#and none of them seem like this tattooed axe man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astercirenio · 2 years

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“𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘. 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖.”

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢:

𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚒𝚐𝚜𝚊𝚠.

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

____________________________________________

Trap with chains on your arms. Dread wash over when you woke up in an unfamiliar room. As your eyes glance around, a set of six people were inside, including yourself.

Each one slowly waking up, one screamed, the other two panicked all while shaking the chains off - as if it could get them out easily.

Standing up, your feet swayed from the sudden jolt of blood pumping inside of you. Then static ringing echoed the room, getting all of your attention.

“Wonderful evening folks ! Had a nice nap?” The tone was cheerful despite the situation everyone was in, more so, when it came from a man’s voice.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS !?” A man, middle aged, screamed back at the announcer. Familiar features yet misty memories flooded.

You were sure you saw this man from before, but how could you be so sure of yourself ?

A Humourless laughter escapes from the speakers, err, from somewhere around the room it seems.

Uneasiness swept over you as the man, now furious by the reply, starts to get up and run at the front of the room but stop midway from the restraints.

“ STOP LAUGHING AND ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION !!”

The room fell silent as the announcer let out a hum.

“Alright then, let’s get this started shall we,” ‘He’ said. Sounds of clicking and gear turnings repeated around the room.

Feeling anxious by it, your body stiffen in place when an axe came out from a wall, in front of the man missing him by a meter.

Faces started to pale while the man stumbled back and fell down, clearly startled and frighten by the axe. “ WHAT THE FUCK !?”

“ Oops !” The announcers’ voice boomed with a sense of happiness. “ I apologize. There must’ve been a malfunction, here, let me change that.”

The axe jolted then went to the other side of the room, still aiming at another person. A young girl with tattoos, unfazed by the axe. Yet again, the speakers or whatever it was, made another static sound.

“ There we go. So to keep this brief, each one of you had committed many crimes. So many sweet crimes.” The voice taunted everyone.

“ I’m here to bring justice to every soul that had been corrupted by you sick fucks. Except for that pretty little thing~”

The girl with tattoos scoff at that. You took a breath in, eyes frantically searching for anything that could lead to an exit but none perked your interest.

“So, let’s play a game. Remember each one of you have committed a crime, yes? With each lie you tell, will be the end of you. After all! “

The voice laughed as hands started clapping. “ Honesty is the best policy, is it not !”

“ Now, for the first game. Each one of you confess a crime. Let’s all be fair and honest, then we could proceed to the next game! Don’t be shy.”

“W..What if we don’t tell the truth..?” Your voice trembled but still firm. You could feel everyone’s gaze on you, you could care less about what they think, its’ only about that speakers response that mattered the most.

Although, you already knew what happens just by that axe from the other end of the room.

“Hmm… Why, that lovely axe in front will be thrown at you.”

Another Man’ voice panicked, chains rattled around as he tries to escape. Ironic how you would’ve laugh at that person if it were a film about murders like Jigsaw, in contrary, you were now inside that said film.

So who’s the one laughing now ?

“ Alright,” The girl from the other side spoke, tugging the chains as she stood in front of the axe. “ I confess, I soled many drugs especially to minors.”

The axe jolted up then switched to another victim, their voice trembling while they spoke, and the sick game continued until the middle aged man came next. Drops of sweat drip down, his posture slacken in fear while his voice came out of a whisper.

“ I confess, I had cheated on my wife and had raped another girl.” Everyone stayed silent. The axe hadn’t moved. The voice from the speakers still hadn’t speak.

Then again, the axe had jolted and moved to the other side. The side you were standing. Now, it was in front of you.

“I..” Taking a breaths in, you knew all too well what you did. “I stole someone’ credit card and used it to my heart’ content.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips when the axe pulled back and straighten up. The chains suddenly coming off your hands followed by the others, all except the man that was beside you.

“ H-hey.. GET THESE CHAINS OFF ME!! DO YOU HE-“

“ Oho ! It seems everyone told the truth. Well, everyone except this handsome fellow here.”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN !?! I TOLD THE TRUT-“

Once again interrupted, the axe dashed to the side. Aiming the man while the announcers’ voice started yet again.

“ You see~~ You had committed much more than that ! Ah but it seems times up, bid us a good farewell won’t you?”

“W-WAIT-“

With great force, the axe went straight for the man’ head. Blood dripping down his forehead, his body falling straight to the side. Screams and shouts repeated over your head, eyes still fixed on the now bleeding man.

A door hidden from the side of the wall opened up, as the others scurried out. Still frozen in place, your head slowly turn to the side when a hand placed its self on your shoulder.

The girl with tattoos sneer at the corner of the room and guided you out. Relieve from her, your hands unknowingly grip tight.

Instead of pushing yours away, her fingers interlocked with yours as the both of you entered the room.

Now getting a clear view of everyone, there were two teenage boys and another girl, then a tablet in front of all of you.

Everyone seemed familiar but couldn’t brush it off as someone you deem close to.

“Hey.” The girl squeeze your hand getting your attention.

“Come on, let’s get out of this. Names Lesley, and you?”

“Y/n…”

And so began twisted games to escape.

____________________________________________

Everything felt, oh so, surreal for him to believe ! How could such a pretty thing such as yourself be surrounded by these fuckers ?!

He wanted to brush you off as another parasite in this twisted world. Base on the files he had of you, you had steal so many money and used it for your own selfish desires.

He deemed you nothing but another crime walking around the world but as time goes on with him observing you to wits end. He became obsessed. An unhealthy amount of obsession clawed at his soul.

Planning every moment and second just to see you work in that cute café, he now goes to.

How much he had to held back from strangling that old man’ throat that time he yelled at you for getting his coffee wrong. Well, he was gone. Another problem solved.

Ah, Those three brats that decided to barge in and thrash the place then left, leaving your poor self to clean up. And… Lesley.

How blind could you be ? The same person you’re desperately holding onto was the same from the night before that broke into your café stealing so many things.

His eyes drowning in sorrow as he watch you wipe your tears and place the sign of “Under construction” on the café’ door.

So with a final decision, He decided to “invite” these pests, and your cute little self, in his game. He wanted you to see the horrors in this world.

He wanted you to know he’s there for protect you ! Of course he will !

Oh the heartache he had to watch !

Your body shaken in fear as blood drips down from another gruesome death.

Sweet darling, this was for your own good.

Don’t worry when all of this is over, you’ll be safe in his arms. Soon, he’ll keep you safe from this cruel world.

Just bare it a little longer.

____________________________________________

Lesley walk to the next room holding you tight as the both of you entered. Both shaky breaths. So many death you both saw and blood covering your bodies from head to toe.

Finally in a room with nothing but two guns and a door. The announcer’ voice boomed with joy.

Finally ! All of this would be over.

“You made it this far ! How wonderful ! In this very room you’re in, one of you has committed an unforgiving crime. Murder.” Soft taps on the tables were heard.

“All you have to do is grab those lil ole’ guns and shoot. Simple as that. I’ll leave you girls to it.”

Ah. Of course. With a price to pay.

Both of you fell silent.

“A murderer…” You whispered, connecting the dots. Lesley.

You knew it was wrong to accuse but how could anyone not ?! Yes ! How could anyone not accuse when you knew you didn’t murdered anyone and there were only two people in the room !

Your eyes darted at her as she did to yours.

Lesley went and grab hold of the gun, aiming it at you. Not shocking at the very least, after all, it was a game of twisted survival in a way.

Still ! This was your only chance to survive. Going over to grab the gun, Lesley pulled the trigger. Easily ducking your head down as the bullet went pass you, your eyes catch hold of a pistol right beside her foot.

Scrambling to grab it, your fingers curled around the handle as her feet kick you back on the floor.

Now ! A loud bang erupted. Blood drip down. Lesley’ body slowly dropped to the floor, the shot gun dropped while your breath began to steady down.

You did it… you shot her. You killed a murderer.

“My, my.” Gazing up at the door that had opened. A man came out, dull silver eyes took glances at you then back at the corpse.

Chuckles escapes him as his palm covered his lip’, legs striding to come closer to your shaken body that’s now sliding away from him.

He let out a hum and crunch down at your level. A hand against his cheek.

“ How amusing. Darling, you have committed such a crime. Murder for that matter.”

“ Me ?” You let out a nervous cough, spatting out your innocence. Praying that your actions were justified. Lesley was the murderer. She had to be ! And you say that as it is.

The man in front of you merely frowned and shook his head, almost sympathetically.

“ The human mind can so easily be manipulated by thoughts and endless accusations. Cruel is this world we live in.” He let out a tsk.

“ You, my sweet little doll, are the true murderer here. Lesley Lion had done many crime, that is true, but murder was none of them.”

She hadn’t…

“Oh my go..” Her eyes were nothing but dull as her blood spread across the room. You murdered someone. Shaken with the realization, your fingers grab hold of the man.

While he tried his best not to smile, your soft fingers curl onto his vest, his arms quickly held you close. Picking you up bridal style.

He’d take care of the body later for now you’re his top priority.

Coming back to your senses, your hands tried to push him off but it was nothing for him.

“Let me go !”

“ And let a murderer walk free on the streets ? Come now, I am merely doing a favour for you. You stay and hide from the police, in return you help me cleanse this world we live in. Free from those crimes people commit and bring justice to those poor victim souls.”

The dullness in his eyes shimmered with mischief as he said the next words.

“That is unless you want to go to prison. I have no complaints with both.”

He was right. Before you could utter a word, your body loosen its grip on him. Tired. The body was at its limit of exhaustion. So many screams, so many blood, dreadfulness…

Your body slump with slow shallow breaths. With a click of his shoes, he carried you out of the room.

Yes. Cleanse this world with you by his side.

Your crimes have been forgiven, he’ll look pass it all.

You’re his after all.

•♠︎•

#my oc #male yandere #x reader #obsessive love #reader insert #oc character #soft yandere

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aerialsquid · 8 months

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FFXIVWrite 2023 Day 4: Off the Hook

(Continuation from days 0, 1, and 3)

The pirate closest to them dived at them, and Blutwyn dived at him, and the captain dived at Blutwyn. Gerald politely removed himself from the fray, opening one of his log books and scribbling furiously inside it - a curious gesture, until a carbuncle abruptly popped into existence before him and dove to attack the captain.

With his hands bound and Charlemend flailing underneath him, the sea-slick deck rocking back and forth, Edmont had to fight just to get his feet underneath him again. A moment's prayer was spared for his beloved cane, which had probably been tossed overboard or left by the side of the road in La Noscea, and his thigh twinged as he clung to the mast.

From the hold at the other end of the ship burst forth another company of pirates clad in the same crimson and brown as their captain, perhaps laying in wait for just such an assault, but more elbst also swarmed up the sides of the ship to deliver more opponents.

The brawl around them was a nasty melee of pirates against their half-naked invaders, all of which seemed to either be trying to get to Charlemend or to block their opponents from doing so. The two lords staggered against each other as they crept along the edge of the deck, trying to avoid flailing swords and firing pistols. Every eye was on them, but that meant none ever had an opening to actually lay a hand on them.

Edmont's eye was caught by one man, his skin like burnished copper and a tattoo of a massive tentacled monstrosity spilling down his back, his forearms peppered with other symbols and artwork. He wielded a gleaming axe and his eyes burned like topaz jewels set into a statue of the Fury herself. Unlike the other invaders he had a bandanna tied around his face, though like them he wasn't wearing much besides it, but even with the mask something about him struck Edmont as familiar.

"Come on, Edmont!" Charlemend urged. The familiarity would have to wait until they were done not dying, though. A few stray elbst frisked about the deck, snapping at them as they snuck past but more interested in pillaging the barrel of dried fish they'd found. Edmont stumbled and Charlemend hauled him back up again with his bound hands gripping Edmont's flowered shirt. Nowhere to go, but they still had to move.

The door to the hold still hung open, and Charlemend shoved Edmont inside and slammed the door closed. Groping in the dark found something long and metal, and Edmont quickly shoved it into the latch before anyone could pull it open. He could hear banging from outside, and then a wet scream.

"We've no way out," Charlemend whimpered, his breath hitching from more than exhaustion.

"We've at least bought time," Edmont comforted. The dim light filtering through the cracks in the door lit up a pile of sabres, knives, and canes. Edmont managed to get his hands around a dagger's hilt and use it to start cutting Charlemend's hands free.

"Our ideal case is we let the pirates and the Drowned murder each other, and then sail back to Bloodshore ourselves. Otherwise, we might be able to get to that longboat those other two showed up in, cut it loose and just row back to the mainland from here." Edmont talked because it was better than silence, but it felt like false hope. They were locked in, surrounded, and beyond that they on a ship were malms from land. The only question left open would be which side survived to claim them when the battle was over.

It was impossible to see Charlemend's face in the darkness. Edmont felt the other lord take the dagger from him and turn to start cutting Edmont's own bonds, one hand clasping tightly to his.

"Charlemend?"

"It's me they want," Charlemend said finally, hoarsely. "Don't know what the hell I've done, but they could care less about you. I'm the one they're fighting over. If we separate and I hold them off, you've a chance to let down one of the boats and get to safety."

"Don't be daft, Charlemend."

"There's weapons here."

"None you can use. We've both barely practiced in years."

"And you'd have me go before the Fury when this is all over, and tell her the heir of House Durandaire is thrice a coward?" Charlemend snapped. "That I let my wife and my son both die while I stayed comfortable in my manor, and when the chance came again I hid like a rat in a hole?"

"Charlemend–" But Charlemend was already rummaging around in the scattered weaponry , gathering up a sword for each hand, stuffing a dagger into his belt. Edmont could hear a muttered, "We who are the Fury's fighters" spilling from his lips, the first line of the prayer knights said before battle. It felt as if the ship was tilting over again. Perhaps it was just Edmont's heart that had gone off balance.

"Halone, be my shield–"

"We'll escape together, Charlemend, you don't have to do this." Edmont insisted, knowing he'd no way to stop him.

Charlemend ignored Edmont, three hooked fingers making the symbol of the three spears in the air as he went through the warrior's litany, to finish at a firm "Blood and thunder, the Fury keep me. And keep you too."

The door rattled as someone outside yanked on it. Charlemend took in a breath loud enough for Edmont to hear it over a shrill, screamed demand that they open up. In one impulsive gesture he grabbed for Edmont and dragged him close for a fumbled kiss, completely missing his lips in the dark and having to reroute from Edmont's nose before he could finish the job.

"No regrets," Charlemend said, a sort of resigned peace to his voice. "I shall not lose another I care for, and I shall not go before Halone in shame."

"You're an idiot." Edmont's hand tightened in Charlemend's hair as he added a soft, "Halone be your shield, you stupid old man. At least try to live."

"Aye, old friend. Aye." Another crash against the door, another half-moment tangled in each others' arms and warmth. Then Charlemend stepped back, saluted, and charged the door with a bloodcurdling scream.

#ffxivwrite2023

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glassheartjukebox · 3 years

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coffee shop chaos

soulmate au! feat. sugawara

a/n: this is part of the 300 follower event, reblogs are always appreciated!

anyone that would create a soulmate system so asinine is one of two things: cruel or incompetent. if there is a god, and if that god designed the soulmate system, your first mission in the afterlife is to fight him. to grab him by his big ass neck and throttle him. after all, it is his fault the phrase, “i want her titties in my face” was tattooed on your arm.

your soulmates first thought when they see you is tattooed on your arm for eternity. what a joke. perhaps god had a sense of humor. not only did this system produce less than savory results like your own, it also was ineffective. unless you see your thought tattooed on another individual’s arm, you might not realize you’ve even met your soulmate. hell, maybe you’d already met the bastard that gifted you with this mark.

the tattoo had quickly become a problem when it appeared on your fifteenth birthday. at that time in your life, you were one of the youngest in your friend group. you watched as your friend’s marks were etched into their skin. some of their tattoos, like kaori’s “i think that’s the love of my life,” and akaashi’s “i could stare into those eyes for an eternity,” were wonderfully romantic. others were underwhelming, like bokuto’s “that must be the finest man alive”. but none had been as vulgar as yours. whenever the topic of soulmate marks arose, you were subject to teasing and pity. this naturally didn’t stop when you left high school.

the short sleeved shirts at the coffee shop you worked at had become the bane of your existence. passing customers their drinks across the counter left your tattoo in full view. looks varying from amusement (not so funny when it’s tattooed on your body), to pity (wow thanks! very helpful), to disgust (once again, very helpful! definitely chose to have this mark!) were often cast your way.

your friends tried to reason with you, tell you that if you met your soulmate at work he’d know it was you because he’d see your arm. at this point, meeting your soulmate might turn into a wwe match because of the tattoo they so graciously left on you.

even though it made you feel like an immature 15 year old again, you couldn’t help but envy some of your friends and coworkers tattoos. yachi, one year your junior, with the words “her smile is the cutest thing i’ve ever seen” tattooed in a dainty cursive font. kiyoko, one year your senior, with a simple “goddamn.” tattooed in bold. both of them blanched when they saw your tattoo before assuring you they’d seen tattoos just as bad (if not worse) on the boys from the volleyball club they managed in high school.

but it’s whatever. that’s life. day in and day out, you ignore the soulmate system and pay your bills while pushing through your senior year in college.

today is a rare day that the two baristas opening with you are kiyoko and yachi. previously, your interest in meeting your soulmate had been relatively dormant. after becoming closer with the two girls, you yearned for the companionship they spoke of. kiyoko had tanaka, her soulmate she’d met while managing the volleyball team at her school. he was the antithesis of her; loud, kind of a mess, and disheveled. but he was kindhearted and he never failed to make her smile. he knew just how to get her talking and how to fluster her. he loves her unconditionally. yachi only recently met her soulmate. she ran into kanoka, a division one female volleyball player, on the train one day. though their relationship was new, you’d met her numerous times when she’d pick up or drop off yachi at the coffee shop. their newly minted love was adorable. kanoka looked at yachi like she held the world in her hands.

you couldn’t picture yourself in a relationship like theirs. the image of your soulmate that your mind conjured up was some greasy old pervert. or maybe some 20 something frat boy with no respect for women. you could probably fry bacon with the amount of grease in his hair. maybe you could suffocate yourself with the copious amount of axe he owned to save yourself the misery of being with him.

it’s 6:45, and fast approaching the busiest time of the morning when you see a flash of gray hair in your peripheral vision. you barely register it, until you hear yachi and kiyoko happily greeting the man and doting on him. you slide the caramel macchiato you’d been preparing to the customer (she eyes your arm with a look of confusion. thanks lady) and turn to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on. goddamn, for him? you’d do the cooking, the cleaning, and the dick sucking. anything for that gorgeous man.

the man in front of you was all kind smiles, he held a satchel with a laptop and children’s drawings peeking out of the top. damnit, probably married with kids. doesn’t mean you can’t admire the view though. kiyoko begins to prepare his drink and yachi calls you over.

“y/n! come over here, i want you to meet a friend of ours,” she squeals. hesitantly, you approach the registers. “sugawara, this is my friend y/n. y/n, this is sugawara, he’s an elementary school teacher,” good, so possibly not married with children? yachi continued, “he’s also one of the guys from our high school volleyball club! his soulmate mark is the reason i didn’t find yours too shocking!” sugawara let out a chuckle while smiling at you, eyes full of mirth.

“it’s nice to meet you y/n,” god the way your name rolled off his tongue was heavenly, “wanna compare marks? i’ve never met someone with one nearly as explicit as mine.”

you smirked in response, “i’d like to see you beat me. mine is pretty bad.” leaning forwards you both displayed your arms simultaneously. you froze. all the blood drained from your face and your fingertips as you read “god i would do the cooking, cleaning, and dick sucking for that man” tattooed in a dreamy cursive font on his arm.

you looked up at sugawara’s face and he didn’t seem to be fairing much better. he looked like he’d seen a ghost rather than the tattoo on your arm.

“are you two okay?” yachi asked from behind you, more than a little worried.

paying her no mind sugawara finally made eye contact with you.

“oh my god i’m so sorry” sugawara's apology was garbled with your own declaration of, “please don’t hate me.” you stated at each other for a moment, akin to deer caught in the headlights before you laughed. what began as giggles turned into stomach clutching violent laughter.

“well, it seems that we’re equally dirty minded y/n” sugawara looked up at you, struggling to contain his glee.

you looked back at him, “i have a few minutes before it gets too busy, would you like to sit down? coffee’s on me,” you smiled.

maybe this whole soulmate thing isn’t too bad.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

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theepisceswriter · 3 years

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Would love love love for some soft Reiner headcannons please you amazingly beautiful person 💘💘

Of course you can bestie bc I love you, so here’s some soft Reiner headcanons for you:

TW: none just a whole lot of fluff, GN!reader

On days when Reiner comes home particularly stressed out from work or maybe some altercation that ruined his whole mood for the day, the first thing he does is curl up next to you on the bed in a fetal position while you hold him. Sometimes he talks about what’s bothering him and other times he likes to just lay there while you run your fingers through his hair.

Definitely would let you trim his beard and help him out on his shaving days. Which not seem like much, but it’s a big trust factor for him since you’re holding up a sharp blade to his throat.

At this point he hardly calls you by your real name. He’s always calling you endearing terms like darling, baby, angel, sweetheart, dear, and love. He also prefers pet names or nicknames as well and when you call him by his first name he’ll get all pouty and do something like shower you in kisses or rub his beard against your cheek until you give in and call him one.

I know he doesn’t have any scars on him because his body heals since he has the Titan healing ability, but he likes it when you kiss the palms of his hands to soothe him even if there isn’t any visible cuts.

This man is so gentle with you to the point where it’s borderline annoying. You get that he’s afraid to hug you and manhandle you too rough since he’s significantly bigger and stronger than you, but it’s when he refrains from wrapping his arms around you completely and giving you the bear hug that you deserve that has you like, “You know I won’t break, right Rei? You can hold me tighter.” And he does exactly that because he’ll do anything you tell him to.

