#and she joined the Inquisition with ulterior motives | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

himbodjarin · 3 years

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LUNAR; CH8

18+ ONLY Series Content: Graphic descriptions of gore and smut. Din Djarin/Third Person POV. Chapter Word Count: 8263 (im sorry) Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader - no use “y/n”

The Mandalorian is a driven warrior — traversing the galaxy in search of the ancient Jedi — but everyone has their weaknesses, and he’s no different. The Bounty Hunter possessed three in fact. One he’s discovered—The Child. The remaining two, though, he wasn’t aware of their existence. At least, not until he meets a valorous Sharpshooter underneath a moonless night sky; then he’s plummeting down a dark mission of self-discovery, questioning his morals and his Creed while the moon taunts him, the phases of the satellite corresponding to his personal revelations. However, the Girl has a dark past that may come to inflict hardships on the Mandalorian and the Child; it's up to the Bounty Hunter to decide her fate.

Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist

CHAPTER EIGHT: BLUE MILK PANCAKES

Mando still can’t grasp it actually happened—that he’d been so fortunate to experience such a jaw-dropping night with the Girl, with no ulterior motives no less. Back in his youth, when he was naive and desperate, it wasn’t exactly infrequent for a fling to take advantage of him; spend a quick few minutes so that one may eliminate him in his distraction or gain intel on private matters. The Girl didn’t try that—didn’t want that. She sought to provide him with sweet relief and nothing more, not even her own relief.

He felt so fucking worshipped.

Mando is the first of them to wake in the early rise of the sun. He sits there for a moment, savouring the gleaming rays shining through the viewport to warm his beskar and, consequently, his rigid body underneath. The Crest is coated in a layer of ice, corroding the durasteel beneath and, accompanied by the packed snow resting atop, it’s refrigerating the inside of the spacecraft. Mando slips on the discarded glove from overnight—a warmth surfacing his cheeks upon the reminder of last night’s events—and supplies friction to either hand in the prospect it’ll produce warmth. It’s wishful thinking.

Granting him the opportunity to adjust to his surroundings, Mando stretches in his chair and virtually moans at the pulsations ranging through his limbs. It starts at his shoulders and travels through his core, nudging against the wound on his back and easing the tension out of his muscles, and reaches to the bottom of his toes which practically curl with delight.

Mando considers removing the helmet to rub his eyes—the crust in the corners a botheration—lift it a tad in the least, but he doesn’t get the chance. The Child coos beside him, his little arms reaching up for assistance.

“How did you get up here?” he asks, placing him on his knees. The Child doesn’t answer—why would he—and concentrates on balancing across the joints to tinker with deactivated buttons of the nav controls. “Where to, kid?” Mando scans the system’s database for a paragon planet to hunker down for a few days; spend some time with the kid—and the Girl, of course—before being ripped away from the semi-domestic life and continue on his unwritten path of planet-hopping.

There’s a planet not too far; small population, plenty of wilderness for the kid to explore, and there’s not much traffic that passes through. It’s good, perfect almost, and Mando is hesitant to accept the temptation. The Child’s head rotates to look at his guardian, his large green ears twitching curiously. He sighs and sets the coordinates for the planet despite his better judgement. It’s too fortunate; the last ‘safe’ planet they visited ended up in him protecting an entire village and the kid almost being killed. Although, he’s made a trustworthy ally who’ll assist if something were to go down. He glances behind him at the Girl, raking his brown eyes across her contorted body in the seat.

“Hang on, kid.” Mando lifts himself out of the pilot chair, leaving behind a monitoring toddler in his place, and kneels beside the Girl in the passengers. She’s sleeping peacefully and he doesn’t disturb her, despite the positioning she’s managed to get herself into. It’s unpleasant on his eyes and it couldn’t be comfortable. With a tremble in his back muscles, he reaches behind his neck and peels the cloak from his armour to drape it across her figure, relying on it to provide at least a small portion of warmth to her. She clasps the garment slightly and a smile surfaces his lips, his leathers coming up to brush a stroke across her cheek faintly—only lasting a second or two before detaching from her like an uncooperative magnet. Once she’s finally soothed back into position, Mando retrieves the safety belt from beside her and secures it across her waist before grudgingly tearing away from the Girl. “Looks like you’re with me.”

The Child squeals with enjoyment as the Mandalorian returns to his seat.

“Shh,” he instructs, glancing back to see the Girl motionless. He sighs with relief.

Mando joins the buckle’s latches together and wraps an arm around the Child to secure him against himself. The thrusters wake with a roar and quake the craft’s hull, the ion accelerator chamber thawing the thrusters nozzles of their icy barricade—shit, the ice. It’ll pose a threat, a handicap at the minimum if it doesn’t defrost soon enough. He cringes as the Crest whines against the glacier's dominance on his landing gear, but with the newly-maintenance thrusters, it’s no match against the craft. It rips from the ice and retracts to the hull’s underbelly, allowing Mando to manipulate the ship through the sky and out of the atmosphere; slabs of ice and snow descend to the ground beneath them.

The feeble bumpiness fades into a smooth flight and Mando activates the autopilot controls. “Not so bad, huh?” He disconnects the buckle from his belt and slips out of the chair, letting the Child sit in the warm leather. “Don’t go touching things—and don’t wake her up,” he quickly adds, noting the Child’s inquisitive staring as though he hadn’t genuinely noticed her earlier.

Mando sighs and hopes he’ll listen to his request just this once.

The Crest’s hold had been cleaned, just as the Girl promised to do, hardly even a speck of dust surfaced the floor. She’d been busy—and he had just been preoccupied with himself. Mando sighs to himself and browses through his reserved clothing. It mostly consists of bunking apparel—a couple of loose shirts and favourable pants—that he hadn’t had the opportunity to put to use since he fostered the Child. He’s expected—required to remain on the defensive at all times with the Guild breathing down his neck.

He sorts through the articles and grabs the spare flight suit, his only other. It would be ideal to purchase another, especially now with this one having been ripped, but it wasn’t a necessity presently. The fabric in his hands smells of dirt and grime, residue from the lake he attempted to clean it in all those weeks ago, but it’s better than his current—tattered, bloody, sweaty, and cum-stained. What a combination.

Perhaps he should invest in a refresher for his Crest. That way he wouldn’t be hunched over in the dark corners of the hold, stripping the beskar steel from his body for anybody to stumble across. It didn’t provide much assurance being within eyeshot of the cockpit ladder and with the lack of places to conceal himself, his hurried movements advanced. Then again the sheer thought of the Girl seeing him like this—and joining him—isn’t unpleasant; it would make the situation a whole lot less embarrassing.

He peels the last of his beskar from his body and stacks it against the wall, reorienting himself to slip out of his boots. It’s been a while since he last stood without any armour, excluding the helmet, and it feels refreshing in a way. But it doesn’t feel right.

Mando wasted no time in replacing the flight suit, smoothing the fabric out with his gloves and reapplying the ensemble of beskar; each patch of steel fitting snugly where it belongs. It’s slightly more bearable, not having to feel his own mess rubbing against him on the inside of the fabric, and he shoves the dirty flight suit in replace of the clean. He’ll get around to washing it when he has the time—or burn it by virtue of the rip across the arm.

Speaking of arms, the bacta patch on his bicep had aided the wound significantly and within the next day or two, it should be healed. The lesion on his back was a different story. It’s still sore, somewhat better with a night’s rest, but it’ll be a while before he’s out there firing blasters with that same authority. It could cause jeopardy if he’s not cautious.

The Razor Crest abruptly rumbles and falls into a fit of tremors, hurling the Mandalorian against the stationary carbonite pods with fury. “Shit,” he growls and grips his bicep, pleading he won’t bleed through the fresh clothes so soon. It pulses again and the engines’ whining travels through the ventilation, discharging a high-pitched shriek followed by a low hum of a whistle.

“Man-fuck, Mando!” the Girl beckons from upstairs. Mando is quick on his feet up the ladder, clinging desperately to the rungs upon another spasm. “I was sleeping a-and the kid…” She doesn’t need to finish for him to understand, for the Child is sitting underneath the nav panel with colourful cords in his hands; wire coverings peeled away to expose the electricity hazards sparking in his fists.

“Kid, no!” Mando scolds and snatches the cables from his stubborn claws. He babbles a complaint to his guardian as he’s being relocated far away from the electricity. He’s completely dismantled it—Mando will need to implement an entirely new wiring system for the navigation controls alone; a job he’s not suited for. He turns to the Girl for support.

“Don’t look at me,” she raises her hands defensively, “I only know bits and pieces.”

Innocently burbling besides the Mandalorian, the Child watches as leather gloves track across the navigation controls urgently. He’s unbothered by the predicament they’re in—just glad that his guardian had returned to the cockpit’s cabin, it appears. Mando groans in annoyance, fumbling with the nav and fighting against it’s constant glitching. “We’re in luck. There’s a planet on the way. Tatooine. Someone can help us there.”

“Yeah. Heard of it,” she mutters, regrettably, and he wonders what that is all about but it can wait. It wasn’t the time to sweat over the small details. “We’re not going to crash, are we?”

He contemplates, glancing over the system’s diagnosis and dismisses the electrical yammering it erupts. “Shouldn't—there’ll just be a lot of turbulence.”

That there is—turbulence and a great deal of it. There’s too much to maintain an uncoiled stomach throughout the remainder of the short flight and they’re both surprised when they’re successful in their landing, especially without the contents of their stomach having been dumped over themselves. Peli Motto—an innovative mechanic but a bit too communicatory for the Mandalorian’s preference—stands in her hangar with two greasy hands on her hips, eyes squinting through the viewport to gaze up at Mando. Better have my credits ready to go this time, he can already hear her say and he sighs. Credits he did have, but they weren’t exactly his, and there wasn’t much to spare.

“I’ll see to her,” Mando announces and retrieves the Child, “would you care to join?”

The Girl seems hesitant and peers out the viewport curiously. “Do you trust her?”

Mando takes another glance outside. Peli’s droids are nearing his ship to begin operations but with one stern look from the woman, they back away from the craft. “I do.”

The Girl sighs and peels herself from her seat, fiddling with the cloak that had been laid across her body earlier. “This, uh-”

“Clip it on for me,” he instructs and turns, waiting for familiar hands to run across his shoulders. It takes a moment and he considers retrieving it himself, but he’s patient and it pays off—her fingers playing with the neck covering to manipulate the cloak into place, her digits stroking against the back of his neck underneath all the thick fabric. It’s therapeutic somehow or other. He doesn’t quite understand it himself, but feeling the Girl’s pressure against him relaxes him; eases his eyes closed until all he wants to do is sleep, in her arms preferably and with his head on her chest—his head, not his helmet. Mando wants to press his ear against her flesh and listen to her heartbeat, her breathing, but most of all he just wants to be touched and to touch another.

The Girl smoothes her hands out across the cloak, running her palm down his back and ending just before it reaches the curve at the bottom. “There you go.” She smiles. Fuck, her smile. It makes him want to say something stupid, something embarrassing just to get the same reaction out of her; he wants to be the cause of that smile on her face. She adds, “Thank you.”

Mando twists to face her again, his head tilting. “What for?”

“Buckling me up and, uh, giving me the cloak,” she confesses, a timid hue of pink on her cheeks—she was blushing. “You could have given it to the kid or just kept it yourself, but… you didn’t. So, thank you.”

He swallows and reaches his hand up—for what, he doesn’t know. It’s not until his digits touch the soft padding of her cheek that he notices he’s making a move, his strokes transforming into uncertain shakes. The Girl’s blush deepens at the contact and she places her hand atop his, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

With that, his head is back to sorting through indecent thoughts and actions—but none are related to those they had been previously; they’re not obscene nor lustful. It’s his Creed that they’re unethical towards. He imagines the Girl reaching for his helmet, her slender fingers brushing against his chin as she does so, and lifts the steel to unmask the face that’s been sealed away for a long, long time. If she tried to do it right here, right now, he’s not positive whether he would stop her.

“We shouldn’t keep her waiting, it’ll be rude.”

She can wait, is what he wants to say, instead, he murmurs a simple, “Right.”

The Child appears satisfied in Peli’s arms, a large smile on his face as he glares up at the Mandalorian ahead of him. He’s receiving every ounce of attention he can muster out of the woman. “You telling me this little one did all that? Maybe if you gave him a little more attention he wouldn’t be tearing out your cables!”

“What do you mean?” Mando ponders. She runs a finger across the kid’s batwing ears and gestures behind him in the distance where the Girl preoccupies herself tending to their blasters. “What are you getting at?”

“Oh, come on! Do I have to spell it out for you? Are you that oblivious?” She sighs and soothes the Child, “You’ve found yourself another lifeform to harbour—probably spending an awful lot of time with her, aren’t ya?”

He’s not oblivious, not in the slightest; he’s just trying to avoid coming to terms with the thoughts in his head. However, he hadn’t noticed his lack of bonding with the Child and he mentally scolds himself. Of course, the kid wants attention, all kids do, and he’s probably becoming rather frustrated at the inadvertent neglect as a by-product of Mando’s fantasies.

“I ain’t saying ya shouldn’t indulge a little,” Peli chuckles and wags her hairless eyebrows at the visor, “I don’t blame ya for that. It must be hard adapting to having a girl like that on board your ship.”

Mando quietly sighs under his helmet but a blush lines his cheeks nonetheless. He’s relieved she can’t see it. He grumbles, “Get to the point.”

“Point is, you can’t ignore a child like that,” she explains, “he’s an impish little critter—smart, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did that on purpose to get your attention.”

“He’s costing me a lot of credits for attention.” Black-brown eyes observe the looming figure of beskar and Mando softens slightly. Peli watches with interest and returns the toddler to his arms. “The Girl-”

“She’ll be fine,” she assures, “if she wants to help, I’ll be sure to give her a real workout—don’t worry she won’t be too drained.”

The Mandalorian commits a final leer at the mechanic, enough to cause her to pull her lips tight into a smirk, and he returns to the Girl’s side to exchange his goodbyes, “I’m going to head into town and see if there are any jobs available.”

The Girl raises an eyebrow in question and pauses polishing the blasters, “I’m not coming with you?”

Does she want to come with him? The vocoder emits a hum of thought but ultimately he knows she should stay behind this time, “Peli reckons I should spend time with the kid. Shouldn’t take too long—I’ll just head in and grab the kid a meal, look around for intel… I’ll be back before it’s dark.”

She nods, understanding. “I’ll—just wait here then.”

Mando reciprocates her nod and hesitantly steps back, but the Girl’s fingers loop through his belt and draws him in close to her once again. He steadies himself with a hand on the dip of her waist, digits unconsciously poking into the flesh deeper, and he angles the helmet to her eye level in disarray.

The familiar weight of his blaster slips into position against his thigh but he doesn’t tear his eyes away to look, he doesn’t want to move at all. “Might need it,” she explains, her tone hushed, “it’s good to go.” She lightly taps the blaster with her free hand and he stiffens when her palm comes to rest atop it, the tips of her fingers brushing against the outside of his thigh.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Her lips curl into a cunning grin and she tries to hide it by lifting herself onto her toes and breathing through the fabric surrounding his neck. Mando’s muscles flex involuntarily and the hand on her hip slinks a path to the curve of her back, where he fists a bundle of poncho fabric in his leathers. She whispers, “How’s your back feeling?”

“It’s - it’s better.”

She exhales softly and he swears he can feel it through the cloth, warming his jugular with her gleaming words, “So, you won’t be needing my help tonight?” Mando groans as she weakly pats the lesion deep underneath his cloak—it doesn’t hurt, more or less stings like a Droch crawling through his skin and draining his energy, but that was the Girl’s disposition more so than the wound’s sensitivity.

“Well,” Mando clears his throat and steps closer—if that’s even possible—so his lower-half is pressing against her waist, evoking a hitch of his own breath from the contact. She’s so soft against him. “I might need a hand…”

She chuckles into his neck, sending the vibrations from her throat into his and it makes a beeline to his heart. It vortexes around the organ, a current so strong it’d be fatal to terminate the stream. Not that he wanted to stop it. It’s such a pleasant feeling, the phantoms of sunshine-esque tendrils applying a pacifying pressure that feels like that of an embrace; warm hands clasping his heart and delivering delicate kisses across the muscle. He can almost sense the cushioning of lips against the pulsing organ.

“Ya know, I’ve got more than just hands.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, practically drooling at the mere suggestion—he’d be so sluggish to drag it out as long as possible, every single touch of his deliberate to commit all her curves, bumps, even bruises, to memory. Store it away for a gloomy day, like a breach in the clouds; sunbeams breaking through the overcast and introducing a warmth like none other.

Mando cranes his neck to the side slightly and she takes the invite to burrow deeper. The blood in his neck is hot and the air in his helmet sultry. He wants to do nothing but drag her back to the ship and lock themselves away for the remainder of the day, but the irritated child on his hip is starting to get antsy. Mando gasps, “Need to - to take the kid out.”

She hums her sympathy against his neck, “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

Well, time was indeed taken, or however the saying goes.

The Mandalorian had been forced into conversations all day courtesy of the Child; he just couldn’t seem to stop touching things or feeding on display products of each stall they’d pass. Mando’s entire vocabulary had been decreased to continuous sorry’s and kid, no! It doesn’t just end there. The Child was inquisitive of all his surroundings, particularly places Mando couldn’t fit himself—it made for some awkward dialogue between him and the kiosk attendants when he’d be on his hands and knees rummaging around for a loose alien baby.

“I’m not stealing!” He’d reassure but it’d have the opposite effect and turn heads, people eyeing him with curiosity; a Mandalorian, like that in folklore, frantically chasing a little green toddler with something half-alive dangling from its mouth. He’s made a fool out of himself enough for a day. The Child, on the other hand, is still persistent—giving him somewhat of the silent treatment until Mando bargains a promise of food.

The Child attentively watches his food in the arms of the server, streaks of steam and a tender fragrance wafting in his direction as it settles onto the table ahead. “Thank you,” Mando nods and leans back in his seat, unequipping a small bag of leftover credits he could spare for the day and sliding it across the wooden surface, “do you know of any employment opportunities?”

“Regrettably not, sir,” the waiter replies and exchanges final pleasantries before returning behind the buffet to assist an unruly patron.

Mando sighs and returns his guard to the Child—who grabs a spoonful of scalding liquid and squeals in delight—and chews on the inside of his lip in thought. Tatooine is just as detestable as the last time he was here—the hustle and bustle never-ending. One would think that the Mandalorian could blend in with such an immense and diverse population, but his outright existence drew attention to himself; it’s becoming a ritual each time he steps foot inside a cantina. People’s discussions quickly cease as they scrutinise the warrior upon his entrance, contemplating whether they could neutralize him and pry the beskar steel from his body to sell in the black market. Some have tried and failed, of course. In his youth, Mando thrived off the sensation. It was empowering to have others tremble in their skin at the sheer sight of a Mandalorian, but he’s matured and those days are long since dead. He’s travel-worn, too exhausted to concern himself with people’s thoughts regarding him, so long as they weren’t orchestrating his downfall.

“I ain’t never seen a thing like this before,” a disembodied voice mutters from behind the Mandalorian, the shoddy cantina lighting casting a shadow across their table. Mando doesn’t tear his attention from the Child but reaches for his blaster nonetheless, the leathers fiddling with the hilt in preparation. “Where’d you get it?”

When he doesn’t reply, the figure shifts to come between him and the Child—a trandoshan with wide-set eyes and sharp pointed teeth, sneering at the man underneath the beskar. She’s got yellow-brown scaly skin and dons a protective piece underneath an unbuttoned shirt, with a hunting rifle across her back and a carbine strapped to her belt. She steals a chair from the closest table and swings it around to join the pair, placing her elbows on the table and looking back-and-forth between Mando and the Child.

“We’re looking to raise a youngling like this, maybe something a lil’ bit more competent than this one.” The Child’s green ears perk up at the stranger but just as quickly dismisses her, plunging the spoon into the womp rat stew for seconds or thirds—Mando wasn’t keeping track. She glances behind Mando and waves a hand and calls, “Bookoo, what d’ya think?”

Bookoo—a Wookiee decked with nothing more than a dual bandolier across his chest and a small satchel at his hip—appears into view, soaring over the accumulated individuals and extends a welcoming smile at Mando underneath the shaggy rug of his face. “Muawa, ur oh.”

“No? What, you think we’re gonna get anything better?”

Mando interrupts, tired of the banter, “He’s not going with you.”

“We have credits,” she taps the satchel on Bookoo’s hip, they clash against one another inside the leather.

“He’s not for sale.” Mando tears himself from his seat and shepherds the Child into his arms, ignoring the burbles and whines he emits as he tries to grab hold of the bowl. Mando turns for the exit, intently listening to the whispers of the pair behind him, but stops when called for.

“Uh-sir... Mandalorian, sir?” He turns on his heels and eyes the waiter who places two small packages stacked together atop the counter. “Your dessert, sir.”

The Trandoshan eyes the Mandalorian as he awkwardly balances the boxes in one arm and the Child in the other. She steps forwards once his hands are far from his blaster to make her claim, “I promised my group I’d bring back an apprentice, ya see? With a lil’ bit of training, that thing should be good to go. Ain’t that right, Bookoo?”

Bookoo steps back defensively, “Mu waa waa.”

“Stupid Wookiee,” she mutters and rises from her stool, her bare feet tapping against the cantina’s duracrete flooring. She places a claw on the counter in an attempt of intimidation, but she only sustains a pathetic reaction from the waiter. “What’s a Mandalorian need a child for anyways? You raising that thing to become one?”

“We’re done talking.”

“Aw, come on. We’re just having a small chat. No need to run for the dunes.”

The Mandalorian denies her the satisfaction of retaliation and continues outside. The familiar crunch of grit a welcoming sound through his filters—he never thought he’d be comforted by such a sound. The Trandoshan yells one last remark before he steers a corner, “If you change your mind, we’ll be here!”

He’s suspicious of their intentions—and uncertain whether they were tailing him—so he weaves through the night crowd, bumping and pushing the drunkards to and fro. Once he’s scampered plenty, and positive they hadn’t been stalking his footsteps, he returns to Peli’s hangar with a drowsy Child and now-cold dessert. Optimally, the kid will be tuckered out for the rest of the night but it was never a certainty—he just hopes he’ll give him some privacy for at least a few hours.

Peli wipes grease on a rag hanging from a belt hoop of her coveralls and offers Mando a smile, “I assume you got yourself a job?”

Mando shakes his head in defeat and delivers one of the takeaway boxes in her hands.

“What’s this?” She opens the box and her eyes practically light up with joy but it’s short-lived as she eyes him suspiciously, “Is this a bribe?”

“Just a nice gesture. I thought.”

