#thank my cousin for convincing me to render this one

[lizaisdrawing]

Taking a (2 min) break ⏯️

[queenscharacters]

"I'm supposed to be dining with the Prince, you know..." Raina to Rowan (she be grinnnnin)

It went without saying that Rowan wouldn’t have attempted this without his cousin’s explicit permission. There was absolutely nothing conventional about this. One didn’t just intercept the king’s courting process while it was still occurring. Adam was a rational man, though, and he was rather benevolent far as monarchs went. He probably wouldn’t be this kind to a stranger, but Rowan was family, and there was no way the cousins had the same taste.

Still, though, he had been nervous. What if Raina was disappointed? What if she was convinced she was Adam’s person? He didn’t know if he had answers to every possibly question she could have. Hell, she probably had more than he was already anticipating. He just hoped the poor impression he was about to make on her could be redeemed. Rowan was usually far more confident than this, but there was something about this woman that rendered him weak.

Then he saw her grin, though, and something in Rowan relaxed significantly. He never wanted to forget the look that was on her face. “There’s certainly time to make his dinner, but I’m far better company.” He mused, almost tripping over his feet so he could beat her to her chair. The demonic side of his family would laugh at his attempts to be a gentleman. “And I can promise you that you have my sole attention.”

Part of that was a joke, a jab at Adam, but also the honest to Gods truth. Rowan wouldn’t be surprised if he wouldn’t be able to focus on his dinner tonight with Raina before him. “You look…breathtaking, by the way.” He added in complete awe. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. I know I might not be the prince, or even a prince, but if you let me, I will treat you better than a queen.”

[electrictoes]

Maybe We Could Be

For @dailysvu's Amanda Rollins Week

Day 3: Friends to Lovers Characters: Amanda Rollins, Sonny Carisi, Minor OCs Relationship: Amanda Rollins / Sonny Carisi Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Amanda had a problem - it was a small, solvable problem, and she even had a plan for how to deal with it. Step one, though, was convincing Sonny to go along with it. Four years ago, she thinks, he would’ve jumped at opportunity, but now he was frowning at her across the room. “You want me to lie to your cousin?”

She crossed the short distance from the door to sit in the chair opposite him. “It’s not actually lying, you know,” she said.

“I think it technically is,” Carisi countered, looking over at her from behind his desk.

Amanda leaned forward on the desk, all but fluttering her eyelashes him, “Think of it as going undercover.”

“I’m not a cop anymore,” Sonny told her, leaning back in his chair. 

“What, so you’ve forgotten how to do it, is that what you’re saying?” She grinned at him like it was a challenge, but he didn’t take the bait.

“No, but this isn’t going undercover.”

“Sure it is - you’re undercover as my boyfriend.” Amanda caught the way his expression changed - almost minutely, his eyes widening slightly, his mouth dropping open for a microsecond before he closed it. “Come on, Dominick, please?”

He sighed, sitting upright. “I’m not sayin' no, I’m just sayin' it’s lying and I don’t know why you want to pretend to be somebody that you’re not,” his expression was serious, and she knew he meant what he was saying, “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your life - you’ve got a lot going for you.”

That stung a little - the accusation that she was ashamed - but she knew that he wasn’t exactly wrong about that - people who were content with their lives don’t ask their friends to be fake dates to dinner with their family members. “I didn’t say I was ashamed; I said, my cousin is coming to town and she will go back home with stories about how little Amanda still doesn’t have her shit together, and I’ll be getting phone calls, my mom and everyone… it’s just easier if Katie can go back to Georgia tellin’ everyone I’m happily shacked up with a nice guy.”

Sonny’s voice was low, concerned. “I thought you didn’t care what they thought?”

“I don’t…or at least, I try not to,” Amanda insisted, then reached over, laying her hand atop his where it rested idly on the desk. “But c'mon, it’ll be fun - you and me, playing romantic for the night.” 

He frowned, but he didn’t move away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” She asked playfully, “The idea of playing my boyfriend so horrifying to you?”

“Not the boyfriend part,” he shrugged, “The playing part.”

Amanda’s own mouth dropped open then, the humour from the moment gone as she looked at him. “Dominick-”  

He shook his head, “Look, I’ll do it… of course I’ll do it, you knew that before you walked in here. But I’m not - for the record - I’m not totally on board with pretendin’.”

 Despite his reservations, Sonny was definitely playing the part - he met her at her apartment, stopping by early enough say goodnight to the girls before they left; he was dressed to impress in a dark blue suit she hadn’t seen on him before - Katie’s fiance was an architect and they had chosen a fancier restaurant than Amanda would’ve expected, although admittedly she hadn’t seen Katie in person for almost ten years.

When she answered the door he didn’t react quite quickly enough to school his expression - she saw his eyes roam over her, and she found she didn’t mind - she returned the favour as he stepped into the apartment to say a quick hello to the girls while she grabbed her coat and bag.

She kissed both of the girls goodbye, and thanked Sienna before they left, ignoring the grins on both Jesse and Sienna’s faces as she followed Sonny out of the apartment. 

He reached for her arm once the door had closed behind them, resting his fingers just below her elbow as she turned to look at him, “Hey… you uh, you look- that’s,” he took a quick breath, “You look beautiful.”

Amanda was surprised to find herself feeling shy about the compliment, endeared by the awkward way he had stumbled over his words, the blush creeping across his cheeks. His fingers slipped from her arm, catching her own before he drew his hand back, her heart thudding in her chest at just that small amount of contact.

Step two of Amanda’s plan was simple - convince Katie she was madly in love with Sonny, which wasn’t going to be hard to do, and make sure she went back to Georgia with stories about how happy Amanda was. When Katie had called to say she coming up to New York for a long weekend with her fiance Amanda couldn’t find an excuse to decline the invitation - and she liked Katie; they’d never been close - Katie was ten years younger than her, and Amanda’s trips back to Loganville were few and far between once she moved to Atlanta; Katie had been just a kid at the time- but they got along fine. Amanda’s reluctance came less from not wanting to see Katie, and more from wanting to avoid yet more judgement - her mother, her aunts, cousins… everyone had an opinion on Amanda’s life and the choices they felt she’d made. Being a single mom with kids from two different fathers had rendered Amanda the topic of family gossip, and she was tired of it. She wished she didn’t care what they said about her, but no matter how far she ran and how much she tried to remold her life, there would always be a part of her that was the same angry seventeen year old kid who was trying to outrun a reputation she didn’t want anymore. 

Sonny held out a hand for her as they got out of the cab, and she took it gratefully, gripping a little tighter than she probably should’ve, trying to ground herself; if it bothered him, he didn’t show it. He led the way towards the restaurant and she tugged on his arm before he went in, stopping them where they stood. “Hey, Sonny.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said, voice low, “For this, and for, uh, for always having my back.”

He nodded, smiling down at her, “I know you already know what I think about this, and I’m gonna go along with whatever you want, but you don’t need to pretend to be anything you’re not, okay?”

“I know. I know, can we just… can you just be my boyfriend tonight? Be my partner, like you’ve always been?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by a familiar voice, “Oh, Amanda!” Katie said as she approached them, and Amanda released Sonny’s hand to return the hug Katie gave her. 

When they pulled apart she saw Sonny was shaking hands with a tall, dark-haired man who Amanda presumed was Katie’s fiance. “I’m so excited to see you!” Katie enthused, “And who’s this?” she gestured towards Sonny - Amanda had told Katie she’d be bringing a date but hadn’t given any more information than that - and she was sure Katie’s mother and sisters would’ve had their own suggestions as to who Amanda’s date could be.

Sonny, prepared as ever, extended his hand to Katie, “Dominick Carisi,” he said with a smile, “I’m Amanda’s boyfriend.”

“Is that so?” Katie said as she shook his hand; she turned to Amanda and gave a wink so unsubtle Jesse could do better.  “This is my fiance, John,” she said, gesturing to the man with her.

“I figured,” Amanda said, shaking the hand he offered. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” Sonny gestured towards the door and Amanda took the opportunity to slide her hand back into his; nerves creeping up now that Katie was here and she was faced with keeping up a charade. Maybe Sonny had been right - maybe it was lying, but as he slipped his fingers into the gaps between hers, she wasn’t so sure that pretending they were together was an outright lie.

As they sat down to dinner, Amanda tried to keep the conversation light, tried to steer back to questions about Katie and John’s upcoming wedding, about their trip to New York, about family members back home. She didn’t know if Katie was genuinely curious or if she’d been instructed to find out as much as possible about Amanda’s life, but she was full of questions for Amanda herself.

She asked about the girls - how they were getting on, what they were interested in; it was all lighthearted and easy, until she turned towards Sonny, “And have you met the girls yet, Dominick?” she asked - Amanda could practically hear her Aunt Sarah in the question, and she frowned. Sonny, of course, wasn’t fazed.

“Yeah, I’ve known them their whole lives,” he said honestly. “They’re amazing kids.”

“Sonny is actually their godfather,” Amanda explained, “We, uh, we were friends for a long time before we got together… it just took us a while to admit to our feelings.”

“Oh right,” Katie said, “That’s great. It’s good to be friends first - John and I were friends in college.”

Amanda took the opportunity to ask Katie more about the two of them - and they made it partway through their main courses before the conversation drifted back to Amanda again. 

“How’s the detective thing going, Amanda? I still can’t believe you’re a cop, the stories Kim and Allie used to tell me when I was a kid!” 

“Um,” Amanda glanced sideways at Sonny, apprehensive about the stories Katie could tell; third-hand or not, they weren’t likely to portray her in the best light, "It's good."

Sonny reached over, putting his right hand on top of her left, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin, “Amanda actually got promoted last year,” he said, proudly. 

Amanda shrugged, “It was a long time coming, but yeah. Things are going really well at work,” she shared a small smile with Sonny, “Even if I still miss having this guy at my side.”

John turned towards Sonny, “You a cop too?” 

“Not anymore. I used to be - that’s how we met, but, uh, I’m a prosecutor now.”

“A lawyer?” Katie looked impressed - she gave Amanda yet another unsubtle look. That was a fact that would definitely be going back to Georgia with her.

“He’s a damn good ADA,” Amanda said; she turned her hand over beneath Sonny’s, lacing their fingers together. Her turn to be proud.

The rest of the meal was uneventful; whatever agenda Katie had been given by their family, it seemed to fade away as time went on - Sonny charmed Katie with ease and the conversation remained casual all the way through dessert. Sonny’s hand kept finding its way back to hers, and she was hyper-aware of his proximity, but she was enjoying it; that thought back in her head, that maybe this didn’t have to be a lie.

When they left the restaurant, they were headed in different directions, and Amanda broke away from Sonny to say goodbye to Katie - a lingering hug before Katie pulled back, smiling at her. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, “You’ll come to the wedding, right? You and the girls?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And bring him,” she nodded towards Sonny. 

“It might be a bit too soon for that,” Amanda deflected, not sure Sonny would agree to keep up the fake boyfriend ruse for the length of a trip to Atlanta.

Katie shook her head. “The way he’s looking at you? You might be engaged by then.”

Amanda turned her head, following Katie’s gaze towards Sonny - he was watching her, but his eyes dropped away when he saw he’d been caught out.

“Send me the invite, and I’ll RSVP once I know,” Amanda said, not wanting to explore Katie’s idea further. “It was great to see you,” she said, and she meant it - despite the third degree Katie had given them early on, she’d enjoyed their company, and she was glad that she’d accepted the invitation - and even more glad that Sonny had agreed to come along. 

As they bid goodnight to Katie and John, Sonny’s arm came around Amanda’s shoulders, and he didn’t remove it once they were out of sight. Amanda leaned into him, twisting to hug him properly - she’d meant it as a thank you hug, but he drew her in close enough that she caught the scent of his cologne, and she wound her arms up and around his neck. They were standing far too close now for pretence - and there was no excuse now either, no way she could convince herself this was part of their little undercover operation. 

Neither of them made a move to take things further, but they held each other close for a full minute before she broke away.

When she got into bed that night it was with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach - she felt like a kid again; fifteen years old and home from a first date with a boy who’d just about gotten up the courage to hold her hand. Hopes and possibilities swirling through her head, and she was too wrapped up in the memory of his arms around her to even chastise herself for the giddy, lovestruck somersaults her heart was doing.

When she stopped by his office the next day, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it as she had done earlier in the week; him watching her from his desk; a smile hiding behind the suspicion on his face. “What do you want me to do now?” he asked - the look on his face said he knew something was coming and he was resigned to the fact that he’d agree to whatever it was, so long as it would make her happy.

She was ready to throw him out of his groove, though.

“You were wrong,” she said, simply.

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “And how do you work that one out?”

“It wasn’t lying. Last night, at dinner with Katie.”

He frowned, leaning forward again, and much as she’d done the last time they’d talked about this, she took the seat opposite him, a defiant look on her face. 

“It wasn’t lying because I wasn’t pretending. And I don’t think you were either.”

He took a second to respond, studying her face for a moment, uncertainty in his expression, “You wanna loop me in on what’s happenin’ here?”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true the whole night - everything I said about how we met, how our relationship changed over time, none of that was a lie.”

In another echo of their earlier conversation, there was a brief second where his eyes widened; the disbelief on his face lingered longer this time, though. His voice was low when he responded, gesturing between them with his right hand, “I told her I was your boyfriend.”

“Maybe that wasn’t a lie,” she said, reaching across the desk and taking the hand he had in the air into her own, “Maybe it was just… a little early.”

“Amanda?”

“I wasn’t pretending to have feelings for you, Dominick,” she brought his hand down to the desk, their fingers still intertwined. 

“You, uh, you weren’t?” He asked, his eyes moving between her face and their joined hands.

“You said your problem with the whole thing was the pretence,” she said, struggling now to remember the words she’d rehearsed in her head on the way over here. “But I think we just haven’t, uh, admitted the truth to each other - about how we both feel, about how… how if we’re not together, we- we should be.”

Sonny smiled - at first, a small, giddy little smile, then a grin that was equal parts joy and mischief, “I’m pretty sure that still qualifies as lying,” he said, looking pleased with himself. 

“Don’t go all lawyer on me,” Amanda said, “Lose the argument for once; it might be worth it.”

 Four months later they flew down to Atlanta for Katie’s wedding. 

No undercover operation required. 

[nineteenninety-six]

Could you do a Thomas Shelby imagine where her tries to charm the readers parents who the reader lied and told them that Tommy moved away from his gangster life? Since the reader grew up around the Shelby’s being Ada’s best friend and Tommy loving her since their teens and while her family moved to London when she was a teen, when so she comes back to Birmingham as a nurse to run the clinic she falls back into the Shelby’s and her and Tommy finally get together so her parents are weary?

Word Count: 1869

I hope you like :)

CHARMED

“Sybill from down the street told me she saw you and Thomas Shelby earlier.” 

(Y/N) choked on a mouthful of stew at her mother's words, fucking Sybill she thought, “Yes..he came by the clinic earlier so we were just catching up. I was close friends with his sister, Ada, remember?” 

Her father heaved a large sigh, he had never liked the Shelby’s, it didn’t help that his only daughter was exceptionally close to Ada Shelby and therefore the rest of the family but he had a particular dislike for Tommy, not missing the looks and touches he shared with his daughter when they were teens, and despite the many times he had warned (Y/N) about not getting involved with their family, she ignored him like that stubborn teenager she was. He just couldn’t stomach the idea of his sweet daughter getting together with Tommy, so he went to the extreme and moved the family to London, lying to his daughter about getting a new and better job being the reason. They had only recently returned back to Birmingham, a year after the war had ended. 

“Those Shelby’s are no good, you best stay away from them poppet.” 

“He’s changed, dad. He works at his uncle Charlie’s yard with the horses, doesn’t do any of that gang stuff anymore.”

Her father scoffed in disbelief, “I doubt it. What could have convinced him to change?”

(Y/N)’s next words were quiet, “The war. Says after that, all he wants is peace and quiet.”

The room fell silent after that, wounds from the war still fresh. (Y/N) had lost uncles and cousins and her elder brother James, who stayed in London, lost a leg.

“Enough about that.” (Y/N)’s mother cleared her throat, breaking the silence of the room, “How was the clinic today?”

As (Y/N) talked to her mother about her day, her stomach was twisting in guilt about lying to them about Tommy. She didn’t want to but her parents were stubborn in their beliefs about his family, though she was surprised that it had taken this long for them to be seen together. She had been back in Small Heath for several months now and Tommy had bumped into her at the clinic on her second day there and since then, they had been sneaking around, their romance instantly blossoming the moment they reconnected.  

(Y/N) stood under one of the bridges that ran along the cut, waiting for Tommy with her coat wrapped tightly around her to protect her from the cutting winds. The sound of gravel crunching brought her attention over to where Tommy was making his over to her, hands deep in his pockets.

“Tommy!” (Y/N) excitedly smiled, she hadn’t seen him for a few days, his work taking him out of Birmingham.

“Hello love.” Tommy pressed one of his hands to one of her cheeks before leaning down and kissing her on the lips. They continued kissing, gentle and unrushed until Tommy finally pulled away, a small smile on his lips,

“How’ve you been?”

(Y/N)’s smile falters, something that Tommy catches on to immediately,

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Someone saw us together before you left and told my mother…” (Y/N) spoke after a moment's hesitation. “And you know how much they hated us hanging out with each other when we were young so…”

Tommy raised an eyebrow “So?”

“I might have told a small fib” (Y/N) held her index finger and thumb close together, indicating how small of a lie but Tommy knew she was under selling it by the guilty expression on her face.

“(Y/N), what did ya say?” 

“I may have said that you stopped with the gangster stuff and now just work with horses at the stables.” (Y/N) rushed out, embarrassed. 

“You what?” Tommy couldn’t help but laugh.

“They were being mean Tom! And I couldn’t just sit there an-”

Tommy interrupted (Y/N)’s panicked rambles, his hands cupping her face, “Hey, don’t get upset eh. I’m not mad yea..”

“You’re not?” 

Tommy wiped away the few tears that escaped her eyes before reaching down and tugging her hands into his, 

“No, now c’mon. Lemme take you out on a date”

“But what about my parents?!” 

“If they think I’m a stablehand then there’s nothing to worry about eh.”

(Y/N) was rendered speechless, allowing Tommy to tug her to the Garrison.

This time it was her father who brought up the topic of Tommy a few days later. 

“One of the men from work said that his wife saw you with that Shelby boy a few days ago...says you were awfully close.”

(Y/N) didn’t have to look up from her plate to know the chastising looks her parents were giving her,

“What’s the problem? He does good work.” (Y/N) continued on with the lie, she felt guilty but she couldn’t stand the way they treated Tommy.

“We just don’t think he’s good for darling. I’m sure there’s better men than Tommy Shelby to date out there.” Her mother reached over to pat her hand in comfort.

(Y/N) huffed in frustration, slamming her fork down on the table, “Why don’t you believe me that he’s changed?!”

Her parents are stunned into silence by her outburst,

“Why don’t you meet him? And then you can see how he really is.” (Y/N) suggested, tired of arguing with her parents and they simply nodded in agreement with their daughter, knowing that it was the least they could do.

 “What are you doing on Sunday?” 

Tommy and (Y/N) were sat in the snug in the Garrison, John and Arthur were loudly playing cards the opposite of the table, allowing the two of them to speak in private.

“Nothing of importance, why?” Tommy lit up a cigarette.

“My parents want to invite you over for dinner. Want to get to know you and everything.”

“Do they still think I’m a stablehand?” Tommy snorted.

“Yea..”