BIG on giftgiving. Not the random type of gift giving that’s materialistic based, but sentimental things that he knows you’ll appreciate. Mostly custom items like those Spotify song plaques or a phone case with pictures of you two over it. Sometimes he’ll see something from a media that you like, think of you, and automatically had to buy it because it reminded him of you and he knows that it’ll put a smile on your face. He also gifts essential things like socks, clothing, and beanies.

Tickle fights and play fights are a common occurrence between you two and he’s usually the one to start them. Tickle fights are easy for you to win because he’s surprisingly a very ticklish man, but play fights take a little more strength. In the end he does go easy on you and let you win on purpose because he loves to see how excited you get when you “beat” him.

Gives you piggyback rides throughout the house to the point where you can request them at any time and hardly ever have to walk around unless you really want to. He has a goofy side to him though and sometimes he’ll pretend to drop you or run really fast through the hallways.

The two of you treat Gabi and Falco like they’re your children and take them out a lot to do things like go to the amusement park or carnival. All paid for by Reiner, of course.

Would totally get matching couple tattoos with you that’s something like the moon and sun or ying yang signs that complete each other’s.

I feel like he’d really be into poetry and might have a poem or two written about you stuffed away in some notebook that he’s waiting to perfect before showing to you.

Reiner smells of really soft and sweet scents like lavender, Vanilla, cookies, and pastries in general. He doesn’t like the harshness of men’s cologne like Axe.

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot headcanons #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun headcanons #Asks.#Stallion Speaks.

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 3 years

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Cry No More

Cry No More A Sam Winchester Finale Series

Summary: the rest of Sam Winchester’s life, stories of what happened between the moments and years the show gave us in the finale. Canon adjacent, obvious spoilers for the show finale. Beta by @there-must-be-a-lock and @mskathywriteswords Photo edit in header by @lemondropsonice

Chapter 1: Pyre (1000 words)

Sam burns Dean’s body alone. He rationalizes it, in his grief fogged brain: it has to be done quickly, there’s no time to wait, Dean wouldn’t have wanted a fuss.

He’s built many pyres in his day but this is the hardest one. Every stroke of the axe, felling trees, seems to cut to his bones. There’s a relief in the sweat, in the ache of his muscles, that allows him to forget, for a few moments, why he’s doing this. When it all comes rushing back in, he feels guilty.

He washes Dean’s body, his pale cold form, with care. He is so still, just a husk. Familiar scars and his tattoo seem foreign under Sam’s fingers. The spark of life that made him Dean is already gone but Sam still loves what is left. He consults Rowena’s books, he pulls up ancient Egyptian texts. He anoints Dean with oils and incense and magic that Dean would scoff at, if he was here. But he’s not.

In life, he and Dean often carried one another. Dead, Dean is almost more weight than he can bear. He stumbles, just once. But when he gets the body on the pyre, he falls to his knees and howls.

They were finally supposed to have a chance at happiness. He cries until he wonders how he will ever light a fire when the sheet-wrapped form of his brother is so soaked with his tears. He beats his fists, already blistered from the axe, against the unfeeling earth. He screams and curses in every language he knows.

None of it changes a thing.

Finally he flicks the lighter, and the pyre goes up in flames, and with it the only home he knew -- his brother.

Sam watches as the fire burns to ash, as the sun sets and rises and sets again. Miracle stays by his side but on the second day, he nudges his wet nose into Sam’s blistered hands. He needs to eat.

Sam somehow stumbles back to the Bunker, feeds the dog, and falls into a blackout sleep.

He wakes up to a knock on his door, starts up stark naked and clutching a gun. It’s Donna and Jody, who both have the decency to keep their gaze above his waist.

“We, uh, heard about Dean.” Donna starts.

"Thought you could use some company.” Jody continues.

“Uh, yeah.” Sam runs a hand over his face, feels the scruff on his cheeks. How long has it been? “Let me just -- thank you -- give me a few.” The ladies nod in understanding.

Sam showers, puts on clothes, decides not to bother with shaving. He’s headed towards the kitchen when he hears -- giggles. Child giggles. He detours towards the library and finds Garth and the twins, chasing his daughter around.

Sam blinks. He was pretty sure these were babies not that long ago, and now they’re walking, and giggles sound weird echoing off the stone walls of the bunker. He stands still, shakes his head.

Garth notices, and comes over to give him a hug. It’s the first time Sam has been touched since Dean died, so he melts into it like butter on warm popcorn. Garth makes soft shushing noises and pats Sam on the back until the twins collide into their knees, squealing.

“Gotta go,” Garth says, pulling back.

Sam is still a little boggled when he walks into the kitchen, and everyone is there. Jody, Donna, Charlie, Apocalypse Bobby, Claire. The kitchen is a hub of noise and food and laughter, the way it used to be, when Dean was alive.

It’s all too much, and for a long moment, Sam just stands there, feeling out of place in his own home. Claire notices, and walks over to take his hand and pull him into the circle of conversation.

They’re talking about Dean, because of course they are. There’s a pause, for a moment, in the story, but it’s a good one, so Sam just nods.

“That sounds like Dean.” If everyone hears his voice break a little on the name, they don’t mention it.

It helps, Sam thinks, just to not be alone. To talk about his brother with people who knew and loved him. To remember the good times.

After dinner, when Garth’s kids are tucked into bunker beds, they all gather in the library. Most people have swapped beer for whiskey. Sam gets the decanter set and pours two cups. He leaves one on the table and no one asks why.

The stories get wilder, the laughter louder, voices overlapping in a rush to share the memories. Sam looks around and thinks that they’re all too old for this, that they should’ve retired from hunting years ago. He doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud until Bobby answers.

“You think you’re old, son, what about me?”

Sam actually grins, then, and tries not to wince at how foreign a smile feels on his face. He tries very hard not to think of Jack calling Dean “old man,” of Cas mentioning his age, or Rowena — he shakes his head. Too many people gone, too much loss.

He doesn’t share his stories, not tonight. It still hurts too much to speak them aloud. But it helps to hear them, to be reassured of the difference Dean made, of how much he was loved.

This is a hunter’s funeral, after all, not just the pyre but the gathering afterward. Dean deserved to live, of course, but short of that, he deserved to be remembered this way. He was a hunter, and he died as he had lived.

Sam looks around the room, and lifts his glass. Everyone falls silent to hear what he has to say. “A wise man once told me that family don’t end in blood. Dean was my family, but so are all of you. My family, and his.”

Everyone drinks to that, and tears flow freely. Sam’s heart breaks again, and begins to heal all at once.

Chapter 2

Series Taglist: @hoboal87 @muchamusedaboutnothing @samsgirl2020 @vulgar-library SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @lovealways-j @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @wayward-gypsy

#sam winchester fanfiction #cry no more #after the last ride #spn finale #spn s15x20

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tolerateit · 3 years

Note

“Also I judge every song based on the first listen lmao and solar power didn't stick with me”

Hi, I’m the original “solar power” anon and I just wanted to pick up our discussion where we left of (my last ask is the one in which I wrote you my ATW 10 minute version and in your reply there’s the sentence I quoted above). It seems we have another anon joining our discussion (hi, friendly anon 👋🏻).

Anyway, I’m so unlike you. I never trust my first listen ever. I feel like my brain needs a little while to make an informed decision. I can’t ever pick up important and earth shattering lyrics on a first listen. So I exhaustedly listen to the albums of the artists I like. Unlike our friendly anon, I will thoroughly listen to all of these artist’s discography. Much as yourself, I’m biased towards them and I know I’ll probably like whatever it is they put out regardless of what that is. Case in point: “folklore”. I’m so not the type of girl that listens to indie songs, mainly because I’m an Aquarian and I don’t really like how every girl with a “I’m not like the other girls” complex seems to be really into indie songs so, just to spite the universe (I guess) and our society’s stereotypes, I never really tried getting into that particular genre. But folklore is definitely my top 3 Taylor albums and it’s definitely one of those albums I list on dates when someone asks me what my favourite song is. The lyrics, the production, the stories behind the songs, what this album means to Taylor and how she’s never been able to just up and release an album of a different genre just because. I want to get so many folklore lyrics tattooed on me that my best compromise was to get none.

And with Solar Power was kinda like the same. I need to give the songs time to settle into my brain, for me to get familiar with them and then, only once the novelty wears off that I can really tell whether or not that album slaps (for lack of a better word).

I’m also an incredibly sensitive person, so sometimes, even when I can’t possibly relate to a theme, if the artist has carefully written about it, I find myself musing about it because the art - as simple as it is - just touched me. You feel me? Also, still on this topic, when I’m obsessively listening to an album, I’ll often get a random lyric from a song I didn’t particularly like at first come to me in a dream (the lyrics keeps repeating over and over again and I wake up thinking about it) and then I’ll listen to the song and really pay attention to it and realise that this songs just hits different. Case in point: I underestimated “treacherous” so much and now it’s my favourite “red” song (“all we are is skin and bone trained to get along” like, blondie????? Where do you even get this imagery???? God really talks to her personally)

I care about lyrics more than anything else. And I care about the meaning the artist tried to convey. And I also care about how a particular lyric makes me feel. I have “The Man with the axe” stuck in my head and I didn’t really quite get what Lorde wanted to say with the song (I’m dumb, don’t @ me) and then I went to genius and it’s explaining how her current beau made her feel grounded (in a way Melodrama guy couldn’t - “he don't wanna know me, says he made the big mistake of dancing in my storm” like FU for treating Ella so shitty) like a tree and only then she fell for him and hence why he’s the man with the axe, because he felled her and got her to fall in love with him only after she was grounded like a tree. I really liked this, the whole metaphor is just *chef’s kiss*. My favourite lyric from this particular song though is “I guess I'll always be this way, swallowed up by the words and halfway to space”.

My very favourite thing in the world is to obsess and over-analyse every single detail about a body of work and that’s why I’ve been in this hell hole of a site for 10 years. I totally get why “Solar Power” didn’t stick with you, but I just wanted to show my perspective as to why it stuck to me so so much. Different people are bound to like different things and that’s what makes the world so much better to live in.

But we are not so different. I live for IICHLIWP and it’s definitely my favourite Halsey album (it knocked “hopeless fountain kingdom” out of the top spot but Halsey’s take on Romeo and Juliet should be dissected and talked about in all English lit courses). To illustrate my earlier point about how my favourite song only comes after a considerate amount of listens, “the lighthouse” is sooooooooo good and I skipped it so many times because I was obsessed with “the tradition” and then I saw a tumblr edit that put “no I won’t smile, but I’ll show you my teeth” and “so I showed him all my teeth and then I laughed out loud” and I just listened to it and realised it’s actually another masterpiece? In an album full of masterpieces? How dare you Halsey, making me feel so many feels in our Lord year 2021.

Sorry for the long rant!

Hi hii, glad to hear back from you anon! It's great that you listen to music that way, wish that could work for me haha! I'm usually impatient when it comes to playing new albums, I just want to consume the whole thing in a minute lmao and I stay for songs that hit me in the first listen and if there's like a majority of them I approve of the album. I also obviously have songs that grew on me later but I got the chance to play them bc I liked the album as a whole in the first place! Like invisible string, I only paid more attention to it after I found a way to relate to it in a personal level, but I suppose I wouldn't put that sort of effort in any artist other than Taylor or Halsey haha!!

And omgg @watchyourlifeinpictures rightly pointed out that the lighthouse is just 'darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream' conceptualized and that's so true!! The tradition is also on my top 5 so that's great taste right there lol

#you ask for the tab*#☀ anon #Long post tw

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Five): Just To Want It All

Notes: As stated in last chapter notes, i have a decent chunk of chapters done so these are coming out pretty rapid fire. Otherwise, I don’t have much to say other than massive thanks to my friend who reads these over for me and has been cool with me dropping 80+ pages of fic on them in a week. because yeah...I finished another chapter of this.

Word Count: 7885

Chapter Warnings: mentions of alcohol and cursing, if that counts as a warning in cyberpunk 2077.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

Lizzie’s Bar stands out brilliantly in the city; out of all the gangs, she thinks she likes The Moxes aesthetic the best. Vivid pink and bright teal. Their colors splashed across the overpass, along with a neon pink skull sign with hair and a bow. At the side of the building is a towering neon skull girl sign, full bodied with an animated kicking leg and axe held above her head, the same hot pink color.

She parks and gets out of her car, doing a quick scan of the area, searching for more Militech drones. None that she sees, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The credchip burns in her pocket, remembering some of the stuff T-Bug has taught her. How to crack an encrypted shard and see what’s on it, how to transfer its contents. V rifles through her bag, remembering she had a blank credchip somewhere. If Militech did anything dirty, V should be able to transfer the eddies onto a clean chip.

V makes a beeline to the front door, cement blockers and walls covered in graffiti. More neon signs, the bars name over the door in glowing turquoise letters. Lizzie Jizzie scrawled across an outside wall; two screens on each side of the double stores, all covered in Nicola ads requesting V ‘taste the love’. Groups of people loiter in the open outside the bar. V’s eyes are drawn to the two bouncers outside the doors.

Two women, one leans against the outside wall as she puff away on a cigarette. Short slicked back hair that starts blue and then fades to green, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and a gold septum piercing in her nose. The other one stands in front of the doors, a yellow spiked bat held over her shoulders. Long hair pulled up into space buns, purple roots and pink ends. Both of her arms are metal; black with pink and teal accents as well as spikes along the forearms. Both women are skimpily dressed, no shame in that. The one wielding the bat has a white top with cleavage going beyond her breasts, showing her almost plastic looking skin and the Moxes tattoo across her chest. The other shorter haired bouncer is wearing neon pink pasties beneath a teal bomber jacket. V’s been here before, has maybe seen them in passing, both really attractive. She’s not sure there’s a Mox member who isn’t.

“Hey there, dollface!~” The bat wielder greets her with a grin, as if she could actually see V’s face.

“Interest you in a preem BD?” The smoker offers.

“What you got?” V asks to be polite, she doesn’t honestly even like brain dances. But the girls are cute, so… no harm in a little small talk.

“What don't we got? Women and men of your dreams, synaptic acting A-listers. No washed-up virtuporn boytoys or blow-up dolls here.”

“Auteur stuff - It'll grip your heart and blow your nerves right outta your body. Pure bit-based ecstasy - that’s why people come here.”

“Sure know how to sell it, don’t you?” V signs, trying not to laugh as the bouncers give her the spiel.

“Not a sales pitch, it's a warning. I'll give you one word - bespoke. Not for everyone's synapses.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“Think I can manage it,” she tells them, knowing damn well she has no intent to get any sort of virtus.

“Mmhm. Couple of things you need to know first,” she affectionately rubs her bat, “Ahem. Severe penalties for any unauthorized recording… “

“No drugs, no groping. Someone catch your eye, you do not grab 'em. You find 'em in the catalog, ask for a BD and get yourself a box.”

“No worries, not even my first time here.”

“Door's open. Have fun, Doll.”

“Welcome to Lizzie’s.”

The double doors open and V walks through a blue beaded curtain. There’s a front room, a stand where a woman with a bright pink mohawk is selling clothes, under another Nicola ad and neon letters saying ‘Fuck To Death’ behind her.

“My what a sweet face you have,” she says, her tone honeyed but its clear she hasn’t looked up from the counter, not even noticing as the masked merc walks past through another beaded curtain and double doors to the main club.

“Here in Night City~”

Music thrums as she steps in; the room is lit with strobing pink and teal lights. Couches with neon glowing lights on the underneath, some people with BD wreaths and others playing on their phones. People dancing to the club music and bar tucked away in the corner. She doubts the client will be right at the start of opening, so V finds an empty stretch of couch, sitting down on black leather with a pink neon light at her feet. V slides the Militech cred chip into her mask, it takes a moment, but she manages to crack it and get a look at the inside.

Ten thousand eddies and malware; it was meant to send all of Maelstrom’s data to another server and then fry the systems. Meaning, if V handed it over Maelstrom would get their systems fried, with her and Jackie dealing with the aftermath. V slides the blank cred chip into another slot in her mask’s edge, transfering the clean money over to it. Fucking around with tech and daemons isn’t her strong suit, but if she recalls Bug telling her that fairly simple malware like this could be reworked pretty easily. She works through the coding with her thoughts, the data and interface all on her mask. If she can get the coding right, she might be able to have it send something other than data back to the Militech servers… Shifting and twisting what she thinks will work… if she’s done it right, instead of sending data back to Militech’s server, it should inject the same malware back into their system. If used, it would spike both Maelstrom and Militech.

She’ll call up T-Bug before they hit Maelstrom, double check she did the steps right. If Maelstrom play nice, they can pay and be done, if not...she can fuck over the gangoons, Militech, and walk away with an extra ten thousand in her pocket. She puts the credchips in her pockets, spiked one in her left and clean one in the right.

Time to have a look around for the client. V making a beeline for the bar, bartenders always have all the info. Lizzie’s Bar in neon over the drink station, a brightly blue lit corner where a man works at making drinks, shelves of booze behind him. She climbs onto a blue vinyl bar stool, feet no longer on the ground and unable to resist swinging them a bit. The bartender comes to her; a man with slicked back dark hair, glowing white cybernetic eyes, and silver embellishments run across his cheeks and jaw. His shirt bright blue with a tropical design and if not for a single button above his pants, it’d be completely open. Beaded necklaces bringing even more attention to his exposed chest and stomach.

“Get you something?”

“Looking for Evelyn Parker,” she speaks the woman’s name, not wanting to waste time fingerspelling it even if the sound feels tight in her throat.

“And you are?”

“V, me and her were supposed to meet here.”

“Well, V, it’s a pleasure. I’m Mateo.”

“Nice to meet you… any idea where she’s hanging around?”

“Club's big. Gonna have to look around. Can't do it for you-”

“It's all right, Mateo,” a feminine voice calls out and V’s eyes are drawn to a woman at the bar, “I was waiting for this one.”

There’s something about her, distinctly Mox and also not. Her hair is a short vivid blue bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. Heavy makeup, a tight silver sequin dress with a dipping neckline, red thigh high vinyl boots, a black trench coat that pools around her knees with a pink and white feathered collar. She holds two fingers up to the bartender and moves to the bar stool closer. There’s a clang and tink of glass; Mateo getting out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“That won’t be necessary,” V signs before he can fill the second glass, “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Aww, what a good girl,” Evelyn coos, a smile pulling at her painted lips, “Evelyn Parker. I knew it was you as soon as you walked in.”

“And you decided to let me wander around instead of introducing yourself?”

“I wanted to get a good look at you first.”

“And?” V watches as Evelyn takes a swig of her tequila.

“Rest assured, if I didn’t like what I see, you’d know,” she takes another drink, “C'mon. Know a place we can talk where ears won't prick up to listen. We'll be in the lounge, Mateo. Anyone asks we're not here.”

Evelyn takes her black clutch purse and leaves the bar, V puts some money down for Mateo; if nothing else to compensate for his time. V hops down from the stool and follows after Evelyn, through a pair of double doors that goes into a hallway tinted red and pink, booth doors lining the way. The blue haired woman opens up a door, standing to the side as V walks in.

The booth is small, circular with a red vinyl couch around it’s curve, a table in the middle projects a hologram of a stripper who twists and dances. V sinks into the cushions, watching Evelyn stride in and light a cigarette as the door closes behind her. Everyone in the city a smoker it seems. As Evelyn puffs on a cigarette, V is somehow just noticing the gold nail like finger caps she wears.

“Dex had a load to say about you. Called you professional, effective. And trustworthy. I hope he wasn't overselling…“

“You don’t give a shit what he says,” V retorts, not missing the tinge of disdain Evelyn’s voice. V doesn’t need anyone to blow wind up her ass.

“You have trouble accepting compliments?”

“Flattery’s beneath you.”

“Maybe Dex is beneath you,” Evelyn moves around the table, grabbing an ashtray from the table, then sitting down next to V, crossing her legs, “Have you known each other long?”

“First time working with him.”

“Hmmm, I've heard there are two kinds of fixers. Those with stable crews on long contracts and short leashes. Loyalty and predictability they value above all else. Then there's the other kind- Dex's kind.”

“Meaning?”

“Headhunters. They lay their trust elsewhere, not in people but in a thing- their intuition. They bet on potential. And if they lose that bet…It's the last mistake they ever make. I’m hoping Dex’s intuition served him well in this case.”

“Let's get to the point, why am I here, what’s this about?”

“Your target - I trust you know what it is.”

“Arasaka biochip.”

“Mmmhmm, their Relic, secure your soul technology. Arasaka's poured billions into personality transfer technology. But me - I just want the data on this one. The chip is tucked away inside Konpeki Plaza, the hotel. You ever been?”

“Fancy corp hotels? Yeah, no, way out of my price range.”

“The decor's to die for. As you'll see for yourself.’

So, V and Jackie have to bust into some fancy hotel to get the chip people are arguing about on tv. Understood, so far. But, theres a lot of risks involved in a heist of this scale. Its one thing to rip off a dropped piece of cargo or a convoy from a corp; but this kind of top notch tech?

“You know where the chip is, exactly?”

“In a suite on the top floor. The room's occupied by Yorinobu Arasaka.”

V swallows the lump in her throat, the son of Saburo Arasaka, heir to the entire fucking corp. She’s once again finding herself wondering why Dex thinks her and Jackie can handle a job of this caliber, the Arasaka’s seem downright un-fucking-touchable to a merc like her.

“He’s in NC?”

“Don't you read the screamsheets?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, the media couldn't get enough of Yori coming to Night City, it was all over the headlines. He's heir apparent to the Arasaka empire - Saburo Arasaka's only surviving son.”

