FLOOF,his is shoulder length and his natural very thick curls.They have wash day together and Percy's uses fruity shampoos and gets Jason to do the same and they try out different looks together-Percy's favorites are butterfly locs,a blk version of mermaid waterfall and jumbo ponytail and Jason's are twists,afropuffs and at one point he got an afro fade with a lightning bolt and Petcy damn near forgot how to breathe

Nico's also black(Maria was black-italian)so cute lil found black family sitch.He could NOT stand Jason's ass at first for no reason,he's just a posessive brat over his big sister slash mom but Jason proved himself not too much into it by defeating Cupid before he even got a hint of what he was tryna get out of him and Jason telling him that he only cared Cupid was forcing him into something earned him lifelong trust.They're an official quartet as off Hoo finale and Jason makes regular trips to the Familia Jackson household and they have both quests and normal adventures and they can be found doing just about anything together from wholesome down to earth activities to buck ass wild supernatural shenanigans

Hazel's also a lesbian and pastel goth so her and Jason's semi-normie ass have a lot of fun getting to know eachother again /gen /pos.Naturally they talk about their gfs with Hazel's love life being as Mabel Pines-esque as she is by herself and Jason is goofy black dad from a sitcom-coded and supports her in her nonchalantly macabe nature and you can just feel the rekindled familial love there like you can Nico and Percy and when Jercy finally have their bio kids,Nico and Hazel become the best Tío and Auntie ever

Jason is Percy's All American Boy in a black biracial kinda way and Percy is Jason's Girl Next Door in an afrolatina kinda way

Something something The Man with his head in the clouds and The Mermaid who keeps her head above the water meet where the sky and the sea do and their worlds are forever transformed by it as they become just one united

And since this is a ships trend with me at this point:Jercy-coded images

[keksalot404]

OMORI: GUARDIAN ANGEL AU - ASK THEM ANYTHING (THE VERY MUCH PLANNED HALLOWEEN SPECIAL)

How's it going folks? Welcome back to Know Your Monsters! Halloween's is just around the corner, so we got a special treat for you tricksters! For Monstertown's 3rd Hollow's Eve, we've asked you to say some burning questions to some human-turned-spooky specters (and their mortal companions) who popped up in the MTT Hotel to give you this totally planned special! We got your questions, so now we ask... why are you crying?

Witch Mari: *sniff* I'm sorry - It's just - It's our first Halloween with me back - and - I never though we would ever enjoy today like this - aND WE CAN DO SIBLING COSTUMES AGAIN *sobs*

Black Cat Sunny: …I think me not celebrating any holiday for years affected her.

Akita Neru Aubrey: I forgot how into Halloween she was...or, is.

-

Lucas Frisk: *I recall how hard it was to coordinate costumes with Chara every year! I reckon we will run out of costumes pairs by year 5.

Masked Man Chara: YOU may call me picky, I would call it having actual taste. Hollow's Eve is a personal favorite holiday of mine and I will not muddle it dressing as a technicolor astronaut!

Frisk: *Hey! I point out that it is from a Horror Drama show specifically.

Chara: Why are you so adamant about us having pairing outfits in the first place?!

Frisk: *Because you're my best friend~ (*I make a heart with my hands)

-

Miku Madotsuki: Sorry my ghost friend couldn't make it tonight, she got so excited for Halloween she kind of got tuckered out and went back into... anyway! I can ask any question in her place! (Um, this interview isn't public outside town, is it?)

-

Purple Guy-er: You couldn't even bother to get a somewhat matching outfit. Just wearing the mask isn't enough!

Myers Mask Kris: It's more a costume then whatever you're suppose to be.

Player: I. Can't. Change. OUTFITS. This is the best I can do with my colors!

Kris: Then make your body transparent. At least then you'd actually pass as a ghost.

Player: Just give us the first question please, smiley helmet guy.

Okay! This first question towards you two I also want to ask the rest!

Player: Alright, let see, my name is... Player! I'm 19 years old and have been a gamer since... childhood.

Kris: Good job so far.

Player: Well SORRY I don't believe regular people would understand the concept of higher dimensional beings or that they value privacy!

Kris: The entire point of this ask thing is to get a better understanding of us.

Player: Okay well why don't you answer the next one. What do you think our relationship is, honestly?

Kris: Crippled teen and very annoying and social life line.

Player: …I mean I guess...

-

Mado: Me and my friend we're together for as long as I could remember. I thought she had gone, even when I kept seeing her everyday, but turns out she wasn't really gone in the first place. So... yay!

-

Frisk: *Chara and I go way back, before the rise of the Underground! Even when I didn't know them, they caught and saved me when I fell pass the barrier and onto the cave floor. That's when I met Chara, and we've been trusted partners ever since!

Chara: I wouldn't call being buried for decades only to be awakened by my soul being attached to a kid akin to a simple trust fall.

Frisk: *Aw, but I recall you even put down flowers for my arrival. <3

Chara: Uuuuugggghhhhh-

-

Mari: We're siblings of course! I'd like to believe that my will to be by Sunny's side is what kept me around and conscious all these years!

Sunny:  …What were you doing all that time I couldn't see you. I know you go to my dreams when I sleep, but what we're you doing when I was awake?

Mari: Well, you know I was invisible when not in Headspace, but I think in some of the... illusions you had were me sometimes.

Sunny: ?! Were you there when I thought you were locked outside?

Mari: No?

Sunny: How about when I drowned and I saw you trying to save me like last time?

Mari: You saw that?

Aubrey: …Were you there when Sunny visited me at the church?

Mari: I would've haunted their every waking moment for you. :)

Aubrey: Th- thanks?

Ah, actually Aubrey, there are two similar asks interested in you and Sunny.

Aubrey: Huh? But I thought this was for-

Aubrey: How do they-! I- I mean...

Sunny: …

Aubrey: He's my friend. He made a mistake, a really dumb, life-changing mistake. Sure I was mad when I found out, furious actually, and then I got more angry at myself when I realized... I almost did the same thing.