“Orright, I’ll go to dinner.”

“You will?” (Y/N) looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah, how else am I supposed to convince them that this measly stablehand is the perfect man for their daughter?” Tommy threw (Y/N) a cocky smirk making her laugh.

A loud knock sounded on the door at 4 p.m sharp on Sunday evening. (Y/N) stood up before her parents could and quickly made her way to the door, she nervously ran her hands down her outfit before she opened the door and the sight that greeted her made her speechless. 

Tommy was dressed down, instead of his usual three piece suit, he just had a wool jacket on top of a cotton shirt, along with some dress pants.

“Whad’ya think, do I look the part?” Tommy held his arms up to his sides, a grin on his face.

“I…. it’s very stablehand-ish. Come inside, I have no doubt that my parents rather talk before we sit for dinner.”

Tommy smiled at her again as he stepped in, pressing a kiss against her cheek before he let her lead the way. Her parents were standing in the living room, shoulders hunched, faces pinched and eyes hard. 

“Mum, Dad, you remember Thomas don’t you?” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet.

“Hello, Mr and Mrs. (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you again after so long.” Tommy reached out his and shook their hands.

The room was bathed in silence, the atmosphere was tense and awkward, none of them willing the break the silence until (Y/N) suddenly jumped up from her seat.

“Mum, how about we make some tea?” (Y/N)’s mother didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before (Y/N) was dragging her off to the kitchen.

As soon as they left, the frown on (Y/N)’s fathers face deepened almost immediately, “What do you want with my daughter?”

 “I can assure you sir, I only have good intentions with your daughter. I only wish to hopefully marry her in the future.” 

“How do I know she’s safe with you. We know what your family does.”

“Me and my brothers no longer do that, after the war we realized how precious life was and hated the idea of throwing our lives away with gang nonsense.” Tommy lied through his teeth, a charming smile painted on his face.

Tommy could see how (Y/N)’s father shoulders began to relax and his frown melt,

“(Y/N) mentioned you fought, what did you do son?”

(Y/N) and her mother walked in with a tray topped with a teapot and several cups before Tommy could answer,

“What are you talking about?” Her mother asked as she took her seat next to her husband, handing him a cup of tea as she did so.

“Tommy was just going to tell me about his experience during the war.”

There was a brief pause before Tommy spoke up, “ I was a tunneller. I also fought at Verdun, the Somme and Mons. I was the Sergeant Major of my unit as well.”

(Y/N) saw the surprised look on her father’s face, it melted into akin to pride, 

“That is impressive, young man.” Her father sent Tommy a firm nod.

“Thank you sir.”

“Enough about the war eh.” (Y/N)’s mother changed the subject, she hated talking about it. 

They switched the topic and spent the rest of the night chatting, only stopping over bites of food and before she knew it, (Y/N) was showing Tommy the door, it was late at night, Tommy staying for longer than planned, lost in conversation with her parents. 

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’m pretty sure they love you.” (Y/N) grinned at Tommy who grinned back.

“I’ll never reveal my secrets.” Tommy kissed her, lingering for a bit before he left, telling her that he’d see her the next day. 

(Y/N) skipped into the Garrison the next day, a wide smile on her face, one that grew when she slammed open the door to the snug and spotted Tommy. She squealed as she sat down, wrapping her arms around his neck,

“Oh they love you Tommy!” 

Tommy pulled her into a hug, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Who loves Tommy?” John asked from across the room.

“My parents. He came over for dinner last night and charmed them.” (Y/N) turned and faced Tommy’s brothers.

“How’d he manage that? I thought your parents hated our family” Arthur spoke up next.

A blush appeared on (Y/N)’s cheeks, “I may have lied about Tommy leaving the gang life and told them that he now works in the stables…”

John and Arthur look at each other before bursting into laughter, 

“What you gonna do when they find out you lied? It won’t take long for them to find out” John asked after a few minutes of laughing.

(Y/N) and Tommy look at each other before shrugging, “Guess we find out when it happens eh” Tommy huffed a laugh into his glass of whiskey and tucking (Y/N) under his arm.  

[princessanneftw]

Surprises - Part 2

Hello! Here's the second part of the story I sent you yesterday. This is a bit longer, I hope you guys won't fall asleep reading it!

P.S. I am not familiar with the Navy rules regarding leaves and holidays, so I apologize for any mistake in that matter.

Gatcombe Park, 18 May 1996

The laughs and cries from the garden could be heard all the way to Cheltenham, of that Anne was pretty sure; she smiled, recalling how happy her daughter had been all day.

Zara had called on Monday to ask if she could throw a party for her birthday on Saturday, with her cousins and her oldest friends, since she would be away at school on the actual day; she’d also convinced her grandparents to join them for the afternoon, sending the cook and the housekeeper into a panic at the prospect of entertaining the Queen herself.

No matter how much Anne tried to reassure them that there was no need to fuss, they had been in a constant frenzy all week, cleaning and trying different recipes; her mother had been so amused, she’d decided to visit the kitchen as soon as she arrived, effectively rendering her staff speechless for the rest of the day. Now Anne had sent everyone to rest, thanking them for the wonderful work, and was currently sitting in the living room with her parents and her brothers, every now and again checking on the screaming children playing outside.

Leaving her tea on the table, she went to the kitchen to put the final touches on the birthday cake. Of course, Zara had celebrated with her friends at school on her actual birthday, then again today, at lunchtime, with her friends and her father. Mark had left as soon as the pictures were taken, needing to be in Scotland for a meeting and, she suspected, desperate to put a few miles between himself and her family. Zara wanted one last cake to share with her grandparents and her uncles, so that she had a picture with everyone who mattered in her life. Well, everyone except her stepfather, who was stranded on a ship somewhere between the Adriatic Sea and the UK.

Tim had tried very hard but he hadn’t been able to get a leave for the party, since the Cumberland was in the final stages of her deployment. Zara had been crushed, but as always had managed to find the bright side, saying that they’d celebrate her birthday and his return once he was back home for good. Anne thanked God everyday that Peter and Zara had inherited her adaptability to difficult situations, especially to their parents’ frequent absences.

“That’s a lovely cake.” Her mother’s voice cut through her musings, bringing her back to Earth and away from her dark thoughts.

“Yes, our cook really outdid herself this time. Though I suspect she did it to impress you.”

“She would have done it anyway, she is devoted to you and the children. All of your staff are... although for some reason, they don’t seem to have the same respect for your ex-husband.”

Rolling her eyes, Anne took the cake from the fridge, the candles, a lighter, and put everything on a tray for an easier carrying.

“When is Tim coming back? The children were telling me they can’t wait to see him.”

Anne chuckled. “Peter wants to harass him for some rugby-time. Apparently I’m not as fun as a 6’5” child, who’s game for anything as long as it’s not TOO dangerous. Last time he was here, they went for a walk while I was making lunch, and came back completely covered in mud, because apparently playing rugby after a rainstorm is a great idea, and Tim was giving “Princess Zara” a piggyback ride since she was too tired to walk. I couldn’t even be angry because somehow Tim convinced them to do all their homework after lunch, so we could go riding while he made dinner... When he is around, everything seems easier somehow.”

Anne’s smile faltered for a second, and she turned away from her mother, pretending to fold the towels properly.

Elizabeth came closer to Anne, turning her head and caressing her cheek.

“Chin up my dear, he’ll be back soon. Now, why don’t you bring the cake in, and I’ll send the children to wash their hands? Edward is getting our presents from the car.”

Grateful for the understanding, Anne waited in the kitchen while the children ran to the bathroom, before taking the cake to the living room. Charles and Andrew were talking to their father, Edward was arranging presents behind the sofa, and her mother was clearing the teacups from the coffee table; it was a wonderfully domestic scene, a normal family chatting about sport, the children washing their hands after an afternoon in the garden, a birthday cake on the table. Still smiling, she started placing the candles, humming a light tune.

She didn’t immediately notice that the chatter in the living room had stopped, leaving only the noises from the bathroom. Curious, she raised her head to see her family looking stunned at something behind her. Not knowing what to expect, she turned and gasped.

Every time he came back, he seemed more handsome than before, taller, and more muscular, as she had delightfully discovered during some very long and full nights. This time though, it was different. Somehow he was here. Somehow he had found a way to make it back for Zara’s birthday, and knowing him, he had decided not to say anything in case his plan hadn’t worked, or he’d arrived later than expected. God how much she loved him.

Snapping out of her reverie, she flung herself at him so fast he barely had time to drop the bag he was carrying, burying her face in his neck and breathing in his scent. He was holding her tightly, kissing her neck and trying to say something. She didn’t let him speak, instead planting her lips on his for a searing kiss that would have gone on for longer, if not for a throat clearing behind them, followed by a few chuckles. She reluctantly stepped away from him, settling on his side, one arm around his waist.

Tim addressed the other people in the room, quite forgotten up until that moment, with a bow and a sheepish smile. “Your Majesty, forgive me, I-”

Chuckling, Elizabeth interrupted the blushing captain, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “No need to apologize, Tim, your wife didn’t exactly give you the opportunity of greeting us properly.”

Next, Philip shook the young man’s hand. “Though I’m very happy to see you, I’m wondering how you’re here. I thought they hadn’t granted you leave?”

“They hadn’t, but then-“ Again, Tim was interrupted, this time by a very loud gasp. The children stood in the doorway, all sporting confused expressions and happy smiles. Peter was grinning, just like William and Harry, and only their cousin’s hand stopped little Beatrice and Eugenie from running towards their favourite uncle. Meanwhile Zara looked shocked, uncertain of what to do.

Tim stepped away from his wife, moving towards the young girl.

“Happy birthday kid, I hope you saved a slice of cake and a picture for me?”

This seemed to snap Zara out of her reverie: breaking into a dazzling smile, she jumped into his arms, much like her mother, and hugged him just as tightly.

“You came back! You came back! How did you do it?”

“They can schedule the rest of my leave as they see fit. I basically gave them power to do whatever they wish, as long as they granted me two days now, and a couple more in November for Peter’s birthday. I need to be back aboard tomorrow evening, but seeing you was worth it.”

Peter joined her sister in the hug, touched by Tim’s gesture, and then called his cousins over. Soon, Tim was on the floor, attacked by eight excited and delighted children, while the amused adults looked on. Anne knew that she needed to stop this: there was the cake to be cut, pictures to be taken, and her family needed to return to their respective homes, but she couldn’t. She could only look on, smiling, at peace for the first time in a long time.

* * *

This is so sweet anon 😭 The happy ending made me especially feelsy. I can imagine there were very happy times when he came back from deployment.

Thank you for sharing with me once again, and I look forward to a possible part 3!

[ditherwings]

Magic Trick—A Good Omens Secret Santa Gift Fic

This is my belated GO Secret Santa gift for @hardly-functioning-morals! I’m sorry it’s late, but hope you like it!

Sorry about the odd formatting; I had to post this on mobile, and it came out a bit wonky. I expect I’ll cross post this to AO3 once I have a chance, and clean it up. My account there is bastet_in_april.

***

Magic Trick

by bastet_in_april (ditherwings), for hardly-functioning-morals

Aziraphale had always developed fascinations for peculiarly specific bits of human culture, and Crowley usually enjoyed indulging even the ones that he found a bit odd. What was the draw in Regency-period silver snuff boxes, for instance? It wasn’t as though Aziraphale had any particular use for them--he didn’t use snuff, and so had no reason to wish for a dainty container as a means to carry the stuff about in a pocket. Crowley saw little interest in collecting ancient leather-bound first editions with cracked spines and dusty pages, either. He didn’t read, he liked to insist, and, if that was a lie, then surely glossy coffee table books full of remarkable photos were more his style.

Still, Crowley loved to indulge Aziraphale’s fascinations. He enjoyed the excitement on his face as he examined a new find for his bookshop, turning the pages carefully with gloved hands. He loved the surprise on Aziraphale’s face when Crowley present him with a beautifully engraved little snuffbox, with mother-of-pearl inlay. He loved the way Aziraphale would expound on the delights of a new patisserie shop, and the way his eyes would roll up ever so slightly at the ecstasy of a perfectly prepared piece of nigirizushi.

Stage magic, though, was where Crowley drew the line.

It had happened while Crowley was asleep. In 1871, an up-and-coming stage magician named Alexander Herrmann parted ways with his brother Carl, in order to establish his reputation via a solo act. While Carl continued to tour Europe, Alexander headed for London.

In 1871, Aziraphale was still an angry, terrified recluse. It had been nine years since his fateful meeting with Crowley in St. James’s Park. He hadn’t seen Crowley since their argument, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more likely to dissolve into tears or shouting if he saw Crowley again, or, frighteningly, if he didn’t. So he stayed in his shop, fretfully conditioning old leather bindings and being increasingly curt with the few customers who dared cross the shop’s threshold. Perhaps the neighborhood noticed. Perhaps it was a concerned neighbor who thought that odd Mr. Fell really ought to get out of that dusty old shop more often who slipped the advertisement under the shop’s door. Perhaps it was simply a paperboy who’d been paid a bit extra to distribute the fliers. Perhaps it was chance. Perhaps it was ineffable.

Regardless, Aziraphale picked up the flier and was charmed and arrested by the image of the thin man with the goatee and curling mustache, dressed smartly in a black tailcoat and brandishing a magic wand. “Herrmann the Great!” it proclaimed. “Master of the Magical Arts! Now Performing at the Egyptian Hall!” The man was surrounded by whirling petals, playing cards, and doves in flight, and comically outlandish cartoon demons peered from the edges of the playbill to marvel at the magician.

Helpless, Aziraphale’s first thought was that this was exactly the sort of show Crowley would love--a perfect chance to see humanity’s remarkable capacity for imagination at work, while the demon snarked and snickered into his hand at the feats of “magic,” from where he sprawled into his seat. Aziraphale crushed that thought down into something small and sad, like a crumpled ball of paper, and tucked it neatly away. He took a deep breath. There was no reason not to attend the show on his own. He couldn’t hide in his shop forever, as the world continued to move around him. And perhaps Crowley would have the same thought, and Aziraphale might yet see him in the crowd at the Egyptian Hall, heckling the performer and downing expensive wine.

So it was that Aziraphale found himself in a packed theater, its ceiling bedecked with pseudo-Egyptian frescoes complete with strings of artistic renderings of hieroglyphic text (having resided in Egypt for a time during the Ramesside period, and categorically unable to resist reading anything with words on it, if it was within view, Aziraphale was rather bemused to find that the hieroglyphs on the column to the left of him read, “your mother keeps house with water buffalo, and your father smells of lotus root”). Aziraphale was disappointed not to spot a familiar shock of red hair, or a distinctively sauntering gait, amongst the theatergoers.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Herrmann took the stage, looking theatrically dapper in a tailcoat and tophat, and slightly malevolent, with his goatee and curled moustache like a villain from a penny dreadful. He produced a deck of cards, seemingly from thin air, fanning them out in flourishes, conjuring them from audience members’ pockets, and then turning them into an explosion of colorful ribbons that streamed through the air. Aziraphale felt himself get drawn into the show, as pieces of set dressing--grand fruit trees, ruby-colored lamps, even a burbling fountain--appeared in puffs of incense-scented purple or green smoke. The crowd gasped in wonder or shock, as Herrmann unveiled each new wonder. He produced a dove from a woman’s evening glove, making her laugh with delight. To the surprise of the crowd a rabbit leaped from his tophat, after he tapped it twice with his wand. The onlookers erupted into delighted laughter, as the conjurer tried and failed to convince it to return to his hat, finally turning it into a monogrammed handkerchief, instead. Aziraphale marvelled quietly at the ingenuity of humans, to create miracles of their own. This was so different from the times he had witnessed angelic miracles being performed before crowds of humans. That had been a thing of terror, each witnessing mortal made small and helpless before the gaze of Michael or Gabriel. The magician, conjuring marvels and wielding powers the crowd did not comprehend, instead welcomed them into the experience with humor and charm, sharing the wonder of it with them, and delighting in their reactions.

Aziraphale thought again of Crowley, and bit his lip.

The magician waded a bit further into the crowd, pulling a shiny coin from behind a boy’s ear, and offering him the prize. He paused before Aziraphale, and doffed his silk top hat, offering it to Aziraphale, “You, good sir! Look into my hat! Can you confirm for the crowd that it is empty?” Aziraphale stood, peering into the hat, before agreeing for the rest of the audience that it was empty, and an ordinary hat, as far as he could perceive. “Thank you! Now I see by the lines of care and worry upon your brow that something troubles you, so I have the spirits to deliver a wonder to set your heart at ease. The imps and spectres have told me that what you fear shall not come to pass! Now, reach into this empty hat, and see the wonder the demon has delivered as a sign!”

Aziraphale reached into the silk hat, and felt his hand close around a smooth, round shape. He pulled forth a perfect, shining red apple.

***

Mrs. and Mr. Device were celebrating their anniversary by going on a short trip to the seaside, and needed a babysitter to look after six-year-old Magrat. Adam and the Them had each been given due consideration as potential sitters, but it was nearing end-of-term at school, and university applications and exams were making the teens look increasingly unglued. While Madame Tracey might be trusted with a small child, both parents agreed that Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell (retired) was a last resort, only in case of impending apocalypse, option. So, after some deliberation, and after Anathema’s cousin had begged off due to plans involving concert tickets, the professional descendant (retired) and witch (current) rang up Crowley’s mobile.

Crowley always sounded hunted when he answered his mobile, as if he were a bit worried about whose voice might be on the other, but was pretending at nonchalance. “Yeah, who’s this?” he asked. “Anathema Device,” Anathema answered.

“Book Girl!” Crowley exclaimed, relaxing. He’d attended her wedding, and known her for years, but some nicknames stuck. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you and Aziraphale free on Thursday evening? Newt and I are going on a day trip, and need someone to look after Magrat while we’re away.”

“And you thought you’d ask a demon to babysit?”

“I thought I’d ask my friend. Don’t pretend you don’t adore babysitting her. She told me that you read her stories, last time, and did all the voices.”

“What can I say, she’s a little hellion. What’s not to love?” Crowley hummed thoughtfully. “Give me a moment.” There was a pause in which Anathema could hear Crowley having a murmured conversation with Aziraphale, before Crowley lifted the mobile again, voice coming through clear and audible. “Sure, we can take her for the day. You two kids go have some fun.”

Anathema breathed a soft exhalation of relief. Promise secured, she began to let Crowley know exactly what he was in for.

***

Magrat Device did not want a babysitter. She was very certain that she should be allowed to stay up late on her own, thank you very much. She knew how to work a microwave, and had her parents on speed dial, and wouldn’t eat ice cream for dinner (honest!).

Her parents disagreed, which was why Crowley and Aziraphale were currently poring over a takeout menu, on her parents’ couch, trying to determine what one might order in to feed a six year old.

Anathema and Newt had named their daughter Magrat because Anathema knew the value, to a growing child, of being able to read one’s name in a book. Newt was pleased that this book, at least, while full of witches, fools, kings, and mistaken identity, did not involve an apocalypse.

It wasn’t that Magrat didn’t like spending time with Crowley and Aziraphale. The last time they had babysat her, they had gone to the park and Aziraphale had showed her how to feed the ducks, and Crowley had gotten her an ice cream, and then they had gone home and read from her favorite book--the one that had her name in it. But, the thing was, that had been when Magrat was five. Now, Magrat was six, and that was different. Six was grown up. Six year olds didn’t need babysitters, because six year olds weren’t babies.