“Hmm,” Peli hums and closes the box, nodding her head slightly. “Well, ‘bout that ship of yours… It’ll be two thousand.”

Two thousand. It’ll bleed their funds dry, but the Crest needs repairs. Without them, they’d be stranded here on Tatooine for the unforeseeable future—something Mando really couldn’t accommodate. There’s too much sand. Too many people. His calloused hands aren’t for sitting on; they’re created to work, and he won’t allow himself to leisure around a planet without performing some act.

The Girl won’t be pleased to hear he’s gone and spent a large sum of her earnings—not to mention how she’ll react when she ultimately comprehends she will be required to stay a little longer than expected. Mando feels his lips curling and he tries to smother it with reasoning; tries to tell himself he can’t keep her detained alongside him forever, but he’s obstinate and doesn’t take heed of his own advice. There’s a leap in his heart and a twisting in his stomach at the thought she’ll remain beside him for a little while longer—at least until he has the credits.

Perhaps the Child was onto something when he went and ripped all those wires out.

“That’s with a discount,” Peli adds.

“I should buy more of those.”

Peli scoffs at his jesting comment and tosses the takeaway parcel atop a flat surface. “The Girl. She’s good with her hands.”

If only she knew.

Something within the mechanic suggests that she does, in fact, know judging by the speculation written across her face; her squinted eyes waltzing his figure and her teeth chomping on the inside of her cheek to avoid voicing a sarcastic comment. The shield of beskar may disrupt his facial expressions—concealing them to only his cognisance—but his mannerisms are increasingly heightened to others and he’s gradually realising he’s not as proficient in masking them as he originally thought.

Mando swallows a thick lump in his throat and shifts his weight to one foot, his hip cocking out vaguely. “Is the maintenance finished?” he asks, shifting the topic to something he can reduce the awkwardness with.

Peli clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, “Oh, you mean the replacement of the entire navigational controls? Yeah, did it all by myself in a matter of a few hours. No help from my droids. No, it’s not done! Do you know anything about spacecraft restoration?”

“I typically leave that in the hands of...professionals.” Mando chooses carefully. “When will it be ready?”

“Me and your Girl are done for the night.”

His Girl?

Mando’s cheeks flush mildly, a faint tint of pink lining across his nose accompanied by a heat tackling the inside of his visor. Those two little words sound exceptional as the settle surrounding him, fogging his head with the seven letters—seven letters that he couldn’t relate to. They don’t belong to him; wouldn’t belong to him.

But he lets himself fantasise they could—they are.

His Girl.

Mando’s lips ghost underneath the beskar, mouthing the words to himself as though to test the waters; dipping his toes in the substance and sampling the texture before sinking into it, letting it engulf him. He thinks of His Girl’s lips and how soft, how gentle, they looked. Her lips are the sandy borders of a beach—sand he wouldn’t mind if it were to wedge its way through his flight suit to abuse his body— and her tongue, her saliva, are the waters; refreshing but salty, leaving him thirsty for more.

Peli drags him out of his daydreaming without realising it, “But it should be up and running before the suns’ at its peaks. So you better have my credits ready! I’m not free labour, ya know.”

“Don’t worry,” he groans, “you’ll get the payment.”

She crosses her arms taut over her chest and squints at him suspiciously, probably wondering how he’s going to manage to pay her, but her determination fades into moderate compassion with a deep exhale. “All right, gimme the kid.”

“What? Why?”

Her earthy eyes flick up to the cockpit’s viewport and Mando twists his body to observe. The top of the Girl’s head can be seen from his perspective, her arms raised high above her in a stretch and then just as quickly disappears out of sight. Peli teasingly shoves Mando’s shoulder and laughs, “Go on, I’ll take the kid for the night. I’ll even do it for free; reimbursement for the dessert.”

She’s a blessing in disguise—who’s he to decline such a persuasive offer?

“Just-” Peli stabilises the weight in her arms, the Child placidly dozing off in one, “I better not be hearing all that, okay? If you wake either me or the kid up-”

“Thank you.”

She watches him, stunned, and then shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. Mando doesn’t even feel tempted to know what she’s whispering to herself, he only has one thought on his mind: His Girl.

The Mandalorian reunites with the Girl in the cockpit’s cabin. She’s sitting on the floor tinkering with loose cabling with a craned neck to accommodate for the low-rise control board. Mando’s unsure whether he’s delighted to see her down there or disappointed; something within him expecting her to be somewhere less uncomfortable, awaiting his return—it’s a selfish thought and a very hormonal one at that. He sighs to himself and sits in the passenger’s seat, his elbows leaning on his knees to peer over her shoulder. “I thought Peli said you were finished?” Mando queries.

“She’s finished. I’m not.”

Mando breathes her name, introducing it to the cramped cockpit and it’s stale air, and she pauses a moment to turn her head and look into the magnetising visor. Now he’s the one pausing. It’s comical how he’s so easily conquered by a single glance. She doesn’t look at him like that in holoplays—where her eyes gleam in the low light hanging above and her mouth twitches when she’s restraining a smile—so why does his heart flutter and his blood surge through his veins? Rather, her eyebrows are crinkled with discouragement on account of uncooperative cords and there’s a streak of oil across her forehead—she looks just as gorgeous as ever.

Mando’s voice softens as he talks to her, “Take a break. It can wait until morning.”

She dismisses his recommendation, “It’s fine, I can keep going.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

“Quoting me to myself now, are we?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re persuasive.” She chuckles some and he delves into the rumbles, enveloping himself in the bubbliness of it. “I brought food. You can have some if you stop working.”

She quirks an eyebrow and eyes the package in his leathers. “What is it?”

“Come here and look.”

“Are you having some?”

Mando contemplates, but he already knows his answer. “I’m not hungry,” he lies.

“Neither am I.” She deceitfully smiles and returns to her labours—it’s arduous, her fingers firmly twining the wires together and unravelling others apart to reconnect to a bundle loosely hanging underneath the panel.

The Mandalorian had completely forgotten how stubborn she can be, especially with his thoughts distorted by the events of last night; she had been so adaptable and willing to aid him. It’s ridiculous to think they’re the same person. Jaw clenching with defeat, Mando sighs heavily and fiddles with the takeaway box. It’s lid lifts from its fastenings to expose a small stack of fluffy cobalt-coloured pancakes. They’re slightly soggy from the absorbed condiments and stone-cold, having been outside for far too long, but they’re a Tatooine delicacy he had yet to try before.

Mando glances at the Girl and rips the pancake into sections, simultaneously watching her exhaust herself. She groans dramatically and readjusts her position, practically laying on her stomach with her torso hoisted by her elbows. It allows for her to maneuver underneath the control panels—and allows Mando to drag his eyes lower.

His leathers slide underneath the bottom of his helm and dislodge it from position, the beskar expelling a sharp hiss of air. He freezes at the reminder but the Girl doesn’t seem interested in the newly discovered noise; he continues, elevating the hindrance just above his mouth to slot in a slice of torn pancake.

They’re soft like her hands and he lets himself imagine they are—pretends the sweetness of the syrup is actually his cum on her fingers or, better yet, her own slick. He’s reluctant to even chew, not wanting to shred the impure fantasy he’s created upon himself, so he doesn’t. Mando sits there with the pancake in his mouth just holding it there, letting his tongue flatten underneath it and suck the syrup out to relish in the bittersweetness.

It’s only once he’s drained it of its flavour that he finally devours the cake in hunger. It’d been a while since he last ate, but he repeats the process with the other sections he had torn apart—struggling to contain his self-control as he savours the sweetness and imagery of the Girl writhing underneath him.

Mando plops the tips of his leathers in his mouth and absorbs the residual syrup before aligning his helmet in place yet again, his hunger reasonably quenched—his thirst for the Girl, not so much. It doesn’t help matters when she reaches for a cord and her poncho rides up, unmasking the curves of her backside and revealing a splinters-worth of skin above the hem of her pants. He indulges at the sight of taunting skin and licks a drop of syrup from his lips, imagining his head between her thighs lapping at something sweeter—tangier. Mando feels so fucking undignified around her like his honour has been squeezed out of an over-absorbed rag; dripping through the gaps in his fingers and there’s nothing he can do to catch it before it vaporises before his eyes hardly leaving a trace in its wake.

It’s wholly improper how his eyes attack her unclothed skin, obsessing over it like a glass of water in the outskirts of Tatooine. Now that he thinks about it, his mouth is significantly parched and he’s forced to bite his lip to avoid reaching out for the temptation. Still, he hungers to run his fingers across the bare flesh and explore her bumps and curves with his tongue, dragging it over her neck and feel the rumbles of her moans as he sucked on a pulsing vein. Her moans—what a magnificent sound that must be.

The unspoken promise between them plays with the dark crevices of his imagination.

I’ve got more than hands.

Mando’s unsure if she meant it; she hadn’t indicated anything to him since his return. Is she expecting him to make the first move? If so, that’s torturous in itself.

Coffee-coloured eyes battle against the azure cakes and he confronts a moral dilemma. He has an inclination to satisfy the building arousal in his pants but it doesn’t align with his traitorous voice, “Eat.”

The Girl glances over her shoulder and Lord, he could get used to that view especially with him atop of her. She reverts her gaze to the opened box in his lap. “I’m not-”

“I’ve had one,” he confesses and tilts the box to show a stack of three remainders, “two each, but you can have my other.”

“When did you… Did you take off your helmet? In front of me?”

“Behind you,” he corrects.

She doesn’t find the humour in the situation, though, which surprises Mando. “What - what about your Creed? Fuck, Mando. You can’t…”

His expression softens underneath the visor and he sinks to his knees on the ground so he’s eye-level with the Girl, clasping one of her hands in his leathers. “Don’t concern yourself with that. I didn’t remove it entirely, just enough to eat. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? Mando-”

Mando impolitely interrupts her by pushing a torn slab of blue through her parted lips—his digits lingering longer than necessary—and he chuckles at her shocked grimace.

She swallows and slaps his pauldron, “Rude!”

“Sit down and eat.”

The Girl conforms to his invitation and settles beside him, her back firmly planted against the durasteel wall of the cockpit. Mando awkwardly lowers to sit as well, the beskar clanking against the wall behind them but he doesn’t take any notice of it. It’d be like herding a group of Nexu—utterly impossible—if he tried to concentrate on anything but her thigh against his or her hand digging through the box on his lap.

She munches on a blue cake beside him and it takes everything in him to give her privacy and not drool over the sticky syrup running down her fingers. It’s like she can read him though, her unsoiled hand hooking two fingers on the underside of the helmet and dragging it to look at her. “What about you?”

“I’ve...had one.”

“One. I don’t want you passing out on me. Here, I’ll look away.”

Mando eyes the divided dessert between her fingers and the drop of golden syrup slowly making way to her third knuckle. She’s not looking at him and can’t identify whether he’s accepting her offer or not, but she doesn’t dare retract her hand; it just hovers in the air waiting for his leathers to grasp the food from her—they don’t. Something so much softer does, though.

Mando licks a long stripe along the underside of her fingers, tearing the pancake from her clutch with his tongue and reserving it in the cheek of his mouth for later—too preoccupied with the sugary concentrate coating her fingers. She tenses at the sensations. It’s overwhelming, consuming her thoughts and spitting them out in a pile of goo. It’s almost irresistible to not look at him, to not watch as he sucks on her fingers so fucking desperately, but she’s respectful of his Creed even if it kills her.

“Mando,” she whispers because it’s too quiet, too real.

His tongue is persistent, parting her fingers from each other and lapping at the syrup in the crevices of her knuckles. It’s so sweet and he moans around her fingers at the taste on the back of his tongue. Mando doesn’t concern himself with the potential of humiliation—he ought to look downright laughable right now—because she’s so sweet and soft in his mouth, far superior to the pancake he relished earlier. There’s a puny attempt to pull away on her behalf but with a firm grip on her wrist, she holds her position inside his mouth, especially when his teeth lock her digits in place, while her other hand finds the plate of thigh armour and hooks the fingers underneath.

“Shit,” she breathes and leans into him.

The Girl’s palm flattens against his chin and he stiffens his jaw, his movements slacking behind now that he’s focused on the warmth on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so tenderly, no - he could but he didn’t want to; didn’t want to ruin the moment with the imagery of blaster fire and his mother’s last loving touch.

Her reassuring strokes against his cheeks with her free fingers urge him on and he sucked the final of the syrup from her digits before freeing them from his lips, placing a peck on the tips. Once the helmet is resealed, he finishes the neglected pancake in his mouth.

“You’re not as reserved as you act,” she chuckles, “where was that last night?”

Mando smiles. “Come here and let me show you.”

Where was all this confidence coming from?

He doesn’t care—he’s making a fucking move while he can.

The Girl contemplates him with a raised brow and a small smirk toying at her lips. It makes him want to know what she’s thinking—formulating—in that head of hers, but he’s not left in suspense for long. She braces a leg over his lap and straddles him, constricting her inner thighs against the outside of his and tilting his helmet back to look up at her.

Mando nearly stops breathing, his organs refusing to cooperate in unison with such an unknown weight atop of him. All that confidence from earlier completely obliterates with just one roll of her hips—maybe it wasn’t confidence but arrogance, he thinks. She’s devious, he can see the pleasure in her eyes at his unfolding below her.

“Are you looking at me?” she asks, a hand on either side of his helmet to steady his head.

He nods because he doesn’t trust himself not to whine if he opens his mouth.

She looks back at him and for a moment, just a second, he feels as though she can see him, and then she grinds down and sketches the outline of his stiffening cock below her heat—and fuck if it isn’t one of the friskiest things he’s ever beared witness to. There’s just something so unique about the eye contact when she’s unravelling him like a ball of yarn; he wants to gaze into her eyes without the guard ahead of him and break her apart. “F-fuck, you’re,”-she rolls her hips again, faster-“ah, you’re too - too good to me.”

“I know,” she quips.

Daunting. It’s so fucking daunting being so paralysed with arousal underneath the Girl, stripped down to an accumulated pile of whimpers and twitches as she takes her sweet time tormenting him—and he fucking enjoys every second of it. He’s fatigued from years of bounty hunting, years of being shot, stabbed, beaten, and it’s stimulating having somebody touch him so languidly and voluntarily care for him in such a way.

“Tell me what you want, Mando.”

He swallows.

It’s so fucking ironic. He’s never had more than a few thousand credits to his name at a time and yet, pinned below the Girl with her being so provocative, he feels like the richest man alive—because it couldn’t be luck; he’d never been so fortunate to as receiving a simple bounty commission, a beautiful girl extracting every drop of arousal out of him no less.

He moans her name and inches his fingers under her poncho, “Want - fuck, I need-”

Mando’s pleas are interrupted by a suspiciously familiar disembodied voice shouting, “Come on out and nobody gets hurt!” It’s a gruff, hoarse sound that oils the cogs in his mind. The Trandoshan. She must’ve followed him here…but he took precautions…

He can’t find it within himself to tear his hands away from the Girl to survey the threat outside, so she takes it upon herself to clamber off his lap leaving him cold and hard in his pants. Molten lava rises in his chest as he raises to his feet, staring out the viewport with such vengeance it almost surprises him. The Trandoshan firmly stands with Peli Motto beside her, the barrel of her carbine pressed against her temple, and the Child squirming in her adjacent limb.

“Shit!” he growls and slams a pair of closed fists against the nav controls. It whines upon impact and blips a malfunctioning screen at his outburst.

“Hey, calm down,” she soothes, a hand slipping into his.

“They have Peli! ...The kid.”

The Trandoshan leers at him through the viewport. “Leave that blaster of yours on the ship and get down ‘ere. No funny business either! I’ll fire a hole through her head otherwise. Then the Kid’s.” She accentuates her point by thrusting the barrel against Peli’s temple harder.

The Girl fishes his blaster out of his holster. “They haven’t seen me,” she explains. “I’ll wait until you get close enough to them but don’t try anything without me.”

It could work. It could fail. He didn’t have an alternative plan.

“Okay,” he agrees, understanding the moment between them is long gone.

With one final gawp outside, Mando pries himself away from the nav controls and heads downstairs, bare. It’s not as though he’s completely defenceless; the flamethrower in his vambraces had enough fuel to get him out of a pinch, the whipcord could serve a purpose if essential, and he still possessed his vibro-knife in his boot. None of that can compare to the comfort of a blaster in his hand though.

The Child and Peli Motto’s safety is his priority, so he’ll comply with the Girl’s strategy and get as close to the Trandoshan as possible. He’ll use brute force if necessary.

They’ve relocated to an open region in the hangar where it’ll be near impossible to shield everybody if a blaster fight ensues. Preferably, it won’t come to that. The Trandoshan flexes her finger against the trigger when Peli fidgets with her hands beside her. Mando vaguely shakes his head in her direction and examines the Child’s wellbeing in the yellow-brown scaly arms.

“I’m here.” He raises his hands to demonstrate his compliance, “Let them go and we’ll talk.”

She sneers at him, laughs. “No.” The blaster reels back and whips Peli over the head, knocking her unconscious in a piled heap on the ground. Mando moves forwards, his fists tightening with each step. “Hold it right there.” The Child whines against the cold barrel pressing into his wrinkled forehead. Mando stops hastily, his eyebrows twitching with rage.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“What do you need a child for?”

She smiles hauntingly, her sharp teeth locking together through her open-mouthed grin. “We don’t need one, but this one’s got a pricey bounty on its head,”—she aims for the flesh above his heart plate—“as do you.”

Guild members. Just his luck they’d be situated on Tatooine at the same time as he is.

The Mandalorian’s visor tilts to the Child in her arms, his eyes narrowing on the outstretched green claw. The kid’s eyes shut and his forehead wrinkles as he desperately tries to concentrate on something, and then it clicks in Mando’s head. His powers. The Child hadn’t used them since they took down the Mudhorn and Mando was beginning to think they had vanished, but they mustn’t have—he’s too focused on the air ahead of him.

The Trandoshan hasn’t noticed his fidgeting and Mando takes it upon himself to keep the barrel focused on him by stepping forwards, providing the Child time to figure out his abilities. “You won’t leave here alive,” he taunts.

She seems unfazed by his remarks, too confident in her plans. “Ah, what do we have here?” The Trandoshan asks curiously, peering over the Mandalorian’s figure and he whips his head to follow. The Girl is subdued in the arms of the acquainted Bookoo, who must’ve been anticipating resistance and remained obscured from their sight.

The Girl fights against his grip but he’s far too strong for her to overpower and she limps in defeat, glancing up behind her at the Wookiee; eyes enlarging and her mouth falling agape underneath the face-covering she donned for the occasion.

Then—the last thing the Mandalorian expects to hear—the Trandoshan exclaims her name in a greeting, “It’s been a while!”

_______________________________

“Muawa, ur oh” - no, thank you “Mu waa waa” - please leave me alone

A/N: Good lord I am so sorry for an 8k chapter, I really didn’t want to split it into two. However, with this one being so long the next might not be out until the middle of next week (if I can manage to actually concentrate for long enough to write). Let me know how you enjoyed it and if you want to be added to the taglist! PS I’m running of gifs...please help...what do yall search for such hd gifs?

taglist: @ohhersheybars, @greatcircle79

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aurora077 · 3 years

Text

Intervention

Summary: Lan Xichen’s seclusion had gone on long enough, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion. It was time for an intervention. Fem!JC

Author's Note: This work is set in jiucengta ‘s haunting legacies au (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716682)which I suggest you check out. Jiang Cheng is female and was married to Wei Wuxian before shit hit the fan. The relationships are not explicitly stated here, it's very background. I just had this idea and wanted to get it out there. I may or may not do another fic very similar to this one but not set in an AU, just post-canon instead.

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Two years had gone by since the fateful Guanyin Temple incident that rocked the cultivation world. Two years (a little more really) since Jiang Cheng’s erstwhile husband had returned from the dead. Two years (a little less actually but who’s counting) since she lost her widowed status and gained an extra love to boot somewhere in the middle. And two years since Sect Leader Lan had gone into seclusion, punishing himself for his blindness and mourning the loss of both his sworn brothers.

Normally Jiang Cheng would not stick her nose in other sects’ business. But Gusu Lan had become more than just another sect to her; it was important to those she loved and so, it was also important to her. And even if things hadn’t turned out the way they did in her personal life, Lan Xichen is someone she would have wanted to help anyway. During the thirteen years her husband had been dead he had been one of the few to show any open support for her.

She would never forget that fateful discussion conference-- the one where she’d been dubbed Wife of the Yiling Demon after she rebuffed Jin Guangshan’s attempt to pressure her into marriage (brokered by him no less-- undoubtedly trying to get her to wed one of his own relatives...control over the Jiang could only work in his favour). Loudmouthed Sect Leader Yao would have turned things even uglier for her had it not been for Lan Xichen’s timely intervention on her behalf. His steady support had helped her in more ways than one over the years despite the fact that they were not ever particularly close. With Gusu Lan seemingly in her corner, the voices that would (and initially, did) loudly decry a young female Sect Leader were forced to whisper instead.

That was why she found herself sitting opposite the man, sipping on a cup of tea as he gazed inquisitively at her.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he greeted, sounding weary, voice containing only a trace of his former warmth, “What brings you here? As you know I am still in seclusion, technically, I should not be having visitors. Is there something urgent that you need my help with?”

“Yes,” she said, and continued bluntly as was her way, “I’m here to convince you to leave it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

It spoke to the measure of self control the Lan’s had that he didn’t simply kick her out of the hanshi.

“I beg your pardon but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

She cleared her throat and tried to measure her words more carefully; she didn’t want to be asked to leave before she had made her arguments and she tried to remember that this Lan Xichen had been hurt too deeply to retain his former magnanimity.

“You may not know it Lan Xichen, but outside these walls you are sorely missed.”

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it.

“I’m aware my family may miss me, Sect Leader Jiang, but I had no idea that you harbored such strong feelings towards me that you now miss my presence.”

She sputtered slightly, not expecting him to joke about it when he looked like he could keel over if she spoke too loudly. “I…” her face turned red, “That wasn’t what…”

Taking pity on her he waved her protests away, voice becoming more solemn, “Why don’t you tell me why you think I should leave my seclusion. You of all people should understand why I need to do this. It was your family hurt the most by my ignorance.”

She drew in a breath to steady herself, “Did you hold me responsible when Wei Wuxian did all the crap that he did?”

“That’s different, he was manipulated,” he frowned.

“Nobody knew that until recently Zewu-Jun. And manipulation or not he still made choices that led to a lot of harm. So I ask you again, was I to blame? Should I not have been able to stop my husband? Is it not, therefore also my fault? Maybe I should join you in seclusion since his demonic cultivation was partly because he gave me his core and had no options left.”