“So, he trying to take over while he’s in town?” V asks, trying to understand what exactly is going on.

“Only a handful of people in Night City know what the Arasakas' real plans are.”

“And you included in that?”

A smirk stretches across her face, green eyes devious; “Yorinobu is a puppet. He lost all his cards years ago when he failed to do daddy's bidding. Saburo's had Yori's balls in a vise for years. He might just turn the screw and crush them outright if he learns his son's up to no good again.”

“Someone like him is bound to have an army surrounding him, that hotel is probably a fortress by now.”

“Yorinobu keeps exactly no muscle around. Not one guard. Got rid of them a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Surely you know what they say about Arasaka intel? Sneeze in Night City and a blossom drops from a cherry tree in Tokyo. Yorinobu was convinced his Arasaka security detail reported directly to his father.”

“If you got a spare ache up your sleeve, I’d love to see it.”

“ Now, this should make your tits perk up,” she says, putting the ashtray aside and leans forward.

“My tits are quite comfortable where they are, I assure you.”

“Cute, but more importantly, Yorinobu recently swiped the chip from an Arasaka laboratory. He's made a deal with NetWatch, aims to sell it to them. Have you spotted my ace yet or do I need to spell things out?”

“Okay, no muscle because he has daddy issues and no security on the device because he stole it from said daddy. Any idea where he’s hiding the thing?”

“Likely in a specialized container, one that mimics an organic neural environment. On the outside, it looks like an ordinary briefcase.”

“Which would be where?”

“You'll see for yourself soon enough,” she stamps out her cigarette and stands up, walking to the door, “Provided we're done gossiping about the Arasakas.”

“You know anything else about him?” V asks, wanting to see if she can mine any more useful information about the heir that could help.

“Quite a bit, actually. He studied finance and biotech in Tokyo. Hm, probably didn't have a choice in the matter, come to think of it. Saburo was grooming him to be his successor. But then Yorinobu vanished to chase his own dreams, cut himself off from the corp for years. Long story short, though the black sheep returned, the bitter taste remained. But that's only one side of him. There's another - an intelligent man who has always walked his own path and so has his own designs on the corp.”

There’s no doubt in V’s mind now that Evelyn knows Yorinobu personally, the way she talks and speaks is clearly colored by experience. Some prodigal son who ran away from his father and then came back with his tail between his legs when he couldn’t cut it alone. An odd lump in V’s throat at the thought; running away from shitty dads, being a black sheep…

“Sounds like any other corpo dick to me,” V signs, not liking the parallels her brain is starting to draw.

“Hm. Ever tried to imagine what life might be like for an emperor's son? You have everything, yet you are no one, nothing. At least as long as you remain in Saburo Arasaka's shadow. I…” she scratches almost sheepishly at her neck, her wannabe femme fatale attitude slipping for just a moment, “...sympathize. It's a vulnerability I understand well.”

V is still finding herself finding uncomfortable similarities between herself and fucking Yorinobu Arasaka. Its stupid, she doesn’t know the man and he has the wealth to destroy her for pretending she does. But, a power hungry leader for a father, leaving home, terrified of being under his thumb. Only difference, well many, but most pressing is she’s managed to make it on her own...so far… at least. Not that she hasn’t had her doubts or worries.

“So, what’s next?” V asks, practically shaking her head to dispel the weirdness swimming in her brain. Black sheep or not; Yorinobu Arasaka has a silver spoon in his mouth. She’s a nomad turned Night City edgerunner; their lives couldn’t be more far removed.

“Now comes the best part,” Evelyn opens the door and turns to leave, “Follow me. Got somethin' for you. Should help you plan. Braindance from Konpeki Plaza.”

V follows Evelyn out into the hallway, “ how’s a braindance going to help?”

“Think BDs are only good for fondling virtual tits, jackin' off to in those boxes?”

“Thought that was the main selling point, yeah,” V teases back as they turn a corner in the hallway, headed towards a door.

“No. They can be a very useful tool. Good for analyzing details human perception, even boosted, doesn't grasp. Exactly what you need,” Evelyn teases as they enters a dressing room, a few Mox at the tables painting their faces with makeup and styling their hair.

“What's on the tape?” Through another door and neon lights fade to harsher, darker lighting.

“Yorinobu's suite. The glorious interior,” the walk down a short metal flight of stairs, “You'll need to locate the Relic yourself. Hope I grabbed enough detail to make that possible.”

The stop at the end of the steps, Evelyn turning to look at V with a hand on her hips. Not that V really had any more doubt about it, but she’s been given more evidence that Evelyn and Yorinobu know each other.

“You recorded it?”

“Mhm. BD rec implant. Why, you object?”

“Not particularly, who you know and what you do with them is none of my business, lets see the braindance.”

“Judy'll help. She's a Mox, too,” down another short flight of stairs, deeper into the basement, “Besides, we go back… years.”

Evelyn stops them again outside a pair of double doors, Lizzie’s is starting to feel like a little maze at this point. But more importantly, Evelyn’s paused again, stumbled over her words and showed something under her facade. V felt something was off, a Mox but somehow not, and she’s starting to think Evelyn is purposely trying to put up a front. That she’s trying, a little too hard, to come across like femme fatale or corpo. Evelyn clears her throat.

“V, this is important. Judy's always been there for me. Always helped out. I trust her. But she's a Mox, not the latest member of your crew. Try not to forget. So you'll be a good girl, tread lightly and keep that tongue on a leash.

“Oh, but it's not my tongue you need to worry about.”

“Hmm, can feel you smirking under that mask, keep it up and I’ll tie those hands down, too,” Evelyn says with a wink as they pass through the double doors into another hallway, then through one more door.

Evelyn leads her through the basement doors, a dark little room with servers, netrunning chairs and screens. In an office chair slouching with one leg on a desk is a woman; late twenties or so with olive skin. One side of her hair is shaved, the other shaggy and down to nearly her shoulder, a deep green color with bright pink ends. The woman is heavily tattooed, bright red roses nestled above her collar bones, a spider web on her right shoulder, a cartoon ghost sitting in a shell, and a large number 13 on her bicep are among the standouts. But V could spend hours describing each artwork.

“Ahem.”

“Hey, there you are…” Judy greets Evelyn, a playful almost flirty tone to her voice.

“This is V. She's here for that BD roll. And V, this is Judy - best braindance editor I know.”

“Enough already, gonna make me barf.” There’s a slight accent to Judy’s voice, not unlike Jackie’s.

“Impressive set up,” V signs, at least, she assumes it’s impressive. Tech is already a bit of a blind spot for her, especially when it comes to brain dances.

“Mhm, Analyzers, sensory sig amps, acoustic and emotive wave monitors, facial expression translators.”

“Ahem, Judy,” Evelyn stops the inked editor before she can tell V more.

“All right, all right… Compiled your BD, Ev.”

“What do you think? Will it do?”

“Still pretty raw… but yeah, oughta do.”

“Mhm. V needs to get deep inside, that's most important.”

“So, let's calibrate, tune it to her,” Judy stands up from the table and moves to the desk closer to the door, sitting down below a neon pink light, “Believe me, I've dealt with worse. Should see the dig-Jig Street porn we gotta contend with sometimes.”

Evelyn has followed behind Judy, standing behind the editor’s chair, “So we drop V inside? Let her look, let her rummage around, right?”

“How 'bout it, V? Raw braindance - ever taken a dip before?” Judy leans forward on the desk, looking at V.

“No, not at all, but I’m a quick learner,” that feels like a lie as soon as she says it, “ and need to know what I’m dealing with. So.”

“Siddown, settle in, and we'll get you goin'.”

V turns around to the chairs, either netrunning or ripperdoc chairs, she’s not sure. But, she climbs into one, settling down into it as Judy comes back out around the desk. Judy is nearby, fiddling with a brain dance wreath.

“Be easier to fit without the mask.”

“Mask has optic tech, linked to my neuroport and biomon, should work just like it does with any set of cybereyes.”

“‘Fraid of ruining the mystery?” Evelyn asks, teasing again.

“Mask is for business, lot harder to track a merc if you got no clue what they look like. You that curious, feel free to try and track me down during my off time.”

“Fine, fine,” Judy affixes the BD wreath around V’s head, lining it up properly on the merc before walking back to the desk, “Gotta create your sensory profile first.”

“Go for it.”

“Now, sit still, look at me. Gonna run the analysis soft should feel a slight tingling…”

V’s breath catches as it prickles across her skin, a crackling and warm sensation crawling across every nerve. From the base of her skull, down her spine, across her arms to her fingers, running down her legs to her toes. A vague pulse, a current of something.

“OK now let's set the optics and other sensory sigs. Look smack into these two screens, pretend it's an eye exam.”

The two wreath panels flash and strobe white light, building in urgency and frequency.

“Gimme two more minutes. One more sec, need to get the pain receptor limiters in… OK. All set. Need to test your profile first. Tossing in a sam-”

“We can just use my recording, there’s no point in wasting time,” Evelyn interrupts Judy.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m fine with just jumping to her BD,” V interjects her opinion, “better to get right to it.”

Judy sighs and rolls her eyes; “Fine, fine, what do I know.”

“Great, I’ll just need to patch Bug in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Who?” Judy jumps up from her desk, crossing her arms and looks at V like she just asked to summon Satan.

“Runner from my crew, security specialist. She'll tell me what to look for while we analyze. No problem, I assume?”

“Actually, it is a problem! You’re already asking me to cut fucking corners and now you want to bring someone else in?! Not what we agreed, Ev!”

“It’s not a big deal,” V signs, not sure what Judy’s sudden problem is.

“No big deal! You don't quite grasp the risks I took by lettin' you in here! What I'm risking pokin' around with this stuff!”

Judy continues to yell and V rolls her eyes, she’s a BD editor, not part of the actual crew, the client, or the fixer. If Arasaka goes after anyone it sure as shit won’t be Judy, so why is she throwing a fit.

“And you don’t seem to grasp the risk I’d be taking if me and my partner went stumbling into that hotel with no fucking clue as to what we or our runner are up against. I miss one hidden turret and I get pumped full of lead, either my runner links in or I’m gone.”

V makes a point to twist her head and look at Evelyn at the last part; Bug is the most highly trained member of their crew and Dex’s go to runner. Without her involvement and eyes on it, the job won’t be going anywhere.

“Bye then!” Judy yells out, “good riddance and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

“Judy, please…”

“Ev, she wants to bring a 'runner in. What part of that don't you understand?! How do I know she'll only perch in this footage, observe, not fuck with anything?!”

“Because Bug is literally involved with the heist, has a dog in this fight, and wants it to go well too,” V signs, hoping the AI voice is getting her annoyance across, Judy does level a glare at her over Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Me,” Evelyn steals Judy’s attention, “I'm your guarantee.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Help me, this one last time. I promise everything'll work out, just like we planned.”

And it hits V, between the flirting and the soft drop in Evelyn’s voice here. The reason Judy is so worked up about this; her and Evelyn have something. Friends teetering the line into something else, girlfriends already, or maybe even more than that. V’s not sure. But there’s something distinctly not platonic to the way they interact. Maybe that’s the play on Evelyn’s. Scam Yorinobu Arasaka then run away with her porn editor girlfriend.

“Fine,” Judy shakes her head and sits back down, the anger gone, “call Bug and we’ll dive in.”

That issue taken care of V rings up T-Bug, the netrunner answering after a ring or two.

“What’s up, V?”

“Bug, listen. I got some useful footage from Konpeki Plaza. It's a braindance.”

“Konpeki? Ohhh, thought as much…” Judy looks up at Evelyn.

“Someone there with you?”

“Client and her...friend...is what I’ll settle on; that’s not what matters right now, its going to give us a layout of the room, a chance to find where the chip is, and some idea of security.”

“All right, see if I can walk you through it. Jackin’ into your tech now,” notifications alert across her mask’s interface, “Mh, you've gotta give me access. Opening port 1779… Secure protocol? Good, I'm goin' in. Should be getting my request… …now.”

“Got it. You ready?”

“Millisec. OK, connection confirmed, now some quick temp ICE and… we're clear. Ready to dance.”

“Let’s do this.”

And with that the wreath panels begin to flash and strobe in front of V’s eyes, quicker and quicker until the world goes out in white. And in the next snap of a moment, one reality becomes another. Her body is no longer her own, she’s placed in Evelyn’s mind standing outside an elevator. What feels like her body, moves to adjust a purse strap, gold capped nails.

“All right, V - eyes open. Gotta find out where Yorinobu is keepin’ the Relic. Everything is controlled by thought and intention; you can step into editor mode, access everything her cyberware picked up a signal of, can scan, rewind, fast forward. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The doors open, exposing the hotel room, and a horror show of a man walking towards her. V can feel the spike in fear, whether from Evelyn in the moment or V’s own instinctual reaction; she isn’t sure. He’s around eight feet tall, complete metal and cyberware from his feet to his upper lip; more machine than human. Wire, hydraulics, steel; all branded with Arasaka. The flesh section of his head is sickly ashen protrusive veins, glowing red where eyes should be. As he draws closer there’s a whirr of machinery, hydraulics pistoning to give him movement. How is he alive? How is he functional?

“You look like a cut of fuckable meat. Are you?” He asks as he walks past, voice edged with something inhuman.

Evelyn reigns her fear back in, the past version of her walking deeper into the room, where a dark haired man sits at a table in front of a large screen where another blonde haired man speaks back to him.

“I said no,” the dark haired man speaks out, his voice colored by a Japanese accent and V knows it’s Yorinobu. Evelyn continues to walk closer, her heels clicking against the floor.

“They'll have my head for this…”

“Then you shall perish for a good cause.”

“But I-”

“Make yourself comfortable. I need a minute to finish,” Yorinobu tells Evelyn, sparing just a glance over his shoulder.

“Listen in on that conversation, V! Could be something important.”

She wants to watch through first, do an initial watch to look for things and then go more in depth. Two watches at least should mean she’s covered everything. Yorinobu switches the conversation to his holophone, pacing around the room. Evelyn meanwhile puts her purse down on the chair, then walks behind him, trying to keep him in range

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble! You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

Yorinobu continues to talk as Evelyn pours herself a glass full of champagne and takes a drink, the tech allowing V to taste the sweet bubbles as if they were on her own tongue. Glass in hand she takes a slow look around the room and walks back to the center of it, sitting at the table, the plush of the cushion letting her sink into it.

“Noted,” Yorinobu says into the phone as he starts to walk back to Evelyn, there’s something in his eyes, “enough.”

He hands up, putting the phone down on the table. Evelyn looks up at him and V through her eyes gets her first good look at the Arasaka heir. Dark hair with the sides shaved down close to the scalp, glasses perched on his nose. His cyberware is surprisingly minimal for a man of his wealth, two streaks of silver going up his neck to his jawline.

“Sorry, to make you wait,” he touches Evelyn’s shoulder and the woman rises, “business can be stupid.”

They’re close and V can feel his hands on her, Evelyn’s, hips. Evelyn’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mmh, it wasn't long,” Evelyn hums and it feels wholy unnatural to feel like she’s speaking with someone else's voice, “Not even long enough for me to grow bored.”

His hands start to creep and Evelyn goes to pull away, movements playful, when Yorinobu pulls her back in. Then he starts to dip his mouth.

“Fuck no!” V yells out as she pushes the thought to enter editor mode, separating her senses from Evelyn’s before she has to feel Yorinobu’s lips on Evelyn’s neck. She looks down and sees herself, though slightly digital, her bright blue nail polish and not gold jewelry. The scene around her has paused and a digital filter over them.

“Something wrong?” T-Bug asks with a slight laugh.

“Nearly had corpo droolon me,” V signs, happy to find the tech allows her translator to work in editor mode, “was going do a watch through, then a second go in editor mode, figured two look throughs would be best...then”

“Then you nearly had to lock lips with Yorinobu Arasaka.”

“Gag, rewinding back to scan the call fully.” With a thought she watches as Evelyn and Yorinobu move in reverse, getting back to win the heir was starting the call. Once she gets where she needs to be she scans his phone and restarts it from editor mode, thankful for the sensory disconnect. She hears the man on the other end of Yorinobu’s call speak.

“Please speak with your father. He's taken a particular interest in this project, he can certainly explain the risks invol--”

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble!”

“I should not even be listening to such things.”

“You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

“Read the documentation carefully. The Relic requires specific storage conditions. You MUST provide them.”

“Noted,” Yorinobu hangs up again and V pauses the BD.

“Heard that? Relic docs gotta be around here somewhere. Look for them,” Bug confirms.

“Once we find where the chip is stored we’ll do a clean sweep of the security, okay Bug.”

“Smart thinking.”

V watches half-heartedly as Yorinobu and Evelyn interact; her range of vision and senses limited to Evelyn. She fast forwards through the two canoodling, only mildly catching Evelyn mentioning something about ‘candy’ though V assumes it’s of the nose variety. Evelyn separates away from Yorinobu for a moment and walks to a control panel, offering to lend music to the scene.

But V’s interest is piqued when she catches Evelyn rifling through Yorinobu’s messages, a few spam and scam emails. Then she pulls up an email from Clouds, a dollhouse in the city. Evelyn deletes it, V rewinds back and pauses. The email thanks Yorinobu for his patronage; hmm, heir has a taste for doll prostitutes. Something, Evelyn doesn’t want that email to be there… Its all beginning to make more sense and V’s not sure she likes it.

The merc fast forwards further through the BD, moving through to Evelyn playing awful music and going to meet Yorinobu in his bed. Where he sits with a tablet, the second the screen is clear. She pauses and scans it, bingo.

“Manual details a special temp controlled container. Relic needs to be kept real cool,” T-Bug explains through the technobabble.

“Chip’s got to be in a freezer.”

“Yep. Could damage it otherwise. OK, switch on thermal layer detection in the editor. Should be easier to spot where Yorinobu's keeping the chip.”

V switches with a thought, the world turning into temperature signatures as she searches for unnatural cold places and spots. An air conditioner pumps out cold air, but that would be a stupid place to put billion dollar tech. One malfunction and you lost it all. She rewinds back to get more of a view, a ice bucket for champagne, a fridge?

“That’s just a regular fancy fridge, not cold enough,” Bug tells her when she spends t0o long contemplating it.

V rewinds further and an amass of blue ice cold air from behind a pillar catches her eye, It seems to come up through the floor, unlike the AC, ice bucket, or fridge she has no clear idea where this one is coming from. A secret container in the floor? Seems like a much craftier place to hide expensive stolen tech, V scans it.

“Right, grabbed the heat sig. Matches the spec in the docs,” T-Bug tells her.

“Chip has to be here, we got it.”

“Mmhmm, time to scan security.”

V switches back to the regular mode, looking for what she needs to scan. The camera system first.

“Shit, cameras packed with newtech motion sensors, heat sig activators. IFF.”

“Can you kill it?”

“With access to their subnet, but we need the Flathead bot for that.”

They continue on, with Bug commenting on each security measure they scan. Alarm with fresh firmware, Automated turrets connected to the hotels server. Yorinobu’s pistol, loaded with the safety on. V rewinds and fast forward, searching anything else that might be an issue but comes up empty handed.

“Seems like we got everything. Looks like all their security systems are linked to the hotel subnet. We need the Flathead. No other way to shut down these systems,” T-Bug sumises.

“No way around it ourselves?”

“Nope. Least I'm fresh out of ideas. Think we got everything we need.”

“Okay, but hang on the line with me after we get out of the BD, need you to look over something for me, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

V exists out of the brain dance, a flash of white and the world returns. Judy and Evelyn looking at her from across a desk, T-Bug still in the call panel of her mask. Her eyes hurt, her throat feels dry, and she can feel a migraine pushing at her temples. She fucking hates brain dances.

“Get everything you need?” Judy asks, a dark raised eyebrow.

“From the BD, yeah, got to clear something with Bug while I got her on the horn,” V gets the chip she fucked with out of her pocket and slides it into the proxy reader of her mask, “got a chip I fucked around with; decrypted and tried to rewrite the virus on it, so it will spike the people who gave it to me. But I want to make sure, I didn’t fuck up.”

“Need me to grade your work, V?”

“Kind of…”

“Oh, shit, V. You fucking over Militech?” T-Bug exclaims, a little pride in her voice as she reads over the code, thankfully her voice is only audible to V through her hearing aids.

“Mmhmm.”

“And you don’t want to sign and have your translator read it, because you don’t want to risk the client knowing you’re fucking over Militech while prepping to fuck over Arasaka.”

“Mmhmm, will it work?”

“It will fry the servers of any tech it’s plugged in proper and fry the servers it’s linked to, a Militech van from the looks of it. Won’t be a dent in their bottom line, but will surely piss off some reps. That what you meant for it to do?”

“That was the plan.”

“Preem work then, but I do want to make some...edits,” T-Bug edits the chips code in front of V’s eyes, “there we go.”

“Something wrong with it?” Nerves creep up V’s throat, if she fucked up, she’d rather learn her lesson now.

“Nah, I added a bit of a personal touch for you, nothing wrong with a little style added to your hacking.”

“Appreciate the help.”

“You know I won’t always be here to check your work.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn't mean I won’t take advantage while I can. Thanks again, talk soon.”

“Later, V.” With that V hangs up the call and slots the spiked credchip back into its respective pocket. Judgement, suspicion, and resentment are radiating off of Judy.

“I'll wipe the cache and your data. You were never here.”

Judy stands up from the desk and V tries to decipher a few of the tattoos she sees, noticing more sea themed ones, like a dolphin and sharks. V flinches behind her mask as Judy removes the BD wreath, glad to be free of the contraption, but she could have taken it off herself.

“Thanks…” V signs, despite this, just trying to be polite despite their spat.

“Keep it,” Judy hands her the wreath, V getting a good look at the octopus tattooed on the woman’s hand, “I'll put it on Ev's tab. Portable device for handling BDs. I already uploaded your calibration settings. Not as sophisticated as what we got here, but should do the trick.”