“What would you like to eat, dear girl?” Aziraphale asked. “Is a curry too spicy? Or would you like some of the smoked trout and quiche from that lovely little cafe down the street.”

Magrat scowled, shoulders hunched up near her ears. “I don’t want anything to eat.”

“You’re a growing child. Can’t you try to eat something?” The angel looked pleadingly at her. “It’s alright if you don’t finish it, but I shouldn’t like to think of you going hungry.”

Magrat shook her head stubbornly.

“Tell you what,” Crowley said. “How about we order a sampler of a few things, and if anything piques your interest, you can try some of it. If not? Well, we’ll just leave the leftovers for your parents--save them having to cook tomorrow.”

When the takeaway arrived, it smelled enticingly of saffron, spices, butter, and fresh bread. Magrat stubbornly turned away, even as her stomach growled.

“Right,” Crowley decided, clapping his hands and straightening up out of his artful sprawl. “I know you don’t want to be babysat. Why would you? You aren’t a baby, and babysitting just sounds a bit demeaning. Or painful. The thing is, though, we aren’t just your babysitters, Magrat.” He tilted his head down to meet her hazel-colored eyes. She could just catch a glimpse of his bright yellow ones beneath the dark lenses of the sunglasses. “You’re a witch, so we’re your magic babysitters. Like when Hagrid took Harry Potter to Diagon Alley for school supplies.”

Magrat came slowly out of her slouch, considering this. “You’re not magic, though,” she argued. “Not like wizards, or witches, anyway. You’re an angel and a demon. You don’t have magic wands, or pointy hats, or cauldrons. You don’t pull rabbits out of hats. You might as well just be boring old regular babysitters, like Wensleydale or Auntie Sue.”

Aziraphale perked up, looking triumphant. “Oh, you think so, do you?” he asked. “Find me a hat, my dear, and we shall see!”

Crowley groaned. “Oh, angel, please not that. If she wants a rabbit, just miracle one up! Don’t you remember what happened last time? This is going to end in cream cake stains and tears--mostly mine--you mark my words.”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “Nonsense, my dear. Now, Magrat, a hat, please?”

Magrat pulled a baseball cap from where it had been tossed onto the end of one of the umbrellas in the stand by the door. “It’s not the right kind,” she said.

“Oh, any hat will do. Now, I want you to check that it’s empty.” Magrat reached into the hat, feeling only the canvas material it was made from. “It’s empty,” she confirmed, interested in spite of herself.

“Right, now I need a magic wand.” Aziraphale looked around himself, as if expecting one might conveniently appear. It didn’t, so Azirphale snatched up a fork from the bag of takeaway on the table. He puffed out his chest, and cleared his throat theatrically. “Abracadabra expecto patronum bibbity bobbity expelliarmus!” The angel tapped the slightly rumpled baseball cap three times with his magic fork, and then picked it up and put it on his head. He wiggled his fingers, his eyes theatrically wide.

Magrat leaned forward, despite herself. Crowley covered his face with his hand.

With a dramatic, “Ta da!” Aziraphale whipped the cap off of his head and presented it to his audience. “One rabbit, as ordered!”

There was a pause. Aziraphale looked into the still-empty hat with bewilderment. Magrat and Crowley, however, were unable to tear their eyes away from the furry, bewhiskered little bunny rabbit that was perched comfortably amidst Aziraphale’s fluffy curls. His little pink nose twitched.

Slowly, Aziraphale’s eyes turned upwards towards his hairline, and he yelped, and made a grab for the rabbit, which leapt off of his head acrobatically and right onto the table, upturning the dish of eclairs, sending them flying through the air.

“What did I tell you?” Crowley asked, snapping his fingers. The eclairs settled back onto the plate on the table. And the rabbit was rather confused, but ultimately pleased, to suddenly find itself in the middle of a heavily guarded and carefully fortified garden of prize-winning vegetables (inciting wrath and suspicion of sabotage in the gardener, when he discovered the ensuing damage).

“Mmphghhahaha,” a peculiar half-strangled noise escaped Magrat’s mouth, like the first bit of water springing through the crack in a dam, presaging the deluge. She laughed until she had tears running down her face. Aziraphale, his face softening from bewildered shock to delight and fondness, laughed with her. Crowley, despite himself, let go of his second-hand embarrassment to join them.

The real magic trick, Aziraphale would explain to Crowley after the angel, the demon, and Magrat had finished their dinner, and demolished a respectable number of chocolate eclairs, was not pulling the rabbit from the hat. The real magic was surprise, wonder, and laughter.

[kshitij1997]

Welcome back!

In the last chapter, I just included a bunch of original characters without commenting anything whatsoever. Talk about being modest :P

Oh well, great ready, because the sisters will arrive in this chapter and the next! And one of them is an OC!

As for the historic events, most are true, but some of them have been invented or moved around in in the European historic timeline to keep the dramatic states high, and to show how vast, small and dangerous this universe is all at the same time. I swear all the ‘world-building’ will make sense as we move forward :D.

All frozen characters belong to Disney, all I own is this head-cannon and the original characters.

On with the story :D

Chapter 4: The birth of someone magical, and the disappearance of another

In the first few months of their marriages, the lives of the royal couple of Arendelle and Corona were good and full of hope, despite whatever happened in the rest of Europe and the world. The British had had enough of their mentally ill monarch, who was on his way out. The loss of the thirteen colonies still cut deep to the British, and when the Confederacy had decided to further challenge the them in Canada, the British proceeded to burn Washington to the ground, even going so far as to provoke the Native Americans to fight on the side of the British. The Confederacy turned to Arendelle for help, which resulted in Arendelle with its considerable naval forces confronting the formidable navy of the British. The duke of Weselton had a vested interest in the transatlantic trade, and so joined on the side of Arendelle. The three naval superpowers fought and ground the war to a stalemate by taking the war to the sea away from the shores of North America. With peace ensured by the Confederacy agreeing to leave Canada be, the British bought influence in Africa filling up the duke’s coffers. And with peace made on good terms with the confederacy thanks to Arendellian diplomacy, Arendelle now found a powerful new ally in Great Britain, moving away from the French. Furthermore, the confederacy was grateful, and called for further imports from Arendelle.

All this happened while the Corsican madlad was subdued in Elba, which was a good thing as when he showed up again to be finally defeated in Waterloo, the Arendelle crown was well backed by Great Britain into a powerful negotiating position regarding the fate of the fallen dictator. As a result, king Agnarr and queen Iduna found ample time to bring long-lost prosperity back to Arendelle. The days of Agnarr being a ditherer desperate to please everyone were long gone; here he was, with the love of his life beside him, ready to take on the world.

However, there was a bout of tragedy in his friend’s life, as King Reginald and Queen Sophia’s first child due in the spring of 1815 turned out to be a stillborn, despite the painstaking efforts of some of the best doctors in Europe. The whole ordeal of a painful birth and the dead infant took a heavy toll on the Queen, who was emotionally broken from the experience. The palace servants found it increasingly common to hear the queen screaming into the night in self-pity and self-loathing, turning to alcohol to ease the pain, and having shouting matches with the king. It was one of those times, when things came to a head.

“It was unfortunate what happened, but we are young and healthy, we can try again.” The king reasoned, holding on to his own stoicism lest he crumble too.

“You don’t get it do you?! It came out of me, lifeless and stiff! HOW COULD I EVER EXPECT TO TRY AGAIN! Who’s to say it won’t happen again?!” Shrieked the queen, weeping tears full of rage.

“So, he’s already an ‘it’, isn’t he?” the king asked with a woebegone face.

“Listen to yourself Reggie, it’s been buried in the ground for almost a month, and you are the one who wants to move on from ‘him’?” the queen sobbed.

“I have been seeing you for that entire time, you think I haven’t tried to move on? I have tried to weave myself through all false sympathies, hoping that maybe I could have my wife for comfort by my side. But now, I can’t even talk to her anymore. All I can sense are the alcohol talking, and a woman who’s admitting defeat. I can’t recognize my wife at all in you right now, Sophie” The king said quietly, with the tears starting to flow from his eyes as well.

The queen fell silent at this. She observed her husband for a good long moment; the loss was acute for him as well. Reginald was always sensitive about those he loved and cared for, and overtly emotional. She may have lost an infant, but both their futures were in jeopardy in the moment, and ultimately, for now she had to think like a queen first, motherhood could come later.

“You’re right. We must think about our futures too, we can’t stay in this quagmire forever. I have been selfish in my sorrow and have left you alone out in the cold to fend for yourself, for that I’m truly sorry. You know what Reggie, let’s regain our strength, and try again after some time. I’m sure we’ll make it. And if I must give up drinking, so be it.” Sophia declared as things became clear to her.

“Yes, we will make it. Hang in there Sophie.” “You too Reggie.” The royal pair told each other as they held on to each other, their hearts placated.

Throughout this time, king Agnarr had provided all the help that he could to his dear friend, and the morbid incident was the talk of the Arendellian royal household.

“I hope they recover from this soon, they deserve a lot better.” Iduna mused during one such conversation.

“I hope so as well, I can’t bear watching Reginald like this, and poor Sophia too” Agnarr said.

“I think there’s a lesson here” “What?” “I think they were not ready for a child yet, they were not serious enough about it. I knew back then that was a mistake. I tried warning the both of them, but they were too excited to listen.” Iduna observed as her husband agreed.

“Who’s to say we are ready ourselves?” Agnarr inquired expectantly.

“Only time will tell; I think we should wait to be better prepared.” Iduna answered.

And so, the royal couple decided to wait. Just as well, as the British and the Russians were twisting Agnarr’s arm to intervene in the Balkans. That was the thing with the British, while the rest of Europe was looking at Africa and Asia, they had their eyes set on the whole world. Anyway, at Sophia’s request, Iduna convinced Agnarr to send a team of diplomats to the region, getting the local leaders to pledge fealty to central Europe, while the British proceeded to wrest control of Egypt from the Ottomans, rendering it a vassal state to the Ottomans to keep them from corpsing and leaving the region unpredictable. The Russians on their part, help instigate a popular uprising against the Sultan and his Janissaries in the fall of 1817. Nasty business, the Arendelle Monarch thought, but at least it would keep his staunchest allies secure. The king of Corona was saddled with enough worries as it was at the time, being nervous about his wife’s second pregnancy, and tried his hardest to keep all stress away from her. But even he couldn’t have guessed what could happen.

The Habsburgs of Austria-Hungary, the Russians and the Ottomans had always seen the Balkans as the buffer that kept everything in check. The day that powder keg blew up, all three would go down. While the Habsburgs had family in the Balkans, particularly in Serbia, which was unsurprising at this point, both the Ottomans and the Russians claimed to be the protector of all Christians in the region. In a surprising and morbid turn of events, the Ottoman Sultan, seething at such an open blow to his power, moved first, and sent in his special troops/assassins to storm the imperial palace of the king and queen of Serbia, shot them multiple times at point blank range, and destroyed their bodies by chopping them to pieces and throwing them into the palace moat. The sheer audacity of the event, not to mention the horrific assassination and the barefaced flexing of the Sultan’s powers, sent Europe by storm, but none more than the queen of Corona, who was the second cousin of the king of Serbia.

The shock made Sophia faint when she heard the news, which unfortunately led to a miscarriage.

The king was beside himself with grief, and the queen was inconsolable. The event affected them so much that they cancelled the thanksgiving service that year, and the queen sunk into depression as rumours started circulating about queen Sophia being victim to the Habsburg curse of madness and melancholy. But the queen asserted herself to the public by putting those rumours to rest. In an unprecedented move for the time, she made a speech to the public, addressing that while the loss of a potential heir and family was tragic, it was not doomsday for the country or Europe yet as they were still led by a courageous and wise monarchy and a common belief of maintaining peace after the fall of Napoleon, and they would weather these storms, as they had done before.

While the public’s beliefs may have been restored, only Iduna learnt the true sorrow that hounded Sophia about the whole affair when she visited:

“I swear I’m fucking cursed” cried Sophia. “That’s silly, Sophia” Said Iduna, as she tried to calm her down.

“Is it really? I lost a second cousin and a child in the span of 48 hours. I honestly believe the forces of nature are out to make me miserable. Various forces at play to ruin my life.” Sophia continued sadly.

“Look, those animals who caused this anguish to you will pay; that does not mean you stop living and give up-” Iduna began but was cut off by Sophia.

“First of all, I know I can handle it, nevertheless by accepting that bleak truth, I would stop being caught fucking unawares whenever such a thing happens.” Sophia claimed.

“That’s a bizarre argument, woman. By that rationale, I’m also cursed, as I lost my entire family in a battle my late father-in law waged. Agnarr should also be cursed, as he also lost his father in said battle. It’s a bone-headed way of thinking, and it leads us nowhere.” Iduna proceeded to coach the aggrieved queen, “What happened was life itself, and it is seldom under our control. Everyone’s surroundings affect them. No one could imagine those killers could stoop to this action, and no one could have known what would happen afterwards. All we can do is to do the next right thing when facing such darkness.” Iduna finished.

“The next right thing? What do you think that should be?” Sophia asked.

“For you, it should be to stand beside your husband in this time, he shouldn’t suffer separately and alone.” Iduna advised. “As married people, we find our strength in our better halves, you know.”

“You’re right. To take a step and step again indeed.” Sophia rose up to embrace the queen of Arendelle.

“Stay strong, Sophie.” “You too, Iduna.”

The British saw this event as an excuse to be the moral voice of the situation, in comparison to king Reginald and the aging monarch of Austria-Hungary, who also happened to be the maternal grandfather of Queen Sophia, who threatened invasion and war. The British struck first by trapping the Ottomans in an embargo that blocked them from the west Mediterranean Sea. The Russians, on the other hand forced them into a crippling treaty that made Greece independent; further reducing the European holdings of the Sultan.

Agnarr on his part, wanted nothing to do with the Balkans or the Ottomans, focusing instead on efforts to pacify king Reginald and observing The Southern Isles. King Christian’s latest wife, his fifth, a princess of Greek origin, had been blessed with triplets, so if there was anyone truly fertile in the continent, it was the king of The Southern Isles. Now a proud father of twelve, the king was well and truly ensured his succession and the crisis that would precede it. Not that it bothered the aging king; he was raised to get what he wanted, by god if he wanted a private army of his own kids, he would get it.

Agnarr mused, that man has clearly nothing else left in his life except an illusion of health and merry. Any romantic dreams that he had died with his second wife, every other lady he courted after became a brood mare. When it came out that his latest wife was involved in an affair, he proceeded to divorce her summarily within the next twenty-four hours, seized all her possessions, and left her destitute and ruined. Agnarr was generally put off by his careless hounding attitude towards everything but was truly disgusted to find out that he had married a sixth time, this time to a rumoured Polish noblewoman in the beginning of 1819.

A fine set of examples the royal couple of Arendelle had around them; the Tsar who was childless, and his younger brothers weren’t too keen to succeed him. Then there was Corona, where queen Sophia had gotten pregnant for a third time, against all odds. Finally, there was king Christian who had already consummated the marriage with his Polish wife, and a rumoured thirteenth kid was on the way. However, the king of The Southern Isles narrowly survived a heart attack during said consummation and decided that even by his standards, he was done.

Well, speaking of pregnancies, Iduna had broken the happy news to Agnarr in the April of 1819, and the kingdom was in celebration. 1819 was an important year in this respect; a lot of future monarchs were born in this year, not that anyone could say for sure at that time. As the summer solstice drew near, queen Sophia started experiencing complications in her pregnancy and panicked, sending king Reginald into a frenzy, calling up all the physicians, doctors and midwives available. As Sophia’s situation grew worse, king Agnarr sent his personal doctor, Dr. Klaus. If anyone had consummate knowledge in medicine and lifesaving, it was this guy.

Dr Klaus took one look at the queen and gave his verdict; if they were to save the queen and the baby, they needed an exotic herb made from a plant called the sun-mirror, a variety of lettuce whose luminous flowers had the rumoured quality of giving eternal life and healing all predicaments. However, it was extremely rare and was critically endangered as a plant, only growing naturally on the island of Cyprus, unfortunately controlled by the Ottomans. The Ottomans found the opportunity to weasel out a deal with Russia in exchange for safe passage to Cyprus for Reginald’s troops, and since king Reginald threatened to blockade the Baltic with Arendelle’s backing if Russia didn’t abide, the Tsar was forced to give up the southern ports of the Black Sea, exposing Crimea to the Ottomans.

However, no harm was done, as the plant was found, brought back to Corona, crushed into herbs and medicine and fed to the queen. The result could not have been better, as the queen had a surprisingly easy birth, becoming the mother to a lovely, adorable, healthy and lively baby girl on the eve of the Summer Solstice. King Reginald was overcome with joy and emotion as he hugged his baby girl and spread the happy news throughout Europe. The baby princess had a full head of blonde hair long enough to cover her whole body, like the golden stocks of the sun-mirror lettuce. She was officially christened as princess Eva Rapunzel, but the king and queen endearingly called her Rapunzel or Punzie. At that point Dr. Klaus took his leave, to care for queen Iduna’s pregnancy.

Arendelle waited with bated breath as Iduna faced a complication of her own by contracting hypothermia; her situation grew serious as her body fell colder and colder, and all the nutrition, medicine, hot coalbeds and blankets couldn’t keep her warm. Moreover, the queen’s eyes had begun to glow with a pale ice-blue glow, and the queen had begun to enter trances, where she would sing in kulning for hours on end. King Agnarr grew desperate; asking Dr. Klaus for any cure or treatment, maybe another sun-mirror herb. Dr Klaus declined; the flower bloomed once in 75 years, and the latest bloom had saved princess Eva Rapunzel. As the king dreaded the worst, Dr Klaus gave some hope:

“Send for Grand Pabbie.”

Said creature was a curious one; a being made of half rock, half human flesh, with leaves and wines for hair. This self-sustaining being used to meditate for six months of the year, and had a massive following of similar beings, living on the borders of the impenetrable mist separating Arendelle from the North, surviving various disasters throughout history by blending into mountainous rocks. It was a testament to Dr. Klaus’ knowhow and network that he knew of this mystical being and his tribe.

The king in his desperation personally went with Dr. Klaus and his royal guard to fetch the rock hermit from the wilderness. At first, Grand Pabbie refused; he had greater responsibilities to the nutrition and survival of the land than some as temporary as human beings, hence the meditation during winter. But when Dr. Klaus explained the whole situation, Grand Pabbie agreed to accompany them at once. Upon reaching the queen’s chambers, the hermit proceeded to put a rocky hand on the queen’s belly and declared “Your majesty, your child has been blessed by the fifth spirit.”

King Agnarr was stunned to hear that “It can’t be, the pass has been covered in mist for years, there’s no way the Northurldra, let alone the fifth spirit could have come to the south, much less affect my wife and child’s health.”

“Calm down, your majesty, for I am yet to finish. Your child and wife are in perfect health; despite the cold and other supernatural symptoms, the queen has no breathing problems or health issues. Her pulse is stable as well. This constellation of symptoms must have puzzled Dr. Klaus; thus, he may have recommended my services.” Grand Pabbie assured the tense king.

“What shall you do now?” asked the king.

“I will perform a simple gesture on the queen’s belly, that should bring her comfort and ease of birth. Now, why exactly did the fifth spirit bless your wife is a mystery, we can assume that either of you have committed a great deed that has placated the lost souls.” With that, the hermit made an eight-cornered crystal shape on the queen’s abdomen. This placated the queen and she drifted into a restful sleep. With that, the hermit turned to the king ”Worry not your majesty, the queen is perfectly safe. However, your child would have a resistance to, or maybe even mastery over a force of nature. Since your kingdom is on the coast, it would most likely be water. As the queen is due near the Winter Solstice, it may be a power over snow, and ice.”