Sunny: !

Mari: Oh Aubrey...

Aubrey: You- you gave me somewhere to go when I had nowhere else... even after everything I did to you... so... yeah

Sunny: …You're my friend too Aubrey. I might not feel the same way like back then, but I like what we are now.

-

Mado: …Got to love the childhood friends trope, huh?

Oh? Do I sense something between you and Sunny?

Mado: I did not agree to ask questions directly from you.

Oh, it didn't come from me~ :3

Mado: Nanda-!

-

Sunny: She's comfortable to be around. She doesn't judge when I do something off-putting, and gives me good art advice when I started drawing again. She's so different from me, yet... we understand each other. She's... sweet.

Mari: (Internal squeeing)

-

Mado: …

So how about-

Mado: SUNNY IS. A GOOD PAL. HIS SISTER IS NICE ALSO. GOTTA LOVE JAPANESE SOLIDARITY.

Mado: …and. He also. Doesn't mind. When I...

Get stabby?

Mado: Eh?! Where did that come from?

Well...

Mado: Na- I only stab things in dreams! Which I guess whoever the hell you get your questions from knows about apparently!!! And I stopped doing much of it after a while! I'm curious but I'm not some intrusive thought following maniac! Who would something like that in real life?

-

Sunny: I thought dream worlds only held consequences when you wanted them to. I've only learned recently that was not the case.

Mari: To be fair little bro, you could say "you" had a good control of what you dreamt about.

Sunny: Also Kris likes stabbing stuff? I don't remember them being that into it.

-

Kris: …I have several knives. I keep them in a case to display.

Player: I've seen Sunny walk past it several times. I believe he thinks it's for the kitchen.

Kris: F@#k kinda kitchen needs that many knives.

-

Frisk: *I wonder why the ask never mentioned Chara.

Chara: I only have the one dagger, Frisk.

Frisk: *And you take care of it like your own kin.

Chara: I use it for gardening! It needs to be cleaned 3 times after use!

Moving on, this next one is for you, Chara.

Chara: Well, I'm not one to brag, but in my living days I was referred to be a "demon who comes when you call their name." I now hold view this title as endearing, as I take pride in seeing how I can personally unsettle humans (and sometimes monsters) with nothing but my words and face. Mari is the nice, gentle, caring older sister of our little ghostly group, so really, I don't see a need for it to be a contest.

Frisk: *I mention the time with the cookies-

Chara: *through gritted teeth* That was admittedly a moment of weakness spurred by my love of chocolate. I acknowledged my defeat that day only to claim what I wanted. A deal was made, so it doesn't count.

-

Sunny: Never mess with older sisters. They hold a monumental power behind their smile.

Mari: Tee-hee~

That brings me to you, Mari.

Mari: I can say that Mari's Magical Might is only growing with everything I learn! VIOLET HANDS, healing magic, teleportation, and Alphys said that I might even have an affinity for Water Magic as well! Undyne was so excited when she heard that!

Sunny: I think it's cool, I hope being linked to her gives me magic too.

Aubrey: At least you have a chance! I'd pray to the heavens a hundred times if it meant I had powers half as sweet as yours, Mari!

Mari: Aw thank you! As for what my mother thinks, at first she was shocked that I wanted to learn magic, but she quickly changed her tune when she saw that I could help around the house better with my HANDS.

Mari: As for the latter question... unfortunately full controlling shape-shifting is something I'm still getting the hang of. I'll let you know the moment I'd be able to do... that!

-

Chara: I'd say she's lucky to have as many experienced teachers, such as myself, to help her discovering her power.

Frisk: *I express my relief that Chara has not yet burned a part of the forest during their training with Mari.

Chara: It was ONE time, we agreed with that white furry forest guardian to not train too close to the dense forest. I am not some brainless pyromaniac.

Frisk: *The first thing you did when you could do magic was seeing if you could make a fire sword.

Chara: Well, some fire is obvious, I am a Dreemurr after all.

This next ask is for you, Frisk. This one comes from all the way in Japan!

Frisk: *…These asks are getting way too personal.

Chara: You have just noticed?

Frisk: *How do I say this... If you are referring when I could load the entire timeline to a previous state, then I'm afraid I am not able to do that anymore. I cannot even load my most recent save, the one just after breaking the barrier.

Chara: There is little in this universe, let alone this world, that can affect time with the degree of control that we, er, Frisk had when they first entered the underground.

Frisk: *Even when I did have it, I didn't have much control of it. I only remember it forcing a load when I... lose enough HP. That was enough however, as I didn't use it for anything else.

Frisk: *As to theories on how to get that power back, I can think of a few methods...

-

Player: You still owe me an explanation on the white sparkle save point thing back in the "DW."

Kris: I don't owe you anything.

Player: You JUST called me your lifeline!

Kris: I don't see other people giving their UV drip a trophy.

-

Teto Monoko: *sleeps soundly*

----_--__--- - - --- - -

Oh woops, I think that ask was a little corrupted.

Mado: ?

-

Sunny: Oh, a water stone. Thanks.

Sunny: Um, I didn't have AC in my old house. It feels nice on hot days.

Aubrey: Hey, I know that were getting a lot of our personal life out there, but isn't it strange we can see the names of most who's asking us?

Well, we do in fact have 1 more anonymous question, it's for you Mari.

Mari: Oh! Well, ask away! There's no shame in a little anonyma-

*Mari is crushed by the large ask!

Sunny: !!!

Aubrey: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, MARI!

*SLASH!*

Chara: Mari, are you alright?

Mari: Ugh, yeah, I'm fine. You know, ghost biology and all that.

Aubrey: What was up with that guy!? Thinking they know you like that! That was infuriating!

Sunny: Mari's not an idiot...

Mari: I'm inclined to agree, but...

Aubrey: Wh- don't tell me you agree with them Mari! It was just an accident, nobody could've how it would end!

Mari: They we're right about one thing though... I was selfish.