“And it keeps you outta harm's way. Clever.”

“Speaking of harms way, know what I see looking at you,” Judy pins her hands to her hips and gives V that look again, “walking, talking corpses.”

“We needed this recording, just… relax, will you?”

“Relax! If Arasaka finds out you have it, you're dead. I'm dead! If you fuck this up and Arasaka comes knocking on my door!”

“Judy, relax, that’s… not gonna happen,” Evelyn is the one trying to soothe the editors temper again.

“Evelyn, please… no shortcuts. You go that route, city'll always win. So be careful.”

“'Course I will be. Besides, we'll talk in a bit,” Evelyn looks to V, “lets walk.”

V stashes the new BD wreath into her bag and climbs from the chair, following Evelyn out of Judy’s basement space. It’s not like V is heartless or doesn’t know anxiety; but of everyone involved, Judy has the least skin in the game. V can’t spend her time coddling someone who doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about compared to her, Jackie, or Bug.

“Well? What do you think?” Evelyn asks and V can see that hint of nerves coming back.

“You’re not worried about this coming back on you, if they start looking through everyone he’s been dealing with?”

“They'll have a long list, then. Packed full of big names. Much bigger than mine. You tell me who they check first. Corpo hotshots and cutthroats? Or a little bedroom plaything like me?”

“Well, then... “ V tries to find her words, this all seems, too good, “intel on the heir, on the place, know roughly where the chip is, and how we should get to it… Seems like a perfect plan and job.”

“Mm. Thanks. Now the punch line, please.”

“Seems too good to be true, there’s got to be a catch…”

“Cold feet? Are you looking to get out of it?”

“I want to know you’re in control here; that there’s no secrets, no catches, no surprises that turns this heist from a cakewalk into a bloodbath.”

“V. I have zero reasons to haze you. We’re in this together. Really. Trust me that I got this.”

“Okay, if you say so, what next?”

“V….” there’s nothing good in the way Evelyn pauses, words stuck to her tongue for a moment, “Do this job for me. I mean me alone. No splitting the payout with anyone else. No middlemen. No Dex.”

Of course, of fucking course, there had to be something. Evelyn’s trying to play cutthroat corpo, fucking over a fixer because she has dollar signs in her eyes. But, she’s too damn naïve to the game to know that no merc with the lead in their gun would pull that shit. Greedy mercs who screw over their fixers end up broke on the street at best and swimming with cement shoes at worst. And a high profile one like Dex has the means to destroy her.

“Fucking knew there was a catch, you want to fuck over our fixer.”

“Dex is a middleman. And a useless one at this point.”

“You don't fuck with fixers. That's the one rule every merc in this city knows - and actually follows!”

“But if we're smart…”

“There is no smart to this, a mistake like that will cost me my reputation and without that, a merc is fucking nothing in this city. Are you serious about this?”

“Better ask yourself that question. Do you want to spend the rest of your days blasting scavs? Or become a legend overnight? Your choice.”

“He would put me in the ground, if I pulled some gonk shit like that.”

“I could give you fifty percent, V, . Eddies enough to do whatever the hell you like, without needing Dex for anything. With cred like that, you wouldn’t want for anything, you could retire.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“I thought you were a merc. I thought it was always about the money.”

“No, its not actually. He trusts me, he’s taking a leap with me. And even if he weren’t, I’m not the only person I got to worry about. Bug vouched for me too and Jackie is my partner. I fuck over my fixer, it hurts them too. I’m not going to send them down the river for a bigger cut of the pie.”

“Fine. I never asked. But V?”

“Yeah.”

“I just hope you're as good as you are naive.”

“Pff, you think I’m the naive one, here. Cute.

“If you need me, call. I'll send you my number. Now go. I need a few words with Judy.”

“Later, then.”

And with that V heads back up the stairs, tension draws tight across her shoulders. This whole damn thing with Evelyn throwing her off. The BD and everything seems clear cut, if they get the Flathead, the job might even be easy. But, wanting to fuck over their fixer. Evelyn is not the corpo or femme fatale or whatever she seems to think she is. A doll, V’s sure of that. Evelyn must have deleted the email from Clouds because its’s connected to her and the Mox offer protection to sex workers; must be where she and Yorinobu met. Clouds even has connections to Arasaka through the Tyger Claws. And she managed to become a powerful rich man’s plaything, so now she thinks she’s smart enough to fuck over not only him but Dex too.

She’s a messy client with good intel. V doesn’t want Evelyn to get hurt. The older woman is in over her head and doesn’t know how the merc world works. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt for that, the last thing V wants is for Dex to lose his cool and hurt the woman. But, V also owes it to him to let him know Evelyn put that deal on the table. If she doesn’t, what’s to say Evelyn won’t pull this on another fixer? Or Dex gets another job aligned with her and the next merc she offers this to isn’t so loyal? She has to tell him.

V fumbles with her holo as she walks back through the club, doing some quick research on Konpeki Plaza. Finding their policy on guns. Given the stealth nature of this mission, she can assume the only way they’re getting in is to find a way to get in like regular patrons. Which means they’d be scanned for guns as soon as they get through the door. If something goes south, she doesn’t want her and Jackie left unarmed with a hoard of Arasaka soldiers on their ass.

But they can’t confiscate cyberware.

Might be time to cash in her savings for something. Her holo buzzes in her hand as Dex calls; her stomach drops. Unsure for a moment what to say to him, if she should go ahead and tell him what Evelyn tried to pull. Would he lose his temper? Drop the entire damn heist? Would he hurt her for it? It weighs on her shoulders as she pushes through a blue beaded curtain, considering her options with a finger hovering over the phone.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #(slowburn eventual)#evelyn parker #judy alvarez #aidan becker #aidan v becker #female v

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bastillewolf · 4 years

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Emeralds & Sapphires (I)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader

Summary: When the King Under The Mountain is deemed ill once more by the Grey Wizard himself, he falls under the care of a strange woman, who claims to be a healer. But even she couldn’t comprehend the severity of the situation, or everything that would follow.

Notes: I’ve always had a big crush on Thorin, yet never had the guts to write about him, as Middle Earth is a very intimidating universe that I do not know enough about. I apologize for any mistakes, and must warn you that updates are not weekly, as I have two major fics I still need to finish first. This one’s just for fun.

I promise the next chapter will be much longer, by the way. Oh, and fuck BOFTA. No one’s died.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter I - Calentiris

“And who might you be?”

The dwarf before her held a defensive stance, his spear tilting dangerously close to her neck. Naturally, however, she remained calm, as it was not like her to feel outraged by such primitive behaviour. She was above that, having seen more unnecessary violence in her lifetime than these mere mortal folk ever would. They didn’t know any better.

“I do believe that’s none of your concern,” she replied sternly, “However, as time is of the essence, I request an immediate audience with Gandalf. Tell him the Green Wizard sent you.”

The dwarf’s eyebrows nearly hit the edge of his hairline with the incredulous look he gave her.

“You shall do as I ask, master dwarf, or something worse shall befall you other than a rude introduction.” Her irises grew dark, her voice heavy, and the spark of electricity running through the sky seemed to be what did the trick to get the guard to listen.

Not long after, a familiar figure clad entirely in grey appeared in the grand doorway of Erebor. He opened his arms towards her in greeting. “Calentiris, how good of you to come.” He was slightly out of breath, and if she hadn’t known him all her life, she would’ve probably been fooled by his old man act and offered him assistance. But since this was not the case, and she was clearly not sympathetic over his antics, he took notice and got straight to the point. “We need to speak in private.”

As she followed him through endless hallways and stairwells, she couldn’t help but voice her thoughts. “I thought you would be done with these dwarves by now, Gandalf. Weren’t you only supposed to be a guide to help them get their home back?”

“Yes, and I did. But I made a promise; that I would get them home safe.” He turned to her and looked her straight in the eyes, something dark and worrying looming on the tip of his tongue. “The king is ill. And I do not think it would be wise to leave him here without proper aid. I’m not only doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Calentiris. I’m trying to prevent a war from happening between the same people who once stood united against the orcs of Moria.”

He continued their journey, with her following closely behind. “Saruman will not be pleased about this, Gandalf.”

“Saruman doesn’t need to know, as far as I’m concerned,” he grumbled in response, not even bothering to look back at her. She smirked.

***

“Who is that?” a dwarf spat, only moments after the doors had been closed behind them. Gandalf had led her into what appeared to be a conference room, with only three chairs filled, and the king’s seat empty.

On the left of the intricately large piece of royal furniture, sat a dwarf with hair as white as freshly fallen snow, and beard almost reaching his middle. Next to him, was the grump who had asked the question, and he seemed fitting for the part. His head was almost entirely bald, but covered by intricate tattoos in a language she’d only seen fragments of before. Khuzdul, she recognized. Two axes were slung across his back, and she was sure those weren’t just there to intimidate.

She met a pair of hazel eyes sitting across from the brutish man. His golden hair was intricately braided, bearing many beads and different patterns. She sensed that he was apprehensive, but perhaps also the one who was least concerned by her appearance.

“This, master Dwalin, is the acquaintance I spoke to you about. She might be able to help us on this matter, so you’d be wise to behave properly. She is a lady, after all.”

Both Dwalin and the Green Wizard rolled their eyes, as Gandalf merely grinned with satisfaction.

They stepped towards the table, and introductions were made quickly.

“Balin, at your service.”

“Fíli, at your service.”

Dwalin… At your service.”

She nodded to each of them, raising a brow at the golden-haired dwarf who seemed to look at her with so much underlying desperation she almost felt the need to take a step back. But knowing who he was, and the state of worry he must be in for his uncle, she understood.

“At yours. I am Calentiris, also known among many as the Green Wizard.”

“Calentiris?” Dwalin scoffed, “You best go under a different alias around here, lass, for most of our folk won’t utter a word of Elvish.”

“I appreciate your concern, master Dwalin, though I dare assume that the only folk I’ll be speaking to are the decent kind, as I take this is an urgent matter only your closest will be familiar with.”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed at the underlying insult. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying-“

“You’d be right, mistress,” his brother interrupted quickly, before any more damage was done, “As our folk are most certainly the decent kind, only guarded towards strangers. You must understand.”

She gave a nod in response. She couldn’t blame the people of the mountain for their grudge against the elves, not whilst their history books clearly stated that they never forgave, and never forgot. However, for them to show any form ill intent towards those who might be acquainted with elves was a bit dramatic, even for her standards. It would rule out a lot of humans, hobbits and other kin alike.

“I’m afraid must cut our small talk short,” Gandalf gave her the side-eye, “As more important matters await. I do apologize for the curt message, Calentiris, but things have turned for the worse the past few days. It couldn’t wait.”

“What’s happened?”

Fíli stepped forward with a grave sense of severity.

“Thorin struck my brother.”

And the room fell deathly quiet.

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avaria-revallier · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Thirteen dwarves and a wizard

“Very helpful, master dwarf.” Gandalf leans forward and looks down on the unconscious hobbit lass. A bit uncomfortable the dwarves gather around Bella. Dwalin is the first one to take action. He picks her gently up and carries her into the living room. Nori places a cup of tee on the table next to her and quietly leaves to sit with the others.

Thorin looks up to Gandalf as they all gathered around the empty table.

“How could you tell her about us?” Thorin is angry, furious even. So why does he keep his voice down to not disturb their resting host. He had to agree with Bofur. The small lass, fierce as she reacted, was kinda cute. Not that he would ever admit such a thing.

“Well, I have to admit, she acted quite strange today.” The wizard brushes his beard with one hand. “But I didn’t tell Belladonna that you all would come, nor did I mention your names.” A ring of smoke floats through the room, turning into a butterfly before vanishing.

“How was the meeting in Erid Luin? Did they all come?” Balin shifts the attention from the unconscious lass in the living room to the main topic, the reason of their gathering.

“Aye. They all came. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Whispered conversations fill the heavy silence.

“What did the dwarves from the iron hills say? Is Daín with us?” Dwalin asks in a low growl.

All dwarves watch Thorin, hopeful, curious and tense. Their leader looks up from his plate, which is filled with all kinds of food. Bella saved quite a lot for him. She knew how much a dwarf could eat, let alone thirteen. Thorin takes another swig of the beer.

“They will not come.” A disappointed murmur fitting their defeated looks goes through the company. “They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

Thorin takes up is fork again and continues eating. He was grateful for the food and the roof over their heads. Even so his mind was set on not liking whatever fourteens member Gandalf had in mind for them. It must have been a poor joke of the wizard to even consider this gentle and kind type of creature. Actually he had a lot of time to make his mind up on the way to Bag End. He lost his way, twice. But still he had time to observe the folk living around here. Nobody carried swords or axes, the knives were only used to prepare food and the halfling themselves seemed not really like fighters nor like burglars. They are even smaller than dwarves, corpulent and always, always friendly and happy.

Well, most of them. The lass -their host- seems to be a bit fierce. She even remembered him of Dís while yelling at him. Until she fainted that is.

His thoughts were interrupted when Gandalf stood up.

“Far to the east, over ridges and rivers, beyond woodlands and. Lies a single solitary peak.” As he speaks he unfolds an old peace of parchment. A map.

Ori appears besides him, holding a candle for a little bit more light.

The map showed the lonely mountain, a red dragon above it. Dale and Escaroth as well as the Woodland realm.

“The front gate is sealed. There is no way in.” Balin says with a sight. “And even if it wasn’t sealed. We only number thirteen. Even with an army from the iron hills this journey would be hard.”

Gandalf reaches into one of the many pockets in his grey coat. A key shows up in his hand. Dwarven made.

He points towards a mark on the side of the mountain.

“These runes speak about a hidden passage to the lower halls. This map and key were handed to me by your father, Thrain. He wanted you to have them.” The wizard ended, handing the key to Thorin.

Hope sparked in Thorin and as he looked to his friends and family, he could see the same spark in their eyes.

“If there is a key, there must be a door!” Fíli shouts into their conversations.

“And we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf must have killed hundreds of dragons!” deep admiration in his voice Kíli looks to Gandalf as if he expects the smoking man to present a dead dragon to him.

A fairly loud discussion took place, wether Gandalf had taken down hundreds of dragons or not.

Thorin, now finished with his meal, and unusually annoyed by the noisy gathering, suddenly stood up.

“Shazara!” in Khuzdul he calls them to order.

A glance into the living room reassured him, that the hobbit was still fine. He stops in his very motion.

‘Why would I bother if that lass is comfortable or not? Thought, she is not that bad at all.’ Shaking his head he banishes the strange thoughts from his mind.

“Don’t you think others might have read the signs too? Rumours have begun to spread. Smaug hasn’t been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east towards the mountain. Calculating. Are we going to leave our home, our ancestors treasure, unprotected? No, we are going to take back what is rightfully ours. We are going to take back our home!”

Agreeing cheers hum through the air as they all begin to dream of a brighter future.

In the meantime, Bella has woken up. With both hands she clutches the mug of hot tea. It was no dream. This is real. There are indeed thirteen dwarves in her hallway. Happily chattering about a glorious future once they reclaimed their mountain. Anxiously she takes a sip of tea . Her hands are shaking. Just like that one time she had to fight for the first time in her life. Her first time holding her sword. She misses the trusted weight on her hips.

Quietly she wanders towards the happy cheers and loud laughters. Bella stops in the round opening which leads into the hallway where the dwarves placed the table to fit everyone in. None of them notices her. She also has no intention on announcing her presence. Simply standing here, counting ‘her’ dwarves and watching them, calms her down. Her hands stop shaking, allowing her to take another sip of tea.

The dwarves continue to make plans when Ori seems to realise something.

“So this is why we need a burglar!”

“Yes, you are right, Ori. A dragon guards his plunder til his death. To get the Arkenstone, and the help of all those who swore their loyalty upon it, we need an expert burglar. If the dragon is still alive he must steal the Arkenstone.” Balin nods.

Dwalin looks down on the table. He seems deep in thoughts. And he is not the only one. Bofur as well as Kíli and Fíli were observing the halfling for the whole evening. She did act strange. Not upset, angry, annoyed or surprised. Rather friendly and understanding. With thirteen dwarves -she shouldn’t know- inviting themselves inside and pillaging her pantry Belladonna Baggins was still friendly and understanding. She simply smiled at the harsh jokes and rough manners of them. Always refilling the plates and mugs of her guests.

Bofur is the one speaking out what they all seem to brood over.

“Does one of you know this hobbit, besides Gandalf?”

It is a rather simple question. Still, it irritates half of the dwarves while the other half gets what is going on.

Gandalf leans back. He looks amused to Bella and as their eyes meet, she could swear he winked.

“I don’t know her.” Gloin denies.

Oin had to be asked twice until he also denied, as well as the rest of them. Dwalin rises to speak.

“When I arrived, she jumped at me . I first thought I was attacked. She was sobbing and muttering something of being relieved that I was alive. Then suddenly pulling away. She knew the lads names before they arrived.” The tattooed warrior looks a bit lost, as if he still couldn’t quite understand if that was real.

Fíli and Kíli are strongly nodding.

“She hugged us, uncle. Tears in her eyes.” Fíli says. “She looked a bit like mother when she said farewell to us…” Kíli adds.

Suddenly they all had something to say. Except Bombur. He was still eating. Without a care in the world or for this conversation. Bellas lips curled up to a shy smile. He was still the same as always. In fact they all where.

‘If I go with them this time, maybe I can change their fate. Now I am more capable than ever. I could save them.’ Deep in thoughts Bella starts chewing on her lip, not realising she had bitten too hard. Blood was coming out.

“Has she gone mad?”

Bellas head shoots up. Her eyes locking onto Dori.

In this exact moment she had to make a decision. Tell them about her ‘situation’ or not to tell them at all. She would go with them, if they want her to or not. That was for sure. Even if she would tell them, would they believe her? She surely wouldn’t. Gandalf, he may be of some help, well, maybe.

Lord Elrond, or to be precise, Lady Galadriel might know how to handle this kind of situation.

Yes. Better not tell them. She would figure out how to help them. She would change their fate. She would save their lives. Nothing, not even a dragon would ever hinder her. She wouldn’t let them die a second time. Determined what she had to do she takes a step into the light.

“Well, master Dori. Who wouldn’t? With thirteen dwarves in my home, pillaging my pantry, trailing mud through the halls, throwing my mothers finest dishes from one to another and into my kitchen. With a wizard, who only speaks in riddles and a king who can’t even properly introduce himself!” The grip around her mug tightens as she takes another step into the room.

“I also have to apologise. I haven’t introduce myself yet. Belladonna Baggins, at your service. You are very welcome to stay the night. I have plenty of vacant rooms, also plenty pillows so you could sleep all together in my living room. It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

Once again silence fills the hobbit hole. Bofur stopped eating and Oin looked around with a curious look.

“Give her the contract.” Thorin grunts in Balins direction.

The dwarf stands up and rummages through his pockets. His white beard swinging from one side to the other.

“Just the usual. Summary of all the pocket expanses. Time required. Funeral arrangements, so forth.”

Bella had read that contract before. She takes it from Balin before Thorin could shove it onto her again like last time. Briefly reading through she looks up again. They all observed her. Again she chews on her lip till the taste of iron fills her mouth.

“I am sorry… I can’t sign this.” Bella muttered more to herself than to the company.

Immediately an uproar of complains, disbelief and angry ‘I told you’ screams, hindered her to make her request.

Dwalin, hammering with his fist on the poor table while loudly arguing with Gloin. Bifur barking in Khuzdul and making different gestures with his hands towards Oin, who looked even more confused. Fíli and Kíli throwing bits of food across the table and yelling about that they wouldn’t need a burglar, because the dragon would long be dead. Thorin is surprisingly quiet.

Bella politely signs Balin to follow her into the living room. He follows, as does Gandalf. Thorin as well followed them, out of curiosity only of course and not because he was concerned what the halfling had to say.

“I can’t sign this…” she tries to start again.

“When did doilies and your mothers dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who was running of in search of elves in the woods. Who would stay out late, coming home trailing twigs and mud and fireflies. A young hobbit who would like any better than finding out what is beyond the borders of the shire. The world isn’t in your books and maps. It is out there.” The Istari points towards the window.

A long deep sight escaped Bellas mouth. She feels the burning look of Thorin on her back. Looking at Balin she tries for a third time.

“Master Balin. I am terrible sorry, but I can’t sign the contract.”

A despising grunt from behind her makes her close her mouth once again. She could ignore the stubborn and prejudice dwarven king, but where would be the fun in that? So she turns around.

Thorin had known from the very beginning that something was terribly wrong with this hobbit. She was different. In her presence it was hard to keep a neutral expression. She reminds him even a bit of his sister. When she was near he started to question all sort of things, even himself. And the worst, there didn’t seem to be a reasonable explanation for all of this.

Before he could stop himself a displeased grunting sound vibrates in his throat. The hobbit stops talking and slowly turns around to look him in the eyes. He takes a moment to examine her. Long and curly brown hair framing her lovely face. Sharp shining green-blue eyes and a mouth that always seems to smile gently. Her ears slightly showing between the thick curls are a little bit pointy. Her green dress with the yellow waistcoat beautifully complementing her figure and eyes.

‘How nice would it be to braid those amazing curls’

“Can I help you with something, master Thorin?” she asks him gently, yet with a sharp subtext.

Thorin straightens himself to his full height, like a young dwarf caught red-handed.

“Right, you…” before Thorin could think of any kind of convenient answer his nephews storm into the living room.

“Mistress Boggins!” Kíli shouts, “I think I set your kitchen on fire.” And then disappearing again.

Fíli watches as Bella slowly stands up and makes her way towards him. As she passes Balin she smiles apologising. Fíli looks at his uncle. Thorins whole attention was focused on the lass. His eyes following her every motion. To most others it might have looked like the dwarf was angrily eyeing her, but Fíli could read his uncle way better than most. This expression he had never seen before. With a last concerned look towards his uncle he follows Bella into the kitchen.