The king was gobsmacked to hear this but was gestured by Dr. Klaus to remain calm. The king realized the prudence of not offending the hermit and thanked Grand Pabbie for his services.

On the eve of the Winter Solstice of 1819, king Agnarr couldn’t sleep; queen Iduna had gone into labour and the process went much smoother than expected. He had just become the proud father of a baby princess with hair a very light shade of blonde, taking after her grandmother, or so the people said. She was most certainly a bundle of joy, bursting into giggles as soon as seeing her parents for the first time and burying her face into her mother’s bosom, which was deemed adorable by the Monarch. The king bent in to pinch her nose and cheek, which prompted a sneeze from the baby princess, showering a whole layer of snow onto her father.

The queen was shocked “What the fuck?! Where did that come from?!”

The king wiped the snow off his face and said ”Iduna, there’s something you need to know.”

At the end of his story, the queen calmed down and kissed the baby princess on the forehead “She truly is a gift from the almighty. Let’s call her Elsa.”

“Very well, Elsa shall be her name.” Smiled the king.

“She seems to like the name” grinned the queen as the giggling baby princess had already started making snowflakes on her fingertips.

Just then, a guard rushed into their bedroom ”Your Majesty!”

“What is it? Are we under attack?” bellowed the king and queen in unison as the sudden noise made the princess cry.

“I don’t know for certain…. I’m sorry for frightening you at this hour of night. But a messenger from Corona brings worrying news.” The guard spoke after catching his breath.

The king and queen met the messenger at once, who gave them the news that made their blood run cold;

“Princess Eva Rapunzel has been abducted in the dead of night.”

Woohoo! That was an action-packed chapter, I think.

Some cute moments, some gruesome moments, some sad moments and some moments of joy.

Or as Murray, the Joker or Iduna would say, that’s life!

The OC family would definitely become bigger next chapter, and we may say goodbye to some characters already, just like life.

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome.

[jawnjendes]

no one can replace me | shawn mendes

university au SUMMER, shawn x goth gf/oc

masterlist | playlist

**let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

Days off were meant for sleeping in and being comfortably lazy. I slept until 2PM, far later than I ever slept before, and I felt anything but comfortable. The only productive thing I did was move myself from the bed to the couch in the living room, taking the massive comforter with me. Shawn wasn't home, so I was able to binge as much Grey's Anatomy in order to fill the void in my chest as I could. I really thought I would be able to sleep off the void…

I was lying on my side, a dead look on my face, but I was still invested in a particularly emotional episode. As sad as it was to see Jo Karev's life fall to pieces, it felt almost cathartic to cry over that than my own crap. I cried a lot these days, it was very unlike me. However, I still made sure to keep it private. I didn't want my boyfriend worrying about me anymore than he already did.

It was after 5 o’clock when I heard the lock on the front door jiggle, indicating that Shawn was home. I quickly grabbed the remote and switched to some 90s cartoon. The swift movement of reaching for the remote on the table was a deep contrast compared to how I’ve been all day, so it left me winded and fatigued. Although, the fatigue wasn’t just from moving or the cuts on my belly. I couldn’t even sit up to greet my boyfriend.

Shawn seemed unfazed by my potato state as his footsteps were constant through the apartment. His steps got closer, and I saw him standing by me from my peripherals. Wordlessly, Shawn placed a black gift back on the coffee table, directly in front of my line of vision.

The bag was shiny, and had purple tissue paper sticking out of the top. Just the sight of it caused my brows to knit together.

“Why…?” I asked, my voice unnaturally soft.

“It’s a peace offering,” Shawn explained, “and it’s also an anniversary gift. Come on, sit up.”

I didn’t need the help anymore, but Shawn still went to my side and supported my waist as I sat up straight. Then, I leaned over and grabbed the gift bag, pulling out the tissue. Inside was a red box with the white Nintendo Switch logo on. I pulled it out and discovered a pro controller, and my mouth fell open. This was the limited edition, white controller with the Princess Zelda design. I was rendered speechless.

“We hit six months a couple of weeks ago,” Shawn explained. “I think you were in surgery, so we missed it. And I know you love Zelda, and I know you’ve mentioned this controller before.”

“How many oversized bears did you have to fight to get this?” I finally asked.

Shawn laughed. “Well, it was the last one at EB Games. I saw one guy looking at it when I walked in, so I snatched it when he wasn’t looking.”

A small smile creeped up on my face as I stared at the controller in wonder. It was a sweet gesture, given the absolute bullshit that happened yesterday. “Thank you. I can’t wait to use it.” Then I placed the box back on the table. “I have something for you too.”

“You do?” Shawn smiled, pleasantly surprised.

I nodded and got up from the couch. I felt bad about how our sixth month was spent, even if it was all out of our control. Obviously, there was no time to get him a gift like what he had gotten me, but I did have something in mind. I didn’t think we would still be here for this to happen.

I found my black, tattered wallet and went back out to the living room. As cliche and cheesy as it was, I had to say a few words before presenting the thing. “I’m not gonna lie, my pessimistic ass and my mile high walls made me think we wouldn’t make it this far.”

“Good start,” Shawn replied, mildly amused.

“But,” I continued, “I’m glad I was proved wrong, so uh…” I unzipped my wallet and poked around through one of the credit card pockets.

“You’re giving me money?”

“Shut up.”

It took a minute to get the tiny item out of the tight pocket, but I got it. I presented Shawn with a red guitar pick. The label on it had scratched off long ago, but that’s okay. It wasn’t about the condition of the pick.

“A long time ago, I saw Rise Against in concert,” I told him. “It was… honestly, probably one of the happiest days of my life. I went with my cousin, and she convinced me to mosh our way to the barriers. We did, and I got hit in the face on the way, but we made it to the front. I had a nosebleed, and the lead singer noticed that. He actually saw blood all over my face, and he gave me his pick.” I paused. “That pick means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me, so I figured I should put those two things together.”

Shawn was looking at the pick in the palm of his hand as he listened to my story. The smile on his face only grew with every word, and he was beaming when he finally met my eyes. Then, he stood up, towering over me with open arms.

“I love it, and I love you.” He gently cupped my face and pulled me in for a kiss.

Feeling his lips against mine brought back certain feelings I hadn’t felt in a hot minute. My arms went around his middle, gently scrunching up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the skin underneath. Shawn smiled against my lips.

“Mm, so we’re celebrating our anniversary today?” I asked when we broke apart.

“I guess we are,” he replied, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers. “What do you wanna do?”

“Quiet night in?” I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows.

He thought about it. “Well… we spend a lot of time between these walls. How about a movie?”

That threw me off a little bit. Shawn never said no to spending the night together between the sheets. But he was right though, we needed to get out of this apartment. “Yeah, we can do a movie.”

~

As much of a homebody as I am, it felt nice to leave the apartment for a little bit. It felt good to doll myself up for a date night. I missed carving out my eyebrows and wearing black eyeshadow. I missed wearing my long, black cardigan and combat boots.

Shawn and I went to the theatre downtown and caught the newest Disney film, on his choosing. That was only because the last time we went to the movies, I made the choice. The last time we went to the movies was also when I started feeling pain, but I didn’t want to bring that up.

I stayed away from literally every food offered at the theatre, and not just because of my mandatory diet. Shawn didn’t eat anything either, so I wasn’t alone. That gave us more time to cuddle on the fancy reclining seats in the theatre. It was pretty much what we would do at home, except we were bound by society’s rules to stay quiet for the duration of the movie.

It was a lovely time. Going to the movies was the one thing to get us out of our heads for a little bit. We didn’t have to talk, we could just be with each other. The mood was light and sweet, and it followed us back into the car.

But, you know… light and dark. Things are always balanced.

Shawn turned on the radio as soon as he roared the car to life. Of course, of fucking course, the Halsey song of my nightmares (as opposed to Nightmare, which is a bop) was in the middle of playing. Things within me turned in a second, and everything lost its color. Half of me wanted to punch the radio into silence, and the other half wanted me to curl up in a ball and let the void take me away. Luca’s words came out of the tiny box in my mind and circled around me.

“I probably know you better than Shawn does. And you hate that, huh?”

My breathing went short again, and I could only hear that directly in my ears. I squeezed my hands into fists, trying to bring myself back to Earth.

“You’re not singing,” Shawn pointed out. “I thought you loved this song.”

I wanted to talk, wanted to explain. But we just had a good evening, and I didn’t want to cry all over it. When did I become such an emotional mess?

I shook my head in response.

He glanced at me every so often, but he kept his eyes on the road. “No, you don’t like this song?” he asked.

Once again, I shook my head.

“Okay, I’ll change it.”

The song stopped, and then Shawn reached for my hand. My mood kept on. My legs felt numb, and my hands felt tingly and weird. I walked carefully when we got back to the apartment, like I was going to dismember myself and collapse. I followed Shawn’s steps, bringing all the grey with me.

“I know you’re a quiet person,” he said as we entered the bedroom, “but this is just weird. Are you okay?”

This would be something I’d take up with Callie, but I was no longer her patient. That was on my own doing, so I couldn’t be mad. There were a lot of feelings built up in my chest, and I couldn’t name a majority of them. That was why I needed Callie.

I also needed to bring my spirit back into my body. Without thinking, I slammed the palm of my hand on the bedroom door. The loud smack! startled Shawn, but the sting caused me to make a face and ground me once again.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I felt like I was floating…”

He was just as speechless. “Uh… do you - should I…?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I told him, my eyes still staring off into space. “I mean, I do, but… I don’t.”

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“No?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, let’s start there.”

We sat at the foot of the bed. Shawn gave me an expectant look, but I was still silent for a moment. Perhaps I was just overreacting and being a little too dramatic.

“I had a conversation with Luca,” I started, suddenly hesitant. “Nothing bad, just… I don’t know.”

“What did he do?” Shawn asked. “I know you said not to worry, but I’m a little worried.”

I explained the inexplicably off putting conversation I had with Luca, rubbing my hands together sporadically. It was probably confusing without know our entire history, but that was a whole other spiel. They say talking it out helps, but I just felt like I was getting crazier by the second. I felt like I was just overreacting.

“Listen,” Shawn said when I finished rambling, “I don’t love that he knows you so well either. I definitely don’t love what most of your relationship consisted of. But you’ve known each other for a couple of years, much longer than you and I have known each other. He’s just trying to get to you.”

“I know. He loves to challenge me. Normally, I don’t care, and I’m used to it, but this one fucked me up.”

Shawn nodded. “Is that why you slept most of the day?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“I can tell when you’re sleep deprived now. Like, you wear a lot of black, but you look… comfortable and at peace with it. When you're tired, or sad... you look like the world ended."

He held his hand open on my lap, and I laced our fingers together. Was this a weird situation? Was it weird to talk about your ex to your current person?

“Can I tell you something?” Shawn asked after a minute.

“Yeah.” I had to stop myself from sounding too eager. At this point, I’d give anything to not talk about me and my shit anymore. I think I was thinking too hard about this whole thing.

He shifted a little bit, the way one does when they’re about to drop some scalding tea. “When I was seventeen, I dated this girl. Well, I thought I was dating her. She asked me to be her boyfriend, but the only time we spent together was in the backseat of her car, or at her house when her parents weren’t home. She really didn’t want much from me, apart from the obvious.”

“She was playing you,” I replied.

“And I one hundred percent knew it,” Shawn added with a chuckle. “But I really liked her, so I let her do what she wanted. I guess you could say that’s one reason why I was never in a serious, stable relationship until now. It’s like you say, I couldn’t trust anyone.”

That was certainly a side of Shawn I hadn’t heard of. He told me he didn’t have much experience with his love life. Then, I found out he slept around much like I did. Now, I found out he had his own version of Luca. Why was I labeled the mysterious one?

“How come you never told me this before?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “We all have things we don’t talk about. I’m sure there’s still things you haven’t told me.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s true.”

“So just know, you’re not the only one with a toxic ex. I know how you feel.”

At least he doesn’t work with his ex. At least his anxiety wasn’t intensified to the point of isolation and self destruction. Plus, it was easier for Shawn to open up than it was for me. His heart was in the right place, though. His big, warm heart made my stone cold one beat a little faster, I knew that much.

"You know how powerless you are being with someone like that," I said without realizing what I was doing.

"Yeah," he said. "You know they're not good for you, they only want you at their convenience, but you'd do anything for them."

Oof, he really does know.

"But," he added, "it feels so much better when you're finally free of them. And it feels fucking great to be in a much better place than they are. Realizing you deserve better is like waking up from a bad dream."

"It's like coming up for fresh air."

Shawn looked at me, eyes sparkling. He now held my hand in both of his. "Meeting you was like coming up for fresh air."

I smiled, and placed my one free hand over his. "I know that quote is from Grey's, you can't fool me."

"Hey, can I not relate heavily to the words of Derek Shepherd?" he said with a laugh.

He wasn't wrong. I related a lot of lyrics from his own songs, but I could tell him that another time.

_____

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @mendesromano @ilsolee @1-800-khalid-mendussy 

[kittybennett]

your choice | anti-soulmate au where they weren't born with soul-mates and they meet in a group where other people who don't have them meet-up. and they come to the conclusion that they're not weirdos for not having them. cause they have the group and each other jhskfjksdf - @malcolmbrights​

ok i’m sorry this turned REALLY long but here we go.

aka: five times ev didn’t go to support group and one time she did

i.

Evelyn Reyes spends much of her sixteenth year of life staring into reflective surfaces in the vain hope that she will find a soulmark has bloomed on her skin while she wasn’t looking. Most people are born within them, though it isn’t entirely unheard of for the matching tattoos to make themselves known in the years between childhood and adolescence. A teenager already, Evelyn is a rarity, late even by the most generous of time frames, and this makes her a repository for her peers’ pity. She takes to wearing long sleeves even in the sweltering heat of summer to avoid questions, but finds that it’s all people want to talk to her about. No matter how they phrase their comforting platitudes or prying questions, it all sounds the same to her.

Are you scared that you might be utterly alone? How relieved I am that it’s you and not me.

Evelyn hates them all, but most of all she hates the guidance counselor who calls her into her office to offer ‘support’ and gives Evelyn a flyer for a group of people with deceased soulmates. It’s not the same, the counselor explains, but those in the group might understand what Evelyn is going through. They can sympathize on how horrible it is to not have a soulmate.

Her cheeks burn hot. She shoves the flyer into the pocket of her hoodie and begs to be excused. On her way home she tears the flyer into little pieces and throws it over a bridge, watching the pieces of paper flutter and land on the river below while angry, shameful tears prick at her eyes.

After that, she stops checking her body for new marks.

ii. The first man that Evelyn loves also takes pains to keep covered up. Unlike Evelyn, he actually has something to hide: a bright blue tattoo of a bird in flight. The space where it adorns his forearm is usually bandaged lest Jamie’s eager admirers find a way to replicate it and render the mark useless.

When they lie together at night, Evelyn traces the mark. It’s the closest she’s ever been to one that didn’t belong to either of her parents, and even at a young age she knew not to ask questions about theirs.

“They weren’t soulmates.” Evelyn tells her lover one night. “His died when they were little — childhood sweethearts. And my mom has never talked about hers, but I know he’s gone too. She wouldn’t have married my father or had me if she thought he was still out there.”

What she doesn’t confess hangs in the air. Jamie addresses it anyway.

“You know that’s not the reason you’re like this, right?”

Evelyn is silent but the finger that was tracing his mark stills.

“Evelyn. It’s just bad luck. Seriously.” He tilts her face so he can stare into her eyes. Jamie is rarely serious, so this sudden sobriety makes it difficult for Evelyn to hold his gaze, but she does. “Bad things happen to lots of people, and it’s not the end of the world. My cousin is widowed, and he remarried and—“

Before he can finish his story, Evelyn kisses him. And kisses him. Her distraction works.

That night Evelyn prays for the first time in well over a decade: asking for a blue bird on her forearm. ( She breaks up with Jamie a week later. Better to get out with her heart mostly intact. She never does find out what happened to that cousin of his, though sometimes she wonders if she should have let Jamie finish. )

iii.

“Would it kill you to write something happy for once? Just one ballad about summer love, or getting dicked down?”

Evelyn frowns. “You know I’m not the bubblegum pop type.”

“That’s for sure.” Her producer sighs. “Listen, you’re good. But can’t you just write a love song that isn’t super … intense and depressing? Give us something fun and light-hearted for once.”

“What if I haven’t felt that?”

“Then pretend, or talk to someone who has.” The producer fixes her with a look between pity and sternness. “Seriously, Evie. Don’t come back here without a love song. And get a therapist.”

Evelyn returns in a week with a song about the thrill of a first glance and the intense flush of devotion that follows it. The song spends several weeks on the charts and goes viral after someone creates a Tik Tok dance for it, though none of that matters to sole inspiration for the song: Evelyn’s new cat.

iv.

Her second-ever happy love song is not as commercially successful, but it is inspired by a human being this time. Naomi is brilliant, and funny, and the most talented actress of her generation (according to a Vanity Fair correspondent but Evelyn is inclined to agree). The first time she refers to Evelyn as “the love of my life”, Evelyn spends the better part of a week repeating the moment in her mind.

Naomi really should have thought to mention the caveat.

Three years later, Evelyn laughs at something a precocious child on a television program says and asks, “What would you do if your child asked you that?”

Naomi shakes her head. “Pour myself some scotch and direct them towards their other mom, or dad.”

Evelyn is frozen.

Other mom or dad. Not you. Not the love of her life. Because Evelyn is only the love of Naomi’s life … for now.

Evelyn turns off the television program. “You don’t think we’ll raise children together?”

Naomi looks sheepish. To her credit, she picks her words more carefully this time. “Evelyn … be realistic. I love you so much but - someday I’m going to meet the real thing. You can’t ask me to say no to them for you.”

Evelyn feels the same hot shame she did when she was sixteen and finally accepting that she had no soulmate and never would. This time she won’t cry, not in front of Naomi. “I’m a person. Not your training wheels.”

She moves out the next day.

v.

Dating apps aren’t much different, as it turns out. She has way too many messages from people who assume that being bisexual means she wants nothing more than to fulfill the threesome fantasies of heterosexual couples, and even more messages from people who think that because she is “unmarked”, she isn’t looking for anything serious. To be unmarked is to be written off entirely as a romantic partner, or at least as a serious one.

She deletes the dating app, but not before she posts a screenshot of her DMs to her Instagram with a caption finally addressing the rumors that she is unmarked.

I've always been private regarding the subject, but I owe it to anyone else like me to be more candid about my experiences as someone without a soulmark. Yes — I am unmarked, but not unworthy.

That night she’s flooded with messages from others like her, who thank her and repost her message. It’s humbling and uplifting all at once and Evelyn is guilty that she didn’t do it sooner. She responds to as many as she possibly can.

( One message stands out among the rest:

@ teorror: hey @reyevie​  - if you’re in nyc, my support group would love to have you! we meet at [ …. ] )

vi.

In the end, it’s not another rejection or loneliness or even solidarity that leads Evelyn to finally try talking to others like her.

It’s pettiness, and a lot of annoyance.

A former classmate posts a soulmate announcement on Facebook in which the caption describes meeting her soulmate for the first time as the single most important day of anyone’s life, the center of the human experience.

It makes Evelyn grit her teeth.