Aubrey: W-What...? No, it was-

Mari: You could say it was many things. The pressure from our parents. The pressure from the town. The looks of excitement on our friends faces. It was a lot, but in the end... it was me. I was the one who told Sunny to keep going. After all my fingers swelled. After his fingers started to bleed. After getting one note wrong, after getting the timing a bit off, after thinking it was just F*%KING not good enough apparently!

*Mari's spirit shakes.

Sunny: Mari...?

Mari: I... I said earlier I thought it was my will to be by your side that kept me linked to you. To be honest, I thought that it had to be the case, because the only thing I wanted to do after... everything that happened...

Mari: Was to be a better sister for you. To do- ANYTHING, to redeem my awful, stupid, selfish mistake. I... honestly don't know what else-

Chara: It was your determination.

Mari: …what?

Chara: In your final moments, you decided that whatever you had left, your love of your brother, your fear of failure, the need to repent and be a better person, whatever in your soul that was not fading, was worth still living for.

Chara: The moment you decided that, all of those feelings exploded into life, into determination. And so you kept going, not just for your brother, but also for the small part of you that still wanted to live. That so called selfishness you speak of.

Mari: …H-how... do you...?

Chara: …

Chara: Because I asked that question too.

Mari: Huh...

*Mari notices Sunny's expression.

Mari: Sunny, look at me.

Mari: I... I know I hurt you. I know even if you say that your okay I can still feel what I've done to you even today. And it even might be more selfish of me to say this. But I just want- I NEED you to know,

Mari: However long I have left, if it's just a few months, if it's how long I would've lived before. I promise that I will do everything in my power to be with you. To help up you when you feel down. To stop you from hurting yourself or others. To listen when no one else will. Even if you don't think you deserve it. Even if I think I don't deserve you. I will do anything to be the best sister I wasn't before. Because I love you, Sunny.

Sunny: …

Sunny: …then...

Sunny: I want you to forgive yourself too.

Mari: …

Mari: O-Okay... I'll try...!

-

Kris: …I wish I had an older sibling.

Player: In another life, buddy.

Kris: …cool.

-

…We have one more question for all of you, If you want to keep going.

Mari: Hehe *sniff* of course. Go ahead.

Alright. Final question from:

Sunny: I think... the time I tripped on Mewo's litterbox and spilled it over the floor.

Mari: I'm pretty sure me calling you over to surprise you with a fake spider that day tops that, hehe.

Aubrey: I... patted Basil on the back, accidently opening one of his wounds after That Night. I felt terrible, but he was just glad for me to be worrying about him again.

-

Frisk: *I recall the hours "we" spent making Dog Residue to buy the elusive Temmie Armor. I equipped it just before Asgore. Not the best time spent.

Chara: The Buttercup Pie. I guess it counts since Dad was just sick from it. Although the ripples that event would cause could count as "life-ruining"

-

Mado: (Too many to say.)

Mado: I... called one of my teachers by their first name back in my birth town! It was suuuper embarrassing.

-

Monoko: -- Gomen... -- Monoe-nee... -- cookie... -- oishii...

-

Player: I did that thing where you held shift to quickly craft things and I accidently made 9 Diamond Hoes in a Hardcore world.

Kris: And the most stupidest thing I will do is just around the corner, so stay tuned for that.

And that will be all! Got anything to say to everyone watching and reading?

Player: Oh- uh... thanks for all your strangely invasive questions.

Kris: We honestly didn't expect to get as many as we did.

-

Mado: We hope you enjoyed this little treat on Halloween!

-

Frisk: *I express my gratitude for all of you who are still with us for this special.

Chara: It... took a while. Whether or not it was planned, efficient, or worth it in the end is yet to be decided.

-

Aubrey: Thanks for all the things you say,

Sunny: The stuff you make,

Mari: And the love you share!

Until next time!

[tboycamilo]

encanto next gen au - fourth generation madrigals

wrote these bios for the fankids forever ago but just realized i haven't posted them here and that's a shame bc im proud of my little guys and want to talk about them. anyways here they are in birth order (and also if anyone wants to learn more about the spouses i can write bios for them too bc i love them)

AMELIA 'AMI' MADRIGAL

first child of camilo and marco madrigal. the first of the fourth-generation madrigals. born 1955. has the gift of self-duplication, able to create and dematerialize limitless clones at will. her gift gives marco and camilo hell quite a bit especially when they're young first-time dads attempting to wrangle up all her clones. like marco, ami is very reserved and quiet, but unlike him, she is not socially anxious or shy. she just prefers to observe rather than engage, and tends to be aloof and keep her thoughts to herself. many people see her as stoic and intimidating. because of this, she struggles building relationships with her peers at times, and worries that others perceive her as cold or scary. she's sweet once you get to know her, though, and is a great planner and a good listener. she tends to be the voice of reason in the family and is probably more mature than her dads. a little bit of a nerd.

IMELDA 'IMA' MADRIGAL

ami's twin sister, the second child of camilo and marco madrigal. 'born' 1960 - she was the first clone to materialize when ami got her gift, and gained a mind of her own, unable to dematerialize at ami's will. though physically identical to ami, ima does make efforts to change her appearance so she isn't mistaken for her sister - a definite daddy's girl, she emulates camilo with her shorter hair and bold yellow wardrobe. personality-wise, she is basically a mini version of her papa - energetic, flirty, mischievous, and outgoing. she has a sense of humor, too - she purposely named herself the reverse of her sister's name. but just like camilo, she suffers from identity issues - her boisterous personality and over-the-top style are a direct result of her attempting to compensate for being a clone and avoid being confused with her sister. she often feels like she has no sense of self and fears being seen as a mere copy of ami. if the magic were to fade again, so would she, but we don't need think about that right now!