He looked pained, “I have never blamed you for his choices. You couldn’t help what you didn’t know. None of us knew he didn’t have a core.”

“And none of us knew Jin Guangyao was a megalomaniac either. So how can you be blamed for his choices? If you are to shoulder the blame then so should all the rest of us.”

“The rest of you weren’t his sworn brothers!” he almost shouted.

“Mingjue knew. He warned me not to trust him so many times. I dismissed him. I thought he was paranoid and misjudging A-Yao like so many others. If he could see it, why didn’t I? I wronged Da-ge in the worst way because I thought I knew better than him,” His breathing was coming out ragged, “I thought A-Yao was the one who knew me best. Who I knew best.”

It spoke to his state of mind that he even let all of that out in front of her.

“Sect Leader Jiang, the man I considered my closest companion is the man most hated by the cultivation world and reviled as a monster. How do you think I must look in comparison? I am sure there are those out there wondering if I had known and if I even helped him with all of his plans. There are people who will speculate as to the bounds of our relationship. If I did not go into seclusion they would say I had no shame, look what his sworn brother did and he’s out and about like normal. Then there are those who look at my decision to seclude myself as an indicator of guilt and may accuse me of complicity. Or they will look at my mourning and see someone who mourns a monster and who does that? Why mourn a monster? Sect Leader Yao even openly criticised your young nephew for crying at the coffin of his uncle who also helped raise him. A parentless child who saw one of his only remaining close family members die brutally after being exposed as a serious criminal, who even threatened him with bodily harm, could not grieve him without censure. What of a grown man, and a Sect Leader at that!”

“With all due respect, so what?”

“E..excuse me?” Lan Xichen was torn between being confused and insulted.

“You heard me. So. What?” she started, “So what if they think these things? Does that make it true? If Sect Leader Yao thinks that you’re an incestuous troll would that make it true? If Sect Leader Ouyang says ‘hey did you know that Sect Leader Lan likes to visit brothels in secret’ would that make it true? Just because people think something does not make it a reality. Your sect certainly does not believe you are responsible for the actions of Jin Guangyao and would stand by you if anyone insinuates otherwise. You have your brother and your uncle who love you and are worried about you. Your sect has thrived under your leadership and undoubtedly they all miss you too.”

That Lan Jingyi kid couldn’t shut up about how much he missed Zewu-Jun. And she knew Lan Zhan missed his brother and lamented that he could not do more for him. He and Lan Qiren were working themselves ragged trying to pick up the pieces. He’d hardly had time to come back to Lotus Pier and she and Wei Ying missed him dearly. They’d had to make up so many ‘official’ reasons to find themselves in the Cloud Recesses so that they could spend some time together. So yes on the one hand it would be good for them if Zewu-Jun were to leave seclusion but she wasn’t simply doing it for that reason. It was because if anyone could understand what Zewu-Jun was going through, it would be her. And she didn’t think that seclusion was going to help anything. All it would do is make him ruminate on his mistakes over and over again until he likely went mad himself.

“You said that the man you considered your closest companion turned out to be a monster. Gee, I wonder what that feels like? You said that people will wonder if you helped him with his plans, oh gee, I wonder what that feels like?” Zewu-Jun had the grace to look abashed at that.

She continued, softer, “You said people will talk about what kind of person mourns a monster. But you’re not mourning a monster, are you? When A-Ling cried over his coffin, did you blame him for it? Did you think ‘why is this child mourning when he should celebrate the end of the one who fractured his family?’ like Sect Leader Yao did?” Zewu-Jun shook his head but didn’t say anything, letting her continue.

“A-Ling was mourning the loss of the uncle he knew. And you are mourning the loss of the companion he had been to you. The world will only ever view him as a monster because the world never knew him. But you did. Maybe you didn’t know everything about him, but not everything about him was fake. I hate Jin Guangyao, I will not pretend otherwise. But I was there, Zewu-Jun. I was there, and I could see that he truly did care for you and value you. Not everything he showed you would have been fake. You of all people probably got more sincerity out of him than anyone else. And so you, of all people, have a right to mourn the man he was, the same way A-Ling still mourns the loss of the man who gifted a lonely child a dog. Not everything had an ulterior motive. Even monsters can love can’t they? Even monsters had people who loved them. I would know. So if you need to mourn him… then just mourn him.

Who gives a damn what people will say about it? People will always talk, Zewu-Jun. It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, people will believe what they want to believe. So why let their opinions force you into repenting for something you didn’t even do? Let them think what they want to think. It is not a crime to be deceived. We all were. Why take the world on your shoulders when you don’t actually have to? And again, with all due respect Sect Leader Lan, if I, a family-less, alliance-less woman whose husband was the most reviled personage in the jianghu, who suffered the scorn of the cultivation world for over a decade, could raise my nephew on my own and build my sect back from literal ashes into one of the strongest and most respected once again, then you, who have a strong sect and people who love you, who believe in you and will support you no matter what… you can manage to live too.”

“Sect Leader Jiang…” Zewu-Jun was at a loss for words. What could he say? It only sounded selfish and petty to claim that he suffered more than she did, because he truly didn’t. She was right after all. Sect Leader Jiang was a remarkable woman. Life had not been kind to her. And...her words struck something within him. He felt ashamed. He hadn��t even thought about what it was like for her before this. He’d never offered her any support, but here she was trying to get him to live his life again without guilt. She, whose family most assuredly suffered because of his inaction, was here telling him to let it go, to not take responsibility. But how could he do that so easily?

“How did you do it? Sect Leader Jiang...” his voice cracked, “Can you ever forgive me, for the harm that my inaction caused you and your family?” Maybe if he heard it from her, maybe he could begin to forgive himself.

She sighed. “On my part, there is nothing to forgive Zewu-Jun. And so I can’t grant you forgiveness because you haven’t done me any wrong. But there are a few people who do deserve an apology from you. And your seclusion is a self-imposed punishment that you feel you deserve but at the end of the day, it does not actually do anything tangible when it comes to making amends to those who have been hurt.”

He was silent for a moment, stunned by her words. He hadn’t considered that his seclusion might have been causing others even more harm than he’d already done to them. Sect Leader Jiang was wise (she would disagree...she’d just learned from bitter experience in her opinion). He felt like he’d done her a great disservice all of these years, by not making an effort to reach out to her.

“Please, tell me. I.. I confess I no longer trust my judgement. I thought I knew A-Yao. I thought I was a good judge of character. I no longer know how to tell what is up from down. All I know is that I was so, so wrong about A-Yao. If you say that I have not harmed you then I am glad. I would hate to be the cause of more pain. You said that I am not responsible for A-Yao’s actions, and though it isn’t easy to believe that just yet, if there are those who I have truly wronged then please...please tell me. I still don’t know if I am ready to leave seclusion, if I even know how to, but I need to atone for my actions.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, “That’s the right attitude at least. So to start with I’d say you need to have a chat with Huaisang.”

His eyes widened, “I… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sect Leader Jiang.” His face darkened slightly. He wasn’t pleased with Huaisang at the moment. It felt like he never even knew him.

“And why not? Out of everyone, it’s Huaisang that you unintentionally hurt. And I don’t mean because of not listening to Nie Mingjue. His death was not your fault.” He was about to protest but she cut him off. “It wasn’t. I told you, stop taking responsibility for what isn’t your fault and own up to what is.”

He sighed heavily, “If it’s not about Da-ge then how did I wrong Huaisang?”

“Well for one, you’re still his Er-ge. Yet you seem to have forgotten that in lieu of what happened in the temple. Huaisang… has lost everyone. He may have been acting like a shady shit for the past however many years but… do you know what it’s like to be the last one of your family, Zewu-Jun? To have nobody beside you except subordinates?” He inhaled sharply. “I.. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said mournfully. How much did he just not consider? What kind of a person was he that he resented Huaisang for his deceit but yet did not consider for one moment that Huaisang may have done those things because he thought he was all alone and could not come to him for help? What kind of brother was he that his little brother could not confide in him? He should have been there for Huaisang, instead he had thought so highly of Jin Guangyao, even dismissing da-ge’s claims, that Huaisang had not dared to approach him with his suspicions.

Sect Leader Jiang was being very understanding however, “Zewu-Jun, I know you’re not pleased with Huaisang. I know there are many things that he’s done that are not right. I know there’s a possibility that he lied and forced your hand at the end. Believe me, I know the feeling...more than anyone, I know what it feels like to be deceived by someone you love...to kill someone you love. I know what it feels like when everyone praises you for it. Like you did such a great thing and you should be happy and celebrating with everyone else, except you can’t because your heart has shattered…has been ripped to shreds.

As someone who once loved a so-called monster...as someone who as good as killed that person with their own hands, I understand better than anyone what you’re going through. What Huaisang did was cruel, even though I’m glad Jin Guangyao is dead. It was cruel to have you be the one to end him. Huaisang likely knew that Jin Guangyao valued you. He knew it would be the worst end for him to be killed by your hand. I can’t speak for Huaisang, but I don’t believe he did it to hurt you, even though that’s inevitably what happened anyway. He did it to hurt Jin Guangyao. But even though it was not kind of him to have you be the arbiter of justice, he still deserves to have his Er-ge in his life.

She paused remembering the pain of losing her husband and sister all in one night.

She didn't have to imagine how Huaisang would have felt at losing the last member of his family at the hands of someone he cared about.“You and I aren’t the only ones who were deceived by someone we loved. Huaisang loved Jin Guangyao too, didn’t he? He loved and trusted him. When Nie Mingjue was getting worse, didn’t Huaisang trust and rely on both you and Jin Guangyao? It wasn’t a front. You were both dear to him. He loved him. He loved him and was betrayed by him in the worst way. And then yes, he orchestrated a whole convoluted plan to have him exposed and killed.

But you and I can both attest that justice, and even revenge, doesn’t stop the pain does it? Huaisang avenged his brother, but he lost another in the process, the same way you did. Don’t let him lose you too. You said you wronged Nie Mingjue by not listening to him. I think you’d wrong him even more if you left his little brother alone, without anyone to call family. You don’t have to forgive Huaisang right away, or at all if you don’t want to, but eventually you should at least try and reconcile with him. You’re his big brother... the only one left. And you know, Huaisang would have had the realisation that he was fooled by Jin Guangyao all on his own. But you don’t have to be alone.

Huaisang and you share the experience of being blinded by him. It would be much easier to talk to someone who has gone through the same things, no? Huaisang is there. And I am here. You don’t have to endure this on your own. We may not be very close Zewu-Jun, but we can understand each other, not so? So I’m here if you need someone to confide in. And Huaisang...Huaisang must be waiting too. For his Er-ge. You both owe each other apologies.”

By the time she was done speaking there were tears rolling down his face. She didn’t think it was quite appropriate given their positions, (though she was sort of his secret sister-in-law so really, he counted as family) but she moved over to his side and embraced him. If he was surprised he didn’t show it, only moving to cling to her more tightly and sob with a ferocity that had her a bit surprised. She wondered if this was the first time since the temple that he’d allowed himself to fully grieve what he had lost, without the guilt of letting his sworn brother die, killing the other one, and feeling bad for mourning for someone who he should hate.

Everyone praised him for killing Jin Guangyao however, it was something he didn’t want to be praised for. But what could he say? That he hated the fact that he killed him? He was right about one thing, if he ever said something like that people would most assuredly say he was complicit and probably want to implicate him. Jiang Cheng of all people knew how hard it was to listen to people praising you for a deed you were not proud of. And so she was the only person who would understand. The only person who would, who could, acknowledge the hurt it would have caused him to do what he did, especially if he was tricked into it.

His feelings about Huaisang would be complicated, but it wasn’t too late to reconcile as long as they were both alive.

She rubbed his back consolingly and just let him cry. It must have been no more than 15 minutes, but it felt much longer, before his tears slowed. When his sobs petered out he tried to compose himself. She let go of him and he embarrassedly turned away, sipping his tea. He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry Sect Leader Jiang, that was unbecoming of me.”

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off. She was there to help after all.

“I will give your words due consideration. It was remiss of me to forget that I was not the only one affected by A-Yao’s schemes. I truly regret not thinking of how Huaisang would have felt when he first found out. You are right. I have done my little brother a disservice,” he said, voice croaky from his bout of sobbing.

“You said that there were people I needed to apologise to. Who else have I wronged?” he continued. His respect and admiration for Sect Leader Jiang had grown exponentially since the start of this visit. He would take her words under advisement if he could.

“Oh Zewu-Jun,” she sighed, “What you’re doing with this seclusion, doesn’t it remind you of someone? Because it sure reminds your uncle.”

Zewu-Jun looked as if she had slapped him.

“Nobody would begrudge you needing time to grieve and to come to terms with what happened, it is human nature. It’s understandable. We were all blindsided. And I understand the wish to seclude yourself because I wish I could have as well, though I didn’t have the luxury,” she said, not unkindly but it made him wince anyway, “But it’s been too long. A few months would be okay, though grief will last longer than that, but more than that is just being unfair to others. You are the Sect Leader. Your uncle has already had to watch his brother shirk his duties and seclude himself from the world for the rest of his life.

Your uncle has had to pick up the slack. He raised you and your brother like a father would, while taking care of sect matters. None of those things were his responsibility yet he did it. And now… now he has to go through it all over again. Master Lan is elderly though and he cannot keep up with all of the duties required of an elder, teacher and now Sect Leader once more. And so that leads me to the last person that you have wronged.

Lan Zhan is Chief Cultivator now, did you know? His duties are myriad and yet he has to come back here and help Master Lan run the sect. It pains Master Lan to see history repeating itself. A younger brother once again has to take the reins from his older brother and he does it without complaint, because he loves you. But it is unfair to A-Zhan. He can’t live his own life because he’s too busy living yours. He’s barely managing to keep up with both sets of duties, but he’s doing it for you. It has been two years, Zewu-Jun. He worries so much about you, as does your uncle. It pains them to see you this way. And so Sect Leader Lan,” she pointedly used his rank, “I beg of you to consider leaving your seclusion. You have people who love you waiting for you. Your family needs you.”

His eyes were glittering once more, but no tears were shed this time. He swallowed thickly. The past few months it had seemed as if he was living in a fog. He’d barely managed to keep his routine up, it was only through decades of strict routine that he’d gotten himself off the bed and eaten his food and meditated everyday on his shortcomings. But it seemed that while he was doing that he’d missed quite a few. Because she was right wasn’t she? He hid himself away like a coward and didn’t even think about how it would affect Wangji and Uncle. He hadn’t even considered how hurt his uncle would feel to see him go down the same route as his father.

Her words were like a splash of cold water. It seemed to wake him up; it got him out of the daze he was in. If this woman before him could raise a child and a sect from the ashes all alone after going through more tragedy than a hundred people in one lifetime would...he could get himself in gear and do what he had to do. He felt ashamed in front of her. She was right that she didn’t have the luxury to seclude herself. But he did. He did, and he took advantage of the support system that he had to take time for himself. More time than he should have.

She said it was understandable, and maybe it was, but she was also right that it should not have been going on for this long. He had no desire to be Qingheng-Jun the second. But if she hadn’t come here today… if she hadn’t said all that she had said… He would not have even thought of those things. He was too busy thinking of himself. It was likely that he would have stayed for years in his seclusion, just ruminating on what went wrong and what he could have changed. It was all too easy to get caught up in could-have-beens.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, devastated at the thought of his uncle, the man who raised him when he didn’t have to, who did his best to prevent them from turning out like their father, thinking that he had failed when it was Lan Xichen who failed, “I’ve heard you loud and clear. But…”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I even know how to go about being Sect Leader anymore. I feel like the decisions I make would be questionable now. How can I trust that I will do what’s best for the sect? I have already failed in so many ways. Now I have failed Wangji and Uncle too.”

“What did I tell you? You’re not alone Zewu-Jun. You don’t have to leave seclusion immediately. You don’t even have to start doing everything right away. Ease back into it. Your family will be there to help you. I’m offering to help you. If you need to talk about things that you can’t with them, you can write to me. Master Qiren should not have to be taking on these responsibilities any longer and A-Zhan needs to have time to breathe...his own position is challenging enough. Besides you haven’t failed, you’ve just had some setbacks is all. Failure would be wallowing in self-pity forever and leaving everyone else to do your duties indefinitely,” she looked at him pointedly. He got the hint.

“Okay Sect Leader Jiang. I shall take you up on that then. But I do have a question if you’ll indulge me,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“I mean no offense at all, in fact I’m actually extremely grateful for your concern, but I am curious….why do you even care? You didn’t have to do any of this. I’m well aware that you have your own duties and worries. Why bother about mine?”

She smiled for the first time since she walked into the Hanshi. He was struck by it. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile... truly smile. In fact, the last time he’d seen a smile as bright as that on her face was probably right here in the Cloud Recesses when she was a student.

“You may not remember it, Zewu-Jun, but there was a time Jin Guangshan sought to marry me off. It was your words of support for me, against that awful Sect Leader Yao, that saved my skin, though they still called me Wife of the Yiling Demon after that. But at least I was only his wife. I will be eternally grateful to you for that. It was thanks to your words that nobody else tried to make me marry. I was able to focus on my sect in relative peace. It was a kindness that I have never been able to repay until now, though you shouldn’t think that it is only because of repayment.”

She got up and dusted off her clothes perfunctorily.

“I shall take my leave now, Zewu-Jun.”

“Please, call me Xichen,” he said, thinking that after all of the things that were said that day, she might as well.

“Well then, Xichen you may call me Wanyin. Thank you for hearing me out and please forgive me for barging in unexpectedly. I have intruded upon your hospitality long enough.”

“It is no matter,” he said, and for the first time in a long while he was able to manage a weak smile, “I was honored by your company. If you did not give me so much to think about, I would offer you some more tea.”

She laughed, “Thank you Xichen, but I will be missed soon anyway. I do not need to cause an uproar in Cloud Recesses if they can’t find a Sect Leader. Plus the scandal that would happen if someone other than A-Zhan or A-Yuan finds me in here will not be pleasant.”

“A-Zhan?” he raised an eyebrow, “Is there something I should know about, Wanyin?”

She snorted and threw him a cheeky smirk, “If you want to find out you’ll have to come to Lotus Pier.” And with that she saw herself out, leaving nothing but the scent of lotuses behind her.

Huh. Well then. How curious. He’d thought that Wangji had gone off with Wei Wuxian, who he’d been in love with since he met him. How did Sect Leader Jiang factor into this? As far as he knew they didn’t even particularly like each other. It seemed like he missed quite a lot while he was in seclusion. Was his little brother in a love triangle? It would explain why Wanyin said that he shouldn’t only think of her visit as repayment to him. It wasn’t the purest motivation but huh maybe he would leave seclusion after all. His brother might need support in more ways than one. Sect Leader Lan leaving seclusion because he was too invested in his brother’s love life was a hilarious thought, and for the first time in two years, he chuckled mirthfully to himself. Maybe he would be okay after all.

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blarfkey · 3 years

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20201 Rare Egg Hunt -- Solas/Josephine

Prompt: Surprises

Title: A Fire In His Hands

Rating: M (for a later chapter)

Chapters: 1/4

Pairing: Solas/Josephine Montilyet

Summary: When Solas joined the Inquisition -- in desperation and with great reluctance -- he promised himself he would have no attachments. No sentiment. It would only get in the way once he finally got his orb back and unleashed his destruction.

Josephine Montilyet tests this oath daily, in small touches and acts of kindness that Solas, quite frankly, is not sure how to handle.

He ends up breaking his promise.

Tags for this chapter: flirty banter, slow burn, growing friendship, touch starved Solas, Josephine is a Chocolate Snob, Josephine nobly braving the wilderness

Snippet:

Truly, everything about Josephine Montilyet surprises him. She has all that makes a person unbearably entitled – wealth, old family influence, stunning good looks. And yet she lives her life as the opposite: taking great pains to serve the needs of those around her, finding ways to connect and understand those most different from her, never putting herself above everyone else.

She has treated him with nothing but the utmost respect, despite his status as an apostate and an elf.

He keeps waiting for the moment that reveals this as just a facade for a darker, ulterior motive – but he suspects he will be waiting for a very long time.

“Then we can be useless together,” he says to her. “Besides, it is unwise to traverse these mountains alone, even so close to camp.”

“True,” she agrees. “I would appreciate your company nonetheless.”

#solasmance #solas #2021 rare egg hunt #solas x josephine #solas/josephine #solas x josephine montilyet #l am hooked on these two together #goddamn it

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sgam76 · 3 years

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A Little Sherlock Christmas Gift

This wee fic is set in my Felicitous Natal Celebration ‘verse, and will also be posted tomorrow on AO3. In this little epic, Sherlock is not quite 7, and Mycroft is 14.

Observant readers will recognize a little nod to a scene in Redemption, one of my book-length epics.

Joyeux Noël

“You have to say it,” Mycroft said, for the fourth—no, fifth—time.

The bundle of blankets in front of him, tucked into the only vacant stall in the small, battered barn, ignored him, as per the previous attempts. The blankets radiated an air of fury and despair.

In the next stall Daisy, his brother’s chubby, elderly pony, moved restively, hopeful that someone, anyone, would offer her a treat. She could be forgiven for being a little cross--that was the usual result of an evening visit to the barn, after all. Madagascar, Mycroft’s tall, bony gelding, rustled in the stall beyond her, dozing but hopeful.

“You broke Mummy’s cup,” Mycroft offered. “I know you were upset. Tante Giselle didn’t realize, and she’s sorry for that. But you must apologize for throwing it.”

A small, bony hand snaked out from under the blankets. No, it signed. If hands could be rude, this one managed it.

Mycroft sighed. “Lockie, it’s been 7 hours. It’s cold, even with the heater. You’ll make yourself ill again, and then you won’t be able to go to the Nutcracker on Monday.” He paused for effect. “You’ll hate that. And Daddy will be so disappointed—you know how hard it was to get tickets.”

The barn was still as the blankets considered. A second skinny little hand poked out. You tell her, they signed.

Mycroft sighed again. Daisy, giving up on treats, joined him. “I tried,” he said. “She says she won’t try to give you new foods again; she understands now, and she’s sorry for trying to trick you. But you still have to apologize.”

It was horrible/nasty, the hands said, using one of their own personal signs for “things Lockie can’t bear”. I almost sicked up.

“I know,” Mycroft said patiently. “I told her.” Daisy leaned over the fence to tug impatiently at the blankets with long yellow teeth. One little hand shoved her gently away.

The “horrible/nasty” thing in question was freshly made eggnog. Tante Giselle had come to stay, and was childminding the Holmes boys until Christmas Eve, when their parents would return from France. They had originally planned to all spend the season at Grandmere’s flat in Paris, until Lockie had come down with a heavy cold that prevented travel. Tante Giselle had volunteered to come from her place at Oxford and stay the week, since she had already planned to wait to head to France until New Year’s Eve. As Mycroft had volunteered to stay with his brother, he would travel to his grandmother’s with his aunt once his parents returned. He was rather looking forward to it.