She is indignant that anyone would not consider the pain and feelings of inadequacy those words might cause for unmarked youth like the ones she’s received messages from, or her younger self. And she realizes with a pang of regret: it’s not just social media, or dating apps. It’s also the songs that people like Evelyn have written, the films and books that saturate the market that convince everyone that no other kind of love or measure of happiness matters when compared to romantic love.

As much as Evelyn craves it, she refuses to accept that it should overshadow every other aspect of her life.

She scrolls through her messages until she finds the one from @teorror again, inviting her to join his group and decides to show up and prove her point, even if she’s the only one who knows it.

To her initial horror, the group is small. There are only three people there, and Evelyn is just about ready to turn on her heel and walk away rather than join such an intimate gathering when a man bolts from his chair with an overjoyed expression on his face.

“Hey! You actually came!” He goes to her, and offers his hand to be shaked. “Can I call you Ev? Guys! This is Ev! The singer I was telling you guys about? Come on, sit down.”

The man she’s guessing is Teorror (Teo, she’ll later learn) guides her towards the others and the other man produces a chair for her and introduces himself as Rico.

Mercifully, they don’t ask her to introduce herself first or talk first. The woman next to her (Claudia) does, then Rico and Teo. Eventually they all turn to Evelyn.

“You don’t have to share if you’re not ready, Ev.” Claudia says, adopting Teo’s nickname for Evelyn. “The first time can be overwhelming.”

Ev nods, but feels she should try anyway. “I’m Evelyn — and as I guess you’ve figured, I’m also an unmarked.”

Immediately, a shadow crosses over the faces of the others. Evelyn stops.

“We try not to use that word.” Rico says gently and Evelyn can tell he’s taking care to not embarrass her. “It isn’t good to define ourselves by what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

“Tell us about you. Teo says you’re a singer?” Claudia coaxes helpfully.

Teo offers Evelyn another wide smile. “I used to call myself leftovers. Or spare parts. I thought it was really funny, you know? But they’re right: focusing on what you lack just sets you up for more pain.”

It’s something to think about. She’s back for the session next week.

As the months go by, she sees the group outside of meetings too, starting with a potluck at Teo’s and leading to drinks and mechanical bull rides with Rico, or sightseeing with Claudia. At first she wonders what it might be like to share a soulmark with one of them … to find a soulmate after all … but eventually, she nearly stops thinking of the marks altogether.

Those fantasies end entirely after another night of dancing, as they’re having greasy fast food and Teo slings his arm around her as he tells a story that requires exaggerated facial expressions and wild hand gestures. She laughs and almost misses the moment where Claudia returns to the table with her order and slides her a crispy taco (Ev’s favorite) and Rico picks at the tomato (which Ev’s hates) and places it beside his own burger so that Evelyn won’t have to. They know her well, she realizes, better than anyone. They love her better than anyone …and suddenly Evelyn feels overwhelmed with her love for them in return.

Here is the intimacy she’s been craving her whole life: a love that doesn’t ask her to define herself by it, or insist upon its sole importance. It simply accepts, and gives. 

Evelyn can only wonder why she ever thought this wouldn’t be enough.

[thatfanficstuff]

Bound - 15

Pairing: Nik x Cassie

Warning: nope

A/N: look it. look it.

***

My gaze ran over the people gathered below until it fell on Elijah. His brow twitched up as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs to meet me. I gave him a small smile. “Hello, Elijah.”

“Hello, Cassie.” He placed a hand on my elbow and steered me through the crowd. Leaning toward me, he lowered the volume of his voice. “What did my mother want with you and your lovely cousin?”

I glanced up at him with wide eyes. “Nothing, really. She merely wished to apologize for all the trouble there’s been and to get to know us better. After all we’ll all be family soon. She was quite lovely.”

Elijah blinked several times but said nothing. I couldn’t help the smirk that came with the knowledge I’d rendered him speechless. A waiter passed with a tray of champagne and Elijah handed one to me before grabbing one for himself. I lifted the glass to my lips but didn’t drink. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I said with a smile.

He hummed in agreement as he led me away from the crowd and toward Nik’s study. The hybrid himself was inside, pacing the floor. He looked up when we entered and closed the distance between us in three long strides. He pulled me to him. “What the devil is going on, Cassie?”

I held up a finger to tell him to hold on. After shutting and locking the door, I made way to his desk and pulled a bundle of sage from his bottom drawer. I lit it and placed it in the spelled dish I kept on his desk. “Your mother intends to kill you.”

“Of course, she does. She wants to retaliate for me ripping her heart out.” Nik’s tone was bitter but resigned, as if he’d been expecting this news all along.

I shook my head and headed to his bar cart to pour us all a drink that I was certain had none of my blood in it. “You misunderstand. She means to kill all of you.”

“You can’t be serious.” That came from Elijah.

I carried two glasses of scotch to them, giving Nik his first before handing Elijah the other and taking the flute from him. I held it up. “If I were you two, I wouldn’t be eating or drinking anything you haven’t had complete control over for the near future. Champagne included.”

“So, she intends to poison us?” Nik frowned.

“She took blood from Elena and myself. She intends to bind you all together then kill Finn. When he dies, so will the rest of you.” By this time, I had retrieved my own glass and took a large sip of the rich liquid. I enjoyed the burn as it went down then sat on the couch. Nik sat beside me and Elijah took the nearby chair.

Elijah’s brow furrowed. “She told you this?”

“I convinced her that Nik had compelled my love and compliance. Not that it took much, she obviously already believed it. She believes that the lot of you are a curse upon the Earth and she needs to restore balance,” I explained.

“And she expects Finn to just go along with this?” Nik asked.

I nodded. “He was there through the whole conversation. She had him compel me when we were finished so I would have no memory of it. He’s in agreement with it.”

Nik laid a hand against the side of my face and looked into my eyes. “Finn attempted to compel you?” His voice was little more than a growl.

“Yes, because that’s the important part of what I’ve said right now.” Stupid hybrid.

“Well, I think it’s bloody important.” He hopped to his feet and started pacing again.

“She’s right, Niklaus. What we need to focus on now is protecting ourselves and stopping mother.”

A knock came at the door. Nik frowned then opened it to answer as no one would hear him shout with the sage burning. Seeing it was Kol, he grabbed his brother by the arm and tugged him into the office before slamming the door shut and locking it once more. Kol stumbled slightly and ran his hands over his jacket. “Take it easy, would you?”

“Hello, Kol,” Elijah said.

He glanced in our direction. “Brother. And hello, darling. May I just say that you look stunning this evening?”

I chuckled. “Thank you.”

Nik crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you need something, Kol?”

“Oh, yes. I have been instructed to inform you that mother will be making a toast momentarily.”

I glanced between all of them. “That’s got to be it. Don’t drink that toast.”

Kol frowned. “Is there something I should know?”

“A great many things, I suspect,” answered Nik. “At present, it would seem our mother is attempting to kill us.”

The youngest brother rubbed the underside of his chin with the back of his hand. “A binding spell, then?”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise.

He grinned. “I wasn’t always a vampire, darling. Had quite a promising future as a witch before all this.”

“Well, that’s more than I have at the moment.” Suddenly feeling very exhausted, I ran a hand down my face. “Pretend to drink the toast. Let her think she’s won. It will work until she actually attempts the binding which I can’t see her doing until everyone goes home. It will buy us some time at any rate.”

“Time for what, may I ask?” Elijah said.

“We don’t stand a chance against Esther without my magic. I need to get it back.”

“As you have been trying to do for some time with no results,” Nik argued. “I say I just rip her bloody heart out.”

“It didn’t stick last time, brother. What makes you think this would be different?” Kol asked with a raised brow.

The hybrid hurled his glass across the room and it shattered against the wall. “There has to be a way.”

I walked over to the shelves that held the collection of grimoires and chose several of the most promising before placing them in a bag I kept nearby. “There is and I have an army of dead witches that can help me figure it out. Once this ball is over, I will go to the witch house. They talked to me. Maybe they’ll help. If nothing else, it’s a place to hide from your mother. She’ll realize that it was me that told you as soon as the spell doesn’t work.”

Nik sighed but nodded just the same. “I will go with you.”

“You can’t. The witches hated all of you when we were there. I was the only one they would have allowed to stay. I’ll be fine, Nik. They’ll protect me.”

“So now I’m dependent on the spirts of several long-dead witches to protect the woman I love from being killed by my homicidal mother? Why didn’t we think of this sooner? It sounds bloody brilliant.” Nik tossed his hands in the air as he spoke.

Kol looked from his brother to me. “I don’t think he means that.”

I rolled my eyes but Elijah stood up, catching my attention before I could respond. “We should go or we won’t get the chance to do anything. She’ll be suspicious if we don’t appear soon.”

I laid my hand on the arm he offered. Nik huffed and strode over to step between me and his brother, offering his arm instead. “Jealous?” I teased and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“No,” he bit out, ignoring the amusement on the faces of everyone else in the room.  

“Where have you been?” Rebekah snarled as the four of us appeared. “You nearly missed it. Mother would have been furious.” Finn escorted his mother down the stairs as she spoke. They stopped halfway down.

“Calm yourself, Rebekah. Mother is hardly going to allow us to miss a toast in our honor,” Nik placated with a false smile.

A waiter approached and we all took a glass from his tray.

“Thank you all for coming,” Esther began with a tight smile. Her eyes ran over the crowd gathered below her and her smile widened as her gaze fell on our little group. “My family is reunited for the first time in many years. In addition, we are gaining a new member as my Niklaus has proposed to his lovely friend, Cassidy Grimes. We are so grateful you all have come to celebrate with us. Cheers.”

Everyone raised their glasses then drank down the toast. Well, everyone but the four of us at any rate. Esther turned to talk to someone and Nik moved quickly in her distraction. Before I even realized what he was doing, he’d taken my glass and replaced it with a nearly empty one. As I turned to face him, my gaze fell on the plant standing right behind him and my lips twitched.

I ran my hand under his jacket and around his waist so I was holding him while I leaned against his chest. He smiled down at me then pressed a kiss to my lips. “I love you.”

His smile widened. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

I stretched until my lips brushed his again. “We can do this, Nik. We have to.”

[sapphireswimming]

Deck of Marbles Ch. 2 (a Gundam 00 fic)

Happy Birthday @ninthfeather - thank you for your love of Gundam 00′s supporting cast, your help researching this fic, and generally being awesome!

Here’s Chapter 2 of this pre-show mafia!Lasse AU (that I know @smartass-telepath, @the-stray-liger, and @durinswizardwheezes were also interested in)

______________________

Lasse followed the thin man through the ballroom’s double doors without a word, straightening his shoulders ram-rod to keep anyone from seeing how fast his heart was racing.

The doors shut behind them with a dull clang that echoed throughout the cavernous room. He’d seen it packed with hundreds of people during the Family’s Christmas celebrations, mingling at tables spread with fancy finger foods or dancing across the floor to the best band in town performing on the platform against the far wall.

There was a table there, now, where all of the heads of their organization sat silently in the otherwise empty room.

He identified them each in turn as his heartbeat drummed in his chest – his boss. His boss’s boss. And Vito Mineo.

Men so busy, they’d rarely so much as spared a glance at someone so low on the food chain. Men so important he’d never even been in a position to speak to them directly outside of the customs dictated by the Family. Men so powerful, they held the country in the palm of their hands, twisting it this way and that as if it were a bauble catching the light.

They stared down at him from their table as he approached, the stained glass window above them casting their sharply dressed figures into strangely discordant shades of red and orange and blue.

The room seemed to stretch on endlessly, no matter how many of his heavy booted steps vanished soundlessly into the long crimson carpet. Their eyes watched his every move. He forced his stride longer and surer as he drew closer.

When they finally reached the foot of the steps, the thin man who had ushered him in was waved aside without so much as a word. He melted back into the shadows of the ballroom, leaving Lasse standing alone, his jaw clamped tightly shut.

“Ah, good, good,” Michael Dicico broke the silence, leaning over on elbow to talk to Don Coll and the impressively burly man beside him that Lasse didn’t recognize. “This is the young man we were telling you about,” he said with a wave.

The man stared at him with sharp blue eyes that matched his crisply pressed suit. Amber liquid lazily swirled around in circles in his glass but he did not respond. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Lasse could only pray it was an introduction as he took the plunge and bowed before the table at large.

“Lasse Aeon,” he said, taking courage in the fact that his voice had not wavered. Bowing again to the head of his own Family, “Don Coll.” And then to the man who had to be, “Don Mineo.”

The man continued staring down at him, impassively, and Lasse fought with every muscle to keep from squirming under his frosty gaze, returning the look as steadily as he could manage, hoping the man saw steel inside him, that he could hold his own, instead of thinking him an impertinent, challenging upstart.

“And… he is not known in the city,” he asked, voice a low grumble, his eyes never moving from Lasse’s.

“He’s clean,” Don Coll smiled slowly, upturning a hand in Michael’s direction. “And competent.”

“Extremely,” Michael assured them both. “He’s just what you’ve asked for.”

Lasse’s chest swelled. He’d worked hard for the Family ever since they had picked him up, doing whatever they asked of him. But he’d never truly done any work important enough to earn such unreserved recommendations.

Don Mineo seemed to sense it, too. He seemed unconvinced as he set down his glass on the table.

“I am told…” he began slowly, methodically folding his large hands together. The chunky silver rings on each finger glinted red in the light of the window as he leaned forward. Lasse swallowed heavily. “I am told by my cousin that you may be the man for this job,” he rumbled.

Expectantly, Lasse realized, and he wished he had some inkling of what the job was supposed to be. But looking to Michael wouldn’t tell him anything, and he was sure that he would fail some final test if he broke eye contact with the man, despite how highly Don Coll had recommended him. He couldn’t let his Family down. He had to live up to their belief in him.

“I’ll do whatever you need, sir,” he said without hesitation.

Don Mineo stared impassively from beneath thick steel eyebrows, his sharp blue eyes betraying nothing.

Lasse’s fists clenched tighter at his side.

The moments dragged on with his racing heartbeat and the shadows of the ballroom began to dance.

Then, Vito Mineo smiled.

“Excellent,” he proclaimed.

And at his blessing, the tension in the air dissolved. Michael was beaming as Don Coll waved Lasse up to an empty seat at the table. The light of the setting sun flashed blue then orange than red as someone poured him a glass of his own.

 ______________________

Sumeragi quickly sobered to continue the briefing. “We know Mineo will come to the meet himself,” she said seriously, before Tieria could interrupt her, “because Chris has promised information about a device that can completely disrupt all communication and block every sensor within range.

Tieria all but gaped at her. “You mean to tell me,” he sputtered as soon as he’d caught his breath again, “that you’re peddling the GN Drive’s technology to the mafia?”

“Now, hang on, Tieria,” Lockon said, putting a hand down on his shoulder to keep him from exploding out of his seat. “Veda approved this plan, remember? Miss Sumeragi isn’t going to do anything to jeopardize our operations.”

Tieria whirled on him, all righteous indignation. “I’m not so sure!”

“Tieria,” Sumeragi sighed, leaning forward onto the table with both hands. “People have been searching for this kind of technology for decades. Just like they have with beam sabers. It’s been part of science fiction culture for over three hundred years and I’m sure this isn’t the first time someone’s approached the mafia claiming to have it. But because we do have the technology, we can mock up some pretty convincing fake blueprints. That don’t work,” she stressed. “They don’t work. And they won’t give anything away. I’d never allow the mafia to get their hands on any of Celestial Being’s technology.”

Everyone could see that Tieria didn’t really believe her, but at least he’d given up on fighting out of his seat. Lockon’s grip on his shoulder slowly loosened.

With one more glance in Tieria’s direction, Sumeragi continued her briefing.

“Now… Chris has mocked up some incredibly impressive partial formulas and Mineo is convinced that what we’ve slipped him is the real deal,” she said, fingertips tapping on the tabletop. “And he thinks that the person he’s been talking to is the developer. And that the developer is going to be the person at the meet. He won’t risk anyone else getting their hands on this first, not even the Colls. That’s why he’ll be there himself. And why he’ll want to take Allelujah with him. This will be our best, and likely only, shot at Mineo while he’s in town. Before he goes back underground,” Sumeragi said, swiping at the screen to bring up a new visual.

A three dimensional render of the alleyway slowly rotated out in a four block radius. Lockon watched closely as brightly colored angles and trajectories overlaid each building in turn.

“After careful combing, Veda and I have identified these four buildings as the best potential locations,” she told him with a sweep of her hand, stepping back so he could get a clear look at the screen. “But, Lockon, since you’re the expert, I’ll leave your final placement up to you.”

Tieria snorted but Lockon ignored him in favor of pushing out of his chair to scan the numbers flying across the screen beside each location. Stepping forward, he tapped at the screen to slow the looping footage, but nothing happened. He tapped at it again.

“Your gloves,” Feldt said quietly, and he turned, eyebrows raised. “It’s your gloves,” she explained. “It’s a touch screen.”

“…Right,” he said, blankly. “Uh, Miss Sumeragi,” he asked, turning around again, “could you? Could you get it to go back to the— yeah the— no, that was— yes, that one right there,” he said, holding up a hand as a four story building came into focus. “And… freeze it.”

He stared at the screen intently, passing a still-gloved hand over his mouth. “And rotate twenty degrees to the right?” he asked. She spun the image on the screen slowly. “And up? A little more,” he said, then nodded thoughtfully. “What building is this?”

“Feldt?” Sumeragi asked and they both turned to hear her profile.

“An old office building,” Feldt supplied without bothering to look in her folder. “Abandoned. There was a fire on the third floor a couple years ago that blew out all of the windows and completely mangled the elevator shafts. It cost so much to gut the place that they didn’t want to renovate and no one was willing to buy, so it’s been vacant ever since.”

Sumeragi waved her hand and a photo of the building appeared, superimposed over the outline that had been there moments before. They could all see, now, the flame-licked blackened bricks on the upper two stories and the row of shattered windows that has long since been boarded up with rough plywood.

“What kind of security?” he asked.

“Minimal,” Feldt said. “Trespass notices and padlocks on the front and back doors that you could get through with a bolt cutter. We didn’t detect anything on the roof. And there’s only one working camera on the back door from the alleyway.”

“And I’ll be able to take care of that, no problem,” Chris told him.

“What do you think?” Sumeragi asked Lockon.

“That’ll be perfect,” he said. Then he turned back to speak directly to Allelujah, “From that rooftop, I’ll have a good view of everything happening in that alleyway.”.

Allelujah stared with one wide eye, then nodded slowly. Lockon nodded back, reassuringly, as he sat down again.

“If all goes well,” Sumeragi resumed, also addressing Allelujah now, “there will be no danger to you whatsoever. But you will need to make a very quick exit once this goes down,” she told him. “Veda and I have marked out eight different escape routes. I will be assessing in real time and Chris will be on your line, dedicated to guiding you out. You’re not going to be alone on this.”

Allelujah’s clenched fists went even whiter but he nodded.

“And if all doesn’t go well?” Tieria asked, pointedly.

“Well,” Sumeragi pulled back and crossed her arms as she mused, “That’s why Lockon’s there.”

[misssophiachase]

Yess lemme help a fellow procrastinator procrastinate. AU/AH. I did this but I wanna read your version of it. Klaus is a well known porn star and caroline is his biggest fan and she meets him for the first time!

Thanks, lovely lady, sorry for the delay. Yes! I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this prompt before somewhere, not sure my version will compare at all. I did change the premise quite a bit to suit me but I hope you still like it. Title and lyrics by U2.