BRUNO 'BRUNITO' MADRIGAL

third child of camilo and marco madrigal. born 1960. he looks like the perfect mix of his dads, almost all his features halfway between those of marco and camilo. he tends to dress similarly to his namesake, with a hooded poncho shrouding him in mystery. his gift is invisibility at will, so he has become a master of presenting himself inconspicuously. though camilo would never admit it, brunito is kinda his favorite child and is extremely spoiled (and may or may not be the only one of camilo's children who was actually planned). he has a friendly but nervous personality, much like his father marco, and whether his personality developed because of his gift or vice versa is anyone's guess. he is very sweet and tends to see the best in people, and can be somewhat naive - but he's not oblivious to the fact that he tends to get special treatment from his dads and often leverages that to his advantage, much to the irritation of his siblings. he is very attached both to his parents and to his brother felipe. 

VALENTINA MADRIGAL

first child of luisa and inés madrigal. born 1961. despite being adopted, she takes after luisa both in appearance and athleticism. she always has some form of bandages on her in at least one spot. her gift is indestructibility - she is able to withstand injury that would be painful or even fatal to anyone else. because of this spectacular gift, she often tends to throw caution to the wind. valentina is extremely daring and brave, and loves getting into all kinds of trouble and doing stunts that terrify both her mothers. despite her recklessness with her own self, she is very protective of her little sister and younger cousins, and feels a level of responsibility to keep them safe. like luisa, she is susceptible to the pressure she puts on herself, but she is much more comfortable with confrontation than her mother. she bonds with her abuela julieta often.

JACINDA MADRIGAL

first and only child of isabela, lilli, and rosa madrigal. born 1963. her gift is terraforming - she can create structures from the earth and form the land around her at will. with three doting moms who waited until they were fully ready to adopt a kid, jacinda is very spoiled and, in her moms' eyes, she can do no wrong. ima's mischievousness pales in comparison to jacinda's - she is the master prankster of her generation who puts camilo's past mischief to shame. she doesn't discriminate with her pranks, and is always causing hell for her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. despite her troublemaking nature, she is also very charismatic and friendly, and the kids in town love to be around her - she always has something fun up her sleeve. she loves her family, but probably harbors a little jealousy towards ciela and later the triplets for replacing her as the baby of the family. 

CIELA MADRIGAL

second child of luisa and inés madrigal.  born 1965. she has the gift of levitation and is able to float from place to place. her clothes are covered in dreamy pastels and cloud patterns, reflecting both her gift and personality. as the baby of her immediate family, ciela is innocent and creative. she has a very go-with-the-flow attitude and is great at helping others through their emotions and calming them down. she has an appreciation for nature and the arts, and likes to paint and draw in her spare time. she gets along well with her great aunt pepa, who likes to make clouds for her to float on. ciela can be a little naive at times and often has her head in the clouds literally and figuratively, but many still envy her relaxed and happy attitude.

IGNACIO MADRIGAL

the eldest of camilo and marco's triplets and their fourth child overall. born 1971. his appearance takes after camilo a lot more than his other siblings. his gift is fire manipulation - he can create fires of virtually any size at will. because of how dangerous his gift can be, he spent a great deal of his life teaching himself restraint and is very in control of his emotions. despite his levelheadedness, he can be very pompous and bratty - although he grows out of it sooner or later when he's older. he's also quite boy crazy, which he doesn't exactly grow out of. although he loves to tease and annoy his siblings and cousins, he is fiercely protective of them deep down. he's very passionate about his interests and very dedicated to his loved ones, but he tries not to show it outwardly too much out of fear of his gift getting the better of him.

FELIPE MADRIGAL

fifth child of camilo and marco madrigal, the middle triplet. born 1971. his name was inspired by his grandfather felix, and his appearance takes after him too. his gift is water manipulation, essentially the opposite of his brother ignacio's gift. as expected, the two have a big rivalry and get into arguments all the time - their personalities, much like their gifts, tend to clash quite often. felipe is bubbly and polite, but also quite an emotional boy. he often catastrophizes and lets his feelings get the better of him, much like his grandmother pepa. he's a very hard worker and tends to boss his siblings around when it's time to do chores. he's a total papa's boy and is always on the lookout for praise from marco. he's also best friends with his brother bruno despite being so many years apart in age. his wardrobe, unlike the rest of his immediate family, consists of lots of cool blues.

SOFIA MADRIGAL

the youngest of camilo and marco's triplets and their sixth and final child overall. born 1971. her gift is enhanced eyesight - she is able to see in the dark as well as from far distances, and is acutely aware of minor details that most may not pick up on. her jewelry and dress are adorned with eye designs, and the family knows better than to try and sneak anything past her. just like her tia dolores, she has dirt on everyone and can deduce when something shifty is going on in seconds. she's kind of known as the weirdo cousin for her quietness and ominous behavior. she talks very little and seems to be always watching. it's nothing the madrigals aren't used to, though - dolores was exactly the same way when she was a child. bruno, dolores, ami, and sofia all bond over being viewed as fearsome or outsiders for their quirks. she gets a lot of attention as the baby of the family but she doesn't seem to like being in the spotlight very much. 

that's all of them for now, i may also post bios for the other madrigals just to show where they end up in the future in my au but the au generally revolves around the fourth gen! also feel free to ask more about the au and characters bc i absolutely love to yap about this stuff. also sorry about all the babies camilo i only make you suffer bc ur my favorite character 💛

[magic-hcs]

Hey! if requests were open i wanted to place a request ^^ what if the apparently human s/o disappeared for hours and when brothers AT and UT found the s/o he/she/they were in a hybrid goat form in a backyard/forest eating something and when the s/o noticed he was there just said "don't freak out, I can explain 😰" plz (if you don't want to, don't do it ^^)

I absolutely loved writing this! It was amazing and I always love an opportunity to dive deeper into my own Aviantale au! I hope it was worth the wait!

Raven: Aviantale Sans

Crest: Aviantale Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Raven: Raven’s mouth clacked open as he stared at the scene before him. He had no clue what to think of it or what he was seeing in front of him in your garden. Someone had broken into your garden and was now munching on your precious hortensias you and Raven had planted together. The wisteria flowers Raven had found just earlier in the day when he had been exploring and brought with him are now spread on the ground. Raven had dropped them due to his surprise.