Tante Giselle was a good sort, for the most part; understood Lockie’s quirks, didn’t try to force him into doing things that made him uncomfortable. But she had decided it was time he expanded his repertoire of acceptable food and drinks (which even Mycroft had to admit was a very short list at present). When coaxing proved futile, she had decided to use a gentle subterfuge, filling Lockie’s cup with eggnog instead of milk and not telling him. She genuinely thought he’d like it—it was quite sweet, and very mildly spiced. But she hadn’t reckoned with his exquisite sensitivity to texture. The thick, almost syrup-like liquid sat momentarily in Lockie’s mouth before his face worked, he spat it across the table, and launched the cup violently away with a look of betrayal and a gag. Tante Giselle, flinching as the cup flew by and broke, spun on her little nephew, grabbed his shoulder and shook him roundly, ordering him firmly in French to apologize at once and clean up the mess.

Lockie, his face screwing into a dark scowl, lurched away and sped out the kitchen door into the garden. Mycroft started to follow, but his aunt stopped him. “Let him go,” she said. “He will get hungry, by and by.” Then she moved to mop up the mess in the floor.

Mycroft waited several hours; he had his doubts that hunger would drive his brother back inside, but he thought cold might do the trick. When Tante Giselle started working on supper, though, he decided the time for action had come. He checked Daddy’s workshop, then the garage, and finally the barn. He’d been there now for almost an hour, with very little progress to show for it.

He thought now of that supper, though—whether Lockie was hungry or not, Mycroft certainly was, and Tante wouldn’t hold the meal forever. “Tante’s making coq a vin,” he crooned. “With the little potatoes you like.” That dish (well, mostly the potatoes), oddly enough, was on his brother’s “acceptable” list, though they didn’t get it very often since Mummy rarely had the patience to cook. Mycroft suspected it was a peace offering of sorts, though his aunt would never actually say so.

There was a cough, followed by a little wordless sound from the blankets; encouraging, but not quite enough. “I don’t think she’ll let you eat until you apologize,” he offered, which was both true and false. Would she let Lockie have the coq au vin? Probably not. But would she send him to bed hungry? Never. A bowl of homemade cream of chicken soup would almost certainly be found lurking in the warming drawer, just in case.

The hands withdrew into the blankets. Daisy reached over for another experimental tug; this time the hands just held on from the inside.

Mycroft thought a vulgar word Mummy would be horrified to know he knew.

“Can you at least come out and sit with me?” he asked. “So I can tell you’re all right?” He did want that, but he also had an ulterior motive. It was easier to gauge his brother’s reactions if he could see his face and body language.

There was a long, charged silence. Then the blankets rustled and a dirty, exhausted little boy emerged, eyes red. He crawled over to nestle at Mycroft’s side silently, shivering as the cold air hit him. He shot one darting glance at Mycroft’s face before dropping his eyes firmly to his hands.

Mycroft reached over to fish the blankets from under Daisy’s indignant nose, wrapping them tightly around narrow little shoulders in the way Lockie preferred. “There, isn’t that better?” he asked, and got a tiny nod in response.

“Now,” he said, as Lockie leaned a little more heavily against him, “I think we must come up with a compromise. Do you know how Mark Twain described that?” he asked. Lockie liked Mark Twain, especially A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, which Daddy had been reading to him at bedtime the past few weeks.

The dark, messy curls shook in negation.

“He said that a ‘successful compromise is one in which both sides walk away equally unhappy’, or words to that effect,” Mycroft said. He quite liked that definition himself.

How? Lockie signed, without looking up.

Reading between the lines, Mycroft presumed his little brother was asking about the applicability of the concept to their current situation. “You must apologize,” he said, and ignored the rigorously shaking head below him. “No, that must happen. Tante insists. But she hasn’t dictated what you must say, or how you must say it, now has she?” he continued, thinking it through as he spoke.

Lockie made an inquisitive little sound, and glanced up at his brother’s face again. Definite progress.

Ten minutes later, the brothers stood in the kitchen in front of their aunt, who was at the stove, spoon in hand. “Lockie is ready to say sorry,” Mycroft announced (choosing his words quite carefully), and pulled his reluctant brother out from behind him. “But, as you can see, he is still rather upset. It would be easier for him to sign, if you will permit?”

Tante Giselle’s face softened. She put the spoon down and knelt in front of Lockie, who refused to raise his head. “Of course, bebé,” she said, laying her hand briefly on one grimy cheek. Then she leaned back on her heels expectantly.

They had worked this out very carefully. Tante knew both French and English very well. But what she did not know was Sign, in either language. And therein lay their loophole.

Mycroft was just a tiny bit smug about the whole thing. But he could enjoy that later.

Lockie put his hands up and signed, slowly and clear. I am sorry you did a silly/stupid thing. I wish I had not broken the cup. It was an accident and not my fault. But I will try to forgive you. Then he darted back behind Mycroft, only to peer shyly back around towards his aunt, who looked on expectantly for a translation.

“He is sorry,” Mycroft intoned, as Lockie nodded solemnly. “He did not mean to break the cup. It was accidental. He hopes for forgiveness.”

Tante Giselle melted. She leaned forward and gave both her nephews a brisk, firm embrace, knowing Lockie’s aversion to soft or extended touches. “Of course, my dear,” she said fondly, then rose and lifted her spoon in triumph. “And now, let us eat and be merry, for all is well. Joyeux Noel!”

Mycroft, from behind her shoulder (and carefully out of her view) managed to catch his brother’s eye and winked. “Joyeux Noel!” he replied, and meant it.

#kidlock #Mycroft being a good brother #what aunt giselle doesn't know won't hurt her #my christmas gift to my homies

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bastillewolf · 4 years

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The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VIII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I hope I gave this chapter enough build-up. Bit of a different perspective, too. Hope you enjoy!

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

Chapter VIII - Golden Trunks

Alex threw his coat over his shoulders tiredly. He had to deal with the aftermath of the unravelled fraud committed in his own hotel, and it wasn’t something he was looking particularly forward to. Though he had good connections with the city’s chief policeman James Ford, the strenuous investigation and the stack of paperwork it would entail was something they both dreaded.

He’d asked Matt to taxi him, because he simply hadn’t slept well enough to trust himself to drive properly. It had been this way for months on end now, and he knew it was as a result of the stress he’d been dealing with. Whatever the doctor had given him didn’t work, so he’d always end up spending the nights on his balcony with a smoke and a glass of his favourite whiskey. What he wouldn’t do for one of those right now.

“Heading off again?”

She was leaning against the doorway, looking charming as ever. “We missed you during breakfast.”

“Considering Jamie’s blood pressure, I don’t think I was missed all that much, love,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m headed off to the city. I still have some business with the police to handle.”

“Have fun with that.”

He hummed, “If I’m at the brink of being bored to death, I’ll just remember I still have a guest I need to keep my eye on before she ruins my good reputation.”

“Did you just admit to fantasizing about me, mister Turner?”

He laughed, before hearing the honk of the Cadillac echoing through the lobby. “I hope to see you at lunch, writer.” He closed the final button of his coat before stepping out the front doors.

“You didn’t answer my question!” he heard her call after him. He left with a feeling of boyish giddiness, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

His trip to and from the police office had left him more tired than he wanted to admit, and it had taken up more time of his day than expected. It wasn’t until dinner that he was able to join his guest and staff for his first proper meal of the day. He scolded himself, knowing what his mother would’ve said to him if she saw him like this.

The dining hall appeared to be more dimly lit than usual and he wanted to ask Nick about it, but when he saw him carelessly conversing with Jamie at the table, his conscience decided against it. He knew how hard Nick had been working the past few weeks.

They all greeted him with cautionary smiles and hellos, which he’d gotten used to over the past few years. Previous events had led him to be stricter about certain things and he knew very well that it had put a strain on their friendship. Part of him missed the old days, but he realized it was better this way. If the hotel did ever go bankrupt, they’d blame him, and they would be right to do so. For if they didn’t blame him, they’d blame themselves, and he wanted to prevent that at all costs.

She was sitting next to him, and as the predominant conversation the guys were having was able to drown out anything else, she muttered, “I thought we’d be seeing you at lunch, mister Turner?”

“My apologies, love. Business took me longer than expected,” he disclosed softly, “I hope my staff kept you entertained?”

“I’m very capable of keeping myself entertained, mister Turner. I don’t need your staff to manage.” She had a devious twinkle in her eyes, which made him smirk. “Luckily you don’t,” he replied, “all they’re good at is getting you into trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble-“ She pulled a newspaper from her bag and slid it over to him, which quieted down everyone at the table. Alex’ eyes sleekly scanned over the headline.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel: A blissful sanctuary with the most charming personnel - and owner.”

The other men at the table seemed to be waiting warily for his response, clearly already having been informed of the whole ordeal. When Alex blankly kept rereading it a dozen times over, feeling a numbness settle over him, Nick decided to speak up; “The article was very well-received, Alex. I’ve had more bookings for the next holiday than we’ve had all summer.”

“I think this might have saved us, Al,” Matt added, his hand grasping his shoulder supportively.

He finally managed to look up at her. “How did you do it?” He asked, his brow set in a deep furrow.

“Do what?”

“How did you manage to make it to the front paper?”

“I pulled some connections,” she replied with a small smile.

He blinked. It didn’t make any sense to him. Connections? How did she get it in the paper so soon? When had she been planning this?

“But, why?” When she gave him a look of confusion, he elaborated, “You owe nothing to this hotel. Your mother had a history here, sure. But your stay here hasn’t been relaxing for you in the slightest. Why help us?”

“Unlike your previous presumptions, mister Turner, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I simply want to see good people succeed in life, like my mother used to.”

Dinner was continued with the tension having been relieved completely. He stole long looks at her as they ate, and it was everything about her that suddenly seemed to intrigue him beyond words. How someone could be so utterly pure with their intentions, he didn’t know. It bewildered him to an immense extent and he suddenly felt very unworthy of all the things she’d done for them over the small amount of time she’d known them.

When they were done, he asked if he could walk her back to her room. She said yes.

“You never answered my question,” she commented, having arrived before the pristine white door of room 521. He gave her a look that told her he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and she gave him a knowing smile. She stepped closer to him and he felt a warmth filling his chest in a pleasant way. Her gentle breath sent a tingling sensation along his spine when it reached his ear. “I’ll be upfront, mister Turner. Sometimes I fantasize about you, too.”

He awoke with a start, and Matt gave him a look through the rear-view mirror. He’d fallen asleep in the car after visiting the police station. He’d dreamt it all and wanted nothing more than to hit his head against the door of the car repeatedly.

Because finally, he realized what this incessant gut feeling had been at the hands of some laughable dream. This writer, who he was ever so cautious with, who gave him stress to no relief and made him beyond distracted of everything around him, had managed to sulk into his deeply barricaded heart when he’d done so much to prevent it from happening.

It wasn’t just the day she’d arrived, where he had told Matt to take care of everything because it was just one guest. Because all hotel owners know that having just one guest can have more impact on a hotel than a fully booked one ever could. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d pushed her away every time she tried to bring up her idea for her book because no one should ever know what really happened.

It had all started with her mother’s visit. The time it was off-season, and she was the only visitor.

She had called him a charming young man. “You should meet my girl,” she’d said, “She would fall in love with you in a heartbeat.” He’d gracefully declined the offer, of course. But now, suddenly knowing who this beautiful and intriguing woman turned out to be, he felt as if he’d made the biggest mistake not having accepted her mother’s good-humoured invite.

He thanked Matt as he stepped out of the car, before hurriedly making his way inside in search of the writer he was so giddy to see. He found her in the library, curled up with the same romance novel they’d bantered over not days before. “Welcome back,” she smiled, “Would you care to go on a walk with me?” And he was glad to finally be able to accompany her.

The drowning noise of the fountain seemed to derive him of some of his anxiousness and he deeply breathed in the fresh evening air. It was a poor attempt at finding his courage, which he was so deeply in search of these days.

“Who was the architect of the building, if I may ask?” she wondered, stopping for a brief moment with him to look up at the structure. He huffed, “A substantial question. But not the one you’ve evidently been meaning to ask for a long time.”

She looked back at him, and he inspected her face. He had almost second guessed his current decision, if it hadn’t been for the way her eyes lit up with an intimate intrigue. He held out his arm to her in a silent invite, which she took gracefully. Leading her down the illuminated driveway towards the treeline as the gravel cracked beneath their feet, he started by finally telling the truth.

“I think you remember that picture I showed you with your mother in it.” She nodded expectantly. “You recall the staff member in between Jamie and Matt? He used to be one of my best mates in high school, too. His name was Andy Nicholson. And he was probably the base of everything I worked on that had to do with the hotel.

He was the one to introduce me to this girl. She was as pretty as she was smart, and it was as if she had fallen from the sky because it so happened to be that she’d always wanted to work in a hotel. During her first interview, she told me how much she’d always been in awe of The Grand Tranquility and how it would give her a lifetime of happiness if she could get employment here. I didn’t think much of her at the time, but Andy had put in a good word for her, so I hired her in a whim. We had lots of staff at the time, so it wasn’t uncommon to hire someone new on a trial period.”

“Was she good at her job?” she asked in interest.

“She was, which is why I never saw a fault in her. She was a hard worker and never seemed to have any ill intent, towards guests nor other staff members. Everyone loved her, and I quickly became infatuated.”

He swallowed and she could tell he was struggling to continue. She slid her hand down his arm to cautiously interlock her fingers with his, which he responded to agreeably.

“It lasted for a long time,” he admitted, “And I would have done anything for her. It wasn’t until Andy suddenly started asking questions that I became suspicious. And not towards her, either. I was wondering what my best friend, who had introduced the two of us, was doing asking ridiculous questions and making assumptions about her that I was certain weren’t true. We argued about it, more than once, until he finally told me that I should fire her because he knew something was up with her. And I fucking sacked him instead. Because I didn’t want anyone talking about someone I truly loved like that.”

“Oh, Alex…” she sighed, halting him to a stop and squeezing his hand in comfort.

“He turned out to be right in the end. She’d been committing fraud the entire time we were together, and stole practically all of our funds. We had no evidence since she was smart enough to leave no traces and had fled the country by the time we found out.”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever drove you so far to put your friendship on the line, that’s all on her. I’m sure Andy understands that?”

He huffed, “I haven’t had the guts to contact him.”

“Then maybe that would be a step in the right direction?” she implied carefully.

His lip managed to form into an amused grin, despite the situation. “You don’t cease to amaze me, writer. I’ve just told you my biggest secret and you’re still sympathizing with me.”

“Well, let’s just say I like you better when you open up to me than when you’re shouting at me.”

His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, truly. I’d take everything back if I could.”

“Don’t be. You had your reasons to be cautious and now I see them more clearly.”

Her eyes flickered in the shimmering light of the yellowish bulbs hanging from the trees, and it made the colour in them so much more vibrant to him. He felt himself leaning closer to her, his arm sliding around the low of her back to diminish the space between them until finally, their lips touched, and electricity sparked. She closed her eyes and caressed a hand over his cheek, melting into his warm embrace like chocolate in a cup of steaming milk.

He moaned softly against her and it lit up everything inside her while he deepened their kiss, wanting to taste and feel every part of her until they ran out of breath. They held each other close, as if either letting the other know they felt comfortable with whatever it was between them.

“I’m putting my trust in you, writer,” he murmured against her lips, his glazy eyes not once breaking contact with hers, “Something I don’t do very often anymore.”

She nodded breathlessly, running her fingers through his soft hair. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Alex. I promise.”

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Miles Kane #Matt Helders #Jamie Cook #Nick O'Malley #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #AM #Humbug #TBHC #Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino #Reader Insert #Romance #Fanfiction #Suck It And See

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medablvck · 4 years

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cis female / she + her. ┊ if you’re looking for ANDROMEDA BLACK, you’ll probably find HER in the SLYTHERIN dorm with the rest of the SIXTH years. they’re the TWENTY year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like KATIE DOUGLAS. they seem INQUISITIVE, SELF-RELIANT & ANALYTICAL to me, but apparently they’re also CYNICAL, INTROSPECTIVE & TACTLESS. maybe that’s why they remind me of rain on dark windowpanes, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers. dark curls escaping from pins, burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette, and looking your mother in the eyes when you lie.

CHARACTER INSPO INCLUDES: fitzwilliam darcy ( pride and prejudice ), huntress ( birds of prey ), mei ( a:tla )

PRE-HOGWARTS !!

andromeda & her mother have what u can call a strained relationship. from her moment of birth, druella saw everything andromeda did as an act of rebellion, whether it was a childish question asked in the wrong place at the wrong time, or getting so absorbed in a book she forgot to come down for dinner, or a bit of accidental wandless magic born out of a moment of frustration. every day was a trial against andromeda, with her parents acting as the judge, jury and executioner, & over and over again she was found guilty.

andromeda never meant to defy her mother, at first, but no matter how hard she tried to please druella, nothing she ever did was quite good enough. there was always some fault, whether it was a lock of hair tumbling free from its pin, a corset come unlaced, posture ruined from hunching over a book. her wrists were too bony, her lips were too thin, her skin too easily flushed.

[ ABUSE TW ] it didn’t escape andromeda’s notice that every flaw her mother criticized was one druella shared as well, and when she grew older she realized her mother’s dissatisfaction with andromeda was merely a product of her own dissatisfaction with herself. but that didn’t feed her the nights she was denied dinner for her ‘ misbehaviour ’. it didn’t take back the days andromeda went unable to speak thanks to a punitive silencio, and it didn’t grant andromeda’s wish to have a real mother who loved her. [ END TW ]

did druella love her children ?who knows. maybe she did, in her own twisted way. but druella was first and foremost a business woman, and her main trade was her daughters. andromeda grew up listening to endless warnings that her mother would “ never be able to find andromeda a husband if … ” and then came whichever grievance she’d chosen to focus on that day.

it cannot come as a surprise that andromeda learned to live in the shadows, away from her mother’s disapproving glare; that she learned to rely on herself and herself only, that she learned to watch & observe & test the waters, to think before acting. ( of course, druella did not approve of this either, and informed andromeda that no man would want a girl who was so serious all the time. )

her parents often dragged her and her sisters to various pureblood functions, where andromeda stood off to the side in uncomfortably starched dresses, disappearing like smoke any time someone looked like they were heading over to strike up conversation. she would explore the pureblood manors, all silent footsteps & watchful eyes, making observations on how the wizarding world’s elite lived their lives, noting separate beds in the master bedrooms & half-empty whiskey bottles in the washrooms. it seemed like everyone was only looking out for themselves in this world, trying to further their own social status and wealth.

at home, she would escape to the roof with a book, whether it was a history of warlocks or the kind of torrid romance novel druella pretended she didn’t read, dark eyes hardly looking up as the sun sank lower in the sky, fingers blackened with ink by the time she closed her book and descended into the house to face her mother’s wrath that she missed her piano lessons.

is it strange that such a cynical girl could have such a yearning for beautiful things ? or would that merely be a side effect of cynicism, to long for something to thaw a hardened heart ? andromeda loved beautiful things, perhaps a bit too much, but she did not trust them. nothing beautiful was made to last, and if it was, it wasn’t truly beautiful. sunsets faded to darkness, books ended, lovers grew apart. the inherent transience of beauty made andromeda crave it all the more.

HOGWARTS !!

hogwarts was a breath of fresh air for andromeda, the chance to experience life outside her parents’ regime. to her inquisitive, probing nature, an ancient, magical castle full of history & secrets was paradise, let alone all the classes it housed. and the people — andromeda had never seen so many people in her lifetime. hundreds & hundreds of students filled the castle, all with their own thoughts and lives and desires.

an introvert by nature, she didn’t interact, merely observed. she made best friends with the library & the constellations, sneaking out of the dorm to sit with her legs dangling over the fifty-foot drop of the astronomy tower, eyes finding her constellation, andromeda, and wondering if her fate was written in the stars too; drunk on the beauty of an untamed scottish night.

the unidentifiable yearning she’d always kept tucked inside a corner of her heart ballooned until she could hardly stand it. it was a yearning to be something more than the perfect pureblood wife her mother was trying to groom her to be, a thirst to prove herself in some way she didn’t even understand yet, and it was this ambition & drive that got her sorted into slytherin.

if druella & cygnus had thought andromeda was unmanageable before hogwarts , when she wasn’t even trying to be, she was downright wild when she returned for winter break in first year. now that she knew life could be better than what she was currently living at home, she buzzed with a restless energy that alarmed her parents. andromeda may have been troublesome before, but this was bordering on dangerous. druella made the decision that andromeda would not be returning to hogwarts. [ ABUSE TW ] this sparked one of the worst fights they’d ever had, and culminated in a rare but unforgiving physical beating. [ END TW ]

eventually druella conceded, and andromeda was allowed to return, but she was much more cautious now. she only made friends who her parents would approve of, she kept her nose clean, and at home, she played the part of the dutiful daughter. there were still small rebellions, though — long curls cut short with a silver flash of the kitchen scissors; a nicked pack of her father’s cigarettes smoked cross-legged on the roof, coughing into her fist so nobody would hear. as she got older, she paired the cigarettes & book with red wine , the finest she dared steal without risk of being caught. this was her escape, her small patch of beauty in an ugly world.

andromeda keeps to herself at hogwarts as much as she can. the only people she spent time with were those her parents approved of, and she didn’t like most of them. she threw herself into her schoolwork instead, easily landing herself a spot among the top students.

but she loves hogwarts, loves it with all her heart, as so many abused children do – it’s a safe haven, a place where she can at least pretend she’s free. she loves learning everything that she can ( in fact, she was very nearly sorted into ravenclaw ). her favourite place to be is the astronomy tower, and she still escapes there whenever she’s feeling a bit too claustrophobic.

she was chosen to be a slytherin prefect for her year and although she thought she wouldn’t like it, she’s grown to enjoy the position. not for the power it gives her over her fellow students, but for the escape it brings. she can associate with people she would normally never talk to, and roam the castle freely past curfew. and andromeda isn’t a naturally nurturing person, but she’s found that she enjoys talking to and helping the younger years. she sees their wonder at hogwarts in their eyes, the same wonder that she felt, and has grown quite protective over quite a few of them.

she’s technically in slug club, due to her prowess in potions and her illustrious family name, although she hardly ever goes – she does not like slughorn at all, nor most of the people he’s selected to be in his little club. other than that, however, andromeda doesn’t make a habit of joining clubs or teams or anything that would involve her being forced to interact with people.