Even Better than the Real Thing

Las Vegas, NV

Give me one more chance…

The crowded, front stage was heaving and it seemed to swell more every time he blinked. It shouldn’t have been a surprise given his successful career, popularity and the fact it was the annual Adult Entertainment Convention in Las Vegas. 

He’d attended it for years, Klaus actually losing count how many times, but it seemed as if the whole experience had somehow become increasingly tedious and manufactured. 

Klaus hated to admit he’d retired from the industry because it made him feel so damn old and not because he missed the attention.

He still craved attention. 

But only from one person. 

As he combed the crowd, madly hoping a set of expressive, blue eyes he knew as well as his own would materialize.

But they didn’t. 

She wasn’t there.

He felt his chest constrict at the prospect. Most guys would die to have women screaming his name and throwing their best underwear on stage but Klaus was immune to such things by now. 

Today, all he felt was numb. He had been ever since she told him it was over. 

For good.

Well, my heart is where it’s always been…

His publicist nudged him in the ribs, gesturing to the nearby signing table. Klaus slightly relieved the part where they ogled every part of his body (well, mostly his famous, oversized appendage) was over and now purely about talking with the fans securely behind a wooden desk. 

Klaus could never begrudge them or their intense enthusiasm. They were the reason for his popularity and high earnings. 

He’d arrived from England orphaned, poor and desperate at first but the world of adult entertainment had captured his attention. Mainly for the money to support his siblings at first but then it had become an addictive drug he’d learned to embrace. And the best part?

He could have fun and turn off his emotions at the same time. Win-win. 

Well, that was until he met her.

Feisty. Articulate. Gorgeous.

She’d interrupted one of his first signings in Los Angeles, an anthropology major at UCLA suggesting ways he could make his acting more believable to represent human nature. It was a clear protest given everything about her screamed girl-next-door.

But he could see there was much more.

Caroline Forbes was both stunning and intelligent. Blonde, blue eyes and a steely resolve Klaus knew he could never break, nor did he want to. This brilliant woman was going to be the death of him, not that he minded.  

If Klaus wasn’t so smitten he would have told her where she could shove her acting suggestions but he didn’t. 

In fact, he’d let her show him exactly what she meant over multiple dates and outings. And he couldn’t argue with her suggestions at all, told her she could be his consultant. Caroline Forbes being Caroline Forbes had told him she liked to boss him around for free.

He hadn’t kept the smile off his lips for days. 

Well, until she decided their arrangement was purely professional, even unpaid. It killed Klaus that he could look but not touch. 

His casual flings dried up completely as he tried everything he could to convince Caroline Forbes he wasn’t the player the media portrayed him as. Fast forward two years and Elvis married them in Vegas. The convention each year had served as their anniversary celebrations. 

Until now.

This year was the first they wouldn’t celebrate because she wanted to dissolve their marriage. 

My head is somewhere in between…

It hurt.

So much so that he’d struggled to attend at first. Sure they’d had their issues but Klaus hoped they weren’t too far gone. He shuffled his way to the signing table, not bothering to look upwards at first. Until someone spoke.

“You’re even hotter in real life,” she purred, Klaus looked up probably against his better judgment given his current x-rated view of her left breast. “Can you please sign…”

“Woah, no need to flash the flesh, dear,” another voice intervened. “Trust me, he’s the kind of guy that will forget birthdays, kill your goldfish ‘chips’, forget to put the toilet seat down then…”

He knew her melodic voice all too well and while Klaus was glad she’d appeared, even at a completely inopportune time, he hated lies and needed to set them straight.

“I forgot your cousin Hayley’s birthday mainly because she hates me and our other goldfish ‘fish’ actually ate ‘chips’, I was trying to spare you the grief, love. As for the toilet seat, I am a male, we just can’t help ourselves.”

“Um, all I wanted was an autograph,” the confused girl stammered. Klaus immediately felt bad she’d been caught in the crossfire.

“Of course you do, would you mind lending me a pen to sign the divorce papers when you’re finished?” Caroline asked. 

Klaus was struggling not to react, his wife was testing his resolve. But that wasn’t unexpected. The fireworks between them had only intensified in recent months. If only they could settle their disputes in a more private and civilized way, his king-sized bed would be the perfect venue.

“I only have this…” the girl offered feebly, looking between the couple in complete confusion. 

“Lipstick?” She murmured, before inspecting it closely. “Mmmm, I don’t think the law looks too favorably on Malibu Pink, right Klaus?”

“I don’t think the law discriminates by lipstick shade,” he growled. 

“Wait, are you two married?” Someone a few people down in the line shrieked. 

“Apparently,” he conceded. “Until the lipstick dries, right love?”

“Oh my god,” she murmured, the crowd seemed to erupt, surrounding the ‘happy’ couple all at once. 

“Is he really that skilled with his cock?”

“And his mouth? Those crimson lips are to die for, I know where I want them on my body.”

“How does he do that thing exactly with his tongue during ‘69?”

Klaus could see his publicist furiously shouting on her mobile, but for some reason, the feeling of her body slammed against him in the resulting chaos calmed him.

She always had that effect on him. 

Klaus was waiting for her to pull away as usual but she clung onto him before offering an answer to the multitude of questions hurled her way. “A lady never talks.”

The crowd, obviously upset by her non-response, decided to revolt. He grabbed her securely, signaling to his publicist to send the limo to the underground carpark of the Bellagio and an extra couple of reinforcements to get them through the increasingly hostile crowd.

“What’s the matter with these people?”

“They like a lot of details,” he offered, his lips brushing her earlobe. “We are at an Adult Exhibition Convention after all.” She gave him an uncertain look before stepping away. He was worried about her safety at first until she yelled out for the benefit of the crazed crowd. 

“Klaus Mikaelson is everything he purports to be on film.  His cock is really that huge, a little crooked but he uses that particular trait to his and my benefit. His mouth and tongue meanwhile are equally legendary.” 

Klaus had every intention to intervene but hearing her talk about his prowess this way had rendered him briefly useless. So too the crazy hordes who decided they loved Caroline and all the details she had to offer.

“So, why exactly are you divorcing him?” She’d been unable to respond to that, which piqued his interest, but it helped her that the reinforcements arrived in a timely manner.

Oh my god,” Caroline hissed, pacing back and forward in his hotel room ninety minutes later. “What will the Sheriff think?”

“That you have a healthy, sex life?”

“Not helping, Mikaelson,” she groaned. “I came here to get a divorce, not embroil myself in some scandal.”

“So, why say those things? Why even show up here? Were you trying to embarrass me because you obviously got your wish.” 

“I’ll admit my intentions weren’t so pure at the outset, but I gave your cock the best damn review you’ll ever get.”

“You said he’s crooked.”

“And he is, which is the best way to reach those places most guys can’t,” she purred, her left eyebrow cocked mischievously.

“Oh really?”

“I didn’t come here to stroke your oversized ego, blame the huge, crazy, unrelenting female contingent,” Caroline shot back. 

“I know why you came,” Klaus murmured, gruffly. “Just give me the papers if you hate me so much.” 

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered, only loud enough to be heard. “I’m just so scared.”

“I would never hurt you, sweetheart. You know that.” 

“Scared that I’m not enough and that there will always be something better around the corner on your next road trip.”

“I’m basically retired by choice and last time I got feisty on a road trip was when you stowed away with the luggage in Nashville.” 

“That was fun,” she shared before switching back to reality. “I’m sorry, I’ve been dishonest with you and a little crazy because of all these foreign hormones. I mean I totally meant to crash your signing in LA all those years ago but not today because..”

“You’re pregnant?” He asked huskily, his eyes dropping to her toned belly thinking of what could be. 

“I am,” she conceded sheepishly. “I meant to share this in a much more private and controlled setting not tell the world all about your appendage.”

“You are amazing and, not just because you told everyone how well endowed I am, love.”  

“Have I ever told you how much of a conceited ass you are?”

“Not enough obviously,” he shared. “I love you, Caroline Forbes. I’ve seen plenty of fake in my industry but you truly are even better than the real thing.”

[spierfics]

Can you do a fic where Simon and Bram are hanging out at Bram’s house and a massive storm moves through and Simon finds out that Bram is terrified of them because of something that happened when he was a kid?

From Distant Drums - Spierfeld Fic

The uneasiness began when Bram heard the first rumble of thunder. It was far off in the distance, but Bram knew it would be a matter of time before he’d be in the middle of it. 

All alone.

His mother was out of town for the weekend, a “convention” she called it. But Bram knew it that sometimes the stress of everything got to her and she needed a getaway.

A flash of lightning caught his eye and Bram counted the seconds out loud to figure out how far the storm was; it was one of the coping mechanisms his father taught him.

“One, two thr-“ he whispered to himself when a considerably louder clap of thunder rendered him silent.

He wrapped himself in a throw blanket from the nearest sofa and grabbed his phone. If anything would distract him, this would.

Simon almost missed the texts on his phone, unable to hear the buzzing due to his Spotify playlist blasting through his headphones.

I need help

Bram? everything okay?

I’m sorry. That sounded overdramatic

you forget who you’re speaking to

what’s wrong?

I need a movie recommendation that will serve as a distraction and also make me laugh

bee movie

you answered that way too fast

really, Si?

yup. guaranteed to make you feel better. either you’ll appreciate it for its superior comedy or you’ll laugh at how dumb it is.

ok. I trust you

you haven’t been watching horror movies tonight have you? I know your mom’s at that convention.

no, it’s not that

what is it then?

Bram took a few moments to answer and it was then Simon learned he had a fear of storms. His next actions were instinctual, immediately running down the stairs and grabbing his car keys.

“Hey, bud? Need something from the car?”

His father was working in the office and had caught him in the foyer.

“Bram’s alone dad,” Simon answered.

“Still not hearing a case here,” Simon’s dad answered with a confused smile.

“His mom’s at a conference and he’s scared of storms. Like phobia-scared,” Simon glanced at his phone quickly to see if Bram had texted him again.

Jack took a deep breath, “Okay. Just let me drive you there,”

sorry. mom needed me to take bieber out.

in this storm??!

when bieber has his mind made up, nobody can convince him otherwise.

i see he got that from you :)

i gave him the skills he needed to survive in this world

Before Simon knew it, his father was turning into Bram’s driveway.

“Okay, I’m trusting you bud,”

“Thanks, dad,” Simon replied gathering his things. “Mom won’t mind, right?”

“I’ll cross that bridge for both of us,”

The sound of the doorbell was the last thing Bram expected to hear at this time of night. He was not proud of the yelp it produced, but Bram knew it was the nerves along with his imagination running wild. He could think of a hundred different scenarios which involved thunderstorms and murder, and they all started with a stranger at his door.

But Bram got the courage to rush to the window and pull back the curtains. There was no stranger at his doorstep, quite the opposite, but it was still someone who made Bram’s heart race.

“Surprise!” Simon said with a smile when Bram opened the door.

“What- How did you get here?” Bram looked outside. “You didn’t drive did you!?”

Even in this terrified state, Bram was still looking out for him. Simon shook his head, easing Bram’s worries. Well, at least some of them.

“You didn’t come all the way here for me did you?” Bram wondered sheepishly.

“Well I could have watched the Bee Movie by myself, but I realized that everything’s much better with you around,” Simon reached for Bram’s hand, squeezing him to let him know he wasn’t going anywhere.

They were happily distracted until halfway through the film when everything went dark.

Bram’s scream was accompanied with the thunder and Simon realized just how frightened Bram was.

“Hey, I’m here,” Simon mumbled softly, wrapping an arm around Bram’s waist. “I have an idea, but first…”

Simon reached for his phone, turning on the flashlight. “Better. Where’s yours?”

Bram turned on his flashlight and illuminated the room further.

“And now we head to the kitchen,” Simon explained.

Bram followed him closely, as they made their way to the kitchen. Simon found a pack of candles and a couple of flashlights.

Simon wondered if he should make a joke about candles and a romantic evening, but considering the state that Bram was in he decided against it. He had a better idea.

“Okay, we’re on a mission now,” Simon said seriously. “You need to point me in the direction of cocoa powder, milk, and mini-marshmallows if possible.

Bram was out of marshmallows, but they made do with the rest of the ingredients, and within ten minutes, the two of them made their way back to the living room with their own warm mugs of hot cocoa.

The sounds of the thunderstorm were slowly dissipating, but Simon insisted he was going to spend the night. They had made a make-shift bed in the living room, Bram didn’t have the nerve to go upstairs in the middle of the night.

Simon had been quiet for a while, and Bram had figured out why. They sat close together underneath a shared blanket, so Bram nudged him with his knee.

“Yeah?” Simon answered.

“You haven’t said anything for a while,”

“Just thinking,”

Yup. Bram’s inkling was confirmed. “You want to know why I’m so afraid of storms,”

“No! I mean, kind of. But then I also realized that you don’t necessarily need to have a reason, but…”

“Well that is true, but I do have a reason,” Bram said, and I don’t really know why I haven’t told you before. “I guess after every storm, I always feel like that’s the last time I’ll be scared of it, and I’m proven wrong again and again,”

“Bram…you don’t have to,”

“But I want to,” Bram said, setting aside his mug and grabbing Simon’s hands. “I feel like someday I’ll reveal too much and that would be the last straw for you,”

“Last straw?” Simon repeated, “Bram. Nothing about you will ever be a ‘last straw’ for me. There’s never been a ‘first straw’. There are no straws in this relationship,”

Bram laughed, Simon could always make him do that, laugh at the times he needed it most.

“Okay, so I was about eight-years-old, visiting my cousins’ place for the summer. It was one of those family gatherings where everybody stays in the same house and by the end of the week you all remember why you hate each other,”

Simon laughed but told Bram to continue.

“I was always the odd one out in my family, I guess.” Bram shrugged, and Simon could tell by his expression that this was something that still bothered him. “A scrawny little kid who always looked different than everyone on my mom’s side and my dad’s side,”

“Bram,” Simon mumbled softly, wanting nothing more than to hold him close at that moment.

“Anyways, there was this massive storm one night, and they ambushed me outside of the hallway bathroom,” Bram paused there for a second, but built up the nerve to continue. “They took me to the shed outside and bolted the door shut, I was there till morning when my mom found me,”

Bram could tell by the shaky breath Simon took that this was no easy story to listen to, Bram hated recounting it. But he also hated keeping something from Simon.

“Si?”

“I’d kill them,”

Bram couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Simon sounded so uncharacteristically angry.

“They were kids,” Bram reasoned.

“So were you!” Simon said, louder than Bram had expected, and Simon immediately apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud. But I do mean what I said, if I ever met your cousins, they’d need to watch their backs,”

“I’m over it,” Bram said, “Well. Not completely, obviously. Storms are still horrible for me, but I’ve forgiven them.”

“I have not,” Simon said stubbornly, causing Bram to once again laugh at his indignant attitude.

“I guess what scares me the most is being a fifty-year-old man who’s still terrified of storms,”

“Would it be too presumptuous of me to say that I’d still be there to comfort you?”

Bram felt his heart skip a beat, knowing that Simon had completely put himself out there for Bram’s sake at that moment.

He leaned in slowly and gave Simon a soft kiss. “Nope. In fact, the only thing that puts those fears to rest is imagining you right by my side,”

[stressedasalways]

Not Like The Movies (3/8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2.5K

Story Summary: Today was just a bad day.  The simple mission had gone south. What started as an easy data extraction ended with you clutching your side trying not to bleed out.  And who should come to your rescue but the reclusive Avenger himself.

Story Warning(s): swearing, mentions of blood. All the Fluff

A/N - Smaller chapter as I needed it to end where it did.  More is coming. As always thank you so much for all your messages/likes/reblogs/reaction gifs.  I would let you all use the Stark drink machine if I could! 

AO3 Link  

Tumblr Links: Masterlist  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7  Part 8

You skipped back to the golden elevator. Since you were by yourself it of course did absolutely nothing.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Agent L/N”

“Can you open the elevator?”

“I’m sorry Agent L/N you do not have access to this elevator.” You scrunched up your face and waited the few minutes before it did open with Bucky inside smiling.

“What’s with the face?” he immediately asked as you came in.

“It wouldn’t open for me.” you fake pouted.

Bucky snickered. “Just because you think F.R.I.D.A.Y and you have some friendship does not mean she will grant you access to a restricted area.”

“I thought me and her had an understanding.”

He rolled his eyes at you as the doors opened to the Avengers common room. You immediately beelined to the fancy drink machine getting yourself the next creation on your to be tried list.

“I’m starting to think you are only my friend because of that machine.” he laughed as he saw you take a large sip of your concoction, a huge smile of contentment on your face.

“I guess the jigs up Buckster. It was all part of my master plan. Getting shot, making your think I’m so amazing that you invite me up the the golden floor. And I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for that meddling F.R.I.D.A.Y not letting me up solo.”

“You are the most ridiculous person I know doll.”

To stop your knees from buckling you shoved your drink in his face, “Whaddya think?”

To his credit he only looked at it strangely for a second before taking the drink from your hand and taking a sip. “Hmmm. Not bad.” he licked his lips and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

“Good, you can have that one then while I make something else.”

“You don’t like it?

“Oh no, I actually think it's amazing. But I just have way too many drinks to try and not enough stomach or bladder or time to try them all.”

“Maybe you need to do what those wine tasters do. Line them all up and spit out after you try them.”

Your eyes got huge with the idea.

“No, no , no” he laughed. “That was not a real suggestion.”

“Well no of course not.” you could see relief wash over his face. “I could never spit these amazing drinks out. But I could just take a small sip of each one until I tried them all.”

“Uhhhhhhhhh” Bucky had no idea what to say.

“I love nothing more than watching you squirm Barnes. Now I believe you owe me the rest of the tour.”

You looked around at the sad looking gym. I mean, if you were staying at a Holiday Inn it may have been impressive. But as the private gym on the Avengers floor. It was shit.

It was clear this room was originally something else. Storage or maybe originally a part of a unit. But it has since been retrofitted with some sound paneling, a few machines, some weights and what appeared to be one the super soldier punching bags.

“This gym is depressing Bucky. It’s making me sad. It is literally stealing the happiness of the drink machine from my soul.”

“Don’t be so over dramatic.”

“I am never over dramatic, I am always the perfect level of dramatic. By the way, I spoke to Emma today, I’m going to start my PT tomorrow.”

“That's great! It means your healing up nicely.” Your face was squished up with thought and Bucky knew he was about to be convinced of something.

“Eh. She wants me back to rookie shape. ROOKIE. SHAPE. Do you know how much I hated my life when I was in rookie shape. A lot. It meant long workouts and running and god cutting out carbs and sugar!” You very dramatically placed your hand over your forehead, really playing it up.

“Never over dramatic my ass.”

You glared between your fingers. “Now none of that, especially when we are about to bargain.” Bucky took a deep breath. “So since it's your fault I was shot.”

“Now wait a minute, we never established that. I wasn’t even the one that sweeped that section.”

“He who smelt it dealt it Bucky.”

“What?!”

“You were the one that came to help cause you were the closest, cause it was your fault. Case closed, moving along.”

“No, No’ he laughed. “No moving on.”

“So you’re saying you want me to ask Romanoff whose fault it was. Or Barton? What are the chances they say it was their fault? What are the chances they blame the other one? Now what are the chances they blame you, the outsider who is not their closest friend.”

Bucky was at a loss. He swore you could sell sand in the desert.

“So now that we’ve established it was your fault I was shot. It is now also your fault I must give up good food, and work out even harder then I did when I was in some semblance of shape so I can match what I was when I was young.”