A panicked voice calls out a desperate plea of “I can explain!” that breaks the tense silence.

How has it come to this, you may wonder.

It started with Raven doing his usual hobby; soaring through the sky at high speed, relishing and rejoicing the freedom and air that rushes past him. This time during his flight he had discovered a ginormous, beautiful wisteria tree. Opening his little notebook full of plants and flower symbolisms, Raven discovered quite few meanings to a wisteria like resilience and longevity but it’s also a representation of love. It simply was a perfect gift for you, his lover.

With gentle hands, Raven took a few flowers and a small branch or two before flying back to you. Filled with lots of excitement, he forgot to give you a heads up he was coming by. Instead, Raven had soared to and landed directly in your garden. Expertly transferring the wisteria flowers and branches from his clawed feet to his arms as he perched on the ground. He was about to turn towards the door to knock on it when he heard a voice calling out to him, not from within your house but from deeper in your garden.

“Raven?” It was a startled squeak that made him snap his head towards the voice. A gasp leaves him and in his shock, Raven drops the wisteria flowers and branches.

There was a humanoid goat eating your hortensias!

In a blink of an eye, Raven’s feathers puffed and ruffled up in irritation and offense. Big startled eyes stared back at him.

“what in asgore’s name are you doing to my mate’s flowers!?” He said with a bristled tone. If there was one way to get Raven very passionate about something it would definitely be flowers.

The humanoid goat’s hands were raised with a desperate plea of “I can explain!”

It was soon after that Raven learned that the humanoid goat was you, his lover. Who apparently transforms into a half goat every now and again? And whenever you got into that goat form you couldn't always help the urge to munch on things that you shouldn’t; like your own flower beds.

Be prepared for Raven to give you a side-eye whenever he finds your flower beds lacking some plants. He loves you, but don’t eat the flowers you and he worked so hard on.

✨✨

Crest: The sweetheart has this special ability to recognize you no matter how much you try to disguise yourself. You’ve tried, and he always just seems to know it’s you. You have no clue how one does it and Crest refuses to tell you either. He would just smile knowingly while looking at you.

So one day you disappeared without notice; one moment the two of you were just hanging out, having fun, the next, poof, gone. Now, this isn’t the first time this has happened. You do have the tendency to just vanish from the face of the earth for a little while before manifesting back on earth again as if nothing had changed. So Crest has gotten used to it. He would wait a few hours - three hours max - and then, poof, you’d be back.

But this hasn’t been like all those other times. This time you’ve been gone for almost five hours, and Crest has been getting worried.

He’s been looking for you for a while - of course, at first he had just messaged you, before calling you before going out searching when none of the prior options came through - and Crest doesn’t really remember why he ended up here in this forest. But looking back, he was very glad he did.

In the middle of a clearing was - he presumes - a goat monster, nibbling on some wild but safe mushrooms. Acting more like an actual goat than a monster, hence his uncertainty.

You heard him land and you turned to face him, mushroom hanging from your mouth. Crest saw your face, it was longer and furrier and resembled more like a goat, but he could tell it was you. No matter what form you would or could take, Crest would always know it was you.

Shock was an apparent expression on his face as he looked at you. He called your name, disbelieving. You throw your two nailed hoofs up and call out with a sheepish expression “don’t freak out.” Your voice had a slight bleating tone to it.

“I can explain!”

Yes, indeed you do, and afterwards, Crest wants to know if you can shift on command and if you wanna join him when he camouflages/dresses himself as other people unlike himself for jokes and fun.

✨✨

Sans: Sans had been wondering where you disappeared off to regularly. At first Sans didn’t think much of it. Maybe you needed to be somewhere, or you suddenly remembered an important appointment you had forgotten all about. Stars know that Sans is guilty of this too - writing all his appointments down in an agenda is such a drag to do - luckily his dear younger brother is very vigilant of his own and Sans’ schedules. Papyrus has the tendency to bombard his phone with all caps texts warning and reminding him of upcoming events and the like. Date, time, place and all.

Yeah…Paps’ so cool.

But after a while, Sans couldn’t brush it off as mutual laziness of writing down reminders or forgetfulness with the amount of times it happened. And always around the same time and periods. No, Sans isn’t really keeping track of your disappearances like one does their menstrual cycle or in his own case; heat cycle. Not on purpose at least. Come on, the man managed to figure out what RESETS are and got a hunch that alternative dimensions are a thing just by finding a pattern in his dreams and the actions/reactions Frisk makes that shouldn’t have been possible if it was their first time. He has a tendency and likes to find patterns and connect them.

Anyways. Sans’ been getting curious why and where you keep disappearing to, so he decided to follow you. Only to end up very startled with what he discovered.

YOU…YOU’RE A GOAT!? WHAT..HOW..SINCE WHEN??? AND WHAT IN STAR’S SAKE ARE YOU EATING? HUH!?

You had a lot to explain. Better get prepared for a lot of questions. You do look very adorable in your goat form though,Sans has to admit.

✨✨

Papyrus: This happened when monsters had surfaced for just a year and a half and the two of you were still at the start of your relationship. The two of you were having a sweet picnic together when you excused yourself with a worried expression. Saying something about ‘human things’ before quickly moving through the bushes away from the picnic blanket. Papyrus didn’t mind it, maybe you needed to powder your nose or something. It was a thing many humans did apparently. Although Papyrus didn’t really get why humans sometimes needed to cover their noses in powder. But he did have a few theories as to why! Like maybe their noses got wet like dogs and the powder was supposed to keep them dry.

Either way, Papyrus let you do your ‘human thing’ and patiently waited for your return. He waited, and waited, and…waited…

…

Wowie! He’s been waiting for a long while now, that ‘human thing’ must take a lot of time!

…

Papyrus decided to find out what was taking so long and followed where you went off to. He didn’t have to look very far, you were already slowly transforming back into a human, so you were making your way back. You hadn’t expected to run into Papyrus as you slowly went back. Your goat face and horns were already gone, but your body was covered in goat fur.