Thick black smoke filled the room. The shadows of two people running up and down in front of a small flame makes Bella lift one eyebrow. Kíli was trying to suffocate the flame with one of her doilies. Which obviously wouldn’t work. While Ori could only jump from one foot onto the other, a frightened look in his eyes.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no… What should we do? What if she yells at us?” Bella heard Ori mutter in a panic.

Bella opens one of the windows and allows the smoke to leave her home. Rolling up her sleeves she grabs Kíli on one ear and Ori by the arm.

“What where you trying to do? I do like you both, but I don’t trust your cooking skills. Please leave my kitchen.” She escorts them into the hallway where she releases both.

Bella turns towards the older brother. Fíli had been watching her from the side this whole time. She returns his puzzled look. Defeated she closes her eyes for a moment.

'What a mess. Those are really my dwarves!’

“Fíli, would you be so kind and get Bombur and Bofur for me? And please don’t look at me like that. Next time please just ask if you are still hungry. Tell this your brother as well. I am not angry at either of you, so please calm Ori down. I am certain Kíli must have dragged him along, like always. And if you are still in the mood for a little snack, down the hallway to the left, on the board there should still be some cookies and other pastries. Well, if Dwalin hasn’t eaten all of them.”

“It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. What are we? Merchants, minors, tinkers, toymakers. Hardly the stuff of legends.” Balin sits down once again. Defeated he looks up to his friend.

“There are a few warriors amongst us.” The king answers, his arms crossed. His voice nothing more than a low rumble.

“Old warriors.” Balin corrects him. His eyes wander towards the rest of the company.

“I would take all of these dwarves over an army of the iron hills. For when I called upon them they answered. Loyalty. Honour. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that.” Thorin steps nearer to the fireplace. His mind was still set on the halfling. Somehow he couldn’t free himself from the urge to follow her, to watch her whenever she is in sight. Absent minded he starts to hum.

“We are with you laddie. We will see it done.” Balin whispers before he also joins the low hum.

One by one the whole company of Thorin Oakenshield finds their way into the living room. The fire is burning brightly, sending small sparks into the dark night sky. Those who are old enough remember the raging fires of the day when the dragon came.

Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night

The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches blazed with light

Chapter 1

Masterpost

#hobbit #hobbit imagine #hobbit headcannons #thilbo #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #bilbo baggins #female bilbo

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Choice

Chapter 66 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris tells the Exalted Council to shove it what the future of the Inquisition will be, and everyone gets to finally relax. **CANON-DIVERGENT SPOILERS ABOUND, so scroll on if you aren’t caught up and you care about spoils!**

Full chapter is ~7600 words, and includes some smutty smut. Read on AO3 instead.

*****************

Fenris raised an eyebrow at Dorian. “Stop gaping at me.”

Dorian immediately looked away. “I wasn’t gaping. I don’t gape,” he said loftily. “I’m not a fish.”

Fenris grunted. “You could have fooled me.” In truth, he couldn’t blame Dorian for staring; Fenris couldn’t stop looking at his own skin, either. Every time he reached for a quill or picked up an apple or lifted his hand to run his fingers through his hair, the sight of his own unmarked hands was like a constant exclamation mark in his mind, perking his attention and reminding him that he was normal.

He wasn’t a mage. He wasn’t a marked and tainted slave, and he wasn’t a warrior whose magic had been forced into the marks on his skin. He was a normal man, and he was free.

Nearly free, in any case. Hence the informal procession he and Hawke were leading toward the great hall where the Exalted Council were convened.

Dorian sniffed. “That’s offensive. I’m nothing like a fish. If I resemble any animal, it’s a graceful and vicious tiger.”

Sera snorted. “You are too like a fish!”

Dorian shot her a resentful look. “How dare you say such a thing?”

“Fish are flashy,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know, scales and that? Flashy fish, flashy you.”

“Hey, you’re right,” Varric said. “He is pretty flashy, with the buckles and the rings.”

Dorian tsked. “Flashy is one thing. Fishy is quite another.” He elbowed Bull’s hip. “Why aren’t you defending me?”

“Sorry, kadan,” Bull said. “I couldn’t focus over your flashy buckles.”

Rainier chuckled. “Even your fabrics are flashy now, Dorian. Is that the fashion in Tevinter these days?”

Dorian barked out a laugh. “Someone mark this day on the calendar! Thom Rainier uses the word ‘fashion’. I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word.”

Rainier scoffed into his beard, and Hawke laughed and patted Rainier’s burly arm. “Hey, that’s not nice! I think Thom has a very appealing aesthetic.”

“Thank you, Hawke,” he said. Then he scratched his beard. “Er, what does that mean?”

Sera cackled and Hawke grinned, but Cole was the one to answer. “Big and burly, beautiful beard. The axe looks small in his hands, rough and rugged hands for running over my skin. I wonder if he’s single?”

Hawke’s jaw dropped in delight. Rainier’s eyes widened, and Varric chuckled. “Sounds like someone has an admirer.”

“No kidding!” Hawke crowed. She poked Cole’s arm. “Whose thoughts were those?”

He looked around vaguely. “She’s not here.”

Bull huffed in amusement. “Real helpful, Cole. Thanks.”

Varric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it’s got to be someone who’s seen the hero chopping wood behind the stables.”

Hawke tutted. “That could be anyone! Everyone in the Inquisition has gone by the stables at one point or another to visit the nuggalopes.”

Rainier grunted. “True. Those damned beasts are the most popular in the stables. Not sure why.”

Dorian smiled charmingly at him. “Some might say the same about you.”

Rainier snorted. “Oh shut it, Pavus.”

The others chuckled and continued to poke fun at each other, but the mention of the nuggalopes raised a fresh concern in Fenris’s mind. Damned nuggalopes, he thought ruefully. The problem wasn’t just the nuggalopes, in fact, but the Inquisition’s entire range of odd steeds. Who would look after them? Would Dennet be willing to take them back to the Hinterlands with him? Perhaps they could be gifted to the agents of the Inquisition who could use them best?

He stopped himself before he could start sinking too deeply into the problem. This was an issue that could be delegated, likely to Josephine. It was absolutely not necessary for Fenris to worry about this.

He smiled to himself. Then Hawke’s fingers slid gently over his wrist.

He looked at her. She smiled up at him and twined her fingers with his. “How are you?” she asked.

“I’m well,” he said, and he savoured the novelty of this statement actually being true.

“Good,” she said. “Hang on to that feeling. Sounds like you’re about to get into it.” She jerked her thumb at the closed doors to the great hall.

Fenris pursed his lips. Already he could hear Cyril’s raised voice through the doors. “... and now we stand on the brink of war with the qunari?”

“Yes,” Teagan snapped, “because this Solas provoked them in the first place!”

Josephine’s calm voice was the next to speak. “The Inquisition did not cause this threat. We informed the summit of the danger–”

“The danger posed by qunari spies inside your organization!” Teagan shouted.

Cassandra interrupted in a harder tone than Josephine’s. “Without the Inquisition, none of us would be here to complain.”

Hawke grimaced at Fenris. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, and he hefted the heavy tome beneath his arm: the same tome that Cassandra had once slammed down on a rough wooden table back in Haven’s little Chantry.

He pushed open the doors to the great hall. The assembled spectators turned, then immediately broke into frenzied murmuring.

“The Inquisitor! He looks different, non?”

“Where are his Dalish tattoos?”

“He’s not Dalish, you idiot. He was a slave. Did you not read The Tale of the Champion?”

“He’s so late! The Council started an hour ago! Do you think he was fighting qunari?”

“Perhaps he was allying with the qunari. I heard he lived with them for a time.”

“Shut your mouth, he’s the Herald. He would never.”

“His hand! The mark of Andraste is gone!”

“Does that mean Andraste has forsaken him?”

Fenris ignored them and made his way to the table where Josephine was sitting by herself. “You couldn’t wait for me, I see,” he murmured.

She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. “I tried, Fenris, believe me. You spoke to Leliana this morning?”

“I did,” he said. Leliana had coached him in what he was about to say – which was, of course, why Josephine was asking.

He placed the tome on the table and looked up at the high table, where Cassandra was sandwiched between Cyril and Teagan. “I apologize for my lateness,” he said. “But you will be pleased to know I have reached a decision about the Inquisition’s future.”

Teagan’s eyebrows leapt up on his forehead. “You have reached a decision? That is not your choice to make!”

“It is, in fact,” Fenris said. He tapped the tome. “This is the writ from the late and revered Divine Justinia authorizing the reformation of the Inquisition.” He flipped open the book. “Here on page 147, it clearly states the following: ‘It is the Inquisition’s duty and goal to act in the interest of the people of Thedas. To protect them from the dangers borne of the Breach and to guide the return of peace to all nations where such guidance is so required. The Inquisitor's judgment shall be exercised to determine when those goals have been met.’” He looked up and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Cyril shifted slightly in his seat, but Teagan sat forward and glared viciously at Fenris. “You would abuse this power for your own gains?”

“My aim here is not to abuse this power,” Fenris said. “My aim is to point out that you have been correct. During the past two days, we acted beyond the bounds of this writ.” He raised his voice slightly so everyone in the room would hear. “In stopping the qunari plot to invade Thedas and to kill the leaders of every nation herein, the Inquisition acted beyond our bounds.”

A murmur of interest and alarm rose from the crowd, just as Fenris had known it would, and Teagan swelled with anger. “You – this is – don’t you dare act as though you played no role in this!” he shouted. “You had qunari spies within the Inquisition!”

Fenris bowed his head. “This is unfortunately true. An unfortunate truth that we seem to share with Orlais.”

Another murmur, louder this time, rose from the onlookers, and Fenris breathed slowly to master his discomfort at the attention. At the high table, Teagan finally leaned back and glared at Cyril instead.

Cyril shifted, then rested his fingers delicately on the table. “Be that as it may, Inquisitor, the Arl is correct. You stepped beyond your authority here at the Winter Palace. Your soldiers attempted to wrest control of the palace from the Orlesian guards.”

“That is true,” Fenris admitted. “And it is for reasons such as this that I have made my decision about the future of the Inquisition.” He looked directly at Cassandra. “A woman of great wisdom once told me that there is strength in picking up the mantle of responsibility when a guiding hand is needed. But there is also strength in knowing when to let that mantle go. In knowing that tyranny and complacency are always on the horizon, and to set power aside before we fall prey to its gaping maw.” He lifted his chin. “The time has come for the Inquisition to retire this mantle. We had a purpose: to close the Breach, to destroy those responsible, and to do our part in restoring order. We achieved these goals; we met our purpose. And thus I declare the Inquisition disbanded.”

An outcry of surprise and interest rose from the gawking crowd, but Fenris ignored them; Cassandra was smiling proudly at him, and hers was the only reaction he cared about.

He smiled back at her, then bowed briefly to the Council before turning away. He caught Josephine’s eye, and the relief in her smile only helped reinforce his conviction.

He made his way along the aisle toward the exit and tried not to listen to the chatter of the crowd. As he neared the doors, his companions rose from the benches at the back of the room. Together as a group, they left the great hall.

As soon as the doors of the great hall closed behind them, Hawke propped her fists on her hips. “Well! I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think this calls for some punch.”

Rainier and Bull murmured their agreement, and Sera did an excited little hop. “Punch! Punch! Do some punch!”

Dorian groaned. “Oh no, not that damned punch.”

Varric raised an eyebrow. “Sparkler, you love that punch. You said so two days ago.”

“How drunk was I at the time?” Dorian said archly.

“Pretty damn drunk,” Varric admitted.

Dorian folded his arms. “I rest my case.”

Hawke poked Dorian’s arm. “I would be offended by your attitude if getting you all terribly drunk wasn’t my favourite goal. Now come on, who needs a drink?”

Fenris huffed. “Dare I point out that it is barely ten o’ clock?”

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Oh shit, you’re right. Well, I’ll throw some orange juice into the mix then.”

Sera laughed, and Rainier patted Hawke’s shoulder. “Always with a solution, Hawke.”

Bull grunted in agreement. “A solution for getting drunk at the least respectable times of the day: that’s a woman after my own heart.”

Dorian tsked and smacked his arm. “Are you trying to make me jealous? I’m standing right here.”

Rainier smirked at him. “As though we could forget. You know, with all the flashing buckles.”

“And the fishy scale fabric,” Sera added.

“It is very shiny,” Cole agreed, and Sera jumped and scowled.

“And the rings,” Bull said. “Do you really need so many rings, kadan?”

Dorian gave Fenris a pitiful look. “Fenris, they’re picking on me. Do something.”

“I can’t,” Fenris said pleasantly. “I have no authority anymore.”

Dorian scoffed. “Some friend you are. You know, just for this, I’ll be sure to call you on the sending crystal at all hours of the morning – even earlier than this. I shall call repeatedly until you are forced to take my calls, and I will tell you in exhaustive detail all about the trivial minutiae of magisterial life…”

Fenris turned to Hawke. “Remind me to destroy the sending crystal,” he said dryly.

Hawke chuckled and looped her hand through his elbow, and their group meandered leisurely through the Winter Palace’s halls. There was much lighthearted talk about a game of wicked grace in the tavern while Varric read to them from the first chapter draft of his new book, and Fenris listened contentedly without saying much.

Hawke stroked his arm. “Are you all right?”

He gave her a chiding look. “There is no need to keep asking. I promise you, I’m fine.” He lowered his voice. “I should be asking how you feel. How is our turnip?”

She smiled and squeezed his arm. “I’m tired, but the turnip is great. Sucking all my energy, growing its little ears and fingers, you know.”

He smiled at her, then sighed and lowered his voice. “If I’m perfectly honest, I am tired too. What I really want at this moment is a bath and a nap.” After returning from the Crossroads and debriefing with Leliana, Josephine and Cullen, Fenris had barely gotten three hours of sleep last night.

“Maker, yes,” she said fervently. “A bath and a nap would be so good.”

He raised an eyebrow, and Hawke smiled. Then she pulled him to a stop. “Change of plans,” she announced to the group. “I’m going to take a nap because I’m pregnant, and Fenris is going to rub my feet because I’m spoiled.”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Boring.”

“I agree,” Dorian said. “That’s very boring.”

Rainier shrugged. “I think it’s a good idea. Hawke should get some rest.”

Hawke batted her eyelashes at him. “Why thank you, Thom! That’s the kind of attitude I like to see in one of our baby’s many uncles.”

Rainier’s cheeks turned pink with pleasure. Varric folded his arms and shot Rainier a knowing look. “Suck-up,” he said.

Rainier scoffed. “Says the man who’s been tipping the servants to pay special attention to Hawke since we’ve been here.”

Hawke and Fenris looked at Varric in surprise. “You were?” Fenris asked.

He shrugged. “Eh, I might’ve done. It’s no big deal.”

Fenris smiled at him, Hawke threw her arms around his neck. “I was wondering why I was getting so much attention! Oh Varric, you shouldn’t have.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He patted her arm. “Really, Hawke, it was no big deal.”

Bull tucked his thumbs into his belt. “You’re excited to be an uncle. Just own up to it.”

Cole nodded. “He is excited. ‘Future and family for friends: they deserve it. They’ve been through enough. Babysitting will be fun when they’re in town.’”

Everyone chuckled, and Varric tugged his ear. “Come on, kid, don’t make me look too soft,” he mumbled.

Hawke kissed Varric’s cheek once more before releasing him. “Can I take that as your standing offer to babysit whenever Fenris and I are on holiday in Kirkwall and we want some time alone to–”

“All right, all right, go take your nap,” Varric said loudly. “We’ll be in the Gilded Horn when you guys are done being boring.”

Sera elbowed Hawke. “I’ll save you some boring juice for the wee widdle!”

Hawke chuckled and flicked her ear. “Thanks, Sera. We’ll see you later.”

The others drifted toward the main entrance, still laughing and poking fun at each other, but to Fenris’s surprise, Cole stayed behind.

Hawke squeezed his arm. “Go on, Cole, go play cards with the others! You’re getting better at bluffing every day.”

“Is he?” Fenris said dryly.

Hawke poked him. “Shh. He’s trying.”

Cole blinked at them. “It’s time. I’m going now.”

Fenris gave him a sharp look, and Hawke cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean? Go where?”

“It’s done. You helped,” Cole said. His customary vague gaze drifted from Fenris to Hawke. “Healing hurts, healing the sky, helping. There’s more to help, and I can help best from home.”

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Home? You mean… are you going back to the Fade?”

Cole nodded. “I will slip back safely, a spirit. Someone is hurting. He needs me to remember who he is.”

Hawke’s mouth fell open in surprise at the mention of Solas, and Fenris scowled. “He’s hurting? He is planning the murder of every person in this world!”

Cole shook his head. “He doesn’t want to hurt people. He isn’t that kind of wolf.”

Fenris opened his mouth to argue, but Hawke placed a hand on his wrist. “You know what, Cole? If anyone can get through to him, it’s you,” she said firmly. “He isn’t a complete asshole. Not yet, at least. Can you remind him of that?”

“Yes,” Cole said simply.

Hawke smiled at him, then pulled him into a hug. “What am I going to do without you exposing all my dirty thoughts in public?” she asked. “I’ll have to start telling them to random people myself.”

“As though that is any different than usual,” Fenris teased.

She shot him a quick grin, and he noted with a pang that her eyes were wet. A long moment later, she released Cole and rubbed her nose. “Don’t forget to say goodbye to Varric before you go, all right? He’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Cole nodded, then tilted his head. “It’ll be all right, Hawke. I’m not really gone.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Thanks, Cole.”

“Yes, thank you for your assistance,” Fenris said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he held out his hand to shake.

Cole studied Fenris’s hand quizzically, then tentatively reached out and shook his hand. Fenris nodded, then released Cole’s hand. “We will not forget you,” he said.

Cole smiled. “Thank you,” he said. A blink of an eye later, he was gone.

Hawke sniffled. Fenris gently squeezed her waist, and she smiled brightly and waved her hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “I’m not going to blubber too much, I swear. We knew everyone was going to go their own way eventually. Besides, we’re leaving too. And it’s not like we won’t all stay in touch.” She took his hand as they made their way toward their suite. “I mean, we’ll have to stay in touch anyway for–”

Fenris cleared his throat and kept his eyes ahead. There was no telling who was listening in the blasted hallways here.

Hawke pulled a little face and fell silent. They walked the rest of the way to their suite in silence, and it wasn’t until they were inside with the doors locked that Hawke spoke. “Sorry,” she said. “It’ll take me a while to get used to the ‘no blurting out every thought in your head because you’re a spy’ thing.” She crouched beside an eagerly panting Toby and scratched his jowls.

“It will take time for both of us,” Fenris assured her. “Leliana knows that.” He patted Toby’s head briefly before shucking his formal coat.

Hawke grinned at him. “I’m excited to learn her secret cipher, though. Can I practice it by writing you dirty letters?”

Fenris smirked at her. “Dirty letters in Leliana’s secret cipher? That is hardly romantic.”

She giggled as she rose to her feet. “You like the idea. Admit it.”

He shrugged and hung his coat in the armoire. “Perhaps I’ll write dirty cipher letters for you,” he said casually.

She threw her head back and laughed. “Maker’s balls, yes! Please do! I like that idea even better.” She gave Toby’s head one last pat, then wafted into the bathroom and began filling the ornate bathtub.

She started stripping off her clothes, and Fenris began stripping too. By the time he was padding over to the tub, Hawke was already sinking into the water with a sigh. “This is fucking bliss,” she announced. She playfully flicked some water at him. “Come on in, the water’s warm.”

He eyed the glowing runes inscribed on the inner surfaces of the tub. This was an Orlesian extravagance that he could actually appreciate. He stepped into the tub, then sighed in relief: the water was perfectly hot just as Hawke had said, and Fenris happily settled himself on the opposite side of the tub from her.

He scooped some water in his hands and splashed his face, then briefly dunked his head beneath the water. When he rose to the surface and opened his eyes, it was to find Hawke smiling goofily at him.

Her eyes were on his forehead. He instinctively reached up to wipe his face, then remembered why she was staring: the trio of lyrium marks on his forehead were gone.

He lowered his hand and raised an eyebrow. “I really look that strange to you?”

She shook her head slightly. She was still smiling, and her eyes were roaming from his chin down to his neck now. “In the best way,” she assured him. “It’s going to be strange for a while. You’ll need to cut me some slack and let me stare.”

He huffed in amusement. “Fair enough,” he said. He picked up the loofah on the side of the tub and began to rub his arms – his plain, unmarred, tawny-skinned arms.

He wiped his shoulder down to his elbow and then his forearm, and all the while he kept staring at his own skin. On the inside of his arm, a handspan below his wrist, he had a long fine scar from a nasty scrap during his flight from Minrathous. His hands bore a number of faint dark lines from the days when he was learning to climb trees and fight with daggers in Seheron, and the veins in his forearms stood out in sharp relief when he closed his fists.

He gazed happily at the scars and veins: mundane marks of the type that anyone could have. The type that nobody would usually think about, and the type that Fenris had never really paid attention to before because the lyrium tattoos were in the way.

Hawke shifted toward him with a soft whisper of moving water. “Let me do that,” she said.

She was reaching for the loofah. Fenris gave it to her, and she settled herself over his lap. She squeezed the extra water from the loofah, then began soaping it up.

He let his hands sink into the water to rest on her thighs, and she smiled coyly at him. “I’ll need one of those hands, please,” she said.

He lifted his left hand from the water, and Hawke lathered his hand with the loofah. She carefully washed the back of his hand, then his wrist, then smoothed the soapy loofah along his forearm to his elbow and his shoulder, and all the while her eyes were moving attentively over his unmarked skin.