“Young? When was this a whole 3 years ago.”

“Shh… We are bargaining. This requires tact.”

Bucky sighed but could not hide the twitch of a smile.

“So, as I was saying. I now must work out, 5 days a week. And I am going to hate it. I even hate the idea of it. But you know what I hate more? Doing it alone. I need a gym buddy. Someone to help motivate me and keep me going. And destiny has chosen you Bucky because you owe me because you got me shot.” you always said the shot part dripping with sarcasm to make sure he knew there was no real blame. “Now Emma could probably be convinced to come up to this sad sad shell of a room. But it doesn't have the equipment I need. So then I won’t be getting the treatment I need to fully heal. And before you say you will move stuff or do whatever to bring my equipment in here. That still wouldn't help. Because this room is sad Bucky. It is the shitty gym. It's the main gyms sad inbred cousin who people are shocked has not been hit by a car crossing the street. I need the good gym Bucky, not only for my body but for my soul. Don’t make me work out in this sad gym. Cause then I will cry, and I’m sure it's hard to be all super duper soldier man with a sobbing woman in the corner.”

Bucky just shook his head. “Are you quite done?”

“Possibly.” you crossed your arms trying to look intimidating.

“I mean you were shot.” he said in the same flirty tone he had said in the Hydra warehouse.

“I was.” you smirked, already sensing your win.

“Fine, I will try my best to join you when you have PT. Mission dependent of course.”

And you leaped at him. He wasn’t expecting it but he managed to catch you as your wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thank you Bucky!” You knew this was a big deal for him. A really big deal. He was agreeing to put himself out there for you.

As you pulled away you sensed his hesitation as your faces were only inches apart, but the moment quickly passed as you settled your feet back on the floor.

“Now....off to the jacuzzi!”

The ensuite was obviously attached to Bucky’s room. You made the conscious decision to try your best to walk right through. Focusing on the place where he slept, being with him in front of his nice big bed? No. That was not an option right now.

The bathroom was insane. It literally could have been from any 5 star hotel. Which it probably was. You’d never thought about it, but it would make sense that Stark would have it designed by some fancy designer person. The shower was huge and encased in glass, it had the overhead rain spray as well as shower heads all over the walls.

“I’ve only ever seen a shower like this in a magazine. I mean...wow. Does it feel absolutely amazing.”

“You are going to get mad at me again.”

“No Bucky do not tell me you don’t use all the options?” You could not believe this man.

“Sorry. I don’t need all those buttons and switches to just get clean. Showers are not meant to be this complicated.”

You sighed, “But, I mean, look at it! Ugh” you walked out of the shower and made your way to the tub. “I guess I will just have to teach you how amazing this shower can be.”

Thank god your back was turned to him. You did not mean to say that. Okay - maybe a little, But definitely not out loud. All you could think was please don’t say anything back, please don’t say anything back. Let it slide.

As you took the few steps to the massive tub you felt his hand lightly catch your wrist, pulling you to face him. Oh god.

His face looked like trouble personified. Your thoughts and heart began to race and all you could focus on was how he could probably feel your pulse with his hand.

“Is this something we can bargain?” the way his tongue rolled around the word made it sound like the hottest act imaginable.

You felt your breath hitch, and you could see the wicked smirk on his face grow. He’s never rendered you without a witty remark before, and you both could feel the power dynamics shift.

“Umm...I don’t remember you having access to add to the list.” you finally managed to whisper out.

He pulled in closer, you could feel the heat radiating off his whole body. “Well maybe I could convince you?”

His eyes never broke from yours as he ever so slowly got closer and closer. He removed his hand from your wrist and slowly placed it under your chin, directing you to look up at him.

You broke out into a nervous smile, “Maybe you can.” you whispered breathlessly.

“Maybe I can.” his breath was intoxicating on your face.

Just like that your lips finally made the contact you had been so desperately seeking since bleeding out on a Hydra floor.

He kept it sweet and slow, but the emotion behind it was intoxicating. As if he knew his other arm gripped around your back, keeping you steady. As the kiss ended he pulled his face just a fraction away before giving your lips two quick pecks before fully breaking contact.

“Fucking finally.” slipped quietly through your lips as you opened your eyes.

He laughed, placing his hands on your waist, careful of your left side, and pulling you back in for a hug. “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time doll.”

You leaned your head up against his chest to find his face. “What took you so long?” you giggled.

He kissed the top of your head, “Clearly I am a stupid stupid man.”

“Well, clearly.” you replied while squeezing him tight. Taking in his scent with deep breaths, no longer having to worry about crossing lines.

“I feel like this requires talking or something.”

You debated mocking him for a second, but you knew this was not the time. You could feel the change in the air. “Of course.”

“This is all very...new for me.” Bucky started. “I already feel like I fucked this up by taking so long, and then kissing you in the bathroom. The bathroom? Really?” his tone was joking but you could tell there was some truth hiding in there.

“Don’t you dare say bad words about this bathroom. This is the bathroom which started it all. Your offer of a jacuzzi is what pulled me through. Nothing could have been more perfect other than maybe somehow kissing me when we first met. But then I probably would have thought you were just using a dying girl.”

“You were never going to die.” he laughed but you could sense the relief in his voice. He pulled away and sat on the edge of the tub and you quickly sat beside him, angling yourself more to face him. He started moving his hands through his hair and you could tell he was literally a nervous wreck. So you grabbed his hand and held it within both of yours. “Your hands are freezing.”

“I told you I run cold.” you smirked which seemed to ease him.

“Can I just spit some stuff out?”

You nodded.

“It’s been...Shit doll its been a very long time. I’m still trying to fully remember myself. And I feel like an idiot with you. You make me want to be who I used to be, even though I don’t really know who he was.”

“Bucky. I don’t know that person, I never would have. You are the person I know. You are the person who makes me laugh, who makes me feel safe, who flirts with me so hard I thought I was going to spontaneously combust a few times.” you laughed.

He snickered, “You didn’t play fair yourself.”

“I never agreed to play fair. I made my choice when we met in that base. I was gonna flirt with you or die trying.”

“Is it….” the question never left his lips.

“Tell me. Never feel you can’t tell me anything.” you said steadily.

“I feel it sounds childish, but can we take this slow?”

God, he was such an idiot. Did he really think that would scare you, or make you feel he was less than? You couldn't imagine his history. You hoped one day he could help you know more of it, no matter how painful. But for him to feel weak because of it?

“Bucky...absolutely. We don’t need to rush into anything. We are just us, and we will find our way together... Can I kiss you?” you whispered the end.

“Always.” he smiled before you gave him a chaste kiss.

“We will keep this between us for now. It’s only our business anyway.” you stated, knowing that was something he would want and wanted to save him the agony of trying to say it.

“Thank you. You know a very large part of me wants nothing more than to scream from the rooftops that I am lucky enough to be with you. But I’m not there yet.”

“I know, and I’m totally fine with that. This place is more gossipy than a high school, even us just being friends has had everyone talking. We don’t owe them anything we don’t want to give them.”

You sensed Bucky had gotten what he needed to say out, which seemed the perfect opportunity to lighten the mood.

“Now, if you don’t mind, you managed to distract me from fully meeting the tub” He laughed as you climbed in and maneuvered yourself so you were leaning fully back against one side. Your feet were fully stretched out and nowhere near to touching the end. Although you didn’t want to say it now, all you could picture was how perfect this tub was for two.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that doll.” And this time there was no hiding the emotion behind it all.

“I know.”

Part 4

Tags:   @waaaaaaitwhat​  @i-think-i-am-adorable  @quierdoofthestars  @moli1497  @ohhhotstan   @dani11708  @emabookcookie  @fairislesheets

[argyle-s]

The Shape of Things To Come Chapter 9/38

Rating: Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Supergirl doesn't cause an environmental disaster, Kara and Alex talk, and Cat gets demanding.

Thanks to @ifourmindbeso for her great work as a beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Chapter 9 - Fighting Fires

Kara turned in mid-air as the missiles closed on her, flying backwards as she hit one of them with a blast of heat vision, causing it to explode.  She turned slightly, focusing on the remaining missile, and blew out a huge blast of freeze breath, encasing the missile in ice.  The freezing temperature caused the fuel pump to seize, which made the missile lose thrust, and pitch downwards.  She watched it fall, her breath having rendered it so cold it shattered on impact.

“Okay,” Alex said over the radio, “come on in.”

Kara laughed, knowing she was being called in because they were now out of missiles.  She twisted slightly, shooting back towards the small command post.  She slowed as she approached, dropping subsonic so she didn’t shatter any of the equipment, and finally pulled up at the last minute, then drifted down to a gentle landing.

“How was that?” she asked J’onn.

“I see you share your cousin’s appetite for wanton destruction, Miss Danvers” J’onn said.

Kara rolled her eyes.  “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re going to be an asset.  A novice Superhero can be a liability in the field.  So far, all you’ve proven is you can manage an intelligence asset.  I need to know you can control all of your abilities.  Strength, Stamina, Speed.”

“Well, are you convinced yet?” Kara asked.  “Because I wanna go get some breakfast and if I don’t get something to eat soon, you’re gonna see me not controlling the growling in my stomach and trust me, that’s not pretty.”

“She’s right,” Alex said.  “No one ever comes out of that looking pretty.”

Both Kara and Alex turned around at the sound of a loud chuckle behind them, only to find Vasquez standing there, holding a large bag.

“Are those…?” Kara asked, not bothering to finish her sentence as she took two steps towards Vasquez.

“Breakfast burritos from that grill down the 975,” Vasquez said.  “Extra hot sauce.”

“Oh, Rao Light,” Kara said as Vasquez handed her the bag.  “Marry me?”

Vasquez laughed.  “I think my girlfriend would object.”

Kara sat the bag on one of the work tables and pulled out a burrito, peeling the foil off it.  “Does she cook?  If so, bring her along.  I’ll marry you both.”

“Kara,” Alex said.

Vasquez just laughed harder.  “I do most of the cooking, but she’s the jealous type.”

Kara took a huge bite out of the burrito, chewing quickly, before swallowing.  “If you can cook, I can see why.”  She held up the burrito slightly.  “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, ma’am.  My girlfriend was one of the agents on the plane with Alex, so I figure I owe you one.”

Kara smiled, and nodded.  “Glad I could help,” she said, before she wolfed down the rest of her burrito, and reached for a second one.

“Are you heading into work today?” Alex asked.

Kara shook her head, mouth too full of food to speak.  She swallowed.  “No.  Cat never works on the weekends she has Carter.  I thought once we were done, I’d do a few runs through the city, rescue some kittens from trees, show the coat of arms.  That sort of thing.”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Kara?  I know you talked to your Aunt but there are still a lot of Fort Rozz escapees out there.”

“Well, if you’d rather, I could take you out to Sanctuary.”

“Really?”

Kara nodded.  “Absolutely.  I’ve got something out there I want you to see anyway.  Something I think would be a huge help-“

“Supergirl.  Come in, Supergirl” Winn’s voice suddenly rang in her ear.

Kara reached up and touched her eat piece.  “Hey, Winn, what’s up?”

“There’s a huge fire raging down at National City port, and it is bad,” Winn said.

“I’m on it,” Kara said.  She turned to Alex.  “Fire down at the port.  Don’t let anyone eat my burritos.”

“Are you sure, Kara?  You’ve been dodging missiles and pushing pretty hard.  Even you have your limits.”

“I know,” Kara said, “but this is just a bit of x-ray vision, some freeze breath.  No big deal.  I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Just… Be careful, okay.”

“I will.  Love you.”  With that, Kara kicked off and shot into the sky, but not without hearing her sister’s answering ‘Love you too’.

***

The fire was as big and as intimidating as she remembered, but this time, as she approached, she spotted the source using her X-ray vision.  One of the pipelines used to pump oil off the tankers was ruptured and feeding the fire, which explained why her freeze breath hadn’t worked the last time.  She spotted the fire chief, and dropped down beside him.

“Chief,” she said.

“Thank God,” he said.  “Can you blow this out?”

“No,” Kara replied.  “Not yet.  There’s a leaking oil line inside the flames.  If I hit it with my freeze breath, it will just spread the fire.”

“Shit,” he said.  “Can you move the tanker?”

“Not unless you have tow chains handy.  If I try to just grab on and drag it, the welds will split open like a rotten banana.  I need to go into the fire, and cut off the fuel supply.  While I do that, move your water line between the flames and the ship, to hold it back.  Buy me five minutes, and I’ll be able to put this out.”

“Okay,” he said.  “Will do.”

Kara nodded and lifted off again as he shifted his men’s focus to pushing the edge of the fire back and controlling the advance instead of trying to put it out.  She dove into the heart of the inferno and grabbed a barrel, tearing it in half and slapped the metal over the tear in the oil pipe.  A careful blast from her heat vision formed a weld which would hold for a while, then she kicked off, rising above the fire, and carefully used her freeze breath to put out the flames, as well as cool off the oil-filled pipes.

Once she was done, she flew back over to the chief.

“Okay, you need to get a repair crew in here as fast as possible.  I’ve welded a piece of steel over the tear in the pipe, but the steel is low quality, and the weld isn’t especially solid since I couldn’t clean or prep the surfaces or get it hot enough to boil out the impurities without risking setting off what was in the pipe.”

The chief nodded.  “Right.  Is it cool enough to go in?”

“Yes,” she said.  “You want me to show you?”

“Please.”

***

“Either I finally managed to get the last of the smell out, or my sense of smell has just given up on me,” Kara said as she came out of the DEO locker room dressed in a black t-shirt, and a black pair of BDU pants that had been tucked away in some storage locker or other, along with a fresh pair of boots and socks.

Alex sniffed, “Definitely the latter,” she said.

Kara reached out and gave her a light shove.  “Shut up,” she said.  “Seriously, that was terrible.”

“Yeah, it was bad enough with a human nose,” Alex said.  “I can’t even imagine with a Kryptonian one.”

“Any progress on the suit?” Kara asked.

“That’s probably going to take more time.”

“Just have them put it in a sealed bag,” Kara said.  “I’ll take care of it at home.”

“How are you going to get home” Alex asked.

“Drive me?”

***

Kara sat the oversized bag of subs down on the counter as Alex locked the door behind them, and reached for a plate for Alex and a serving platter for herself.  She took a moment to fish out Hot Pastrami and the bag of Salt and Vinegar chips and put them on a plate, before carefully arranging her two cheese steaks and two meatball subs on the platter.

“Where do you want this?” Alex asked, holding up the sealed biohazard bag containing Kara’s Supergirl suit.

“Konex,” Kara said, grinning.  “End stealth mode.”

Alex jumped a bit as Konex decloaked.

“How can I be of assistance, Lady Kara?” the robot asked

“Kara,” Alex said, “What is that?”

Kara turned around and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a diet coke for Alex and a two liter of grape soda for herself.  “He’s a Kryptonian tier-four cyber-construct, designed to operate as a personal attendant.”

“Okay,” Alex said.  “And you didn’t think to mention him back when we were growing up?”

Kara laughed.  “Clark has one named Kelex in his stronghold up north.  One of the first things I got from J’onn when we started working together was a crystal containing Konex’s memories.  He was my personal attendant growing up.  Kelex was able to build him a new body last year and download the memories from the crystal.  I would have told you about him, but I couldn’t figure out how to do that without telling you I’d gotten stuff out of my pod.”

Alex frowned.  “Kara, I’ve been all over your pod.  Everything that was in it is catalogued at the DEO.”

“You didn’t know about the hidden compartment behind the seat,” Kara said.  “Konex, this is Alex Danvers.  Scan for identity match, and execute stored order four.”

Kara watched as Konex approached Alex and scanned her briefly.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Alex.”

“What just happened?” Alex asked.

“Konex just added your biometrics and genetic profile to the security protocols for his control programs, as well as for those of Sanctuary.  In short, if anything happens to me, the chain of command goes You, Kal-El, J’onn, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne.  There’s a list of people after that, but honestly, right now, you’re the only person who even knows they are on the list.”

Alex turned to look at her.  “Diana Prince and Bruce Wayne? Why… What…” Alex raised her free hand to cover her face.

Kara took pity on her and walked over, taking the bag with her Supergirl outfit and handing it to Konex.

“Clean that, please,” she said.  “Or, if it’s easier, just recycle it and make a new one.  Also, while you’re working, make me about twenty spares, and fit them all with anti-Kryptonite shields, and spare coms.”

“Yes, Lady Kara.”

She turned back to Alex, carefully prying her hand away from her face.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Alex shook her head.  “No, I shouldn’t react like this.  It’s just…”

“A week ago, I was your baby sister.  Now, I’m pulling super advanced AI-controlled robots out of thin air and telling you Bruce Wayne is Batman and Diana Prince is Wonder Woman,” Kara said.  “I get it.  Believe me.  I was on the other side of this once, and I did not handle it well.”

“Can we just sit down for a bit?” Alex said.

Kara nodded.  “Go ahead.  I’ll grab the food and be right there.”

Alex walked over and dropped down on the couch.  Kara gathered up their food and made her way over to sit down next to her sister.  They ate in silence, Kara doing her best to eat at a human pace.  She was finished with all four of her subs and about halfway through a family-sized bag of sour cream and onion potato chips when Alex finally spoke up.

“How much more haven’t you told me?” Alex asked.

Kara sat down the bag of chips.  “Big things, or little things?”

“Big things?” Alex asked.

Kara thought about it for a minute, before answering.  “Two,” she said.  “There are two big things I haven’t told you yet.  The first is how I found out about all of this, and believe me when I say that it’s not something I want to keep to myself, but I can’t tell you about the first one without telling you about the second one.  The second one is…”  Kara took a deep breath.  “I’m afraid the second one will make you hate me,” she said.

“Kara,” Alex said, turning towards her, “You’re my sister, and I love you, no matter what.”

Kara nodded.  “I love you too, Alex, but sometimes secrets can drive even the closest people apart.”

“Then why not just tell me?” Alex asked.

“Because you’d die,” Kara said.

“Kara, I’m not-“

“Alex,” Kara said, cutting her off, “I know how good you are.  I would trust you to have my back in any fight.  In fact, I’m pretty sure, if push comes to shove, you could take down a Kryptonian as long as you had time to prepare for the fight.  But if I told you about this, you’d want to do something.  Because you’re good and kind and one of the most loving, caring people I’ve ever met.  But this isn’t a fight you can win.  Not right now.  Not while we’ve got Fort Rozz to deal with.”

“Kara, you’re scaring me,” Alex said.  “Whatever this is, you shouldn’t have to carry it alone.  Please, let me help?”

Kara reached out and took Alex’s hands on hers, squeezing them as she looked at her sister, and remembering the last time they’d had a secret between them.  The fallout from her sister lying about who killed Astra had nearly destroyed National City.  It wasn’t a good memory, and the truth was, it had taken a long time for her to really get over it.  The Red K incident had been proof of that.

The issue wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alex, it was that she knew Alex.  If she told Alex, there was a good chance Alex would do something stupid, like go after Cadmus on her own.  On the other hand, if she didn’t tell anyone, and something happened to her, the timeline could turn out even worse than before.  And there was the simple weight of the secret itself.

“If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t do anything.  Not until we deal with Fort Rozz.”

Alex nodded.  “I get it, Kara.  One threat at a time.”

Kara sighed.  “No, Alex, you don’t.  This isn’t small.  This isn’t like promising Eliza you’d finish your homework before you go surfing.  If you make this promise, you have to keep it, no matter how much it hurts. No matter what.  You have to keep it.  Okay?”