“WOWIE! I DIDN’T KNOW HUMANS GREW SO MUCH HAIR IN SUCH A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME.” You heard Papyrus’s loud boisterous voice call out, making you startle and jump in the air with a bleat. How embarrassing.

Papyrus looked at you with such sweet innocent sockets, believing he had just stumbled upon a very secret human thing that no text book talked about. You made sure Papyrus understood that no, this wasn’t a secret ‘human thing’ but a weird hybrid thing that you yourself didn’t completely understand yourself. Papyrus is very fascinated by this mutation or whatever it is that makes you sometimes change into a humanoid goat. He helps you keep it a secret, he’s very good at that despite what many may think. There’s many things he knows people think he has no clue of. But that’s a story for another time.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Do I know that the og post about my LO rewrite didn’t get much traction?yes.

Do I still want to talk about it?absolutely.

So here’s Demeter,Hecate,and Hermes.

Also the au is now named “Persie’s little punishment”

Demeter:

Last post I said that perse and Plutus were twins.that has changed and plutus is now older than Persephone,with her having a somewhat re-written version of her original birth.

Long story short:

Asphodels(along with other flowers associated with death) cannot make flowers nymphs,however,one day Demeter realized that there was some life inside of the asphodels(to be exact,a 1000th of life),sitting lightly and waiting to be harvested.

For years she carefully replanted the asphodels in her garden,until she finally had all 1000 of the special asphodels,doing a ritual to create a flower nymph out of these to finally create the life inside the flowers.

But this wasn’t a flower nymph,no,it was a goddess.

And that’s how Persephone,goddess of the flora,was made!

As said last post,her flower symbolism is the day lily,because of their association and also because I saw on Wikipedia that they were linked with asphodels.

She raised Persephone to be as hard working as Can be,to the point where by the time of the AoW she’s basically as much of a businesswoman as her mother.

She doesn’t know about the AoW,or the community service due to Erie snatching the letter where perse explained everything.

The pin she gave Persephone was NOT worthless(at least not to perse).

Almost never goes to Olympus due to all the crap that happens up there.

A year after perse first joins the underworld staff for the community service,Demeter storms through the door,demanding to see her daughter.

After a quick explanation,perse realizes that that due to eating six pomegranate seeds,she needs to stay there half the year,leading to the agreement with hades and Demeter.(she would have done something like this either way due to the fact shes basically become a pillar of the underworld during her time there,even though the other pillars could hold their own)

It’s an easy agreement,during the summer there are almost no deaths compared to winter,where they have perse to help.

And so become the seasons,with Persephone and hades marrying,Demeter getting to see her daughter half the year,and underworld corp. having perse,hades opening up to his family after leuce,and everyone having a good agreement,it’s a win win.

Hécate:

Perse best friend in the underworld.

Doesn’t really do much in the underworld other than hang around and occasionally help with stuff.

The only person who wasn’t at least skeptical of perse when she first joined.

Can sense Peres’s connection to asphodels.

In this au,Elysium already exist and perse creates asphodel instead.

She,Thanatos,and Hermes are the main people helping.

Their plan ends up succeeding and asphodel is now an oficial part of the underworld,Persephone actually saying that it was hades idea instead of hers,and he was just too busy to help them.

Then queue perse and hades fighting on who should get the most credit:hades wants Persephone to take all of it while she wants hades to have a better rep amongst shades.

Hécate is much,much,much older than both hades and Persephone.(if only she acted it)

she ends up as one of the most hardworking employees due to Persephone’s influence,using her magic to fasten everything.

Her flowers are cow parsley.

Hermes:

He was originally hired to pick up any slack the keres and Thanatos left,but Hermes being Hermes ended up the most productive of the death guys/gals.

Idk what his flower is gonna be.

The only one who can keep up with the work ethic Hermes set is perse,so they become friends.

He’s pretty overworked and gets burned out fairly often,and in those cases he goes to the underworld because he knows people in Olympus won’t notice/care.

Has a somewhat strained relationship with hades after the death of leuce.

His family at Olympus don’t respect his job as a psychopomp.

May or may not have a little thing for Thanatos.

Gets injured on the job pretty often but knows how to lie the pain away,otherwise his productivity would be cut in half and people would be mad their stuff wouldn’t be delivered right away,so he just ignores how much some injuries hurt so that he can do his job.(the only one who actually notices is Demeter because she’s amazing,routinely pointing out the injuries on his body,but he always manages to slip away before she can question him too much)

On the note of Olympus,I feel like it’s a very “everyone is disfuncional in their own right” thing.idk I’ll elaborate more on it if I make a post on the rest of the olympians.

[fangirl201sworld]

Miracle Gifts (MATT & ENCANTO Croosover (Modern AU) Information

Alright, I've been thinking a lot about this story and I think I've got it. Here's an update on the story. (I may make some changes to it later, but it wouldn't affect the main story much, I think)

Characters: MAYA AND THE THREE

MAYA: She trains in a club specialized in boxing fight with Picchu and Luisa and her father is her coach. She dreams of being a great fighter like her mother was, who abandoned it when she became a mother, just as she doesn’t approve of the fact that she practices that sport because she wants to protect her from risk. She is also interested in history of any kind, myths, legends, etc. She also feels that her parents are keeping a big secret from her and her siblings, but she doesn't want to delve too deeply into it.

She dates the star model of the moment, Zatz. Many girls envy her for that, especially Acat, Zatz's ex (conveniently, she also practices boxing fight like her, only in another club. Which means that the two have a very constant rivalry and enmity)

ZATZ: He’s the star model of the most popular magazine in the city of Tecapolis (I don't know whether to change the name), but his greatest aspiration is to become a lawyer because he likes order and justice, and for a good reason: his father is in prison for committing a crime he did not commit, so he made it his mission to get his father out of prison. (It should be noted that his father was a police officer)

He also received training from his father to defend himself just in case. He works for Mr. Mictlan, head of the advertising company and candidate for mayor of the city and let's say that... working for him is not the best thing in the world.