PERSONALITY !!

those who don’t know andromeda might say she’s aloof, proud, detached, all flint eyes & sharp edges. and they wouldn’t be wrong. andromeda’s habit of keeping to the shadows has carried on into her hogwarts years, and as an introvert, her solitary nature can sometimes come off as downright anti-social. she’s naturally pensive, and her pensive face just so happens to look pissed off.

she finds it hard to trust people. she’s so used to a world shaped by selfishness that she rarely meets someone she doesn’t suspect of having ulterior motives. after all , beautiful people, like beautiful things, are temporary. everyone turns ugly sooner or later; everyone’s claws are eventually revealed.

andromeda carries an unmistakable air of wealth that, although entirely unintentional, can rub people the wrong way. she has a taste for the finer things in life — an aged wine, a silken scarf — and sees no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy them. she’s well read & well bred, and has a vocabulary and accent that can seem pretentious to some.

do not confuse eloquence with smoothness, though — just because she knows more four-syllable words than most doesn’t mean she knows how to use them. awkwardness comes off as aloofness and snobbery. think mr fitzwilliam darcy. this girl is the opposite of charming. honestly, most people probably think she’s pretty weird cause she’s quiet and like v awkward when spoken to. just kinda does stuff on her own

#fallacyintro

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sablelab · 5 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 74

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Jamie is recalled to Section with much on his mind. He is summoned to see Operations in the Perch and needs to explain what happened in the club and why he disobeyed orders. Operations also informs him of his and Madeline’s pans for Claire.

I’m glad that you enjoyed the tension of the last chapter and THANK YOU for taking the time to read, like, reblog and leave a comment on Chapter 73. I am very thankful.

Previous chapters can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 74

When they arrived back at their building the three friends stood outside their respective apartments and bade each other goodnight. Claire watched as Karen and Andy entered her apartment and closed the door behind them, then opening her own door she flipped on the light switch. Once the lights illuminated her apartment, her silhouette was visible in the window. Moving about inside she made her way to her living room little knowing that Jamie was observing her from his car parked outside the building.

Claire was thankful that Karen had not asked her to join them for coffee as she would have refused anyway. She was weary and physically exhausted. What had happened tonight inside the nightclub had been taxing and had put both her and Jamie in an invidious position. Not only that, but the ramifications of the bloodbath would certainly be significant to how Section wanted the rest of mission profile to play out concerning Jonathon Randall. Perhaps Jamie would have more information when he returned from Section when she next saw him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kicking off her shoes, Claire padded into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a long sip to quench her thirst.

The encounter at the nightclub had caught her off guard and she didn’t like that at all. Under the circumstances it was fortuitous that Karen and Andy had become separated from her ... especially in light of what had happened next. Little did she know what would transpire inside the club. In hindsight it had been a mistake that she had refused assistance when Fergus had asked if she needed back up. She knew she was impetuous and stubborn. Refusing backup had been an error of judgement but thankfully Jamie had been there for her. If it hadn’t been for his intervention she would surely have been exposed when she’d opened fire at the hostiles that had surrounded her. Although he’d disobeyed orders ... Jamie had been her lifesaver. She had been surrounded and had narrowly dodged bullets from the hostiles before he had come to her rescue. If she’d been caught the mission would have been affected considerably. Hopefully Operations would understand. Being compromised on a assignment meant that you were off the mission and Section One would have to start from scratch all over again. He would not have been happy especially after they had come so far and were on the verge of breaking the triad wide open.

With a bit of luck Operations would be of the same view and sanction Jamie’s behaviour.

Making her way into the bedroom, Claire changed out of her cocktail dress sliding the material off her arms and down to her waist loosening her hair from its topknot constraint as she went. Sliding the dress completely off, she headed into her bathroom naked and flipped on the light. Quickly showering, she felt great relief from the soothing warm spray from the shower head as it caressed her body. Putting on her comfy pyjamas she intended to wait up for Jamie but she was exhausted after what had happened tonight. Her eyes drooped in tiredness and she was unable to wait for his return from Section any longer. Turning off the lights she went to bed, and was soon fast asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Section One never slept.

Even though it was relatively late when James Fraser walked through the main corridor to report to Operations in the Perch, operatives were still manning the computers and monitoring missions taking place. Despite being called into Section by his superior because of the aborted mission he was thankful as he also needed check out a few things of his own.

Jamie walked past with his signature strut. The operatives glanced up from what they were doing and all eyes watched Section One’s top field operative pass by. His presence was always commanding and his body language marked him as a man who was extremely self-assured and formidable. James Fraser was hard to read and his minimalist expressions gave little away of the man beneath the cold operative veneer. He was both admired and feared and for good reason. Nothing this man did revealed anything about his emotional or mental state when he was within the walls of Section One.

The operatives did not engage him in conversation or acknowledge him as he passed by as Jamie looked like a man on a mission. With a smooth and unhurried gait, he continued on towards Operations’ aerie. Although he appeared to take no notice of the operatives at their tasks James Fraser missed nothing. He noticed that Murtagh was still in Munitions and as he approached Comm., he saw Fergus overseeing something in Tactical. He was glad Section’s techie was still up; otherwise he would have needed to rouse Fergus from his quarters as there were things, he needed him to do for him on the quiet.

He’d already contacted him to do a search on Claire’s neighbour Karen Yee and he was still waiting for his answer. That was his first priority. He was suspicious about the nosey architect even if Claire wasn’t. She seemed to be way too familiar; too buddy-buddy, far too questioning and inquisitive and he smelled a rat, even though Claire seemed to trust her judgement as to her friend. Maybe he would be proven wrong but if his suspicions were true, as he believed they were, Claire may have been compromised to the triad. If that was the case she was on borrowed time. The fracas at the nightclub was another thing he needed to check out. Why were there members of rival triad gangs at The Triangle and where was Jonathon Randall when the disturbance broke out? Section knew that he was a member of the Rising Dragons but the bloodshed and fire bombing at the nightclub was unexpected. Thankfully they would have their own surveillance footage of the nightclub so Fergus may be able to piece together the people who had attended plus the perpetrators of the melee. Meanwhile Claire had been caught up in the middle of it. The fact that Karen Yee and her boyfriend had ushered her towards the exit when they had seen what was about to happen was a double-edged sword as far as he was concerned. Did they know something was going down or were they protecting Claire for ulterior motives? After all Jonathon Randall had made a dinner date with her. Did he have hidden objectives too? How much did Karen really know? And how much was she really involved or was she, as Claire insisted, innocent? He knew his Sassenach would be in a tenuous position the longer she was around these people, but he would do his upmost to protect her. He’d mused over whether to bring Karen and her boyfriend in tonight or to wait until after. Despite what had happened in the nightclub, he was thankful that Section had approved surveillance cover on the couple. Claire would be safe until his return. Although Karen Yee and Andy Ma were minor players, they could inadvertently lead Section to the leader of the triad. Her superior, Inspector Jiang Ng at the OCTB, was also someone he needed to keep an eye on. He was a far greater threat to Claire’s safety as far as he was concerned. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to bring him into Section sooner rather than later and then he would be able to shed light on the inner workings of the Rising Dragons. Fiona Graham had given her life to give him the disk on Inspector Ng and although he appeared to be above board at the moment ... that could change within the blink of an eye if he was given a directive by his leader Sun Yee Lok. The explosive Intel that Fergus decrypted showed just how ingrained were his roots to the triad. His position of authority within the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau was the perfect foil for the triad to gain the upper hand and this was not acceptable. How much did the inspector know about his Claire? That was a worry too. Madeline had worked up a profile that would leave no loose ends about why Claire was in Hong Kong ... but was it watertight? Jiang was a smart man. Perhaps he had already figured out her role at the Water Police. Hence it was imperative that he needed to check to see if Inspector Ng had been doing any prying into Claire’s movements while she was with the Water Police and in particular Aberdeen. Yes. It was just as well he had returned to Section. There was much to do. When he had debriefed with Operations, he would be checking his sources, beginning with Fergus Claudel. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Jamie?” Murtagh’s voice echoed behind him but it sounded awfully loud against the silence and broke him from his thoughts. Turning his head at the sound of his name, he momentarily looked at the bandana clad weapons’ expert but continued on his way. Seeing he had captured Jamie’s attention, Murtagh rushed to catch up to him. Once he had fallen into step with the younger man he murmured, “Where’s Claire? ... Why isn’t she with you?” Jamie continued walking without looking at Murtagh Fitzgibbons but unexpectedly he turned and gave him his patented blank stare. “Operations only called me in.” But Murtagh was none the wiser and looked at the cold operative with a puzzled look. He stopped walking while James Fraser hastened his stride. “Why ... what’s going on?” he enquired after him. However, Jamie didn’t reply to his question. As soon as Murtagh had uttered the words though, he froze. He watched Jamie’s retreating back as he continued on his way to the Perch.

Something was going down. Jamie had only just returned to Hong Kong and now he was back in Section again. Inquisitiveness flashed through his thoughts in speculation. Things were not always as they seemed in Section, but all this to-ing and fro-ing was destabilising and put the mission in jeopardy, not to mention it left Claire vulnerable all on her own. Perhaps Jamie had returned to request more back up.

Murtagh stopped, and watched as James Fraser turned the corner leaving him to ponder the severity of the situation. Something was not right and he was going to find out just what the problem was. Turning on his heels, Murtagh went in search of Fergus. Surely, he must know something. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Sir ... Jamie has arrived and is on his way.” Operations knew that James Fraser was in the building.

He’d seen his Level 5 operative approach while he was glancing out of the perch and was waiting for him to make an entrance. He had expected Jamie back a lot earlier than this, but Fergus had informed him that there had been a situation at the nightclub soon after he’d issued his order to return. Whilst all the backup team had left the premises in the mission van, Fergus had informed Jamie that he needed to alert Claire to his orders before his return to Section One. He’d then remained behind because of a conversation between Karen and Claire of an unlikely situation that threatened to explode inside the club, which indeed had happened. Trouble quickly escalated and Claire was in danger of being compromised.

What had then transpired was something he would need to discuss with James Fraser which he knew he would find objectionable. Summoning Jamie back to Section so soon after he had just returned to Hong Kong, was a necessity. The aborted mission to apprehend Jonathon Randall had not gone ahead due to the greater opportunity with Claire, one on one, the following evening. The target’s obvious interest in her would work to Section’s advantage and instead of bring him into Section as first planned, Madeline had profiled that Claire would capitalise on his infatuation with a different profile.

She had already arranged that Claire be cleared for absence from the OCTB for a short while to expedite the new profile. They knew that Jamie wouldn’t like it but it was for the good of Section One. After all, the end justified the means and Section would use whatever, and whoever to achieve their objective regardless of any disapproval he knew wold be forthcoming.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* No sooner had Operations been informed that James Fraser was on his way to the perch than he received a surprise call from the very person he was always loathed to talk to ... Colum at Oversight. “Dougal...” “Brother ... it’s good to hear from you again.” “Yes I’m sure. How are things going with the Rising Dragons’ mission?” “I sent you the Intel report last month. As you know Section One is making great inroads.” “A little too slowly for Oversight though Dougal ... are there any new developments yet?” “Of course. Did you get my proposal on the tactical situation?”

“Yes, I did but Oversight wants results ... and so far we feel Section is floundering. Fix it Dougal!” “I have my best operatives involved Colum.” “James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp have everything under control then I gather?” “Yes.” ”Good! See that they continue to do so!” “Anything else?” “Not at the moment but if I have any requests, I'll forward them to you.” “You do that Colum ...” Then Operations cut him off with a brusque, “Look I'm afraid we're very busy.” “Right ... But remember what I said ... I’ll expect Section to have something more concrete to show Oversight in the future. Goodbye Dougal. “Colum.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Disconnecting the call Operations peered out of the window of the Perch overlooking the comings and goings in Section as he waited for Jamie’s arrival. He had a lot on his mind particularly since his conversation with his brother. Oversight was the body that controlled the activities of all of the Sections, including Section One. In the chain of command, Oversight was one step down from the supreme body Center, and Dougal was not at all pleased that his brother Colum Mackenzie was its leader. He was a thorn in his side and seemed to always be checking up on him and Madeline to ascertain if they were running Section One properly. He and Madeline had been able to keep Colum at bay but it would not be beyond the realm of possibility for him to make a snap visit to Section One. In the current climate that would be a catastrophe given all the anomalies that had been occurring lately ... the latest being Jamie’s recalcitrant behaviour. Hence Operations had things to discuss with James Fraser ... the most pressing being his actions at The Triangle nightclub and the changed situation in Hong Kong. He was in two minds about his Level 5’s blatant disregard for orders. It was not the first time Jamie had done so and it would probably not be the last, but his insubordination could not go unpunished. However, in this particular case he had completely understood Jamie’s reasons. Perhaps he would let this one slide this time because of the extenuating circumstances. After all the Rising Dragons mission was at a critical stage. They needed Claire and they needed Jamie to be on top of his game. Had Claire been exposed it would have certainly jeopardised the mission considerably and been a terrible set back to all the good work done thus far. He had a lot to think about. When Jamie had not returned to Section One with his Team, he’d summoned Fergus to the Perch to please explain his failure do so. He’d been forced to say why Jamie had been delayed. Although he was furious at his disregard for orders, it was fortuitous that he had been delayed after all. Having heard the audio of the conversation between Karen and Claire, as well as reviewing the mission tapes and the visual from inside the nightclub, he understood his Level 5 operative’s motives. The unplanned shootings, and Claire’s entrapment until he’d come to her assistance, had been completely unexpected. It was apparent that she had indeed been ambushed by members of the rival triads as well as members of the Rising Dragons. Hence the elimination of the hostiles was the only way for her to escape without blowing her cover. As a consequence though, the situation in Hong Kong had now escalated because of the events at The Triangle. The presence of the rival triads at Jonathon Randall’s nightclub had exacerbated the problem, and given that there was such a confrontation and bloodshed, the triads would be restless to make amends. In short, the situation could become critical and highly volatile. However, on the positive side, it had turned out to be a win-win situation for Section that had miraculously fallen into their lap and one that Section One would exploit. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jamie stood calmly collecting his thoughts before he quietly entered the Perch.

“Ye wanted to see me?”

Operations had his back to him as usual and did not know his Level 5 operative was there, but at the sound of his voice he turned acknowledging his arrival. A stoic James Fraser, stood with hands clasped in front of his body, waiting. Dougal Mackenzie studied his cold operative’s demeanour.

“Jamie ... Good! ... You’re here. Fergus told me why you were delayed.”

“It was beyond my control.” “Yes ... Nevertheless, we have things to discuss.” “Of course.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jamie had not moved from the position where he stood when he had first entered the room. His entrance had been as stealth as usual and standing his ground, he waited for his reprimand from Operations. He’d been in this situation before and knew that the worst-case scenario for him would be to be put into abeyance; however, he was sure that would not be his punishment. Not a single muscle flinched as he waited and observed Operations. It seemed to Jamie that he was churning over in his mind what he would say to him. Moving towards him Operations glared at his operative first, then eventually spoke. Anger laced his tone of voice. “Fraser... you disobeyed orders ...” Standing his ground he looked at his superior then replied in the affirmative, “Aye, I did,” while waiting for what would come next. Operations continued but displeasure was etched on his face especially because of what he was about to say next, “It is not the first time you have done so, however, under the circumstances there will be no consequences.” James Fraser looked his superior in the eye and nodded his head in acquiesce, “Thank ye.” “I’ve just reviewed the post-mission statement and visuals on the mission. In fact, the scenario couldn’t be better for us.” “Is that so, sir?” Operations was very pleased with the change in situation and voiced his plan. “Yes. This situation has played right into our hands beautifully. Jonathon Randall will now be free to spend time with Claire since The Triangle will be closed indefinitely until they clean up this mess.” Jamie knew exactly where Operations was going with this.

Claire’s success on her previous cover mission with Madame Cheung was the litmus test that Madeline and Operations knew would work again. Jonathon Randall though was another proposition altogether. He gave his standard answer although in his mind he was churning over the possible dangers involved for her.

“Of course.” His patented reply was a predictable response from his Level 5 Team Leader and one Operations expected. “She’ll be able to give us a better field perspective about Randall and his association with the Rising Dragons just like she did with Madame Cheung.” His statement raised a response from Jamie. “And what about the OCTB?” “That has already been taken care of. Inspector Jiang Ng will be informed that Claire has a special assignment on the directive of the Chief Commissioner.” “Won’t that make him suspicious?” “Exactly ... but given his connection to the Rising Dragons, he can hardly refuse the Commissioner’s request. If he protests this could expose his link to the triad.” This was worse than he thought. Claire would be a sitting duck ... Her subterfuge would expose her and could very well place her in serious trouble. “Claire will thus be in a position to bring in Jonathon Randall and Inspector Jiang Ng at the same time if the set-up plays out the way Madeline and I think it will.” “And if it doesn’t?” “We’ll create a third party ripoff ... that’s where you’ll come in. We have a perfect opportunity to make a move on Randall. We won’t get a control window like this for months; we have to use it.” “This could place Claire in danger, especially if they realise she was responsible for a significant number of the deaths at the nightclub,” Jamie stated. “I disagree.” It was apparent that Operations had no compunction about an operative being expendable if Section triumphed in the end. “The attention will be on the Black Panthers and the Red Lanterns’ triads, not on Claire. I’ve just finished studying Fergus’ report. There’s a high percentage that Jonathon Randall will go into hiding if there’s any sign of trouble. He will be vulnerable and willing to lay low. That’s where Claire will be at an advantage.” The more Operations laid out his scenario for his Claire the more he was concerned for her welfare. He voiced his concerns to see how far Operations and Madeline were prepared to use Claire and to what extent to see if they were correct.

“Is this on a temporary basis or were you thinking of something a little more … permanent?”

“It’s unclear how long, but given Randall’s apparent infatuation with Claire, we feel that her continued connection to him can be extremely useful to us.” “Of course.”

“Then, when the time is right, we’ll deal appropriately with all three of them including Sun Yee Lok as well. Claire’s mission is justifiable. I’m sure not even Oversight would take kindly to your interference. Remember you are expendable Fraser.” “I know.” “Claire has her job to do and you have yours. If you’re harbouring any thoughts about separating Claire from her assignment, you’d better get them out of your head.”

His silence at Operations’ statements was Jamie’s only reply.

“You’re to become familiar with her current mission status that Madeline has profiled.”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“Yes, for the moment. Updates are on your PDA.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jamie realised that their superiors had no compunction in using Claire to gain the upper hand by any ways or means of apprehending the target. But the plan would leave her vulnerable, given that Karen and Andy were also intent of doing her some harm. This scenario was fraught with danger from many different sources but to Operations mind an operative did what they were told or suffer the consequences of their actions. But there was no way that he would leave his Sassenach vulnerable to harm in any way shape or form. If that meant going against orders, then there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his Claire safe.

He would suffer the consequences of his actions and Section be dammed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie and claire #James Fraser #claire beauchamp #Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #covert operations #jamieandclairecrossover

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angelofame · 5 years

Text

The Lion with the Raven Wings Chapter 1

In a world where soulmates recognize each other on their marks, two souls find each other due to a common course.

Cullen joined the Inquisition because he wanted to help, to redeem himself. Not in his wildest dreams, he would have ever imagined he would meet his soulmate. Raven just wanted to prevent further bloodshed, not be the Herald of Andraste nor meet her soulmate in the middle of a war.

Can they help become each other the best version of themselves and prevail together, or will they both shatter at their own insecurities?

A Soulmate AU

________________

If you have missed the previous chapter, you can find it here

________________

Chapter 1

A loud explosion roused Cullen from his sleep. In under five minutes, he was strapped in full armor and raced with sword and shield in hand out of his tent. The second he left his tent, he was confronted with a glowing green hole in the sky. At first, it didn't register that the temple of sacred ashes wasn't part of the landscape anymore.

He sprang into action. He barked at the nearest scout: "Find Seeker Penrhagast!" The scout nodded and raced to fulfill his task. Meanwhile, the soldiers gathered around Cullen. He opened his mouth to speak as another scout approached him and his men, he met him a few meters apart from his men.

"Commander, scouts have reported the epicenter of the explosion to be the temple of sacred ashes. We haven't found any survivors from the conclave yet, but demons are hindering our search. Seeker Penthagast will meet you at the temple." Cullen nodded in acknowledgment. He went back to his soldiers.

"Soldiers...There was an attack on the temple. The divine and the rest of the conclave are presumed dead. Although to be able to search the rubble for any survivors, we have to rid it of the demons first. To conclude, this is our task. So arm yourself and be ready to march in ten. And remember to have each other's back."

He was full of adrenaline right now and totally focused on the battle ahead. There was no thought of the circle of Ferelden in his head. That would come later when everything had calmed down.

He went back to his tent and began to pack a bag with healing potions and antidotes. He would leave that bag with one of the scouts. Then he made sure to check his pouch if everything he needed for the battlefield. There were also healing potions and antidotes inside as well as a few bandages.

Satisfied with his equipment Cullen went to leave the tent to meet his men. But his eyes zeroed in on his lyrium kit. He was tempted to take it. He didn't really know what lay ahead of him. He would be wise to take it. He reached for the box. In the last second, before his hand touched the container, which held his lyrium supply. He shook himself out of the stupor and left the tent. It was time to join his soldiers. They went to join the fight, but they just could get near the temple of sacred ashes.

He established a rotation on the battlefield when he saw what they had to deal with. Therefore he sorted his soldiers into three groups. One group was on the frontline. The second was a bit further back and took care of the demons, who broke through the frontline. The third group was resting and would take the place of the first group, while the first group would replace the second, and the second group was then allowed to rest.

His soldiers hold their ground pretty good for that some of them hadn't been trained very long. He was especially glad for Rylen and his men. It was nearing dawn, Cullen was just taking his break from the fighting. When a scout ran towards him.

"Commander," he called, "something is happening in the temple." The scout didn't need to say more. Cullen was already grabbing his sword and shield. He called out to Rylen that he was in charge while Cullen was gone as he was already racing towards the temple.

Cassandra met him in front of the temple. "What is happening?" he asked her as soon as she was within earshot. "We don't know. A few minutes ago, a rift appeared in the main hall or was is left of it." "A rift?" "A smaller version of the hole in the sky. An apostate called it that. Leliana is interrogating him as we speak. He says he wants to help."

"An apostate?" "Yes, he came into the camp an hour ago, surrender his staff, and offered his assistance." Cullen seemed to look skeptical because Cassandra added: "If someone finds out if he has an ulterior motive, it's Leliana."

Cullen followed Cassandra into the temple. As Cassandra had said, there was a green rift in the middle of the main hall. Scouts surrounded it, ready to strike if it was required, as were the archers posted on the gallery.