This time it seemed to get the message across.  Alex sat there, and Kara could see her thinking it over, considering it, before she finally nodded.  “Okay.  I promise.  I won’t do anything until we deal with Fort Rozz.”

Kara nodded.  “Have you ever heard of Project Cadmus?”

“Yeah.  Some sort of research project.  We send them samples from any aliens we capture, and if an alien dies, either during capture, or in their cell, we send the remains to Cadmus for study.”

“They don’t just study alien remains,” Kara said.  “Back before J’onn took over the DEO, Hank Henshaw…  The real Hank Henshaw, deliberately killed a lot of aliens and classified the kills as ‘killed resisting capture’ so he could funnel the remains to Cadmus. If you go through the records you’ll also find a lot of aliens who were ‘transferred to other holding facilities’, only they never arrived.  Instead, they wound up in Cadmus.  After J’onn took over and their supply of live aliens dried up, they started their own capture program.  Sam Lane procures for them sometimes too.”

“That’s horrible,” Alex said, “but-“

“They take humans, too,” Kara said.  She took a deep breath.  “This is the part I’ve been afraid to tell you…  Alex, they have Jeremiah.”

“What?” Alex said.  “They…  They have my dad’s body?”

Kara shook her head.  “No.  Not his body.”  Kara could see the exact moment realization struck.  She could see the mixture of hope and fear flooding into Alex.

“He’s…  He’s alive?” she asked.

Kara nodded.

“How long have you known?” Alex asked.

“Alex,” Kara said.  “You promised.”

“How long, Kara?”

Kara let go of Alex’s hands and reached up to grip her shoulders.  “Tell me you won’t do anything, Alex.”

“How long?” Alex asked, and Kara could hear the rage in her voice, but she didn’t answer.  She just waited.  “He’s my father,” Alex said.  “We have to do something.  We have to help him!”  Alex tried to stand up, but Kara held her in place, her grip firm enough that there wasn’t anything Alex could do, but gentle enough that Alex didn’t hurt herself.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Kara said.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Let me go,” Alex said.

“You promised,” Kara said.

The slap surprised them both.  One moment, Alex was sitting there, struggling, and the next, Kara felt the flat of Alex’s hand slam into the side of her face.  It was so unexpected, she didn’t have time to roll with it, and instead of hurting her, Alex ended up whimpering and cradling her hand.  Kara let her go, moving back a little bit as she looked down, checking with x-ray vision to make sure Alex hadn’t broken her hand.

Alex, for her part, was looking back, and forth between her hand, and Kara’s face.

“I…”

“It’s okay,” Kara said.

Alex shook her head.  “No.  No, it’s not.  I shouldn’t have…”

Kara reached out and took Alex’s injured hand in her own, blowing a very gentle stream of cool air over it.

“It’s okay,” Kara said.  “I’m the one who should be sorry.  It’s my fault Jeremiah was on that mission.  My fault Cadmus has him.  My fault Fort Rozz is here.  My fault Myriad is a threat.  My fault Cadmus even exists.”  She looked up into Alex’s eyes.  “Sometimes, I think it would have been better if I never made it off Krypton,” she said.

The look of horror on Alex’s face wasn’t something Kara expected to see in that moment, but on some level, it was comforting.

“No,” Alex said.  “No.  Kara, you can’t think like that.  Please.  I’m sorry.  You’re right, this is big and I just…” she shrugged, helplessly.

“Please, tell me you’ll keep your promise.  I swear, I have people working on getting your father out.  Clark knows almost everything I do about Cadmus and he’s got Wonder Woman and Batman for backup.  If they can get Jeremiah out, they will.”

Alex nodded.  “Okay,” she said.  “Okay.  But, as soon as Myriad is out of the way-“

“We find Cadmus, and we burn it to the ground,” Kara said.  “Every last bit of it.”

***

The next morning was rough.  Kara didn’t really need sleep, but she and Alex had talked for hours and it had been emotionally exhausting.  Kara had told her everything she could about Cadmus, leaving out only Lillian Luthor, Simon Tycho and Hank Henshaw’s involvement.  She’d told her everything about Astra, too, but it was all hard.  It was like draining an infected wound, only stopping before it was entirely clean, and bandaging it up with half the rot still inside.  There was so much she couldn’t tell her.  She’d wanted to talk about the battle of CatCo plaza, about the Third Army and the war of light, about Darkseid and the anti-life equation.

She couldn’t.  Not yet.  She couldn’t tell Alex until she was ready to tell J’onn, and she couldn’t tell J’onn until she could prove all of it, because it sounded insane.  Sometimes, she wondered if she was insane.  On the other hand, if she got to hug her sister in the morning before she went into work to see Winn and Cat, maybe insanity wasn’t so bad.

Though today was the day Cat demanded an interview with her in the original timeline.  She was wondering if that was still going to happen when the elevator door opened, and she saw Winn waiting for her, holding a large pink box.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Just a little something Maggie and I chipped in for,” he said, lifting the lid.

“Is that a brownie pizza?” she asked, her face splitting into an enormous smile.

“Yes,” he said.  “We wanted to do a cake, but we thought a ‘Congratulations on your first big disaster’ cake would be a little obvious.”

“Oh!” she squealed as she threw her arms around Winn, hugging him as tightly as she dared.  “Thank you,” she said.  “You have no idea how much I needed something like this this morning.”  She stepped back, still smiling at him as she picked up the envelope containing Cat’s morning mail from the reception desk, before heading over to her own desk.

Winn sat the brownie pizza down on her desk.  “You okay?” he asked.

“Rough weekend,” she said.  “Alex and I had a big fight.  We sorted it out.  And I saw my Aunt.”

“Your Aunt?” Winn asked.  “Like,” he made a wavey motion with his hand Kara assumed was supposed to indicate flying, “that Aunt?”

“Yes.  That probably went as well as could be expected,” she said.

‘Drunk, 9:00 AM.  That’s the last time I have breakfast with Ruth Bader Ginsberg.’

Kara shook her head as she reached for Cat’s coffee.  “She’s here,” she said as she lifted the lid and gave it a quick zap of heat vision.

“At least now I know how you do that,” Winn said as he dropped into his seat and pulled up his goof-off spreadsheet so it would look like he was working.

The door to the elevator opened, and Cat strode out.  Kara put the latte into her hand.

“Your latte, Ms. Grant,” she said.

Cat took a sip and let out a small moan of satisfaction.  “Hot, as always,” she said.  “Content meeting, two minutes.  My office.”

***

“I assume we’re all aware of Supergirl’s latest act of derring-do,” Cat said.

“Walking into a burning oil fire to cut off the fuel supply, then blowing the fire out,” James said.  “Pretty impressive for someone who’s only been on the job a week.”

“Hmmm, yes,” Cat said.  “Our girl has been making quite a showing of herself all over National City.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” James asked.

“It would be, if it weren’t the front-page story on the Daily Planet.  Their fifth, in as many days.  Which annoys me, because they already have their own go-to Superhero, and now they’re trying to steal mine.”

Cat stalked around from behind her desk to stand in front of it.  “Now, when I branded her, there was a certain implicit expectation that she would be gracing the pages of *our* publications.”  Cat turned towards Kara.  “Tell me something, Kara.”

“Hmmm, me?” Kara asked.

“Yes,” Cat answered.  “Do you really think it was coincidence that one of the Planet’s star reporters just happened through these offices last week?”

Kara shrugged.  “I never know with Clark.”

“Uh, huh,” Cat said.  “Well, coincidence or not, the Daily Planet is not taking Supergirl from us.  We are going to take back control of the Supergirl narrative, starting now.”

“How are we going to do that?” Dave asked.

“I want an interview,” Cat said.

“Okay,” Kara said.  “When would you like me to set that up?”

Every eye in the room turned towards her.

“You, Keira?” Cat asked.

“Don’t I usually schedule all your interviews?” she said.

Cat’s eyes narrowed.  “This one might be a little different.”

“Have I ever failed to deliver, Ms. Grant?”

“Do I need to bring up the Justin Bieber incident?”

“I believe there’s an amendment to my contract that prevents either of us from ever speaking of that again,” Kara said, shuddering.

Cat sighed.  “Fine.  Go ahead and see if you can arrange it, but I want a backup plan,” she said, turning to James.  “Do you think your friend in blue could arrange a sit down?”

“It doesn’t really work that way,” James said.

“Mmmm… Well, if Clark Kent, or for that matter, Lois Lane or any of the other hags over at the Planet get this before we do, I’m going to hold you and Keira personally responsible since you’re inviting the enemy into my house.”

“Now, I want a sit down with Supergirl.  A heart-to-heart, girl-to-girl.  By the end of the week.”  Cat waved her hand in a shooing gesture.  “Go get it.”

Kara started to turn around, but Cat’s voice stopped her.

“Not you, Keira,” she said.

Kara turned back to Cat.  “Something else I can do for you, Ms. Grant?”

Cat waited until the entire office was empty.  “You really think you can get me an interview with Supergirl?”

“I do.”

Cat stared at her for a moment, and let out a breath.  “You get me that interview and we’ll have a discussion about your salary, since apparently I’m not paying what other people are offering you.”

“That’s not necessary, Ms. Grant.”

“Yes, it is,” Cat said.  “You’re never going to get ahead if you don’t learn how to demand what you’re due, Keira.”

Kara stared back at Cat for a moment, then nodded.  “Okay,” she said.  “How about we start with you using my real name, since I know you know it.”

Cat smiled.  “Get me the interview, and we’ll talk.”

Kara laughed and shook her head as she turned and left the office, only to find James waiting for her at her desk.

“Are you sure you want to do that interview?” he asked.  The question threw Kara, because in the original timeline, he’d been the one to reassure her when she said she couldn’t do it.

“I don’t see why not,” Kara said.  “My cousin managed to hide right in front of Perry White’s face for eleven years.”

“Yeah, and Lois Lane was fooled for a good five seconds,” James said.

Kara rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, well, Cat Grant isn’t checking out my ass every time I turn my back.”

James shook his head.  “Could have fooled me,” he said, before he headed for his office.

Winn appeared a second later.  “He bothering you?” he asked.

“A little,” Kara said.  “He means well, but he hasn’t gotten it through his head that I don’t need a big brother.”

“Well, if he gets to be a problem let me know.  I’ll get Maggie to rough him up.”

Kara smiled.  “You and Maggie really hit it off, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “She’s like the really butch older sister I never knew I wanted.”

“Oh, please.  She’s a soft futch, at best.”

“She loads her own ammo, Kara.”

“Don’t care,” Kara said.  “If she can’t forge a sword out of a load of iron ore, she’s not butch.”

“Who have you been hanging out with?”

“Wonder Woman,” Kara said.  “Now, the real question is, am I expected to share my brownie pizza?”

Winn laughed.  “Now what kind of friends would we be if we made you share?”

[mon-blanchetts]

Set If Off, Because You Know You Want To (4/?)

She’s convinced that Jon won’t fight for her, so she decides to fight for herself. He sets out to prove her wrong.

Nothing was going to stop her from getting to her chambers, Sansa decided. She kept her eyes solely in front of her, unmoved by the looks that courtiers and servants threw her way when she passed them. Her ears strained to catch the sound of footsteps behind her; she would run if she had to, appearances be damned. She needed to get as far away from him as she could, and she would do anything to ensure it.

Alys was perched on a seat when she arrived, but the handmaiden was on her feet the instant she realized who had entered.  

 “I’d like to be alone, please,” she announced before the other woman could voice anything. For a moment she feared that Alys would pry deeper; it was a complete relief when she didn’t. Sansa was sure she would have snapped, but she didn’t need to make anymore enemies here.

 Sansa didn’t wait for the door to close before dropping into a bench closest to her. Hair stuck to the back of her neck; she leaned her head against the stone walls, desperate for some respite from the flames that licked at her insides, spreading across all her limbs. She knew better than to blame the southron heat for her current sufferings, much as she wanted to.

 Jon had gone mad. That was the simplest way for her to rationalize his behaviour out there, not to mention the only explanation she thought safe to entertain. He had no right to speak of the things he’d brought up, and she desperately wanted to hate him for it. He was out of his mind if he thought he could whisk her back home where they could amend things, not when his aunt and her court were under the assumption that he was ready to offer his hand to another.

 It could have been so different, she lamented, pressing her eyes shut. There was no relief from the episode Jon had just forced her to endure; his words crowded her mind with such vivid force that he mine as well be present in her room, echoing the same sentiments he’d done earlier. It was all useless, anyway, because she was right: it was too late. Jon may love her still, but his feelings meant nothing in the face of Northern interests.

  It could have been so different.

“A pretty voice, yes, but I’m sure many would say he’s got an even prettier face,” Tyrion whispered. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

 Sansa looked away from the singer in question to spare her neighbour a brief glance. “I suppose it’s a matter of preference, my lord,” she whispered back, leaning towards him so he could hear her better. In truth, she hadn’t been paying attention to their current entertainment; it was a difficult feat, considering the weight of Jon’s gaze. More than once during the feast she’d caught him watching her, but it was even worse when his aunt caught them both. No wonder Daenerys thought she might be colluding with him.

 The singer had picked a ballad that brought light upon Jenny of Oldstones, crooning yearningly about love in conflict with royal duty before cautioning those willing to listen about the folly of the individual who believed himself above the interests of his family. Fitting enough, Sansa thought, as the performance came to an end; she added her own applause to that ringing through the gilded hall.

 “He is a handsome man,” she commented, as soon as the noise died down. “But I do like his voice more.”

 The Hand nodded beside her. “I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to hear that. You know what men like do in order to sound that way after all these years, don’t you?”

 She did, and the thought made her blush. When she glanced at her neighbour again, Tyrion was grinning at her.

 Sansa didn’t know if it was the change of setting or the potency of the wine, but it seemed that everyone was acting out of turn tonight. If this had all been Percy Falker’s intention, he’d right well succeeded, she thought, turning her head to look at their host. The wealthy merchant sat at the high table to Daenerys’s right, Jon on her other side. It was an honour of the highest calibre to have not one, but two members of the royal family in his manse, and it was clear he was determined to put his guests in awe. It had been a long time since Sansa had witnessed entertainment on this scale, even though the list of attendees was somewhat minimal. The choicest cuts of meat and the rarest of ingredients had been present, but the best of the best had been offered to the high table only.

 “How much would you sacrifice for your craft, my lady?”

 She played with the napkin on her lap. Now that the performance was over, there was no reason to talk softly, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Queen’s Hand. Sansa nearly didn’t hear him amidst the dense noise of other people’s talk and the clang of pewter.

 “I’ve never been passionate enough about any craft to know,” she answered. Gods, she was tired. Her eyes burned from the light and smoke, while the heavy jewels chained around Laetitia Falker’s neck weren’t helping. As protocol would have it, the merchant’s wife was seated beside Jon; she must have been as aware as her husband was what a position she momentarily held. To have the Winter King’s ear for the bulk of the evening—who knew what she was whispering?

 Tyrion tilted his head to the side. “But I see you’ve been dabbling in the art of matchmaking, have you not?”

 “I’ve made no sacrifices for it, my lord,” she said, in a tone she hoped referenced her boredom. A figure approaching their table stopped her from saying more.

 “A piece of the subtlety, my lady?” offered the page who had been serving Jon the entire evening. He presented a golden platter that held generous pieces of the elaborate confection exclusively made for the occupants at the high table. “His Grace says he wishes to bestow a favour upon you.”

 “Of course he does,” Tyrion quipped, leaning forward precariously in his seat to grab himself a piece. Sansa stared at the offering; without thinking, she shifted her gaze towards Jon. It didn’t surprise her that he was watching her, those solemn gray eyes boring into her own clear blue ones, silently willing her to accept what he wanted her to have. It was an explicit gesture that none around them missed, least of all Daenerys and her wealthy host. Sansa dropped her gaze as soon as she caught the displeasure on the queen’s face. She’d murder Jon for this, if she could.

 “Are you going to accept?”

 Tyrion’s question made her look up again. The page was still standing before their table, a thin sheen of sweat over his youthful face.

 “Give it to the Septa, please,” she instructed. The page bowed his head quickly before obeying; she stared at his back as he scurried off to the back of the crowded hall. Don’t look at him, she ordered herself, fisting her napkin. Don’t look at him.

 The Hand was sucking the ends of his fingers when he spoke. “The smallfolk will have you to thank when they shit gold tonight.”

 “That’s not true. They can blame His Grace for that.”

 Her neighbour chuckled. “And he has so much on his mind already.” When she looked at him, there was a curious glint in his eye that instantly made her nervous.

 “His Grace has summoned you quite a few times for a private audience, has he not?”

 Tyrion’s knowledge of that didn’t surprise her, but that wasn’t enough to ease the discomfort in her belly, a nefarious coiling she could not ignore. “Anything Jon wants to me he can say before everyone else.”

 Her companion quirked a blond eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you worried you’re courting His Grace’s disfavour?”

 Sansa held back a snort. Not when he’s already courted mine. She had vowed that their previous encounter would be the last of that sort, and so far she had made good on her promise. Being alone with Jon was too dangerous, she realized; it was even more so now that she knew how he felt. “His Grace isn’t the kind of man to be offended by such a minor slight as that.”

 “Well, may that be a good mark on his character,” he said. Light dance on his silver brooch, like magic was bringing the metal hand to life. “His Grace’s spirits, on the other hand, could use some improvement. I do hope a good match will accomplish that.”

 The corners of her lips curled up. “I said something of a similar vein to him once.”

 “Did you, now? And what did Jon say to that?”

 Sansa shrugged. “Nothing. The idea of having Arianne Martell for a bride would probablt render any man speechless, I daresay.”

 “If Jon’s bride is to be Arianne Martell,” he corrected, eyes twinkling beneath the flicker of candle lights. “Did you think your letters to the Princess necessary, Sansa?”

 She watched as Lady Hollanda approached the high table, her deep blue skirts billowing behind her. “I thought it was just another way for me to be of service to Her Grace.” She’d written the first letter that same day Jon had spoken with her, only to follow up with another a few nights later. Each correspondence contained the highest praise for her cousin, the King, most of real than not. It had given her pause to remember why she loved him so much, but what had she expected?

 “And you would make yourself indispensable to the Princess as well, once she arrives?”

 Sansa whipped her had around to scrutinize the Hand. “Are you just as worried as Her Grace is about my loyalty?” The words came out sharp, but she could still hear the exasperation muddled in her voice. No doubt Tyrion did as well.

 He shook his head slowly. “I don’t doubt your loyalty at all, my lady,” he assured, but he was looking away from her while he spoke. She followed his line of sight until her gaze landed on Jon again. Percy Falker’s wife had diverted his attention elsewhere.

 “No, I don’t doubt your loyalty at all,” Tyrion repeated, softly. “If anything, it’s him I ought to be worried about, not you.”

 The singer approached their trestle later that night, holding his cap out for any tokens. Sansa dropped in a few coins, but Tyrion offered nothing.

 “The man’s a paramour to a wealthy nobleman who just happens not to be present,” he explained, shrugging. “It pays to be warming the right person’s bed, you know, a lot more than what we put in his cap.”

  There was a tingle on her side of her face; despite the familiarity of it, goosebumps still rose along the back of her neck. She lifted her gaze to the high table—sure enough, Jon was staring openly at her now, his long face shrouded with what she could only describe as naked want.

AN: There's more to this, but I got to lazy to edit it. You'll just have to wait for the next update to read it (it won't come out next lunar new year, I promise). Thanks for all your support and comments, everyone! It means a ton to me.