She sluiced some water over his skin to rinse the soap away, then began carefully washing his right arm. “So I had an idea. I think you and I should write a book.”

“A book?” he said. “About what?”

“About the things we know,” she said. “Stuff we learned from the eluvians and from, uh… from Solas.” She made a little face, then began gently lathering his neck with her soapy hands.

He gave her a skeptical look. “You want to write a book about the things he said?”

“Not just him,” she said quickly. “The spirit in the Vir Dirthara, too. And the things we saw, what those memory-books were like, meeting Mythal and all the shit she said…” She rinsed his neck. “And not just that, but the deep roads too. The Titan’s heart, the thaig where we found the red lyrium idol with Varric, all that.”

Fenris frowned slightly. “Just so I understand, this isn’t a fictional account you’re talking about.”

She let out a little laugh. “No no, that’s Varric’s purview. I’m talking about a non-fiction sort of thing. Like a… a treatise or something.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A treatise? Like an academic text?”

“Exactly!” she said. “We’ve seen a lot of insane shit, Fenris. We’ve been through eluvians and into the Fade and we’ve met two elven gods and been to the deep roads how many times now?”

“This is true,” he said slowly.

She shrugged and gently scrubbed his chest. “I just thought – I mean, if we’re…” She lowered her voice. “If we’re going to be Leliana’s intelligence agents, this is the intelligence we have. We spent the most time with Solas during the year that he was with us–”

“You especially,” Fenris pointed out. Then he regretted it when her smile faltered slightly.

“Exactly,” she said. “I just… I thought something good could come of it if we, you know, document it.”

He tilted his head and studied her thoughtfully. “Knowledge is power,” he mused.

She gave him a quizzical look, so he explained. “If we document this – all the things we’ve seen and heard… if we publish it and share it with those we trust, those we know who won’t abuse it…”

Hawke finished his thought. “You’ll be sharing the power with other people.” She smirked at him. “Solas would not approve.”

“Good,” Fenris said flatly. “He can operate as he sees fit, and we will do the same.”

Hawke smiled slowly. “Does that mean you’ll write a book with me?”

“It is a fine idea,” he said. “My answer is yes. I will write a book with you.”

She beamed at him, then playfully pinched his chin. “If you have time in between writing me those dirty cipher letters, that is.”

He smirked. “Of course.”

She planted a happy little kiss on his lips before tapping his collarbone. “Come on, handsome, turn around now so I can wash your back.”

He took her hand in his. “Hawke,” he said.

She tilted her head, and he gently squeezed her hand. “You are not to blame for Solas’s betrayal,” he said quietly.

She dropped his gaze and picked up the soap. “No, you’re – it’s okay, you were right. I was too trusting. He was hiding all that shit from us the whole time, and I just–”

He tipped her chin up and looked her in the eye. “You are not to blame,” he said firmly. “You could not have known this. No one could have guessed at this.”

“But you do think I’m too trusting,” she said pointedly.

He sighed and cradled her neck in his palm. “You see the best in people,” he said softly. “Even those who don’t deserve the boon of a second chance. It is the most infuriating and enthralling thing about you.”

She laughed lightly. “I think that’s a compliment, but I can’t be sure.”

“Take it as a compliment,” he said seriously. “This life would be bleak and cynical without you.”

Her face softened with surprise before lighting into a brilliant smile. She cupped his face in her hands. “You smooth talker,” she murmured.

“Mm,” he agreed lazily. He lifted his chin, and she followed his wordless suggestion and kissed him.

Fenris closed his eyes and relaxed into her kiss. Her lips were soft and plump, and her hands were sliding slowly down his chest. When her fingers trailed over his abs, his cock stirred beneath the water.

He gently licked Hawke’s lower lip. Her breath caught as a tiny gasp, and the sound lit a thrill beneath his unmarked skin. She peeled her lips away from his, then kissed his chin and the edge of his jaw, and Fenris tilted his head back with a sigh. Her palms were splayed on his abs now and her lips were travelling along the line of his throat, and when she licked the line of his collarbone, he released a slow and luxurious breath.

She gently nipped the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and a shiver of pleasure rippled down the back of his neck. He lifted his hips entreatingly, and Hawke settled herself more firmly on his lap.

She tilted her hips low and pressed against him, rolling her hips in a slow and gentle grind over his cock, and his breath hitched at the teasing touch. The water was hot and soothing, but the tantalizing press of her body and the press of her fingers on his skin made him want a different sort of soothing heat altogether.

She nipped his shoulder again, then gave his earlobe a little tug with her lips. “Do you want to get out now?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he breathed.

She smiled against his cheek, then shifted off of his body and rose to her feet, and Fenris greedily studied the curves of her bottom and the dip at the base of her spine as she stepped out of the tub. He exited the tub as well and roughly rubbed his wet hair with a towel, but before he could start drying his skin, Hawke reached out and took his hand.

“Let me do it,” she said.

He gave her a chiding look, but allowed her to take the towel from his hand. “You are aware that I’m capable of bathing and drying myself?” he said.

She wrinkled her nose playfully, then started dabbing his chest with the towel. “Indulge me. This gives me a good excuse to stare at you while pretending to be helpful.”

He shook his head in amusement. “You are shameless.”

“I really am!” she said brightly. “Thank you for noticing.” She moved around behind him and began smoothing the towel over his back.

She followed the path of the towel with her fingers, tracing gentle lines over the span of his skin as she patted him dry, and by the time her hands were smoothing over his hips and buttocks, his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and slow: all the better to savour the feel of her hands on his skin – his clean, unmarred, unmarked skin.

Hawke pressed her lips between his shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. She slowly moved around in front of him, leaving a trail of kisses from his shoulder blade to his arm and finally his chest, and Fenris simply breathed and focused on the feeling of her lips on his chest and her hands on his hips. When her hands slid down his thighs, he shuddered and opened his eyes.

Hawke was on her knees in front of him. She looked up to meet his gaze, and a rush of want pulsed through his chest and down to his cock.

A grin lifted her lips – her raspberry-red lips that were mere inches from his eager cock. “You’re not too tired for this, are you?” she asked.

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I – no. You can – I want this.”

She smiled more widely, then leaned forward on her knees and brushed her cheek against his shaft.

He jerked his hips, and Hawke let out a throaty little laugh. “Hold on, handsome. I have to dry you off first,” she purred. She began dabbing his thighs and calves with the towel, but her other hand was the one that was stealing all of Fenris’s attention: it was curving around the back of his other thigh, then along his inner thigh to graze his balls, and he shifted his hips restlessly at the teasing touch.

She suddenly licked the tip of his cock, and he gasped. “Vixen,” he accused breathlessly.

She chuckled again. “Hardly. I’m just doing my job, drying you off, making sure you won’t catch cold…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Catch cold from my legs being damp?”

“That’s right,” she said. Her tone was cheeky, but her eyes were moving slowly over his chest and his abs again as though to take in every inch of his unmarked skin. When her eyes returned to his face, he was surprised to find them shining with tears.

He cradled her chin in one hand. “What’s the matter?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Absolutely nothing. That’s why I…” She let out a little laugh and wiped her eyes. “I’m just happy,” she said. Then she leaned forward and took his cock in her mouth.

He gasped at the sudden heat of her mouth. She angled her head and took him deeper, and he gasped again and braced his palms behind him on the bathtub. His cock was sliding past her palate toward her throat, and her hands were firm on his hips and her skin was bare, and her nipples were dusky buds dappled with drops of water that were begging for his tongue…

She suckled his cock, strong slick pulls of her lips and throat and tongue, and Fenris shuddered at the sheer unmitigated pleasure of it. Hawke was eager and voracious, taking his length with hungry pulls and palming his balls with the perfect gentle grip, and it wasn’t long before the pleasure was rushing through his abdomen and his cock, roiling and buzzing between his legs with an eagerness that her lips were pulling forth–

His climax burst in a sudden rush, and he shuddered and cried out. “Hawke,” he gasped.

She gripped his thighs and suckled him firmly, and he shuddered again as she pulled every drop of pleasure from his pulsing cock. When she finally released him, he was leaning bonelessly against the bathtub for support, and she was smiling smugly.

“Was that all right?” she asked.

He exhaled heavily and lifted her chin. “You know it was,” he rasped. “Go lie on the bed.”

She laughed as she rose to her feet. “Nice try, serrah, but I’m in charge today.” She playfully pinched his chin. “You go lie down on the bed.”

He tossed her a skeptical look as he approached the bed. “I thought you enjoyed my bossy tone.”

“Oh, I do,” she said with relish. “But today I want to stare at my handsome husband.”

He huffed in exasperation and rubbed a hand through his hair. “Someday you will tire of flattering me.”

“Not a chance,” she said cheerfully. “But this isn’t flattery. Come on, lie down.” She pushed gently on his shoulders.

He sighed, but shuffled back on the bed and stretched out with one arm tucked behind his head. “There. Are you satisfied?” he drawled.

She shot him a quick grin. “I will be,” she said lasciviously. She kneeled beside his hip and ran her palm over his knee.

Her touch was unhurried and exploratory now, sliding carefully along his thigh and up to his hip, and Fenris watched curiously as her cheeky expression melted into a gentle sort of contentment. Her eyes roved carefully over his chest and his collarbones and up to his chin, and when her eyes finally found his face, they were shining again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” she said.

He scoffed, and she laughed and poked his hip. “I know, I know, I’m being hormonal and dramatic, but I mean it. You – you’ve always been the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. But now, you’re…” She took a deep breath, and her eyes travelled over the blank tawny canvas of his skin.

She met his gaze once more. “You know I loved your tattoos in a way. Not – not the tattoos themselves, but–”

“I know, Hawke,” he said softly. “I know what you mean.”

She nodded. “I loved them for bringing you to Kirkwall. They… we wouldn’t know each other without your tattoos.” She smiled slowly. “But seeing you without them… This is so much better. This is what you wanted.” She skimmed her knuckles over his abdomen. “This was your choice.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Her smile widened. She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles, then turned his hand over and kissed the inside of his wrist.

He skimmed her cheek with his fingers. “Come closer,” he murmured. “Lie on top of me.”

She beamed at him. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do,” she said, and she straddled his hips.

Fenris reached up and slid his fingers around the nape of her neck, then gently pulled her down until she was close enough to kiss. “You were my choice,” he told her softly. “Being with you – a chance for more time with you, to live the life I always wanted with you: that was my choice.” He stroked her throat with his thumb. “Losing the tattoos was a happy accident. The real choice I made was you, Hawke. I want you to know that.”

She laughed, and the sound was a little shaky. “I know,” she murmured. “And I want you to know you’re my choice too.”

“I know,” he whispered. And he did. If there was anything Fenris had ever been sure of, anything he’d ever known with unshakeable certainty over the last ten years, it was that he was the one Rynne Hawke had chosen and would continue to choose, forever and a day.

He lifted his chin and kissed her. She smelled of the soap from their bath, and the skin of her arms and back was soft and supple beneath his exploring hands. He stroked her neck and her collarbone as she tangled her tongue smoothly with his, and when her hips started shifting restlessly over his cock, he leaned away from her kiss and squeezed her hip.

“Move up,” he murmured.

She blinked at him, and he slid his hand over her bottom and squeezed. “I want to taste you,” he said.

She exhaled sharply and nodded, and a moment later she was shifting higher on his body to straddle his face. She braced her palms on the padded Orlesian headboard, and Fenris greedily studied her body as she settled herself over him: her perfect petite breasts and her perfect pert nipples, the planes of her belly and the dampness of her curls and the perfect primal scent of her desire as she lowered herself over his lips…

He lifted his chin and graced her with a hungry open-mouthed kiss.

Hawke gasped and arched, pressing herself closer to his mouth, and his cock jerked eagerly at the perfect sound. He wrapped his hands around her thighs to guide her as she rode his face. She was wet and fragrant and warm, and her clit was a perfect swollen bud, and every time he pressed it with his tongue, the most enticing little mewl of pleasure left her throat. The rhythm of her hips was a slow circular grind that matched the stroking swirl of his tongue, and it wasn’t long before Fenris was lost in the rhythm of her body: was Hawke driving herself higher with the rolling of her hips, or was he pushing her to her peak with the swirling of his tongue? He couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter, because all that mattered was Hawke’s pleasure. It was evident in the tension in her belly and her thighs beneath his hands, and it was evident in the desperate sounds she was making and the pulsing of her clit against his tongue, and when she pounded the headboard and cried out, he was so preoccupied with the taste and the scent and the smooth and silky feel of her pussy on his lips that he didn’t want to stop.

She arched her spine and moaned and continued to ride his face, her movements jerky now in the throes of her pleasure, and Fenris kept feasting on the slickness of her flesh until she lifted herself away from his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. She shakily slid off of his body and collapsed onto her back, and Fenris rolled onto his side and admired the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

He smoothed his palm over her breast, and she gasped and arched her back like a bow. “Please,” she whined. “Please, Fenris, I–” She suddenly broke off with a little cry: Fenris was suckling her nipple now while thumbing the peak of her other breast, and her desperate gasps of pleasure were just as pleasing to his ear as the sound of her actual pleas.

He pressed her nipple between his teeth, and she jerked and sank her fingers into his hair. “Please,” she begged. “I need you, I need you to fuck me–”

Fenris clasped her neck and kissed her, and a moment later he was stretched over her and pressing his palms to hers while he pumped his cock through the slickness of her folds.

He breathed hard as he slid through her smooth and creamy heat. She was slick and wet and waiting, and Fenris was sharing in that slickness with every slow pump of his hips, spreading her heat along the length of his shaft and sharing in her lust – sharing in this moment of increasingly desperate desire, just as he had shared every other important moment of his life with her…

She mewled and twisted beneath him, and her nails dug into his knuckles. “Please,” she begged. “Fenris, please fuck me!”

He adjusted his hips and entered her in a smooth, hard thrust.

She cried out and curled her hips toward him, and he moaned against her throat. “I love you,” he breathed.

She gasped and jerked her hips, and he thrust into her once more. Soon they were rolling together in a smooth and driving rhythm, hips rising and falling together in time with their gasping breaths, and Fenris squeezed his eyes shut as her heat and her tightness and her treasured little moans all conspired to pull his pleasure to the fore.

He dipped his head low and suckled her nipple, and she arched and jolted. “Yes!” she wailed. “Yes, yes, oh fuck, please...”

He gasped against the silken curve of her breast. The sound of her voice – fasta vass, her cries, her obvious pleasure, the obviousness of how badly she wanted him right now – no, not just now, but how badly she had always wanted him. How badly she continued to want him, despite the familiarity of the years that had passed and the arguments they always had and the exhausting battles they’d fought…

A rush of heat and longing and gratitude swelled in his chest and in his throat, and he gritted his teeth and fucked her harder.

“Yes!” she screamed. “Fenris, please, I – fuck, I love you so much–”

His climax was sudden and hard, a surge of pleasure that forced a bursting of lights behind his closed eyelids and a sob of pleasure from his throat, and he kissed her hard and fucked her harder still as the ecstasy shivered through his fingertips and his calves down to his toes.

When his pleasure finally ebbed away, leaving him boneless once more, he released Hawke’s hands and settled his head cozily on her chest. She instantly wrapped her arms around him and stroked his sweat-dampened skin, and he smiled lazily against her chest.

She chuckled softly and stroked his hair. “Someone’s happy.”

He hummed in agreement. “Someone certainly is.”

“I’m talking about the turnip,” Hawke said. “It’s being nicely squished between mum and dad.”

Fenris sat up in alarm. “Am I – kaffas, I’m crushing the baby? I can move–”

She burst out laughing and pulled him back down. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing! You’re fine. We’ll happily be crushed by you. It’ll make for an excellent story: ‘Former Inquisitor’s wife and turnip child smushed in post-coital cuddle–’”

Fenris rolled over so she was on top of him, then pinched her waist until she squealed with laughter. “You are an idiot,” he said affectionately.

She grinned and smoothed her hands over his collarbones. “Only for you, Fenris,” she giggled. “Only for you.” She shuffled lower on his body and tucked her head under his chin.

He smirked and closed his eyes. As was always the case, he knew that this peace wouldn’t last; Solas was a far greater threat than Corypheus had ever been, and now that the Inquisition was disbanded, they no longer had access to a network of contacts that spanned the entire south of Thedas.

Not openly, at least, he thought. The Inquisition might be officially disbanded and its members might disperse, but its people had a new goal now. Leliana would spearhead the efforts against Solas with Josephine’s assistance, and Dorian would search quietly for support in Tevinter with Maevaris by his side. Bull’s Ben-Hassrath background would be a boon for collecting further information, and Varric had no small number of spies and underground contacts of his own. Cole would return to the Fade, and Fenris could only hope compassion would do the same good in the Fade as it had done on this side of the Veil. Sera and the Red Jennies would always be there to fight against those who would punch down, and when the day finally came that they would need a sword on their side, Rainier, Cullen, and Cassandra would be there.

This idyllic feeling of peace wouldn’t last. But for the first time in years, Fenris felt at peace. He was no longer the Inquisitor, and Hawke was no longer the Champion. They were going to find a house on the beach in Rivain, and they were going to have a child. They would work against the Dread Wolf in a quiet and careful way, and they would write a book about everything they knew so that they could share the power of that knowledge too.

But in the meantime, they would live in peace. For the first time since he and Hawke had known each other, they would have the quiet and peaceful life they had always wanted.

For the first time in years, Fenris felt truly free.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenris smut #fenhawke #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #trespasser dlc

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axelxmartinez · 4 years

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(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp

FULL NAME: Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S): Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE: 33

DATE OF BIRTH: October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH: Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION: Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY: Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER: Cis male.

PRONOUNS: He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: quoiromantic

RELIGION: Atheist.

OCCUPATION: Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL: he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade.

EXTRACURRICULAR: Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT: Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: black, shaved short

COMPLEXION: Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR: Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT: 6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT: 169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD: Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles.

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE: jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S): ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well.

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S): none

ALLERGIES: the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS: insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day.

EATING HABITS: Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first.

BODY TEMPERATURE: neutral.

ADDICTIONS: Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE: Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth).

ALCOHOL USE: Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES: Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES: Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY: Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE: INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin.

ELEMENT: Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR: Black

MUSIC: Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE: Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT: Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE: Brandy or Tequila

FOOD: Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON: Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)

FATHER: Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none

SIBLING(S): 5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN: TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was.

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift.

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day.

“REMINISCENCE”: violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night.

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada.

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships.

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new.

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to.

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/

#redridgeimp #intro #; about #//have my child #//hope this is okay

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 49

Warning: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

She sits on the edge of the front porch as she watches him work. The sun harsh and punishing as it beats down on broad shoulders and back, wide chest and powerful arms; rivers of sweat glistening under the brilliant light. The perspiration that dampens his hair makes it look several shades darker; sides and back freshly shaved, the top growing in quickly and beginning to fall across his forehead. Sunglasses on and barefoot, clad in only a pair of cargo shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips. Every muscle in his upper body bulging and twisting with each swing of the axe; movement easy and effortless as he chops and splinters logs from a haphazardly stacked pile Koen had left near the fire pit. It’s a thing of beauty to observe. How that body moves and the power that inhabits it. The veins that protrude in those thick, strong forearms, the multitude of scars and tattoos that use his skin as a canvas.

Even after nearly seven years together and five children, it’s hard NOT to lust after someone that looks like THAT. He’s the embodiment of masculinity; brawn and immense strength, bravado and confidence without the air of cockiness. Rough skin and large callused hands and an intensity and edge that are always lingering just under the surface. But there’s other things that make him the man he is. The compassion and the gentleness that he possesses; extraordinary patience and an ability to keep calm, cool, and collected even when the rage is beginning to build. It’s the way he’s so secure in that masculinity; never shying away from things like braiding his little girl’s hair and daring anyone to tell him it’s not the most manly EVER. It's the ferocity behind his desire to protect what -and who he considers ‘his’; a steadfast loyalty and faithfulness that never breaks. When he loves, he loves big. He’s ‘all in; dedicating his entire heart and soul and giving nothing but fierce and unwavering devotion.

She’s the lucky one. The beneficiary of it all. Never remembering a time that someone had given that much of themselves to her; never questioning their feelings or second guessing her own. No one else had ever made her feel the things he does. Not just a mix of overwhelming and all consuming love and unbridled carnal want and need, but the feeling of being safe and secure. That knowledge that someone will do anything...stop at nothing...to protect her. Mark had only ever been interested in hurting others; dedicating himself to inflicting as much emotional and physical pain and turmoil as he could. Tyler commits himself to fixing those things; quietly -and without needing acknowledgement or praise- attempting to right another man’s wrongs.

He’s grinning as he approaches. Wiping dirty palms against the thighs of his shorts, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. “What are you smiling about?”

“Just admiring the scenery,” Esme says, and takes a sip from the bottle of beer in her hand. “And it’s very nice scenery.”

That grin widens, and he places a hand on either side of her, palms flat against the wood of the porch; bending down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And you call me biased.”

“All the women thirsting after you are proof I’m NOT biased. Cashiers at the grocery store, moms on the playground, at the school. Millie’s teacher. I hear she’s very determined when it comes to you. That she tried picking you up at the bar the other night.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ovi. Don’t underestimate his loyalty to me. He told me she was trying to jump on your dick. And that she didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.”

“I might have been a little harsh.”

“You? Harsh? Never.”

He smirks.

“He also told me that you were a good boy. That you behaved yourself.”

“You were worried I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t worried about what you’d do. Some of those women are very persuasive.”

“They can try all they want. My dick’s taken. That’s what I told her. It belongs to someone else. Yours is the only pussy it wants to be in.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “You said that? Those exact words?”

“That was loosely translated. But I did say my dick was taken and that no one other pussy can hold a candle to yours.”