He lives with his cousin, Chimi, in an apartment.

RICO: He studies natural sciences and chemistry, he wants to be a great scientist in the future. He has always had a deep crush on Chimi since he met her, and they have been dating her for weeks. They aren’t officially dating yet, but Rico is working on it.

He lives with his aunt, who has a somewhat poor opinion of him since his grandfather died. He tries to ignore it, but it still hurts.

CHIMI: She studies biology to be a great veterinarian. She loves animals and every time she can, she rescues animals that live on the streets in very bad condition.

Since she was a child, she has been bullied by some people because of her albinism, she manages to have some tolerance thanks to her friends. She has feelings for Rico, he seems very silly to her sometimes, but to her, he’s very cute and funny.

PICCHU: Like Maya, Picchu trains at the boxing club, although he doesn't spend much time there. Before, he had feelings for Chimi, but when she clarified that she didn't feel the same way about him and that she only saw him as a friend, he happily accepted it. After a few months, he met Barbara, a classmate from school (who also works at the Mictlan company), and as time went by, he began to have feelings for her.

He studies criminology with the dream of being a police officer one day.

Soon I‘ll make one with the Encanto characters. :D

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: none for this chapter Relationships: Cardinal Copia x Female!Reader Additional Tags: one-sided enemies to lovers, eventual smut, dom!Copia, AU, witchcraft, no beta Chapter Word Count: 2202 Summary: After it’s discovered you are a witch, you seek refuge at a satanic church. The strange Cardinal that let you inside didn’t seem to like you even though you had no idea why. One thing you did know though, you wanted him to like you.

Ao3 || Masterlist Fic divider by @gothdaddyissues

Chapter Two

You woke to a gentle tapping on your door the next morning. You sat up, disorientated at first, before remembering where you were. The sunlight was filtering through the window, illuminating the room and allowing you to see the dust particles floating in the air. Another gentle knock on the door brought you out of your haze and you stumbled out of the bed. You reached the door and opened it a crack to see two silver-masked figures. One was tall, the other short, and they both looked back at you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, breaking the awkward stares.

“Cardinal Copia sent us,” the shorter one said in a feminine voice. “We’re to help you with clothing.”

The taller of the two gestured to the bundle of clothes in her arms. “May we come in?” Their voice was also feminine.

“Oh, yes,” you said, remembering what Copia told you the night before. You opened your door and stepped back, allowing them to come in.

“Thank you. I’m Cumulus and this is Cirrus,” the shorter of the two said.

You tell them your name as they position and measure you with a cloth tape measure. “I hope it’s not rude of me to ask, but why the masks?”

“Humans can’t handle our true nature,” Cirrus said as she measured your shoulders. “Much like how they can’t handle angels in their true forms. We demons chose to disguise ourselves to prevent chaos.” 

“Not sure I want to know what you look like under the masks,” you said with a slight shiver at the thought. 

Cumulus giggled. “Probably not, but you’re a witch, so you’d be okay. Now try this dress. It might be a little loose, but we can take it in if needed.” 

You did as you were told, finding the dress fit you perfectly.

“Wonderful,” Cumulus said, clapping her hands in excitement. “We’ll have more of this size for you later today, then. And we’ll get you some undergarments and sleepwear.” 

“I appreciate it,” you said.

“Can I do your hair?” Cirrus asked, playing with a lock of hair that hung off your shoulder.

“Uh, I suppose,” you shrug before feeling her fingers in your hair to untangle it. “So, you two are demons?”

“Yes,” Cirrus said. “All the ghouls here are.”

“Are you summoned?”

“Yes, but we all willingly come to this realm to serve the Papas, even though Papa didn’t summon us,” Cumulus answered.

“Who summoned you?” You asked curiously as Cirrus braided your hair down your back.

“Cardinal Copia,” Cumulus said. “It’s very rare that anyone other than Papa gets to summon us. The Cardinal is special.”

You thought about Copia and you could see what Cumulus meant about how he was special. You could sense power from him, but not in the same way Sister Imperator radiated power. No, it was different.

“He’ll be Papa one day,” Cirrus said. “Just like his brothers.”

“You mean like Terzo?” You ask, remembering the other man you met the night before.

“Yes,” Cirrus said. “Terzo is a good Papa, but he can’t be Papa forever.” 

The ghoulettes continued to make small talk with you. Once they finished their measurements and went over what they thought you’d look best in, they left, leaving a couple of dresses that fit. You changed into a dark green one, pulling it over your chemise and tying the laces up the front to fit your form before slipping into your boots. 

You stepped out into the hall to see women in black habits ranging from modest to very revealing, leaving their rooms and catching up with their friends before making their way out of the wing. You followed them, not wanting to get lost on your way to breakfast. 

As you walked, you heard your name being called from behind. You turned to see two men in long vestments and black and white paint covering their faces. One of them even had his entire head covered in black paint. 

“Terzo?” You questioned, recognizing the Papa after a second.

“ Si . How was your first night in our humble abode?” He asked, coming to stand in front of you.

“Fine,” you said. “Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“It’s nothing. Allow me to introduce you to Papa Emeritus II and my brother Secondo.”

The taller man with the painted head bowed his head to you. He had the same mismatched eyes as Terzo and Copia.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said.

“It’s not often we get to host a witch,” Secondo said. “I’m interested in seeing what you can do.” 

“I hope I can help wherever I can,” you admitted. 

“I’m sure you and the Cardinal will make great things happen,” Secondo said.

You frowned, thinking about Copia, and how it seemed he didn’t like you. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like me very much.”

“Copia likes everyone,” Terzo said. “Maybe he’s just being shy because you’re so good-looking.”

You flushed. “Uh..thanks? But I don’t think he’s shy. He just seems disinterested in having anything to do with me.” 

Terzo and Secondo shared a look. Both of them frowning. “That doesn’t sound like our dear younger brother,” Secondo said. “Perhaps he was just having an off day?”