Leliana popped up beside him, behind her was an elven man. "Good, you are both here," she said. "Solas, here, is an expert on matters of the Fade. He says these rifts are small tears in the Veil." Cullen and Cassandra exchanged baffled glances.

However, before they could ask questions, the rift began to pulse. Everyone was on high alert. Everybody was tense and waited for something to happen. Solas, accompanied by Leliana, Cullen, and Cassandra, approached the rift. Suddenly the rift opened, and someone fell out of it.

Cullen indicated to the others to stand back. While he slowly advanced to the someone, this something, who was lying very still on the ground. He wasn't sure what it was.

As he drew closer, he could make out long dark hair. He carefully kneeled down beside the figure and rolled her over. The woman lying before him was unconscious. His eyes checked her over for apparent injuries. Nevertheless, besides noticeable scrapes and bruises, he could find none which required immediate medical attention.

He slipped his arms carefully under her neck and knees and picked her up. As she was secured in his arms, he began the climb towards the exit of the temple. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Solas picking up her staff.

Cassandra stopped him halfway up. "What are you doing, Cullen?" "Taking her to safety!" "Why? She could be dangerous! She could be responsible for the explosion!" "Right now, she is unconscious, and the demons are the greater threat than a passed out mage."

As he walked toward the cart, that would carry her to Haven. He idly thought that even a year ago, he would have delegated the injured mage to someone else.

@darlingrutherford @rachelleofalltrades

#The Lion with The Raven Wings #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #cullen x mage #soulmates #soulmate mark #fanfic

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ograndebatata · 4 years

Text

Gift Memories and Floating Leaves

Feliz Navidad, Adrianna!

I was your Secret Santa!

Well... I already saw your own gift, which I plan to read soon, but thank you in advance for it! :)

And like Carla told Elena once, “Great minds think alike.” because I confess I had a few ulterior motives of my own to ask certain questions...

I really hope you like this!

Note: Many things here are deliberately divergent from canon. Because she is my friend, and I know all about her Mirror World AU and the paths certain characters have taken over it, this story is based off of @lostbutterflyutau‘s AU.

To give other readers some context, this universe takes the show’s timeline as canon until Song of the Sirenas, at which point it diverges besides a few isolated elements.

A few key differences here from canon are that in this AU, Carla’s mother died when she was born, and Carla herself, after coming to see the error of her ways, attended school for some time in a place caleld the Mirror World, where she grew as a person and saved the school and potentially more places several times.

In it, eventually Carla and Gabe fell in love, and started a happy relationship, and... well, I can’t say more without spoiling.

But for anyone who is interested in a fuller context of this story, I very strongly recommend her great fanfic When The Music Changes, which can found here.

I hope nobody minds, and I hope even more that I did alright for you, Adrianna. Like you, I tried my best.

_____

Gift Memories and Floating Leaves

At the Royal Palace of Avalor, on Noche Buena…

Standing on the balcony of the palace’s ballroom, her light blue wrap draped over her shoulders, the young brown-haired woman contemplated the twinkling lights of the massive árbol navideño that had been set up in the palace’s courtyard, as well as the smaller and more distant ones of the many decorations put up throughout the city, and the twinkling stars that glittered on the above sky.

It was a lovely view, matched only by the one she knew her violet eyes would meet if she turned around and peered through the ballroom windows. Behind them, people would either be standing in groups or twirling through the dance floor, the spirit of joy and love inherent to the season palpable in the air and visible in everyone, even those who for most of the year weren’t exactly the most agreeable people to be around.

Put together, both pictures combined in such a way that Carla couldn’t help but find surreal, as if Avalor had temporarily lifted itself out of the EverRealm and into another world.

It might seem like a weird figure of speech for someone who had literally lived in another world, but her strong points were dancing and magic, not poetry, and she felt it fit.

A brief breeze blew over her, rustling the glitter-studded dark blue of her ballgown and fluttering her loose hair and running over her skin like a warm soothing hand. Though Carla knew through Elena that ghosts only celebrated with the living on Dia de los Muertos, for a moment, it almost seemed like her mother was beside her this very moment, silently telling her that she got the metaphor, and she didn’t need to be so aggressive, especially with herself.

The thought warming her heart, she closed her eyes and took in a long, deep breath, releasing it in a drawn out, comforted exhale.

As a child, she never would have imagined she would end up spending Navidad like this.

Back then, it had always been pretty much the same thing, one year after another. She and her father would find some place to settle for the season, her father went all out with cooking (the only time of the year at which it was consistently made of purchased ingredients) bought her gifts that she now knew he had sometimes been hard-pressed to afford, and the two of them caroled together.

All things considered, besides the ‘extra mile’ her father went to, Navidad hadn’t been all that different from ordinary days. Her father always went as far as she could with cooking, gave her all the gifts he could afford without impacting their savings, and always tried his best to help her to not feel alone despite the fact that the only company they had was each other. The only real difference between that time of the year and all others was that, unlike all other ceremonies, which her father saw as opportunities to ‘raise their funds’, Navidad was the one where he insisted that people were to be left alone.

But now? Now she actually had a home she could call her own, an actual celebration to attend, and true friends to celebrate it with. And she even still had her father. Granted, he was back in the ballroom rather than outside with her, but that was a small distance, especially compared to certain previous years, which the two of them hadn’t even been able to spend together.

Having him with her was already something to be thankful for.

Her wrap slipped slightly. Carla adjusted it around her shoulders, looking down to make sure she hadn’t creased it.

As she did, her eyes met the silver band on her left hand, the purple gemstone twinkling like a firefly.

A different kind of warmth filled her at the view.

By itself, it was already a beautiful jewel, but the meaning behind it, joined by the two sets of initials - one on each side of the gemstone - reminded her of something else she had for this Navidad.

Yet another thing to be thankful for.

“There you are.”

Carla’s heart gave a slight leap as she flew from her thoughts. Then, a smile spreading across her features, she turned around to the one she knew had spoken, her violet eyes meeting the familiar profile walking toward her underneath the gazebo.

The next moment, he stepped out of the shadows, giving her a full view of him in his dress uniform, and another view she found even better - that of his warm smile and twinkling eyes as he saw her.

“There you are,” she deliberately echoed, her happy smile turning into a teasing one.

Her chuckled fondly at her retort as he strolled up to her, the rapier at his waist swishing to and fro with his steps.

As he rested his left arm over her shoulders and she curled her right one around his lower back, she asked, her voice more serious, “Is everything alright?”

She thought she had managed to keep her voice calm, but she couldn’t hold back the faint concern flickering up within her as she remembered Gabe’s departure from the dance. Today should be his night off, and the fact he was in dress uniform rather than his everyday guard outfit only reinforced that. But as she knew after years of being with him, it could be difficult for the Captain of the Guard to fully have time off. And just their luck, it seemed he had been needed during the Navidad festival.

“It is,” he replied, rubbing her shoulder soothingly through the wrap. “Just a few of the newer guards who weren’t certain of where exactly they should go on their rounds.”

Though a tiny part of her couldn’t help but think that that reason hadn’t been good enough to request Gabe’s presence specifically, the rest of her sighed in relief. At least it wasn’t about any villain having been spotted in the premises or some monster unleashed from a jar or some escaped criminal. Were it any of those, she could only guess their party would end faster than Cinderella’s. Festivals tended to be a magnet for scumbags of all sorts, and despite all the security measures that were put in place, there could be a few who were wily or lucky enough to get past them and wreak havoc.

She should know. She had helped to wreak havoc at similar events in her old days.

Don’t think about that now. She told herself, forcing down the lingering shame brought by the memories of her past life. Those days are gone.

Yes. They were. And she’d never want to go back to them. Not after learning how wrong they were.

“Well, I guess it’s nice that they feel comfortable enough with their Captain to ask directly for him,” she at last said, hoping she hadn’t spent too much time silent. “Even if they could have picked a better time to do it.”

She felt Gabe nodding against her.

“Yes. On both accounts.”

A moment of silence went by, the two of them basking in the comfort of being together. Then, she felt him shifting against her, his stance suddenly more rigid.

“And here?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

She turned up to face him, meeting the liquid warmth of his chocolate brown eyes.

“It is,” she said. “Just a few… unwanted thoughts.”

His stance turned the slightest bit more rigid. “Is that why you’re out here?” A hint of alarm flashed across his face. “Did anyone…”

He let the sentence trail off, but Carla could read the rest of it just fine. Smiling up at him, she rested her free hand on the one he had over her left shoulder.

“No,” she said. “Nothing like that. I’m only out here because I was hot.”

His stance loosened at her words, but then, his eyes narrowed pensively, as if he was wondering whether he should say something he had in mind or not. Carla held back the urge to curl her eyebrow inquisitively.

“You used the wrong tense,” he at last added. Then, with a mischievous smirk, he added, “You are hot.”

Her lips shifted into a smirk of her own even as joy bubbled up within her. He really was getting a bit too good at teasing her.

“So are you,” she replied, running her hand over the front of his vest.

And she meant it. As much as it was part of her own tease, seeing him in full dress uniform was a treat for her eyes.

An even better one than the usual view of him, at any rate.

The slightly more snug fit of his aquamarine trousers and open-front jacket fit him in a way that she could only describe as wonderful, the gold buttons and the golden trim on his jacket’s lapels and shoulders adding a touch of color, and the rapier sheathed by his left hip as a ‘fitting decoration’ so to speak. Underneath the jacket, the blue vest with gold buttons, coupled with a white shirt that was complimented by a red cravat, gave him a formal touch that somehow was both at odds with his true easy-going self and yet seemed to fit him like a glove. And the five medals he had earned for his services to Avalor over the years, pinned to the jacket’s front by red ribbons, added what could only be called the final missing element whose absence was only noticed after it was already present.

At first, Gabe looked thoughtful again, as if pondering whether he should say something or not. Then, he simply drew her further into him.

Taking care not to snag her wrap on his medals or buttons, Carla rested her head on his chest - careful so she wouldn’t poke his chin with her tiara - and listened to the comforting steady beat of his heart.

And for some amount of time neither of them cared about tracking, they simply stood as they were, the same warm breeze from before flowing over them as they contemplated the twinkling lights of the árbol navideño and the city, no words necessary between them.

It somehow seemed even more surreal than the sheer beauty of the picture all around her. And yet, she had no problem believing it was real.

Not when she could feel it so intensely, seeping into every fiber of her being and spreading through all of her to the farthest depths of her soul.

Another sigh flew out of her, this one dreamy. Gabe brought his free hand up and tucked one of her chocolate brown strands behind her ear, the hand he rested on her shoulder shifting ever so slightly, enough so as to let her feel the metal band resting around his ring finger.

A soft smile returned to her face.

They hadn’t openly talked much about it, but she knew from things he had said and done over the previous days, as well as from his own responses to some of her actions, that he was aware of this Navidad would be yet another special Navidad for them.

“Soon,” she whispered to herself.

The next instant, Gabe shifted underneath her arm and head, and over her shoulders. Though she could tell without moving that he was turning an inquisitive eye down at her, she removed her head from his chest and looked up at him.

“I was just thinking out loud. And I meant how soon it will be yet another first Navidad for us.” Her lips curled in a mix of teasing smirk and fond smile. “Husband.”

Clarity lit up his eyes.

“I know,” he said. “And I can’t wait to celebrate it.” His look a mirror of hers, he added, “Wife.”

After a brief search for a reply, she instead ran a hand along his jawline, her smile still in place. As much as she liked to be a tease, this time somehow didn’t seem to be the right one to let that streak of hers unfold too far.

“And I can believe it,” he went on. “Even if I wouldn’t have in our early days.”

That was something else she got. After al, she had felt exactly the same way back in the days when she refused to even admit her own feelings for him, much less to do something about them.

And perhaps because of the season, one of those sprang to the front of her mind.

Despite herself, she briefly unleashed her urge to tease him.

“You mean like in a certain Navidad-related early day?”

Again, he didn’t give her a verbal reply. But his ever so slight nod, coupled with his fond chuckle and the spark in his eyes, told her that he understood what she meant, and was remembering the exact same moment right now.

///

Four years before, a few nights before Navidad, by one of the Avalor Palace’s living rooms…

Her heart pounding as she stood before the closed door, Carla aimed her tamborita straight at the lock, her senses alert to any kind of suspicious noise, and her being so jittery from the position she found herself in that she swore she’d jump out of her skin if a drop of water landed on her.

Thankfully it wasn’t raining, and the palace didn’t have leaks on the ceiling, but that didn’t make her feel any better. After all, being out in the palace in the dead of night seemed weird to say the least. Even if she excused herself saying that she couldn’t sleep - which sounded superficially plausible given she was in her pyjamas and a robe - coming all the way to this place during an insomnia would sound at least odd.

Of course, the suspicious air to her location was the whole reason she should stay here for as little as possible. The faster she was, the less chances she would be seen, she had told herself more than once as she kept staring at the door, as if her mere gaze could magically make everything end up where it should be and send her back to bed, safe from any suspicions.

It was a sentence she had repeated more than once over the last five minutes or so. But somehow, this time it spurred her into action. Maybe something about her tune had been different this time. Or maybe she just needed to say it more than once to build up her determination. One or the other, it was meaningless. At least she could muster her will now.

“Nitla abrax conzaporti!” she whispered as she brought her hand down on the tamborita’s drum, trying to tap it in the slightest way she could while also doing so hard enough to cast the intended spell.

Violet pulses flew from the drum and toward the door lock, which then slid to the side with a low click. Then the panel itself slid open, more silent than a sheet of paper falling.

Armando really is a good chief of the castle, ensuring the door hinges stay so well oiled. She couldn’t help but quip in her mind.

Then, she scowled at herself. There was no time to joke when she was in such a compromising position.

At least it seemed that practicing this spell in secret had paid off. But there were still a hundred ways things could go wrong before she was done. And again, the longer she stayed up the more risks she took.

Finding it easier to return to her focus this, Carla aimed her tamborita to her right, at the sack that rested beside her.

“Llévaluq!” she said as she smacked the tamborita again. A purple glow bloomed around the sack, which silently floated off the ground and into the open doorway.

Twiddling her fingers, Carla directed the bulk through the room until it landed on its intended spot, the plush carpet muffling the noise.

Sighing in relief, Carla tiptoed into the room, hissing and grimacing as her bare feet briefly made contact with a few patches of uncarpeted floor. This was why she typically made sure to wear slippers. But wearing them now would make her steps noisier, so she had forgone them to reduce the potential giveaways.

A few seconds later, she pushed the door closed, but held it back just before it clicked shut. If the door fully closed, it would make noise, and bring about yet another potential giveaway. At least like this, as long as no one passed directly by the door and didn’t decide to give it a close check, there would be nothing suspicious.

For safety’s sake, she pressed an ear to the door, listening out for any suspicious sounds, like muffled footsteps on the carpet, the rustle of fabric as a guard walked, or even a guard’s breathing.

None came.

A breath forcing its way out of her lungs like clay, Carla straightened herself and headed into the room, half-lit by both the outside light that filtered in through the windows and the twinkling yellow and purple lights that decorated the huge pine tree resting close to the unlit fireplace.

Despite her nervousness, a smile blossomed on her face as she got closer.

There in the dark, with its lights now largely unhindered, rested what Carla thought was the most beautiful and most special árbol navideño she had ever seen.

True, she had seen others that could be described as bigger, or more opulent, or technically better in their decoration. But none could even come close to this one. The first true árbol navideño she had helped to set up since she decided to turn her life around, the first one where she’d truly had the fun of decorating in years.

Her smile only grew bigger as she remembered the various times she had spent working on it, whether it was picking out decorations with Elena and Isabel, or hanging them on the tree with Naomi and Esteban, or casting that spell Mateo had found to add twinkling firefly-like lights to the tree.

Even now, she could stare at it for hours, lost in the memories of the happiness that came with being part of something so special.

You don’t have hours! Her common sense shouted at her. Hurry up!

The warning making her spring back into focus, Carla hastened her step toward the árbol navideño, kneeling down beside her sack, which she had laid by the many gifts that had been placed under the tree. A relieved look spread across her face. No new gifts had been added since the last time she checked, and the current ones still looked indistinguishable enough from each other that there was no way to tell who had gotten each gift.

Her choice still held up.

A slightly easier breath flowing out of her, Carla unlaced her sack, looking into it as she plottd out her next course of action.

“What are you doing?”

A shout flew from her throat, her heart almost shooting out of her mouth as she jumped so high she swore her head nearly smashed into the ceiling. Her sack flapped as she rustled by it, her crash after she landed so noisy that it was a miracle she hadn’t woken half the palace.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” she yelped even as she whirled towards the sound, raising both her free and and the one that still held around her tamborita, her heart leaping like a demented monkey.

For a moment, she almost expected to see three or four guards raising their crossbows at her, their looks as stern as those of Elena when she had kicked her and her father out of Avalor on Carnaval.

Instead, only one guard stood there, and the only thing he had raised was his hands, even though he had a sword he could be drawing at her.

Even in the dim light, his startled and apologetic look were visible to her. And so was his identity.

“G-G-Gabe?” she managed to stammer, her heart still slamming all over her chest, but somehow an edge calmer at the sight of him. “W-w-what are you doing here?”

Of course, it was purely a rhetorical question. She could already paint the whole picture in her mind. Either he had been suspicious at the half-closed door or a faint breeze had somehow opened it before he passed by, all without her noticing. Then he had looked in, seen her kneeling by the tree and started thinking things. Probably bad things, given who she was and the fact she had her tamborita and a sack with her.

Strangely, his apologetic face shifted into a playful one.

“I asked first,” he quipped, somehow managing to sound endearing rather than silly or annoying, perhaps because of the wink he joined to his words.

Though her heartbeat was still frantic, she managed to muster a smirk.

“And I’m a lady,” she returned. “Don’t the rules of etiquette say it’s ‘ladies first’?”

The moment her sentence was done, she barely held back both a scowl and a wince, mentally kicking herself.

Where did that come from? Her inner voice shouted. Why on the EverRealm had her teasing nature decided to come out just at this very moment?

Fortunately, despite how it must have sounded, Gabe only nodded.

“Good point,” he acknowledged, the hint of a grin on his face telling her that he got her joke and was rolling with it, but at the same time something in his eyes conveying that he was also truly trying to respect her wishes.

Then, nervousness ghosting across his features, he stood straighter and then started speaking in a more official voice, not all that different from the one she heard him use with Elena when he was on duty.

“I was doing my rounds, and I saw this door was open, and saw you were here, and…” his voice faded, his arms twitching as if he was trying not to press them alongside his body or put them behind his back. “I have to confess I got confused.”

Fear flashing across his face the moment he finished his sentence, he raised his hands again and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re grown past your thieving days, but…”

Again, he fell silent. Carla waited for him to find his voice again, but while she could see from the unnatural stillness of his eyes that he was trying to find the right words, he didn’t make any more sound.

And the silence dragged on, so thick Carla about expected to be able to hear the steps of the other guards as they did their rounds throughout the palace, or the crickets chirping outside.

“But?...” she eventually echoed, gesturing in circles with her free hand as if winding a crank.

His features and profile loosening a fraction, he added, “But my curiosity was strong enough that I just had to ask what you were doing.” After a moment’s pause, he added. “For some reason.”

He looked apologetic again, which Carla couldn’t help but appreciate.

But then again, there was nothing to appreciate to begin with. It was a good question after all. There should be no good reason for her to be kneeling by an árbol navideño with a sack in the middle of the night. And while she could tell from his voice and face that he really didn’t believe she was trying to steal anything, she could also tell that he was puzzled as to what she could be doing.

Before she could say anything, he shook his head with an annoyed scowl, the emptiness in his gaze telling her the expression was directed at himself.

“You know what? Forget it. I should have just left you alone. Like I said, I know you’re not here to steal anything.” He gave her a polite half-bow. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

He started turning around to leave, his gaze no longer focused on her.

Before she could stop herself, her arm shot up like an arrow, a single word flying out of her lips.

“Wait!”

Then, as the word finished, she mentally kicked herself again. But it was too late. Gabe had already turned around. Though his gaze was nothing but gentle and encouraging, Carla still felt as embarrassed as if she had actually been caught committing a crime.

But for a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she felt he deserved an actual explanation rather than to mull the matter over in his head and perhaps literally lose sleep as he tried to find the answer to his question.

His gaze remained as calm as before, but still, nervousness built up within her.

At last, she managed to whisper, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

She winced the moment the question was done, as if her body had already decided there would be a bout of laughter from it alone. But instead, his gaze looking even gentler and more encouraging, Gabe nodded.

“I promise.”

There was nothing forceful or demanding in the words or the way he said it, but her nervousness scarcely faded. After all, she was about to say something that would be weird at best. And yet, for some reason, as afraid as she was of what he could think, she wanted to tell him.

Fiddling with her bracelet as well as she could while she was still holding her tamborita, she tried to muster the nerve to speak up.

At last, she explained, “I’m dropping off my gifts for everyone.”

For a moment, his expression remained just the same. Then, ever so slowly, his left eyebrow started to curl, the hints of puzzlement all too visible in his widening eyes.

“And you need to do that in the dead of night?” he asked, the same puzzlement trickling through his voice.

“Yes,” she replied, trying her best not to look down in embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything, but she could read the next question on his features plain as day, even without using her powers.

Despite her nervousness, she managed to get out, “It’s just… I never had to get gifts for anyone other than Papá. And…” she paused, the incoming words seemingly so hard to utter that she needed time to gather strength to do so. “... well, in case they don’t like my gifts, I don’t want anyone to know they’re from me.”

Understanding dawned on his face. Again, Carla braced herself for laughter or some kind of reproaching comment. Now that he knew the reason, he was bound to find it silly.

But yet again, he didn’t laugh. More than that, he didn’t even seem like he was trying to hold back laughter. His gaze remained just as understanding as before.

“You didn’t need to have done that,” he soothed. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate the effort one way or the other. Whatever your gifts are, they will mean that you thought of them and took the time to get them something, because you like them.”

Despite the comment, Carla felt her whole being loosening. The calm and comforting way in which he’d spoken to her, rather than the mocking or derisive tone she had been so afraid to hear from anyone who might have caught her, made those words much better. At least as good as they could be when he was still telling her she didn’t need to go to such lengths.

She did suppose he was right, although she wouldn’t know for sure. Like she had told Gabe, she had never needed to get gifts for anyone other than her father, and even he hadn’t gotten all that many gifts from her, because she had only started being able to get away from him to buy them herself once she was fourteen, and even then she’d had her spots of trouble. Yes, her father had always liked the gifts she got him, and she had no reason to think her new friends and her found familia would be any different, but all the same...