“Oh God…” she lays a hand against her forehead. “...Tyler…”

“In my defence, I was pretty drunk.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you would have still said it if you’d been sober. That’s such a Tyler thing to say.”

He shrugs. “I have absolutely zero filter left.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You’re usually a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I say what I mean, and I meant what I say.”

“Exactly. This should make trips to school very interesting, to say the least.”

“Is it wrong I’m looking forward to parent/teacher interview night? Seeing her squirm? Wanna make out in front of her?”

“She’d probably enjoy that.”

“You like girls too. Is she your type?”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. Because even if she was, I don’t cheat and I don’t share my toys. Especially my favorite one. My ALL TIME favorite. So if you’re into that kind of thing, you need a different wife.”

“Only thing...person...I’m into, is you.” He leans in and kisses her; soft and languid.

She isn’t bothered when sweat drips onto her from his forehead and hair, nor does she mind the salty taste of it on his lips. And the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against her before he pulls away, chuckling when she digs her nails into the back of his neck; pressing her lips to the underside of his chin and nuzzling her nose against his throat.

“I probably stink,” he warns.

“You smell good. You smell like Tyler. And that’s the best smell in the world.”

He smiles at that, then runs a hand over her hair before pecking her cheek. “Longer we’re married, the sappier you get,” he teases, and then takes a seat beside her, grimacing at the discomfort in his back.

“I thought you said earlier I was getting cuddlier?” She reaches behind her for a second bottle of beer, twisting off the cap before offering it to him.

“You’re getting both,” he says, accepting the beer and pressing a kiss of appreciation to her temple. It’s his first drink since they’d arrived. After getting his first taste of it after six months of sobriety, he’d thought he’d want more. That he’d NEED it. But the longing and feelings of desperation and the ghosts of dependency have settled down. It would have been easy to fall back into his old ways; faced with the multitude of booze Koen keeps scattered around the kitchen. But it hasn’t ‘called’ to him; the burdens and baggage of addiction surprisingly silent.

“Do you not know what sunscreen is?” Esme inquires, and he hisses when she presses her ice cold bottle against the back of his neck. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“Can’t get much worse than I’m already hurting.”

She frowns. “That bad?”

He nods and takes a large swallow of beer.

“Knee? Shoulder? Back?”

“Back mostly. The other two feel pretty good for a change.”

“You need to be more careful. Once your back goes, you’re fucked. Maybe that’s what did it,” she presses the fingertips of one hand into the most troublesome spot; left side, middle of the spine, but close to the shoulder blade. Where the sniper’s bullet in Dhaka had torn into him. “The fucking. Maybe you can’t partake in such strenuous activity anymore.”

He scowls. "You be quiet.”

“I’m just saying. You’re getting older and it would make sense if you start to slow down and your stamina starts to falter.”

“Just put a bullet in my brain. Do it. End it. Because the day I can’t do THAT…”

“What are you going to do if you ever need Viagra?” she teases, and digs her knuckles into his back.

“You know what…?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “What?”

“You’re not making me feel any better. I WILL shoot myself if that ever happens. The day I can’t get it up is the day I lose all will to live.”

“Don’t be such a baby. It's not the end of the world if that happens.”

“Fuck yeah it is. “

“And you question where Millie gets her dramatics from?”

“I am serious. That ever happens, I give you permission to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery.”

“Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me. Even if you do get limp dick. I’m not letting you leave me with God knows how many grandchildren. We’re supposed to spoil them together, remember? You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.”

“I’m too fucking stubborn to die anyway.”

“I’m starting to think that’s true.”

She traces a fingertip over the scar left behind from the sniper’s bullet; the size of a dime and no longer raised or puckered. It’s the accompanying scar that’s worse; long and thin and jagged in some areas. Where the surgeon had to open him up and go in to locate the source of internal bleeding and repair a section of his left lung. It would be easy to hate all those marks; all those parts of his body that have been damaged and torn apart. But they’re part of who he is. Testaments to just how strong and tenacious he is. Proof of his survival and how far he’s come.

“That one’s getting a lot better,” she remarks, as her fingers find the scar left behind from when Farhad had shot him, along with the one beside it; another surgical incision that had been needed to keep him alive. “It’s taken a long time.”

“Doesn’t bother you as much anymore.” It’s an observation. Not a question.

“Not really. I try not to think about the back story. And speaking of back…” her fingers glide over the multitude of deep, red gouges that travel both horizontally and vertically, some even overlapping. “...I wonder what happened here?”

Tyler smirks. “Gee. I wonder.”

“Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“Just a little,” he grins, as he leans in to kiss her. Laying a hand on her thigh, he gently spreads her legs and nods down at his own handiwork. “Sorry I bit you so hard.”

Esme grins. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

She gives a derisive snort, then kisses his shoulder and leans into him; beer in one hand, the other resting on his lower back. “For the record, you need to unleash your inner lumberjack more. That was sexy to watch.”

“And you say I never do anything nice for you,” he chides.

“You’ve got the whole vibe going on. You’ve got the body, you’ve got the beard. Just need to get you a plaid shirt.”

“Fuck that. Look, I don’t mind fulfilling your little fantasies, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No plaid.”

“Fine,” she huffs dramatically. “At the very least a tight white t-shirt.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re weird?”

“Only you. Every day. For almost seven years. You put up with it though. I notice you stick around despite it.”

“I’d miss it too much. Your weirdness. You in general.”

She grins. “And you call me sappy?”

They lapse into a companionable silence. Nursing their beers as they enjoy the peace and quiet; no sound save for the faint rustling of the trees and bushes as the breeze passes through them. It’s unusual; not being surrounded by noise and activity. Their lives normally filled with chaos, even on the best days. And while they miss the normality of it -the kids voices, their bickering, the baby crying- it’s a relief to get away from it for a little while. A chance to be alone together instead of having to battle for even a sliver of attention. Days often going by before they even have a normal conversation. So caught up in being parents that they’d forgotten what it was like to need each other. And Tyler drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her tightly against him; lips finding her temple, her hand moving to his side.

“Allison called,” Esme says, and places her now empty beer bottle beside her. “She said she couldn’t get through to your cell.”

“Battery’s dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it.”

“Disconnecting from the world. Your dream come true,” she teases.

“What did she want?”

“I had no clue what she was talking about. She said to tell you that she’ll send someone to do a thorough search and get back to you with any news.”

He nods.

“Tyler…”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stress more.”

“Oh fuck me. What now?”

“It’s probably nothing. Which is another reason why I didn’t say anything. Why freak you out and then it turns out to be nothing?”

“Whatever it is, are the kids going to be okay? Should we have stayed home?”

“We made the right decision coming here,” he assures her. “We NEEDED to come here. And if it were something to worry about..if my instincts told me something was wrong...I would have been the first to cancel everything and insist we stay home.”

“So what is it? What do you have Allison looking into?”

“Millie saw something. SOMEONE. Or she thinks she did.”

“She told you that? That she saw someone? Where? Doing what?”

“She said she saw some lady going into the woods. That she yelled at this person to stop and she didn’t listen to her and kept going. I guess she told Ovi and he went and checked and didn’t find anything. Thinks it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going right on our property.”

“What do YOU think?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. It’s easy to think the worst. Especially right now. But Ovi’s probably right. Probably nothing.”

“But you believe her? Millie? You believe she saw someone?”

“She wouldn’t lie about something like that. She even gave me a good description; pretty detailed. She’s crazy smart. Too smart for her own good. And insanely observant. It’s almost scary HOW observant she is. How keen her senses are.”

“Does that sound familiar? I told you; she’s just like you. She even has your instincts. She saw the Jeep driver; same time you did. And she’s not even six yet and she’s like that?”

“I’d be impressed...and proud...if it didn’t freak me out so much.”

“She’s YOUR daughter. She has so much of you in her. I see more and more every day; you coming out in her. And that’s not a bad thing, Tyler. Think of all the amazing things she’ll be able to do when she’s older with skills like that.”

“That’s what scares me. What if she’s the one that follows in my footsteps?”

“I highly doubt Millie will grow up and want to be a mercenary. That girl loves her glitter way too much.”

He gives a small laugh.

“Can you imagine her with a pink Glock with a bejewelled grip? That would be Millie as a merc. Or she’d have a pink holster with Hello Kitty embroidered on it. THAT'S your daughter. She is not the one you have to worry about. My money is on Tanner. He’s flying under the radar; no one suspects him. I think he’s conning us all.”

“I never did get my fifteen bucks that he scammed me out of. Or should I say my seven fifty. Because I know full well you took the other half. You’re the one who put him up to it; don’t even try denying it. That had you written all over it. I’ve seen how you work. I saw you scam people in Dhaka. I heard you scam them in Ireland. You’re good.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Esme reasons. “Us little ones are always the last ones anyone is ever suspicious about. But I’m not admitting to anything when it comes to Tanner.”

“He’s a momma’s boy. You could talk him into anything.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“That doesn’t work here. This is Australia. Not the States.”

“I’m not copping to anything. No matter how much you badger me about it.”

He grins. “I have ways you know. Ways of getting it out of you.”

“What are you going to do? Waterboard me? Go all Guantanamo Bay on my ass?”

“A lie detector test. A very accurate one.”

“Oh really…” her eyes playfully sparkle. “...what lie detector test?”

“It’s my own. I made it up. I developed it.”

“Sure you did…”

“All I have to do…” he leans into her, pressing a series of kisses along the left side of her neck and across her shoulder. “...is this…” he slides a hand up the leg of her shorts, then splays his finger; one coming in contact with the crotch of her panties, the other with the back. “...one finger here...one finger there…and…” he bites down on the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder.

She’s laughing as she pushes him away. “You dick! That hurt!”

“I WAS going to do this…” he removes his hand from her shorts and grabs at her inner thing.

“Ow!” She yells, then dissolves into giggles and collapses onto her back as his fingers dig and pinch and aggressively tickle. “Tyler! You shit head! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants! Don’t be such an asshole!”

“You gonna admit to it?” His hand hand slides down to her knee, then back up again; passing over the crotch of her pants before settling on her stomach. “That you had something to do with it?”

“Never,” she declares. “You can’t get it out of me. You’ll never make me crack.”

“Oh, I can. And I will. You’re not the only one with special skills.” He pulls up the bottom of her tank top, mouth warm and moist against as he licks a path just above the waistband of her shorts.

“Fuck you and your special skills,” she playfully retorts, and then squeals when he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the bottom of her right ribs. “What is wrong with you?! I’m going to have marks everywhere!”

“You mean like my back?”

“I have to mark what’s mine. My territory. And your ribs are pretty torn up, too. Sorry.”

“It’s a small price to pay,” he says, and then leans to kiss her. “Hungry?”

“Mmm...hmmm…” she arches her back and presses her hips against him.

“I meant for food. And you have the nerve to call me ‘extra’ when it comes to sex lately.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my husband is insanely sexy and turns me on when he so as much looks at me. I should have married someone uglier.”

“Maybe you should have worked with Gaspar,” he teases. “Doesn’t get much uglier than that.”

“I would have throat punched him for sure. Or killed him. He was too fucking creepy and way too fucking psychotic. That story you told me? About shooting the doves? That was fucked. Doves. Of all birds. Like the hell? I can’t believe you were ever friends with that guy. You’re nothing alike. What did you ever bond over?”

“Killing people.”

“Well THAT’S healthy.”

“Drinking. I was drunk most of the time I was around him. So I wasn’t the best judge of character. Are you hungry or not?”

She nods. “I could eat.”

“We’ll cook something out here. On the fire. Sound good?”

She nods. “I’ll whip up some sides. I have to make sure you keep the tank full. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“You can try, but you never will.”

“You’ve got five years on me,” she reminds him. “I’m still a youngin' compared to you. Pretty soon people are going to start thinking you’re my father.”

“Fuck you. I don’t look THAT old.”

“Older brother, then.”

He frowns. “That’s some Jerry Springer shit.”

“An American reference! After six and a half years of being married to me, you finally used an American reference. ‘I’m so proud of you, Tyler James.”

“You know…” his fingers pull down the bottom of her tank. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She smiles and lifts her head to kiss him. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m going to go and take a shower. Wanna come with?”

“What? You need me to scrub your back?”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “Among other things.”

****

With the sun down, the temperature has dropped considerably; breeze stronger, the cooler air trapped by the mountains surrounding them. After a dinner prepared over open flame, they lounge by the fire; nothing more than a blanket spread on the ground, his legs outstretched as she sits between them with her back pressed against his chest. One of her hands in possession of a glass of wine -the now half empty bottle sitting beside her- and the other resting on the forearm he has laying across her collarbone. He’s only on his second beer of the day; still three quarters full and in no rush to finish it. It’s a good sign. He won’t be tempted to get heavily back into it in Mumbai; able to be fully engrossed and focused on the job at hand. There’s too much to lose; his entire existence, his whole world. There will be no second chances if he fucks up; he can’t afford to make any mistakes when it's his own family involved.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about it. Mumbai. Mahajan and all his threats. He’d told himself he’d push them all onto the back burner; he’d think of nothing but their time away together. That he’d concentrate on nothing...no one...other than her and the reconnecting that they’re so badly in need of. But when nighttime settles, the dark thoughts always return. It’s when he’s most anxious. When things are quiet and still and he suddenly has time to think; both mind and hands idle. And now he can’t stop dwelling on it. On how he leaves for India in nine days time and whether or not he’s making the right decision when it comes to the people he’s taking along. Questioning whether it’s better to have a solid and structured game plan ahead of time, or if he should just let things fall into place once he gets there; go in with nothing but that list of names and decide there and then how to dispose of them. Does he have all his ‘ducks in row’ at home; up to date life insurance policy, recent version of a will, an intricately carved out -and written out- plan on what Esme’s to do if he DOESN’T make it back? So engrossed with all the thoughts of doom and gloom, that he hadn’t even realized she was speaking to him until he feels her hand on the side of his face; that simple contact snapping him out of it, eyes not focusing on that concerned face looking at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and even in the glow of the campfire he can see the glassiness of her eyes and the flush to her cheeks; side effects of all the wine she’s consumed. It’s been months since she’d indulged in even a drop; cutting it out entirely once she found out she was pregnant with Addie. And the return to it is hitting her hard and fast.

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

He shakes his head.

“What were you thinking about? You looked really intense there for a minute. Like you were going to rip someone’s head off.”

“I must have zoned out. Wasn’t really thinking about anything. What did you say?”

“I asked if you heard back from Allison. About that woman Millie saw.”

“My phone’s inside. Charging. She’ll leave a message. Or call yours.”

“I haven't had a signal for hours.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she turns back around. “No one can bother us. Isn’t that what we want? Just get away from everything? Everyone?”

“We do have five kids at home,” she reminds him. “Someone should be able to get a hold of us if there’s an emergency.”

“Everything will be fine. No emergencies.”

“And this thing with the woman? The one Millie thinks she saw?”

“She definitely saw her. Just like she saw that guy in the Jeep. She didn’t imagine it and she’s definitely not making it up. Her description was too good and she’s adamant that she saw this person. Even got pissed when the boys suggested she was imagining things. There’s no doubt in my mind that she saw someone.”

“Do you think it’s something to worry about?”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be here right now and you know that.”

“I DO know that. I know you’d stop at nothing to keep them safe...to keep us ALL safe...if you thought there was a legitimate threat. It just sucks that we even think about things like this.”

“Yeah, it does. But that’s what you get for getting mixed up with me.”

“Don’t start. I knew what I was getting into it. I knew what kind of life you were living and all the toes you’d stepped on along the way. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to be with you. I can handle whatever comes with it. With you.”

“YOU can. But what about our kids? We probably should have thought about that beforehand.”

“It was too late to think about anything. Millie was on her way; whether we were prepared or not. And regardless of what you did...what you DO...for a living, you deserve to have a life. You deserve to be happy and be surrounded by people who love you and need you and want you around. I know you don’t think you deserve all of that, but you do. More than anyone else deserves it.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her temples and then takes a swallow of beer.

“And I know you sometimes think it's selfish; for getting married and having kids and bringing all of us into a life like this. But it’s not. You’re not a selfish person, Tyler. You’re selfless, if anything. You always have been.”

“You think pretty highly of me,” he teases.

“I do. I’m pretty fond of you, actually. I’m going to keep you. My life would suck if you weren’t in it. Do you remember our old apartment?”

“Just outside of Sydney. Yep. How could I forget that place? First time I’d lived with someone in five years. If you can call it living with someone; I was only there on weekends when I was allowed home from the rehab place.”

“I kind of miss that apartment,” she muses. “It wasn’t much, but it was ours. Even if we had to sleep on a mattress on the floor for six months. We didn’t have a lot, but we were happy there. YOU were happy. Even when you were in all that pain and you were exhausted and frustrated with all the therapies and the progress you didn’t think you were making. You never once bitched or moaned or felt sorry for yourself. You were never miserable. You were just happy.”

“You’re saying I’m not happy now?”

“No. I know you are. I see it every time you’re with your kids. It’s just that you were going through so much...you’d just BEEN through so much...and you never let it break you.”

“I couldn’t let it break me. I had you. We had a baby on the way. You both needed me. I HAD to keep going. For the two of you.”

“Remember the first night we brought Millie home? And she cried. A lot.”

“She cried all night,” Tyler recalls. “So did you. I think you cried more than she did. I had two crying women to deal with.”

“I was so frustrated and exhausted and depressed and scared. I was terrified of being a shitty mom. And you were so good with her. With both of us. I remember how you walked the apartment with her for hours. Just holding er and rubbing her back and talking to her; your voice was so soft and so calm and you were so patient. I watched you with her and I swear I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You with a baby. OUR baby. I didn’t think I could love any more than I already did, and then I watched you being a dad.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against her ear, then kisses it. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m sentimental. I can’t help it. Being here with you...ALONE with you...it has me all up in my feels. We’ve never gotten this; this time together. Even when we were in Ireland, it was never about us. It was about the job. This is the first time in nearly seven years where it’s just me and you. And I like it. Being this way with you.”

“So do I. We needed this.”

“We did,” she agrees. “Sometimes it feels as if we don’t exist outside of being parents and raising kids together. Like we’ve completely forgotten about each other and what’s like to be an actual couple. Not just a mom and dad. And I’ve missed seeing you like that. As more than that.”

“I missed that too. I’ve missed you.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her, forearm sliding further up onto her neck. “I’ve missed US.”

“Things are so much better now. Since we moved here. Being in Colorado was nice, but being here is better. You’re different when you’re here. You’re not as stressed; not on edge so much. You’re more relaxed. Grounded, I guess. You’re in your happy place.”

“Well it’s home,” Tyler reasons. “I just needed someone to MAKE it a home with.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can be really sweet and cute, you know that?”

“Don’t you start.”

“It’s true,” she laughs, and then pecks his cheek before turning to face the fire once more. “I don’t care how much you hate hearing it. It doesn’t make you soft or weak or less of a man for being like that. Far from it. It actually makes you even more attractive. And sexy. That you can be like this with me. That you’re not afraid to be emotional or sentimental. Or vulnerable.”

“You’re the only person I CAN be that way with.”

“I’m lucky. I get all these different sides of you that no one else gets to see. It’s like hiding this huge secret from the rest of the world. One that they’ll never, ever, figure out. You’re a mystery to everyone else. I’m the only one who really knows you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “You are.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone that you cry during Fox and the Hound and Inside Out. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

He grins. “What reputation is that?”

“The guy that took out a whole apartment of hostiles in Dhaka. Who humiliated Amir Asif. Who took a bullet to the neck AND lived. You really ARE too stubborn to die.”

“Or I’m just lucky.”

“Maybe some of both?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with someone putting their fingers in my neck to keep me alive AFTER I got shot.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Esme says. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same thing. You wouldn't have left me on that bridge.”

“Not in a million years.”

“I almost thought you were going to leave me the first day, though. When I pissed you off in the market. You were so mad. I thought for sure you were going to dump my ass in the street somewhere. I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since. Except for that time that weird guy followed me home from the post office because he wanted to ask me out and didn’t believe me when I told him I was married.”

“I could have killed that fucking guy.”

“You were so pissed! ” she recalls. “I thought he was going to shit his pants when you walked out of the house. He wasn’t expecting there to even be a husband, never mind one that looks like you. And then he tried to get all macho and mouthy and actually thought he could take you. You only had like six inches and fifty pounds on him.”

Tyler smirks. “Wasn’t much of a fight.”

“It was two hits. You hitting him, and him hitting the ground. My hero,” she presses a kiss to his forearm. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” she smiles. “And just so you know, I’d fight a bear for you.”

“You would, would you?”

“Maybe not a black bear or a polar bear or a grizzly. And maybe not a koala because they’re sketchy as fuck. But a Care Bear. I’d fight a Care Bear for you.”

He laughs at that, and she’s giggling when she turns her face into his and kisses him. Nails digging into his forearm through the fabric of his hoodie, her tongue gentle yet insistent as it pushes its way past his lips and teeth; his hand moving up to cup her cheek. “I’ve got something for you.” he says.

“My other surprise?”

He nods.

“And this one is definitely from you? Not the kids?”

“Just from me.”

“It’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary. And Christmas was only two months ago and we’re past Valentine’s Day. So what’s it for?”

“It’s not for anything. It's a ‘just because’ kind of surprise.”

“Just because what?”

“Just because I felt like it. And because I love you.”

She grins. “And you say you’re not sappy.”

“Here,” he digs into one of the pockets on his hoodie and pulls out a small black velvet box, offering it to her.

Her eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do? I didn’t do anything. I wanted to buy you something so I bought you something.”

“Just because?”

“Yep. Just because.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is this?”

“Just take it. It’s yours. Just open it.”

“I’m kind of scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve done something you didn’t have to do and I’m going to get all emotional and up in my feels and you hate when I get all up in my feels and ugly cry.”

He smirks. “If it happens, I’ll deal with it. Just open it.”