“Maybe,” you considered, not feeling surprised to hear the news of Copia’s relation to the Papas. They all shared the same mysterious white eye and other small features here and there. “I suppose we shall see.” 

“Allow us to walk you to breakfast,” Terzo said, holding out his arm for you to take.

You smiled and looped your arm through his, allowing yourself to be guided the rest of the way to the dining hall. While you walked through the corridors, you tried to take in your surroundings. Everything fascinated you; from the strained glass to the cobbled stone floor to the sconces of fire lighting the passageways. Soon they were entering the chamber you were in the night before. People and ghouls filled the chamber, sitting on long, benched tables and eating. At the end of the room, there was a high table where two older men, both wearing black and white skull paints, sat on either side of Sister Imperator. A little way down the table Copia sat. You noticed he looked stiff, like he didn’t want to be there as he clutched a mug in his gloved hands. 

“Here we are,” Terzo said. “Have a seat anywhere and a ghoul will bring you a plate.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask…am I allowed to set up an altar in my quarters?”

“Of course,” Terzo said. “We’d never tell you what to believe and how to believe it here. Believe and worship however you’d like, cara . Do you need supplies?”

“Some candles, herbs, crystals, oh, and a table or desk or something to put it on.”

“I’ll have Copia source the furniture for you. As for your other supplies, I’m sure between Secondo and Primo they can come up with all you need.”

“Primo can get you the herbs and I can get you candles and crystals,” Secondo confirmed. “Primo is our eldest brother,” he said when you looked confused. “Papa Emeritus I. I am Papa Emeritus II, and Terzo is Papa Emeritus III, our current leader. It gets confusing, I know.”

Which would make Copia Papa Emeritus IV one day , you thought, remembering how Cirrus said he’d be Papa someday. You tucked that information away for later before smiling up at the two men before you.

“Thank you so much,” you said, feeling a weight lift from you. That was one less thing you’d have to worry about. Once you could get back into the groove of things, you’d feel much better. You sat down at the end of a table as Terzo and Secondo made their way to the high table. You watched as Terzo sat next to Copia and leaned over to whisper something to him. As a ghoul placed a plate full of eggs, toast, and sausages down in front of you, you saw Copia’s eyes flick to you as Terzo spoke. Copia narrowed his eyes at you and looked away. You deflated slightly, wondering what you did wrong. 

Nothing, you concluded. If the Cardinal had a problem with you, he could be a man and just say so. You weren’t going to sit there and yearn for the approval of a man who didn’t care about you. You turned to your breakfast and ate, keeping your eyes on your food and away from the high table.

After breakfast, unsure of what to do, you wandered and explored the ministry. You visited the library, the sanctuary, the confessional, a meditation room, the residential wings, and the wing that held offices for the current Papa and the other clergy members. You then found yourself outside in the walled gardens and greenhouse. Feeling at home amongst the plants, you eventually sat in a clearing of flowers and shrubs to meditate. 

You found yourself in one of the greenhouses, gently touching the vines and the flowers that sat in pots and hung from planters. The magic was strong in them and you immediately felt at ease being amongst the plants. You smiled, silently thanking the plants one by one as you walked through the greenhouse.

“Can I help you?”

You spun around to face the direction the unknown voice came from. You saw an older man in white and black skull paints and the same green and white eyes as the other two Papas and Copia. He wore khakis and a red knit sweater. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and he wore a gray apron over the top of his outfit that he wiped his hands on. You knew this must be Primo, the first Papa, and eldest brother. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you said. “It was unlocked, and I just wanted to look.”

Primo looked you over and then nodded. “You’re our new charge,” he said. “The witch?”

You nodded and gave your name. “I wanted to connect with nature and since I can’t go beyond the garden walls, this was the next best thing.

Primo smiled gently at you. “I understand,” he said. “Plants have a way of grounding us. Their beauty draws us to them and if we take care of them, they’ll take care of us.” He touched the tip of a growing rosemary bush. “My brothers said you need some herbs?”

“Oh, yes,” you said. “For my craft.”

“I’ve gathered you some. I don’t practice witchcraft, but I know herbalism, so I’ve selected the ones you’ll most likely need in your workings. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. And if it’s something I don’t have, I’ll get some seeds and saplings for you.” 

“Really?” You asked, feeling incredibly touched. You couldn’t remember when the last time someone went out of their way for you. “Thank you so much. It means a lot.” The three Papas had shown her more kindness than most had.

“Think nothing of it. You are sharing your gifts with us, so the least I can do is share with you.” 

“You’ve all been so kind,” you said.

“It’s one of our tenants. We’re kind to those who deserve our kindness.” Primo said. He turned and reached for a small wicker basket sitting on a work table behind him. “Here is your starter kit.” 

You took the basket from his hand and looked inside to see bundles of sage, lavender, rosemary, and thyme, as well as a couple of small jars of dried flowers. You smiled and looked up at him. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“Of course. Take as much time as you need here. I’m just going to pop next door to finish some repotting.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“Please, call me Primo. My days as Papa are long over.” The older man gave her a gentle pat on her arm before making his way out a back door. 

You took your time looking over at the plants in the greenhouse before doing some meditation and grounding. About thirty minutes later, you walked back to your room, carrying your basket of herbs and flowers. She unlocked her door and went inside to find a simple wooden altar sitting in the middle of the room and a few differently shaped cloth bags. You opened one bag to find many crystals inside. In another bag were different colored taper candles and tea lights. You smiled, glad to see that Terzo and Secondo kept their promises. Your eyes then landed on a handwritten note sitting on the altar.

Meet me in my office on Thursday at 1 pm. Do not be late. -C.C. 

“So the Cardinal wants to meet,” you said to yourself as you read over the note written in a tight, neat script. You suddenly felt nervous, remembering the glare he gave you at breakfast that morning. You hoped that when you met one-on-one with him two days from now, something would be different and that maybe he wouldn’t be so cold toward you.