“I still think it’s better like this,” she managed.

Already, she gathered herself for further words of disagreement from Gabe, sure that he would keep insisting on the matter until she agreed that his point of view was the right one. But instead, he simply nodded again.

“I respect that,” he replied.

And though that sentence could easily be said out of mere formality, she could tell that he meant it.

“Can you please turn around then?” she requested. “I really would rather no one saw where I put anything.”

He gave her another polite half-bow. “I promise I won’t look.”

Then, without any further prompting, he turned around, suddenly rigid as if standing attention, though he was facing the door rather than any person. An invisible weight lifting from her, Carla again knelt by the tree and took her hand to the sack. All things considered, things had gone far better than she had hoped. While she had been caught, Gabe had believed her innocence and given her a chance to explain herself. And now that he was here, she’d be able to finish her job without without being seen by anyone.

Or maybe not. She realized, invaded by a sudden fear.

After all, Gabe was still here. What if…

Don’t be like that! She told herself. This is Gabe! When he gives his word, he keeps it! You know that by now!

Yes. That was something she had always known about him. It was true that many guys liked to pass them off as gentlemen when they were even worse than the scumbags she had met on the road, but Gabe was one of those who if anything was even better than what he proclaimed to be. If he had told her he would turn around, she had no reason to not believe it.

But maybe she should just make sure. And she could do it. After all, she knew a spell that could turn her tamborita’s surface into a mirror. And it was one of those that Mateo called a ‘hitless spell’, so she wouldn’t draw Gabe’s attention by smacking the drum. She only had to whisper the word and she would have a makeshift mirror on her hand, and would be able to see whether Gabe was holding up his promise.

No. She told herself. He had trusted her. The least she could do was now trust him in return.

All the same, it really might be better to simply be sure.

It’s Gabe! She insisted. If he told you he wouldn’t look, then he won’t look!

Then again, he might not just be able to help his curiosity. It had happened when he saw her in the room. There was no way to say it wouldn’t happen now.

Before he didn’t know what was going on! She insisted. Now he does! And he promised!

Yes, he had. And he never broke a promise. That was something Carla knew about him from the days she had been Rita. And, she realized now, it might have been one of the reasons she had never been able to bring herself to manipulate him. Granted, that should only make him an easy target by all means, but somehow, even for her self from back then, there had been something about Gabe that had prevented her from branding him as a target.

But still, maybe just…

I SAID NO! Her mind’s voice shouted.

Then, before she could change her mind, she finally seized one of the gifts from inside the sack, and placed it by the tree, at a spot where its wrapping wouldn’t stand out too much between the surrounding gifts.

Satisfied with her job, she repeated the procedure a second time. Then a third, and a fourth, and so on, until she had placed a total of eight gifts under the tree, each of them carefully placed at inconspicuous spots, inside wrapping paper that didn’t stand out, and with the name of the person they were for written in a disguised spelling so that they wouldn’t know it was from her.

Wiping a forearm over her forehead, she sighed in relief and grabbed her now empty sack in her right hand and her tamborita in her left one.

“You can turn around now,” she told Gabe.

So he did.

Then, to her surprise, he surveyed the gifts under the tree with the same probing gaze she saw him using during guard inspections.

Unlike those, it lasted only a few seconds before he looked at her.

“You did a good job,” he complimented, again somehow sounding both teasing and genuine. “I can’t tell which of these gifts were put there by you.”

She tried her best to shrug nonchalantly, her cheeks crinkling in a sheepish look.

“Well, I got one for everyone,” she said. “Even Esteban. I’m hoping no one feels left out.”

Puzzlement briefly flashed across Gabe’s face when she said ‘even Esteban’, but it lasted all of a moment. Then, for some strange reason, he started inching toward her, but stopped almost as soon as he started and straightened himself again. If Carla didn’t know any better, she would swear he had been about to move closer and comfort her, like she saw him doing a few times to Elena or Naomi, or even to Mateo once.

And despite her childhood mantra of keeping just about everyone at arm’s length, she couldn’t help but be a bit sorry that he hadn’t done so, even as she was above all touched that he had respected her personal space when he didn’t know if he was welcome inside it.

“Like I said, I’m sure they will appreciate the effort.” He smiled. “I know I would.”

She returned the smile even as she felt her blood rushing to her cheeks. She hoped so, almost as much as she hoped that it was dark enough for him not to see her blazing red face. After all, one of those gifts was for him. Which didn’t mean anything special, and wasn’t meant to - Elena and her family had each gotten a gift from her, as well as Naomi and Mateo. Of course Gabe would be included as well. Her getting him a gift didn’t have to mean anything.

Even if she had to admit she spent more time trying to find a good gift for him than for many other people. And that she, for some reason, was more worried about him not liking her choice than she was about other people feeling that way.

“Thanks,” she settled on.

“Anytime.”

Again, there was a moment of silence, after which he spoke up.

“Do you want me to escort you to your room?”

At first, she could only give him a dumbfounded look. Then, as if she was having a delayed reaction, a cartload of sleepiness crashed on her being as if the ceiling had come down on her. Before she could do anything to fight it back, a massive yawn forced its way out of her and into her right hand as she put it before her mouth for the sake of propriety, part of her unable to hold back the thought that she must look ridiculous by holding the empty sack in front of her as she yawned.

“Why not?” she replied after her yawn was finally out.

Saying so, she walked up to him, the two of them making their way to the door.

The fog in her mind suddenly thickened, despite her yawn to clear sleepines out, almost making her sway on her feet. At the last moment, she managed to keep herself in check and hold a standing position.

And then her eyes widened in alarm as she saw what hung above the doorway.

“Wait!” she called, all drowsiness gone from her voice.

He snapped to a halt the moment he heard her.

“What?” he replied, alarm bursting on his features.

Her mouth opened and closed as she ransacked her mind for something to say in response. But despite her best efforts, nothing seemed capable of coming out.

She knew the real reason she had stopped, but she couldn’t tell it to him. If she told him that, he’d really think she was an idiot for sure.

But she had to say something before he started to get suspicious. Assuming he wasn’t already

BUT WHAT DO I TELL HIM? She shouted at herself.

As if on cue, her eyes found the árbol navideño and the gifts underneath it. She seized it - that gave her a solution.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just check one more time, to really make absolutely sure my gifts are properly disguised,” she said. “Can you wait outside?”

This time, Gabe pursed his lips a few times, as if he was briefly struggling with whether or not to make a comment. But like on her request to turn around, he replied, “Of course.”

Carla waited with bated breath as he walked toward the door. For the briefest of instants, she thought she saw him freezing, as if he had also looked up and spotted what she did, perhaps even worked out her true reason to stay in the room. But before she could be sure of it, he kept moving and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Only when it clicked shut did she let out a sigh of relief.

That door had mistletoe hanging over it. And she knew what mistletoe meant. Couples who found themselves underneath it had to kiss.

So if she and Gabe had walked out of that door together, they would have had to do just that. And there was no way she would do it.

Would it really be so bad? A voice that seemed both annoying and patient asked.

Yes. It would. And not because it was Gabe. In fact, he had to be top of the list of guys she would mind the least about kissing if she found herself under the mistletoe.

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

It didn’t matter. Even if he was on top of that list, she would still mind about kissing him.

It would be her first kiss after all.

No one in Avalor knew that, and even most people who knew her in the Mirror World didn’t know so either, but it was the truth. Though she was eighteen, she had yet to have her first kiss. And while even less people knew that, she wanted her first kiss to truly be special. Weird as it may sound coming from someone with her background, she wanted it to be the kind of unique and dreamy kiss that was discussed in romance novels, the kind where only she and her partner seemed to exist in the whole world, where both of them were lost in each other and their feelings.

Yes, she still didn’t know if she would be able to have that, and she hadn’t yet found the right guy to share it with, but at least she had dodged giving her first kiss away.

Which meant that she still could be able to save it for a special occasion.

She only hoped that someday, she would have it.

///

Present day...

It had been years since, but Gabe remembered that day like it had been yesterday. His puzzlement and curiosity at seeing her kneeling by the árbol navideño with a sack beside her. His inability to hold back his question. Her alarm at his intrusion. His attempts to reassure her, joined by his fear that he was only making her feeling worse. Her own fear that people wouldn’t like the gifts she had picked out for them. And her relief at the fact he hadn’t laughed at her and had respected her wishes for him not to see what she was doing.

In a sense, it had been pointless. Everyone Carla had gotten a gift for had worked out that it came from her, and had taken the time to give her a hug and thank her for it. Of course, that included him, and he had been sincere in his gratitude for the sword care kit she had gotten him. Even today, he still had the box it came in, although the cloth had gotten too stained to use and the products had long since run out.

True, his thanks had come out a bit on the awkward side. Which even then he knew was to be expected, given that they had opened their gifts the day after that year’s Navidad festival, where he and Carla had ended up sharing what they both called ‘their dance’, the one which lead to both of them realizing their feelings for each other. The one that ultimately had been their first step toward this moment.

Yes, the walk had been long, and both of them had stumbled across the way, but they had both managed to get up and keep going forward. And now, years later, they stood outside the very same ballroom where they had taken that first step, now as husband and wife, together on a level they hadn’t been before.

His fond grin melting into a subtler smile, Gabe drew Carla closer and ran his fingertips over her hair. She closed her eyes in pleasure and again rested her head on his chest.

It seemed so surreal now to think there had been a time they had been so afraid of their feelings as to not even talk about them. And that was already discounting the days when they actually had their feelings for each other but were still in denial about them even to themselves. Like the day when they’d had the ‘Navidad-related incident’ both of them had just recalled.

Of course, that had turned out to be for the better. That way, they had been able to share a proper first kiss as a couple, and Carla in particular had been able to have a proper first kiss, period (though he had only learned about that months after the ‘mistletoe incident’).

He supposed it was a good thing neither of them was superstitious. After all, avoiding a kiss under the mistletoe was said by some to bring back luck.

And it was true they had been in some rough spots over the years.

But they had managed to overcome each one. And he knew that together, they could overcome whatever came next.

Still, that was no reason for them not to amuse themselves a bit with their memory of that moment.

On cue with the thought, Carla raised her head from his chest.

“Just what kind of naughty idea came into that mind of yours?” she teased, reaching up her arm to twirl his signature pushed up strangs.

In the early days, there had been a few such occasions where he had wondered if Carla had used her mind-reading power to figure out what he was thinking so quickly. But he learned to sense when she did so, and he knew that outside of a few emergencies, the one time she had used it was on that time when she wanted to find out his feelings for her. This case was just a sign of how well they had gotten to know each other.

“You know, I’m not sure how that can be, but in all these years, I realize we never got to have that kiss we both dodged.”

Carla hummed mock-pensively, her lips quivering as she fought down a smirk.

“Is that so?...” she drawled. “And what are you going to do about it, Captain?”

Saying so, she again reached up and flicked her fingers through his hair. He raised his eyebrows in mock-pensiveness.

“Well, if we had some mistletoe, I know what I would do, but alas, there isn’t any over here,” he replied. “So it seems we will need to move over to a place where there is some?”

She frowned pensively at his words.

“I think that would give everyone too much of a show. We should find another solution.” Her eyes lit up. “And I know just the one.”

Saying so, she slipped her hand under the top layer of her dress and drew out her tamborita.

“I can just bring some over here.”

“Always prepared, I see,” he teased.

She smirked again, flicking at the handle of the rapier at his waist.

“Look who’s talking.”

He had no argument for that. While this rapier was slightly shorter and much thinner than the sword he used on everyday duty, and mostly meant for decorative purposes, it was still fairly sharp and would be able to make damage if he used it on someone. He hoped that day wouldn’t come, but too many things over the years had shown it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Llévaluq!” she said as she aimed her tamborita at a spot above the balcony’s door.

Three mistletoe leaves floated from their ties and floated over the balcony towards them, halting at a spot about a foot above Gabe’s head, magic keeping them still despite the breeze that blew around them.

Without any more words, she slipped her tamborita back into its giant custom-made pocket.

Then, she turned upwards to face him, a current of sparks flowing between them as their gazes locked into each other.

Resting his right hand on her jawline and his left one on her shoulder, he leaned down to meet her, as she in turn reached up toward him, both her arms wrapping around her shoulders, her left hand sliding up to rest on his nape.

Then, their lips met, their mouths moving over each other in exactly the same way both of them knew the other liked byu now, nipping at the ideal spots, pursing their lips around each other’s with just the right amount of pressure, and moving at the exact pace both of them knew the other like.

His right hand moved from Carla’s jawline and dove into the chocolate-brown waterfall flowing down her back, his fingers and palm resting on her nape as her fingers wrapped around his hair. Somehow, the two of them managed to come even closer together, their kiss so tuned over the years that it seemed more rehearsed than one of Carla’s dance performances, and yet flowing from each other as naturally as breathing.

Neither of them spoke, and neither of them actively tried to convey their thoughts through any other way, but as their kiss lasted on until it seemed to grow eternal, both of them knew the other was thinking exactly the same thing.

That despite however things had started out back when Carla first showed up in Avalor, and however they had turned out by the árbol navideño all those years ago, both of them were glad they had found their way to each other, and thankful to be together.

All around them, lights kept twinkling whether from the stars above or from the various Navidad decorations nearby, neither of them paying much attention as they devoted their focus to the moment they were sharing, and the joy that was being with each other.

#elena of avalor #my fanfiction #eoa secret santa 2019 #Carla Delgado #Gabriel Nuñez #Gabela #canon divergent au #my friend's au

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andrmvdas · 5 years

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rain on dark windowpanes, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers. dark curls escaping from pins, cold coffee dregs and burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette. holy places long since abandoned, the simmering wildness of a bird caged, and the ancient ache for freedom. ┊ if you’re looking for ANDROMEDA BLACK, you’ll probably find HER in the SLYTHERIN dorm with the rest of the SIXTH years. they’re the TWENTY year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like KATIE DOUGLAS. they seem SELF-RELIANT, INQUISITIVE, ELOQUENT to me, but apparently they’re also CONTRARY, CYNICAL, HAUGHTY. maybe that’s why their patronus is A RAVEN.

PINTEREST !!

( rain on dark windowpanes, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers, greyish purple of dawn, cold bones, fastening the clasp of a silver necklace. dark curls escaping from pins, starched white shirts under wool coats, cold coffee dregs and burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette. fog over the scottish moor, the soft tick of a grandfather clock, stars peeking through an overcast sky, the stark echo of a single violin. the pages of a book turning in a library past midnight. holy places long since abandoned, the simmering wildness of a bird caged, and the ancient ache for freedom. a tempest barely contained within a girl. )

PRE-HOGWARTS !!

did druella love her children ? who knows. maybe she did, in her own twisted way. but druella was first and foremost a business woman, and her main trade was her daughters. andromeda grew up listening to endless warnings that her mother would “ never be able to find andromeda a husband if … ” and then came whichever grievance she’d chosen to focus on that day.

HOGWARTS !!

PERSONALITY !!

but those who do know andromeda, those precious, precious few, know of her vivacity, her independent streak, her love of learning, her dry humour, the dimples that appear with every mischievous smile. they know the fire she’s kept hidden in her heart for so long, and the proud, apathetic mask she slips on so easily whenever she’s hurting.

OTHER !!

gender / sexuality: cis female / bisexual

birthday / zodiac: jan 11 / capricorn

mbti: intj

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

temperament: melancholic

patronus: raven

amortentia: dried ink, pine, petrichor, dark chocolate

#this is a long bich im so sorry #epoch.intro

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bloodruined · 5 years

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HEADCANON

Imagine Daylen finding out that Morrigan is at Skyhold too and, most importantly, that she’s there with Kieran. And even though he’s never really thought about ever becoming a father, just for a moment upon meeting Kieran, he ponders the thought and has this desire to spend time with Kieran as a father. Even though he’s been content all this time with only Zevran at his side without a child; and even though, just like Morrigan initially, Kieran’s creation was agreed upon by Daylen with ulterior motives, Daylen starts thinking about playing a bigger role in his son’s life. Perhaps not even as a father figure. Perhaps merely as an uncle or at least a guardian figure. After all, despite Morrigan being a good friend to him, Daylen could never imagine himself going into a family union with Morrigan due to his own sexuality and his existing relationship with Zevran. But he wants to see Kieran grow up. Wants to see Kieran flourish.

It would also change Daylen’s perspective on his previous mission to find a cure for the Calling. Initially, Daylen joins the Inquisition only after he’s given up on his search for a cure and accepted the fact that he would presumably die in his 30s. Because before joining the Inquisition, Daylen was terrified of death. He wanted to live a happy and careless life in freedom—because that was everything the Circle and the Fifth Blight had taken away from him. It’s why he agreed to go through with Morrigan’s ritual in the first place, because he wanted to keep living to experience it all. After hearing about the Calling by becoming Warden-Commander of Ferelden, he did everything in his power to keep living again; he searched relentlessly for a cure for the Calling, but eventually, he gave up. Frustrated. But with Kieran there, he wants to live past the Calling again, has another reason to continue his search. And that is exactly what he would do post-Inquisition.

#( headcanon )

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ships-for-you · 6 years

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Unfortunately, I can’t tag this person. I’m sorry!😰

Note: I made this longer than how I normally write to compensate for my absence.

For Black Butler, I ship you with

Ronald Knox!

You two would’ve met under peculiar circumstances.

You had sadly passed in your past life caused by suicide.

And now, you’re being punished for dying too early.

You once worked alongside a tall man named William T. Spears for a few months since you passed the training program and are now being formally taught by your superiors.

It had been a considerable amount of time since then, and you had been working on your own.

You enjoyed being alone and occasionally chatting with your co-workers until he came along.

Honestly, ever since he joined the dispatch, he’s been flirting non-stop with the females of your group.

Not to mention, a certain someone that you once tried courting but wasn’t interested you, he managed to snag her too!

Besides, it’s as if he doesn’t even show up to the dispatch to work.

Just to flirt.

It doesn’t help that he works under you therefore whenever he doesn’t do his job, you work overtime to pay for his mistakes.

But it’s fine, as long as it saves your co-worker the stress of overtime.

Even if you end up with it, it’s just in your personality. Too nice! You have my respect.

And that has taken a toll on you.

You even screamed at William and Grell once for simply greeting you.

Coffee doesn’t work since you’re not human anymore.

Any type of caffeine doesn’t.

So one day, Ronald came to apologise. Of course, not on his own accord but because he was told to do so.

He hasn’t seen you in so long because you’ve been out most of the time trying to reap more souls in order to compensate for what he couldn’t do.

When he opened the door to your office, he saw the mounds of paperwork.

He laughed a bit and then just set the water that he had brought with him beside you.

When you turned to look at him, that’s where he saw the messy state you were in.

Messy hair, glasses fogged and slightly out of place, eyes bloodshot and the obvious darkened callous spot on your middle finger from writing so much.

You muttered a small “thank you” and continued writing your reports. That was when he felt as if he truly respected you.

He did respect you for your work, how efficient it was,

Not to mention, his higher-up is pretty hot. Of course he respected you but only now did he feel guilty for his actions.

“I’ll help you.” “There is nothing for you to help with.” “I’ll do my job properly this time.” “Alright.”

Needless to say after this interaction, you’ve become close friends.

Occasionally having playful banters in the office or sharing slightly suggestive jokes to one another.

You usually go reaping together whenever your targets are close together.

Would visit each other’s quarters and homes whenever you wanted.

Practically living-off on one another.

The, “Work-Husband-and-Wife” type of partnership.

Most people don’t understand your relationship but do at the same time.

It’s pretty...interesting.

For Free, I ship you with Rei Ryugazaki!

I would imagine you meeting during one of their practice sessions.

Is it wrong that I find you being closely acquainted with Haru?

Anyway, being a close acquaintance to him and practically being his second mother, you would visit him at school.

One time, you remembered Haru doesn’t eat much at school and he informed you that he would have practice later.

So you went to Iwatobi and packed food that would be good enough for at least 3 people, in case someone didn’t have any either.

Not many joined the swim team, as Haru said.

So you didn’t expect a lot of people being there.

You didn’t expect to see a really cute girl with a red high ponytail.

And you didn’t expect to see a fellow glasses character with you.

Your eyes met and you simply smiled and made your way to Haru who seemed to have a little picnic with Makoto and his other friends.

“Hey Haru, you didn’t pack lunch right? Do you think this enough? Do your friends have food? Uh, hey you! Do you have food with yo—“ “Yes, this is enough. Thank you (y/n).”

You would sit down with the team and tell jokes to one another. “Hey! Did you hear about that one deaf guy that got run-over by a car?” “No.” “Ah, well don’t worry! He didn’t either.😏”

Rei laughed the hardest in all honesty. The joke was directed to Haru because you tried to make him laugh. He only scoffed.

After eating and resting for a short while, they got back to training and occasionally abandoning the rules of swimming to have fun instead.

“Oi, Nagisa! Don’t you da-“ “Sorry Rei-chan! It’s so funny to see you embarrassed!”

It’s almost endearing how close they are. Like a whole family.

Not long after, Rei, whom you found out to be the glasses boy, quickly said goodbye and rushed out of the area as quickly as possible.

“What’s up with him?” “We don’t know, we thought that maybe he had a high-maintenance girlfriend or something...” “I’ve always cirwed Rei as the type to be weakened by love.” “Don’t worry, we’ll get him to focus and have fun again! “

You, alongside Gou, compiled books to help strengthen Rei’s love for his partner.

And turns out, you were both wrong.

He didn’t have a partner

Turns out, he’s actually trying to pay-favours from the track team.

You were slightly worried for his well-being and decided to visit the gang after shook every other day.

You oaccasuonally hanging out with the guys and at your house.

You being an absolute doll and making them their favorite food.

You’ve become closer to Rei throughout these hangouts.

You felt as if you could debate about anything to help keep your reading skills sharp.

Especially when it came to the topic of the superficial.

You two would end up to be the closes of friends.

And who knows? Maybe even partners

I know I’d be jealous

For Diabolik Lovers, I ship you with KarlHeinz!

(Key: Art - Is a vampire’s personal blood-bag and plaything. Can be used solely for feeding and/or pleasurable activities. Of human race or a hybrid of a supernatural being. Occasionally, however rarely, utilised solely for companionship.)

Where to even start?