“Okay…” she takes the box from him, turning her body sideways and draping both legs over his thigh. “AM I going to cry?”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“You’re trouble. Making me cry.”

“It’ll be a good cry. I promise.”

“Alright…” she says, and then pops open the lid of the box, tears immediately glistening in her eyes; lower lip trembling as she looks from the ring nestled inside, to him, then back down again.

It isn’t over the top of outlandish; something simple and classic for a woman that’s never cared about the materialistic things in life. Who was happy in that small apartment outside of Sydney and who would have been just as happy in a shack in the outback. But the solitaire diamond sparkles brilliantly in the glow cast by the fire, as does the rose gold band it’s set in.

“You like it?” he asks.

She nods, and he presses a kiss to her forehead and uses a thumb to clear the tears off her cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “YOU’RE beautiful. Why…?”

“Millie asked why you didn’t have one. She said you guys watched some wedding show on tv and that all the ladies have engagement rings and why didn’t you have one?”

“She’s pretty observant that daughter of yours. Did you tell her that I never expected one or asked for one or really wanted one?”

“I told her that when we got married, we didn’t have a lot of money and you said you didn’t care about things like diamonds and fancy shit. That you were happy with just a wedding band.”

“Which is true. I’ve always been happy with just that.”

“I know. But she asked why we’d been married forever and you still didn’t have one. So I figured I better get my shit together and show my daughter that I’m not some douche that doesn’t love her mother.”

“I don’t need a ring to know you love me. You find ways to let me know you do. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. It shouldn’t have taken me six and a half years.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if it took you sixty,” Esme says. “And it’s beautiful and it’s perfect and you’re beautiful and perfect and I don’t deserve it. Or you.”

“Now you’re just talking shit. You deserve more than that. More than me.”

“Now YOU’RE talking shit,” she counters.

“How about we don’t talk shit about ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Here..” he takes the box from her, setting it on his thigh and then plucking the ring from its confines. “...hand.”

She grins. “You’re so romantic. There’s the Tyler I know and love. Did you tell your daughter you asked me to marry you in the bathroom?”

“I did actually.” He slips the ring onto her finger and then presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I told her you were pregnant with her and that you were worried you were getting fat and ugly. That I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I said ‘marry me’ and that was it. There was never really a question.”

“It was a very Tyler like way of asking though. And I said ‘okay’, so technically, it WAS a proposal. In our own weird way.”

“Weird seems to be our thing.”

“I prefer unconventional,” she says, then kneels between his legs. “We’re unconventional. Not weird. We’ve never been normal, per say. We started out in a very unconventional way and we’ve kept it going ever since. Maybe that’s what makes us so good together. We don’t expect normal from each other.”

His hands settle on her hips. “Maybe.”

“I mean, I married a mercenary. That’s about as far from normal as you can get.”

“You had your chance, you know. To get away. You could have said no.”

“Your eyes and your ass were way too nice to say no to.”

He grins.

“And I don’t care what you did...or do...for a living,” she declares, his face cradled in her hands as she kisses him softly. “I would have said yes a million times over.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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everythinggodofwar · 5 years

Text

The Treasure of Koninsgard (part 10)

“Sigyn.. Sigyn?”

Atreus’ voice and his snapping in front of Sigyn’s zoned out eyes pulled her out of her daze. Her eyes lit up with attention and looked up at him like she didn’t know why he was doing that. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine... Why?”

“You wouldn’t respond for a minute.”

“Oh..” she shook her head and looked around at the familiar surroundings of the realm between realms. “Sorry... this place just brings back bad memories.”

“Oh..” He glanced at Kratos, who was waiting impatiently for Sigyn to show them how to get to her home. “Do you.. need to talk about it?”

“Another time, boy.. We should remain focused.” Kratos reminded the both of them. “We are here. Do what you must.”

“Right..” Sigyn nodded and pulled the little wooden bear out of her pocket. She tried to twist it open like she’d always done; she tried and tried, but the thing wouldn’t budge. “Ugh.. it’s stuck.. could you -um- would you mind-”

“Mm.” Kratos groaned impatiently and took the object.

“You just-” Sigyn began to explain it, but Kratos seemed to get the idea as he just popped it open. “Yep. Thank you.”

She motioned for Atreus and Kratos to stand back as she set the stone on the ground.

“Watch this.” She said with a smirk. “Stefna.”

Atreus watched with excitement as the stone lit up like a star and began to spin until it was airborne and carving the magic doorway out of thin air.

“Good thing we didn’t leave that in Koninsgard!” Atreus exclaimed.

“Yeah..” Sigyn’s eyes shifted away as she grew thoughtful. “Good thing..”

Atreus glanced at her, taking note of her apparent discomfort. Kratos did too..

Sigyn shook her head and held out her hand to catch the stone when its light dimmed and it fell from the air. Without a word she stuck the travel stone back in its hidden compartment, put the bear back together around it, and shoved it in her pocket. “Let’s go.”

Sigyn was the first to step through the portal; Atreus followed without hesitation.

“Boy!” Kratos lunged and reached out to stop Atreus from rushing in without caution, but wasn’t quick enough. “Rrnn.”

“It’s alright, brother.” Mimir said in some effort to reassured Kratos. “He’ll be fine.”

“He is being reckless.”

“Aye, that he is.. can you blame him, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I’m sure you’ve noticed how much of a liking he’s taken to her...”

“And?”

“All I’m saying, brother, is that having a girl his age around might prove a bit -let’s say- distracting for him.”

“Yes..” Kratos had already realized that of course. Along with the list of others, this was a reason he was so adamant about getting her back to her mother. Atreus did not need any more distractions.

As Kratos stepped into the area beyond the magic doorway, he observed Atreus staring out at the impressive structure and Sigyn leaning against a lamp post, waiting patiently for the others.

“You lived here?” Atreus asked in awe.

Sigyn nodded. “Till mother and I left.”

“After her fight with Dagny..”

“Right..”

“It’s huge!”

“Yeah.. I don’t really know why they made it so big. I mean- there were only three of us!”

“There aren’t any windows.” He noticed. “How come?”

“Mother and Dagny put a bunch of bifrost windows inside. That way we didn’t always have to look at what’s actually outside.”

“Bifrost windows? That’s what Freya has in her house, Father! The one that shows Vanaheim.”

“Wh- Wait.” Sigyn shot a concered look at Atreus. “Freya?’”

“Oh.. yeah, she was the one who helped you when you got sick.”

Sigyn just blinked at Atreus in shock. “Freya?? As in.. the leader of the Vanir? That Freya?”

“Once, lass.” Mimir corrected, taking note of the fact that she thought Freya was still the leader of Vanaheim. “Not anymore.”

“You know about her?” Atreus asked.

“Obviously! But... why isn’t she the leader of Vanir anymore?”

“That, lass..” Mimir began, “is a long story... I will say things started going downhill for Freya when she married your father.”

“She... married Odin?”

“Aye..”

“Why would she do that?” She grew thoughtful. “Why would Odin do that?”

“Regrettably, it was mainly my doing.”

“You? How?”

“You probably can’t tell just by looking, but I was once Odin’s chief advisor!”

“I knew it!” She exclaimed as they continued along the path. “You are that Mimir!“

Mimir chuckled. “The one and only smartest man alive!”

“How did you end up like... that?”

“What? A decomposing head dangling off the belt of a Greek god? Why do you ask?”

“Head..” Kratos groaned, reminding Mimir to not be coy.

“I’m just having a bit of fun, ya big grump.. After a bit of a -mm- disagreement between I and Odin, he bound me to a tree and enchanted it so that no weapon nor magic could release my body.. luckily I didn’t need my body! Our friend here so kindly chopped my head off and brought it to Freya. She resurrected me, not without spitting in my face to remind me of her enduring hatred for arranging her marriage to Odin.”

“Wow.. I still can’t believe it..”

“Which part, lass?”

“That they were married! I just.. The way I imagine him I couldn’t see that ever happening.”

“Aye, lass... Your father sought council from me on many an important occasion, so I happened to be the one to convince him and the great leader of the Vanir that marriage was the best way to broker peace... Not one of my finest moments I’ll admit..”

“I see.. So.. Odin married Freya, but.. how do you guys know her now?”

“Well.. after a sequence of events, on which I’ll spare the tedious details, Freya broke off the marriage.. In his rage -and paranoia- he stripped away her fighting spirit and banished her to Midgard, where she now lives in hiding.. These two met her after mistakenly shooting her friend.”

“What??”

“Her ‘friend’ was a boar.” Kratos pointed out.

“She’s friends with a boar?”

“And a giant tortoise!” Atreus exclaimed. “She lives under it.”

Sigyn laughed. “Wow. I’d like to see that someday.”

“Unlikely.” Kratos declared.

“Oh? How come?”

“Freya’s pretty mad at us.” Atreus explained. “We killed Baldur, and after that she got really angry.”

“Who’s Baldur?”

“Oh right.. He was her son.”

“Her’s and Odin’s, lass..”

“Oh... so.. kind of my brother?”

Atreus grew thoughtful as he came to that realization for himself. “Wow. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“We did only what we had to.” Kratos stated. “He would have done the same to us or to Freya given the opportunity. You mustn’t-”

“Oh! I’m not sad! He wouldn’t have really been my family.” Sigyn declared. She looked ahead in sad contemplation at the house as they neared the front door. “Mother’s my only real family.. She’s the what matters.”

Kratos stopped when they reached the front door and looked down at Sigyn. “Girl.”

Sigyn just nodded obediently and stepped forward. She hesitated before knocking, fearful of what lay ahead. What if Dagny was inside? Oh, of course she would be inside; this is where she always was.

Part of her wanted to turn around -to just go back to Midgard and forget about Dagny.. about mother- but she knew a part of her would always be missing without them, even after everything that had happened. Besides.. Kratos would never allow her to turn back now.

She took a deep, nervous breath, and she knocked. Three times to announce her arrival. Then she opened the door and led the others inside.

Almost immediately, Atreus took interest in all the bifrost windows surrounding them. A couple he recognized as Alheim, one was Helheim, another Muspelheim, none of Niflheim. “Where’s that?” He asked, pointing to a window that led to particularly lush forest area with giant trees with bark ranging from as dark as the night sky and as light as the clouds. A bright assortment of colors of flowers dotted these trees and the bushes below, bringing a warm, pleasing feeling to the onlooker.

“It’s Asgard.” Sigyn replied mournfully. “That’s the only window we have that leads there.”

“Wow. It’s kind of beautiful.”

“Yeah.. I guess..”

Kratos studied the room as he stepped forward towards the staircase. He took note of the runes on the floor, which he recognized as the runes Atreus said represented the Nornir, and grimaced. Anyone that associated themselves with the fates was no friend of his.

“Where is everyone?” Sigyn muttered to herself.

“Hello?” Dagny’s familiar voice rang from upstairs.

Sigyn froze.

Kratos pulled his axe out and braced himself for an attack as the tall, slender woman with dark hair with gold rings and cloth braided into it stepped towards the staircase. In her tattooed arms she held a thick book with silver runes lining the leather cover. Atreus mimicked Kratos and pulled out his own weapon; though, he didn’t see why his father was being so defensive.

“You’re here..” She exclaimed quietly to herself. She set the book down on a nearby table, stepped forward, and smoothed her brown top in a manner that may have appeared nervous to anyone who didn’t know that Dagny doesn’t get nervous. With a warm smile, she made a welcoming gesture with her hands. “You’ve nothing to fear, friends. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Expecting us?” Atreus began. “How?”

“Oh, dear child!” She laughed in amusement at his childlike wonder. “You aren’t the only one blessed with visions, Atreus.. Or do you prefer Loki?”

“But..”

“I suppose I should thank you for bringing my niece to me safely!” Dagny declared to Kratos and took one step down. “How dearly I’ve missed her!”

As Dagny continued to slowly descend down the stairs, Kratos stepped to the side to where he stood in front of Sigyn and held his arm out in front of her as to defend her from her aunt.

Dagny halted at seeing him do this. “Oh?” Her pleasant expression quickly transformed into a scowl directed at Kratos. She forced a short, airy laugh as she straightened her posture in an almost challenging motion. “I’m pleased to see Sigyn has been in the company of such a protective guardian.”

“What do you want?” Kratos demanded.

“‘What do I want?’ Hmm.. Well, a civilized conversation would be nice; assuming you’re willing to put your weapons away for the time being?”

Kratos glanced at the axe he was gripping. In all honestly he had entirely realized he had it out. For a man like him, having a weapon in his hand in a potentially dangerous situation was merely second nature to him, so this wasn’t surprising. Kratos stood silently, unmoving and unwilling to let his guard down.

“It’s like I said.” Dagny said with a sigh. “You have nothing to fear from me.. I swear it by all the gods of every realm.”

Kratos didn’t respond, still unconvinced.

“If I were going to attack you I would’ve done it by now.” She smiled ever so mischievously. “Besides, it’s not like I’m any stronger than the Ghost of Sparta himself.”

Kratos visibly tensed and growled silently at hearing that name.

Perhaps Sigyn would have recalled reading the book that mentioned the “Ghost of Sparta” all those years ago had her mind not been swirling with panic and visions of what Dagny might do to her this time. She just stood by Atreus, frozen, mute, and barely able to as much as look at her aunt.

“I meant no offense.” Dagny put her hands up on a peaceful gesture. “I only meant to prove a point... Please put the weapons away so we can have a civilized discussion. I have so much I want to talk to you about.”

After a moment of hesitation, he put the axe away and nodded to Atreus to do the same. “Boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Dagny smiled and gestured for them to follow her up the stairs. “I have the perfect gift to thank you!”

“Father?” Atreus whispered as dagny ascended up the stairs and started towards a corridor

“What?”

“She cursed Sigyn..”

“She did.”

“We can’t trust her!”

“You only know half of the story, boy. What have I told you about making assumptions?”

“So.. we can trust her?”

“No.”

“Oh.. Are we following her?”

“.. Yes.”

Atreus turned to Sigyn, who stood completely frozen, all the color having left her face and her eyes wide open staring straight ahead. He said nothing to her, not wanting to risk upsetting her more; he simply reached out his hand with a gentle smile as to let her know she was safe.

Sigyn blinked and looked over at his outstretched hand. She hesitated; she trusted him, of course, but did they really know what they were getting into? They might be gods, but how well would they defend themselves and her if Dagny pulled another one of her tricks?

Her gut told her not to, but she allowed him to take her trembling hand in his. She took a leap of faith and trusted that Kratos would not lead her into a trap.

Atreus led Sigyn by the hand up the stairs with Kratos, who made sure they were walking right by his side.

Dagny pushed open a set of double doors, leading to a large room with shelves stacked full of every sort of magical necessity and potion ingredient lining the walls. In the center of a room was a round table with a intricate lantern in the center and a large iron chandelier hanging above; on the table sat a small wooden box with the lid removed and sitting next to it. Inside a red sack full of some powdery substance could be seen.

Dagny stepped up to the table and took the sack out of the box. “Let me see that axe of yours.”

“What?”

She calmly reached in the bag and removed a handful of the grey, dust-like powder. “Just hold it out?”

“Why?”

“This is my gift to you.” She stated with a tone of annoyance. “To thank you.”

He hesitated; obviously he couldn’t trust her, but whatever she had for him could be useful. Finally, he groaned and held the axe out for her. “Fine.”

Dagny smirked proudly and held the dust up near her face and whispered, “festa.” The plain, grey dust lit up and started glowing a yellow hue when she spoke; it almost seemed to have become electrified at her voice as the particles began to fly zip around each other in a mesmerizing pattern.

She held her hand out and blew the dust away. They watched the particles gather around the metal of Kratos’ axe, light up brighter and spin for a brief moment, and then disappear into the air like their purpose had been fulfilled.

“What did you do?”

“It’s better.” Dagny explained vaguely with a smug smile.

“How?” Kratos asked with an impatient, irritated tone.

“I made the enchantments stronger.”

“Mm.” He studied the axe; there were no apparent physical changes, but in a way he could feel that it was somehow.. stronger. After a moment of contemplation he nodded in approval and hung it back on the hook.

“You’re welcome.” Dagny placed the bag back in the box and closed it, then took it over to place it on one of the shelves for safe keeping. “But I trust you didn’t come here for something your dwarves could do.”

“No.”

“Hm.” She spun around and clasped her hands politely in front of her. “Pray tell, friend.”

“You know why we’re here.”

She chuckled. “Maybe.”

“We are bringing the girl to her mother.”

“Ah Yes. My dear sister Alva.” She smiled coyly. “Are you entirely certain she’s the one you want?”

“Where. Is. She?” Kratos demanded, growing impatient with Dagny’s avoidance of his questions.

“Oh. I haven’t the foggiest.” She shrugged nonchalantly and smirked. “I’m sure she’s off enjoying her immortal life free of her family as well as any and all consequences for her actions.”

“But you said-” Sigyn finally spoke up in barely a whisper, “you said-”

Dagny turned her gaze to the terrified child. “I said what, dear?”

“You said-” she began much louder this time. “You guys said she was your servant for eternity.”

“That’s right.”

“You have to know where she is!”

“My love, she is my servant, and I quote, ‘should I require her services,’ and so far I have not.. Having her magic has made sure of that.”

“But..” She shook her head and tried to ignore the fact that her tightening chest was making it hard to breath. “I need her!”

“Need her?!” Dagny scowled, appalled by what she was hearing. Fury began to swell up in her; not anger at Sigyn, but rather at that fact that she was thinking that way. “You’re Mother is a good for nothing monster! Everything she did was for herself. You’re better off without her and you-”

“At least she was there for me!” Sigyn shouted. Tears were falling down her face, but finally past the fear and at the point of fighting. “You abandoned us! You say you love me but if you loved me you wouldn’t have made us leave!” She stopped to take a shaky breath and swallow the lump in her throat. “You wouldn’t have cursed me.”

Despite the past centuries of trying to convince herself that she’d done the right thing, all the shame and guilt that she’d been pushing away flooded back into Dagny’s heart. Her expression softened as she forced back tears. “Sigyn,” she found herself unable to finish. Nothing she could say would make her understand or feel any better.

“You said I wouldn’t feel anything.” Sigyn cried. “But I did.. You knew I would. Didn’t you?”

“I..”

“Everything that happened to me: I could feel it. I could feel time passing by. I knew the world was going on around me. I knew when people were around me. I could feel when they touched me, when they-” she had to stop to keep herself from sobbing. “When they tried to destroy me... I could- I knew when I was alone. For so long, Dagny. I was alone for so. long. But then...” She glanced at Atreus and Kratos, who were standing silently nearby just watching. Atreus’ eyes were wide with horror and red with tears threatening to fall. He could feel her pain, everything she was going through he could feel it. Just like how he could feel the fear of Brok’s beast when they first met him, and just like he could feel that she was scared and lonely when they first found her, he could feel her pain and fear and sadness.

“Then they came.. Finally he broke the curse that you made.”

“Sigyn, I-”

“Why, Dagny? Why did you do it? I- you said I was safe.. you said you’d protect me. So why? Why did you have to put me through that?”

“My love, there is so much you don’t understand. So much I can’t explain.”

“Try.” She begged through the streaming tears. “Please try.”

Dagny struggled to find the right words, but there were none. There could never be words good enough to explain everything, and there were certainly no words that could keep Sigyn’s heart from breaking once she understood the truth. But she would try. She had to try.

“It was part of the pact we made.”

“H- what?”

“That was part of the -erm- arrangement between us. That was her condition. Even before any of it your mothere, before you- before I made you both leave, she had asked me to do it.”

“I don- I- I don’t understand.”

“That was the primary reason I made her leave.. I wouldn’t- I couldn’t do it.” She sighed mournfully and leaned against the table with her head hung low. “She was persistent, so I forced her to leave. I didn’t want you to go, but she took you with just to spite me. I would never have given her a way back in if it weren’t for the fact that you were going with her, so I gave you that travel stone. That way at least you could find your way back someday.” She laughed humorlessly. “And you did... Unfortunately for you.”

Sigyn struggled to process what Dagny was telling her. That couldn’t be true.. “That means..” That her mother had been planning the curse out for a long time? For most of her short life most likely? That mother didn’t love her? She shook her her head, refusing to accept that. “No.. You- you’re lying.”

“Sigyn, you know I’m not.”

“She wouldn’t do that to me!”

Dagny went to Sigyn and knelt down in front of her. She placed her hands gently on her shaky shoulders, surprisingly with no resistance. “I know it’s hard, Sigyn, but please try to understand your mother wasn’t well. She was never the same after Odin; maybe once she could’ve been capable of fully loving a child, but something inside of her broke.”

“no.. no you’re wrong.”

Dagny gently wiped the tears from Sigyn’s cheeks. “My dear girl, I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Sigyn’s expression hardened as she shook her head in denial and pushed Dagny away. “You’re just trying to make me give up on her.”

Dagny sighed and lowered her arms in defeat. “You don’t have to believe me. I understand why you don’t.. Believe me when I say that I haven’t known her whereabouts since the last time we were all together.”

“Then find her!”

Dagny was taken aback by the demand. “I- I.. can’t, Sigyn.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and pleaded with her eyes. “If Odin can track me by my magic then you can track mother by hers! I know you couldn’t have taken all of it!”

“Well.. you’re right that I didn’t take all of her magic, but, Sigyn.. Odin can’t track you.”

“Wh- What?”

“Odin can’t track your magic, and I can’t track Alva’s.”

“But- but mother said-”

“That your powers give off a ‘unique signal.’ That if you ever use them he could find you more easily.”

“... yeah?”

Dagny shook her head in disapproval. “All lies, my dear.”

“But.. why? Why wouldn’t she want me to use my powers?”

“That, sweet girl,” she took Sigyn’s trembling hand in her own, “is so very complicated.. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

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