It all started at a ball. A grand ball that was held by the Demon Lord himself to commemorate his daughter Cordelia’s coming of age day. She was the illegitiamate daughter of the king however, he has decided that it would only be appropriate to honor a celebration to her. Not having proper guidance from her family, it was only natural that she did not know what to do therefore she relied on her art, you, to guide her and inform her about the social standing of majority of the nobles at the ball.(reference from Blood Bank haha)

She surveyed the area and chatted with you when it was absolutely necessary. You, being very knowledgable with the state of the kingdom and yet being highly insecure, could only utter short but brief answers to her queries. You took note of the celebration’s schedule and took out your pocket watch. You glanced at the orchestra and decided that she had merely an hour an a half before the waltz would commence. You encouraged her to socialise with the men and find a suitable conversational partner to dance with. She nodded her head and dismissed you without a second thought. You adjusted your glasses that seemed to have slid down your nose bridge a bit and fixed your long brown hair. In times like this, you wished she had a suitable figure to guide and educate her of the importance of her postition. You worried for her future and her outlook of her situation that would soon affect her decisions in the following events of her life. What she should be trained for, the common good of her future kingdom, the proper way to lead her people. Instead, she had a dead mistress for a mother and a passive deadbeat for a father.

You decided to merely cling to the walls of the ballroom once the first dance had started. Your mistress had surely acquired a partner to dance with and you decided that it would be best for you to simply observe rather than partake in the celebratory dance. Walking alongside the woman who was envied by all was enough to redirect the attention towards yourself and you had enough of the spotlight.

As you were worriedly keeping a watchful eye on your mistress, a tall man had approached you.

This man had the most devious look on his face. Given the material and craftsmanship of his robes, he must’ve been of royal blood-line. ‘A vampire perhaps?’ You started to deduce him, he seemed like a very knowledgable young man. A man that seemed to make sure he gets what he wants no matter who he needs to step on, no matter who he needs to take advantage of. Surely he had the riches and the charm, most especially the charm. He seemed like the type of man to solely rely on logic and not so much on the probability of anything happening. A very calculating character, isn’t he? Your mind thought of all those under the vampire race and had settled on the conclusion that this charming young man was none other than KarlHeinz.

“Good evening, my lady.” He greeted, his voice surprisingly deep for his age. He bowed slightly whilst you curtsied. “Good evening, my Lord. How may I be of service?” You questioned with your voice slightly shaking, surely he wasn’t the type to start idle chatter without an ulterior motive. “What is a charming young woman such as yourself doing alone at the King’s ball? Surely you must have an acquaintance or a lover nearby to keep you company.” He laid a gentle kiss on your backhand and looked in to your eyes. He truly meant what he had said. Such beauty manifested in a mere mortal’s body. He could sense an inquisitive however slightly anxious nature surrounding you. And the scent of your blood was absolutely intoxicating, you were most likely sold from the finest of curators. Surely his prescience should not affect you this much. You seemed like a very interesting pawn to be utilised in his game and he would ensure that you will aid him in pursue of his experiments.

He decided to keep this conversation going. He took note of how you fidgeted on the sleeves of your dark blue gown and how your lenses have fogged up slightly due to the warmth radiating from your face caused by the inability to carry out such conversations with a person you had barely known. You exchanged minimal information about each other. He understood your humor for play on words and you understood his cunning personality. He appreciated your interest in the supernatural nature and he came to be interested in your motherly and caring personality. Perhaps you have thought wrong about him? Perhaps he was a very caring young man who would ensure that his partner would be spoiled with the affection and wealth that he will share with her. Given your conversations, he seemed to have been of high caliber and had attained good education. Perhaps he could be a suitable suitor for your mistress? You only desired the best for her.

You had introduced him to your mistress and you could tell merely by the way she looked at him, your companion had found the one that would guide her and mold her in to the greatness that she will become. She would be lead by him and be taught to be devoted to this powerful man and hopefully have a suitable family that will treat her with only the best.

Sadly, you were wrong. The debonair man that had talked to you in such a caring and gentle manner was long gone in Cordelia’s presence and only became the cause of her life to spiral in to this debacle she was in. His influence was the opposite of what you had expected of him when it came to caring for her. If you had just knew, you would have interfered. Then your mistress wouldn’t have turned in to this horrible being that she is now. Your “nephews” wouldn’t have been in such shock to harm their mental state. And most certainly but not regretfully, you wouldn’t have been the only proper parental figure of his 6 sons.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #KarlHeinz #black butler #black butler x reader #ship #anime match up

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weasleyimaginewheezes · 6 years

Text

Fred x Reader / Stubborn (Part Two of Competitive)

Part One

Requested by Anon

A/n I actually love writing this story so if you want a part 3 just request and I’d be happy to write it :) Hope this is alright anon. I’m currently in the process of writing and brainstorming all the requests I've been sent but requests are still open for anything hp related A/n

Warning for swearing.

“(Y/N)! Look out!” Your eyes saw the oncoming bludger just in time to duck out of it’s way. Your fellow beater flew up next to you on the pitch as your captain put away the Quidditch equipment down below.

“What is going on with you today? Your usually so in sync.” You looked at her inquisitive expression and sighed. It was true normally you could spot a bludger from 10 feet away but something else had caught your attention at practise today. A certain redhead had been watching from the stands.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be more on it next time.” Your teammate patted your back, much harder than intended making you cough a little.

“You better. I mean bludgers aren’t just gonna stop in the path to break your neck.” You nodded along but watched the lone Gryffindor in the stand out of the corner of your eye. “I mean you remember what happened to that Weasley last match? He was stupid enough to not look and then BAM! Right in the schnoze.”

She lowered her broom to the ground laughing. Your face had gone a little red with anger at her insult towards Fred. It wasn’t his fault, you had sent the bludger after all. Since it was only you two practising with the help of your captain, you didn’t feel the need to join them on the ground so you headed to where your attention had been all afternoon.

“Hey Weasley.” The twin looked up as you flew closer towards the stand. You recognised it was Fred and smiled foolishly at him. “What you doing up here?”

“Came to scoop out the competition, clearly.” Fred smirked as he said it matter-of-factly but somehow you knew he had an ulterior motive than to simply watch.

You landed on the ground of the stand and dismounted your broom. Fred walked closer to you and you took in his appearance. He was wearing muggle clothing and was bundled up in a hat, gloves and his Gryffindor scarf. His cheeks were glowing with redness most likely due to the cold wind.

“So where’s George? I mean I thought you two were attached at the hip?” You smiled at him in a playful way and he laughed back, sounding slightly nervous. His hand rubbed the back of his neck and he avoided looking at you.

“Oh, um, y’know he- he’s got work to do.” Fred shrugged, his gloved hands darted into his pockets for warmth and oh god he looked cute. You mentally shook your foolish thoughts away and nodded before realising his words.

“George is doing work? As in homework?” Your voice dripped with skepticism and your eyebrows were raised. Fred looked unsure and just muttered a quiet yes.

“Actually he-“

“You doing anything-?”

You both laughed as your sentences overlapped. You each encouraged the other to speak before the argument rested on you to speak.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to practise?” You indicated towards the empty pitch. “If you’re not doing anything.” Fred looked slightly stunned at the request before picking up his cocky, confident attitude and smirking.

“Are you sure you wanna do that (l/n)? I mean after last time-“ he started moving closer and closer towards you.

“Need I remind you that I was the one that broke your nose?” You were impressed, you sounded confident, intimidating. Fred laughed, he was only a step away from being nose to nose with you.

“Are you saying you meant to break my nose because that’s cruel even for a small (y/h) like you.” His smirk grew wider and you gasped in outrage dramatically.

“Hey! I am not small! And of course I didn’t mean-“ But the rest of your sentence died in your throat as Fred took the last step to close the gap. Your heart raced at the thought of what he was about to do. And then the hope of finally kissing him was ripped out from under you as Fred darted away and began rising up into the air on your broom. You had been so wrapped up in him that you hadn’t noticed him steal it from your hand.

You stared at him in rage and ran as fast as you could down to the changing rooms where spare brooms were kept for practice. You found a cleansweep model and took it. You flew up to meet Fred but not before releasing one bludger from the box to practise with and collecting two beaters bats.

The ball zoomed around the goal posts as you passed a bat to Fred. You gave him your best competitive look before flying to the bludger. Fred raced you to it and hit it hard.

The ball spiralled to the other end of the pitch, you both kept up with it whilst throwing playful glances at each other along the way. You hit the bludger high into the air as Fred zoomed back to the opposite side of the pitch and poised himself ready to swing.

You smirked at him as you sent the ball in his direction. A part of you feared for his face again but he was ready this time. He swung his bat forcefully and the dangerous ball flew towards you. You prepared yourself for its force and then you saw Fred wink at you from a little way across the pitch. You mind went blank for a minute before you realised what was heading your way. You weren’t prepared to hit so instead you dodged it, sharply turning your broom to the side.

But the ball didn’t miss you as you had hoped and instead crashed into your broom, largely chipping the wood handle. The broom below you went out of control, not knowing what to do without half of it there. You had no where to grip and suddenly you were sliding off of the cleansweep.

You made the mistake of looking down and you yelled in terror as you began to fall. You closed your eyes in anticipation of the worst as the wind whipped your face. You were falling faster and faster and then it stopped. You opened your eyes carefully to see Fred’s ginger hair in front you. You were sat on his broom which was only a couple of feet off of the ground, instinctively your hands went around his waist and he lowered you to the ground, careful to dodge the still roaming bludger before catching and locking it up. Your heart was still pounding like a drum against your rib cage due to the fact that you just fell to what you were certain was near death.

You stared off into space, your breathing still a little uneven from panic. A click sounded in front of your face and you shook your head to rid of your thoughts. Fred smiled at you with concern. “Are you okay (y/n)?” You nodded slowly at him, adrenaline was coursing through your veins, you felt near invincible. You looked at Fred in uncertainty. He just looked very confused and worried that perhaps you were in a state of shock.

Your heart kept racing faster and faster as you contemplated doing what you had wanted since the first match between (y/h) and Gryffindor. There was a short distance between you and Fred, you ran up to him and closed it quickly, pressing your lips against his. You could tell he had been shocked by your action. You stayed pressed against his lips until you realised he wasn’t returning the kiss at all, you felt hurt and hurriedly pulled away.

Fred looked on at you in a dazed state as you felt your eyes water and your heart drop to your stomach. Your hand covered your mouth and you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ you cut yourself off to prevent him hearing your voice break. You walked quickly away towards the castle. You had just ruined everything and there was no turning back.

Fred entered the Gryffindor common room looking solemn and saddened. He sighed heavily as he sat down next to his twin on the sofa.

“You’ve been gone a long while.” George nudged his arm, a suggestive look on his face clearly oblivious to his brother’s mood. “So did you do it?”

Fred turned his head to look sadly at his brother. “No.”

“But the whole reason you went down there alone was to ask her out!” George looked astonished that his always confident twin hadn’t been ballsy enough to ask out the girl he’d been crushing on since their match. Fred just looked away towards the roaring fire. “Okay what happened? Why do you look like Ron does when Hermione won’t speak to him?”

“She kissed me.” Fred smiled a little at the memory of feeling her lips against his own. George grinned at him.

“I knew it! I told you she likes you back!” George exclaimed a little too loudly prompting some looks from the other Gryffindors. Fred shrunk back into the couch and glared at him.

“Yeah except she ran away before I even got the chance to kiss her back.” Fred looked at the ground defeated as George patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sorry mate.” George smiled sadly at his brother. Fred nodded before excusing himself to bed to take a nap.

It was a week later when Fred saw you next. You were just exiting your potions lesson when you ran into him head on, knocking your potions book out of your hand. You couldn’t avoid him like you had been all week as he picked it up and passed it back to you with the flicker of a small smile.

“Hi.” Fred smiled gratefully as you returned the greeting. You took a deep breath.

“I wanted to apologise for last week. It wasn’t cool of me to do that.” At Fred’s confused look, you leant in and whispered. “You know the kiss.” Fred nodded, laughing at the reminder.

“Don’t apologise. I liked it.” Fred wore a nervous smile as your breath hitched at his words.

“But- but you didn’t kiss me back.” You stuttered foolishly over your words in shock.

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” Fred’s eyebrows raised up and his eyes widened but he had a bemused expression written on his features.

You thought about how quickly you had run away and gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to runaway. I just- I was upset.” The last words came out as a hushed whisper and you looked at the ground out of embarrassment, pink rising on your cheeks. The colour turned quickly scarlet as Fred grabbed your hand.

You looked up at him in shock at the contact and he just smiled simply at you. You couldn’t help but return his infectious smile at him. “How about you make it up to me by letting me take you out to Hogsmeade.” He pointed to himself and back to you with his thumb and index finger before winking at you. You laughed whole heartedly.

“Okay Weasley it’s a date. You better kiss me properly this time.” Your confident side reared it’s head and you moved in closer to him, both stood in the empty corridor. Fred smirked mischievously and bit his lip making your eyes dart to watch. Your heart resumed its now usual pace around Fred, it hammered so hard you were surprised that he couldn’t hear it.

Both of your breathes came out faster as you stood practically nose to nose. You were both staring at each other’s lips, knowing exactly where this was heading but there was no way you were making the first move. You did last time after all. You raised your eyebrows impatiently, waiting.

Fred’s eyebrows did the same seemingly challenging you to compete to be most stubborn. You licked your lips a little and he narrowed his eyes. You were growing more impatient until Fred gave you a taste of your own medicine and licked his lips. You gave in.

“Of for fuck’s sake.” You pulled the collar of his shirt closer to you and crashed your lips together. Fred kissed back immediately and it was amazing. It was passionate and sweet, gentle and loving. Fred’s tongue eventually entered your mouth making you gasp a little. You did the same, continuing until you were both gasping for oxygen. Your heart felt content as you stared at Fred with a massive grin, you were still close enough to feel each other breathe. Fred pecked you quickly on the lips then on the cheeks and your nose. You giggled a little.

You knew Quidditch was going to be a lot more tough with Fred on the opposing team and with you being romantically attached to him but you were stubborn enough to want to beat him and you knew he felt exactly the same.

#harry potter #imagine #fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred and george #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #Weasley twins #reader #my fic #request #requests open

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bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Two chapters in one day because I had a lot of inspiration. Make sure you didn’t miss chapter six!

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

Chapter VII - Batphone

It was an early morning for her, and perhaps it was because of the renewed feeling of tranquility she’d gotten after speaking with mister Turner. She felt as if she’d taken big steps forwards with him, especially when it came to gaining his delicate trust, and though she didn’t want to admit it, she was looking forward to spending more time with him soon.

She’d thrown on a floral dress for no particular occasion, and her brown shoes tapped down the stairs in search of the way to the dining hall. However, when she heard the distinct sound of voices coming from the lobby, she took a detour.

She was greeted with the sight of the hotel owner himself, joined not only by his staff, but by Miles as well. A smaller suitcase stood next to him on the floor and he was wearing a dark trench coat with its collar lifted. His eyes, covered by his aviator shades, finally noticed her figure in the doorway and he motioned for her to come closer. Miles gave her a quick kiss on the cheek to greet her before Alex stepped her aside. “I’m afraid your novel research is going to be delayed for a bit,” he explained, “Miles and I have some unforeseen business to attend to. However, I’ll ask Matthew to keep you entertained with a few of his notorious tales about the hotel. I won’t be gone for longer than a day.”

“Oh, alright,” she replied stumblingly, “Why are you so suddenly keen on helping me write this novel? It appears as if you’re really going out of your way to provide me with all the details. Don’t bother Matthew with it though, I’m sure he’ll have enough to do as it is while you’re gone, mister Turner.” She saw a glint of something she couldn’t place flash across his eyes. “Who’s seeing ulterior motives behind everything now, writer?” he asked in amusement. She narrowed his eyes at him, to which he only gave a smirk.

“Matthew, I’m leaving you in charge,” Alex proclaimed, handing him the main set of keys. “Don’t set anything on fire, please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Matt replied innocently. Alex snorted and Matt smiled, but as the hotel owner turned his back to him she noticed him tucked the keys in his pocket with a shaking hand. What was going on? His eyes were darting to the doors and as they walked to the car to wave the two men off, he kept his gaze searching across the yard.

As soon as they were inside, she turned to the man at hand. “Matthew, you’re acting strange and I can tell it’s not because of mister Turner’s absence. What’s happening?”

“It’s nothing, miss,” Matt replied, trying, but very much failing, at sounding casual. “I was just checking if the gardener had already finished his job.” She hummed, “Sure you have.” He raised his brow at her. “There’s no need for concern, miss, truly. And after all, you already have mister Turner to worry about. No need to add fuel to the fire.” Her mouth dropped open as a pink colour dusted her cheeks. He’d ran out the front entrance before she was able to smack him.

“Is there anything I can help you with today, Nick? I get awfully bored these days,” she mused. Nick gave her a meek smile. “Glad we’re such good entertainment for you, miss. Do you have any experience with accountancy?” “Loads,” she replied, “Used to do the taxes for my mother, too.” “Great. It’s the box in the back office, the newer files need to be taken care of and sorted, if you have the patience for it.” “Only for you, Nicholas.”

Taking her seat at the desk behind the television screens, she was reminded of the incessant static noise filling the room. She decided to try to refrain from ripping the plugs out of their sockets and focused on the heaping box in front of her. It was a disorganized mess, but having experienced the way her mother used to sort things, she knew she’d do fine.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was only when reading the last file that needed to be sorted, did she notice something strange. It led her to reach for older transcriptions that she’d previously sorted, and the non-matching data only confused her more.

When Nick finally showed up again, looking like a dishevelled mess, he asked her if she could go and help Matt outside for a moment, instead.

“Uh, sure,” she replied half-heartedly, her eyes still glued to the papers, “By the way, I was just going through your accounts and I found a returning bank account you’ve been transferring money to for a while. It’s cashed under ‘taxes’, I think?” She said, handing him one of the invoices. “Oh, that’s just what we pay Miles as additional taxes to the rent,” Nick explained. “Yeah, I thought that was the case, but when I checked the credit numbers they didn’t match with the ones you’ve been sending the actual rent to. Just thought you might want to look into it, just in case.”

Nick furrowed his brow in worry. “Uh, I’ll take a look at it. You better go and help Matt and Jamie, though. I think they’re right outside.” “Sure.” As she stepped out, she heard Nick hurriedly dial a number on the office’s phone.

She eventually managed to find them at the stables, and only then did she realize what had caused Matt to look so stressed and Jamie so upset. “What the fuck happened?” she sputtered.

The door was open, and Mardy’s box was empty.

“I couldn’t tell Alex, miss,” Matt explained sadly, “You’ve gotten him in such a good mood since yesterday, I didn’t want to see him pissed again.” She raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry to elaborate. “I-I think I remember locking the door…” She groaned, “Matthew.” “Alex put me in charge not knowing I lost his fucking horse, I know.” He rubbed his hands over his face tiredly, “I’ve been up all morning and I’ve searched the entire terrain, but I couldn’t find her.”

“Give me your car keys.”

“What?”

“I said, give me your car keys. I’m going to look for her myself. Go call the cops and inform them of a missing horse.”

It took her a while to convince Matt to stay, though he insisted Jamie tagging along, to which she begrudgingly agreed. However, when Jamie was about to step into the driver’s seat, she told him she’d throw him out of the car while they were driving if he didn’t hand her the keys. Jamie didn’t question her again after that and silently let her be behind the wheel.

The black Cadillac wasn’t exactly meant to cross over the countryside, but she surely wasn’t going to start looking in the city for a horse. Stopping when she came across cyclers, playing children and farmers ploughing their fields, she asked each and every single one of them if they’d seen their stallion, but to no avail.

Her last hope turned out to be her saviour, because the old man at the train station told her of travellers who’d mentioned a beautiful brown beast close to the tracks.

It was where she found Mardy, stuck in a barbwire fence.

“It’s good to come back to find my hotel not having been burnt down,” Alex breathed, setting down his suitcase, “I presume everything was fine?”

“Uh, of course,” Nick grumbled, his eyes turning back to the nonsense he’d been scribbling down to appear busy.

“Alright. I think I’ll clock out for the night then-“ The ringing of the phone interrupted his sentence. Nick’s hand shot out across the desk, but it was already too late.

“The Grand Tranquility Hotel, this is Alex Turner speaking. How may I direct your call?”

…

“Is that so?”

…

“I’m not sure, I’ll ask him. Please hold.”

Alex glanced up at Nick with raised brows and said in an overly interested voice, “Officer James Ford wants to know if our horse has been found. What should I tell him, Nicholas?” But it was the look in his eyes that made the employee aware of how much trouble he was really in.

She’d managed to scrub off all the grime Mardy had transferred onto her while cleaning her cuts. They weren’t deep, and it relieved her and Matt incredibly that they didn’t have to call the vet in the end. She had shifted back into her comfortable nightwear, and had only just opened up the page of the book she’d left off in when a knock came from her door.

“How was business?” she asked, being greeted with a familiar set of intense brown orbs. He didn’t answer her, instead opting to just invite himself into her room, to which she threw her arms up at. He took a moment to glance out of the window onto the dark yard, before he took a seat at the edge of her bed. He flipped through the pages of the worn book.

“I’ve been gone for a day,” he said, “And my staff has managed to lose my horse. And my guest took the task upon herself to go and find it.” He glanced up at her. She shrugged, taking a seat next to him and folding her legs underneath her. “I couldn’t just leave her out there, all by herself.”

His intense gaze didn’t wander away from her for a moment. “And not only did she save my horse, she made me aware of the fact that an anonymous party has been stealing money from me.”

Her brows raised in surprise. “So, it wasn’t going to Miles?” He shook his head. “Nick called me immediately after you went out to help Matthew and Jamie. When I confronted Miles about it, he said he’d never added any extra taxes to our rent. We’ve informed the authorities about it.” “I’m glad,” she replied, “You’ll have one less financial thing to worry about.”

He nodded, fumbling with something in his pocket, before revealing the item to her. It was some sort of business card, but it felt more personal than that. He placed it in her hand and wrapped his around hers.

“It’s come to my closer attention that I can trust you more than my own staff,” he murmured, “Which is why I want you to have this number. I’m asking you to hold it to yourself, as it’s the only number you can reach me directly through, at all times.”

She looked down at the text on the card. “The Batphone?” she laughed, “You’ve named your personal number ‘The Batphone?” He smirked. “If you ever need me, in whatever situation you find yourself to be in, you can dial this number, and I’ll be there.”

She blinked at him, feeling at a loss for words. “I- I don’t know what to say, mister Turner. Thank you.”

He hummed, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly, but his eyes holding something undoubtedly more serious. He shifted and leaned over to her, until his hand held her cheek and his warm lips were pressed softly against the other. Her breath hitched in her throat as he moved back. “I’m the only one who has to say thank you. I owe you my deepest gratitude, miss.”

The tingling sensation on her face didn’t stop for long after he’d left.

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner x Reader #Alex Turner #Nick O'Malley #Jamie Cook #Matt Helders #Miles Kane #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #TBHC #AM #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #Suck it and see #Reader Insert #Romance #Fanfiction

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