#so yes she pressured her children but ofc she still loved them and tried to be patient with them

[nyctophicbtch]

metkayina reader firstborn daughter of ronal and tonowari and most authority out of their children maybe shes the clan heir or future tsahik plsss!! love interest either non canon character/oc mate or neteyam

Neteyam with Tonowari’s firstborn daughter

When you first met the Omatikaya guests, you were obligated to treat them kindly

You weren’t as cheerful as your sister, Tsireya, was thanks to the responsibilities you had, but you were still sweet and cheerful on the inside

Your personality caught Neteyam’s eye, but it wasn’t too obvious at first

Scolding Ao’nung for being mean is your daily routine ever since the Sullys arrived

Nobody really noticed, but Neteyam observes you a lot

He saw the inner you whenever you interacted alone with his younger sister, Tuk

You’d laugh so much and allow yourself to be childish

But once you’re with the group, you’d put on the facade again

In some way, Neteyam could relate as the eldest child and future to the clan

One day Neteyam overheard your father scolding you over a mistake and reminding you that you were the clan’s future

You looked so pressured you were about to cry

You flinched at some point when your father yelled at you

Ao’nung was just sitting in the corner feeling terrible for you

After your father left, you didn’t let your brother see you break

Instead you just ruffled his hair, saying it’s okay

Then you went out and bumped into Neteyam and your face went pale

“How much did you hear?”

“Not much.”

You started talking to him more often after that

It wasn’t as if there were obvious feelings between the two of you

But your siblings and his would tease you whenever they see the two of you sitting alone

Neteyam would talk to you more often than he would with your siblings

Def gonna be teasing Lo’ak and Tsireya together

And then you started noticing the little things about him

Until you finally realized you had feelings for the eldest Sully

They terrified you

Because Neteyam was just confusingly unpredictable

On one side, he treated you differently in a good way

The little gestures he’d only do with you were sweet and kind

But on the other hand, you were someone he could relate too, so he probably just saw you as a close friend

Your thoughts were constantly fighting amongst themselves

Even your siblings noticed

Tsireya tried calming you down once when you were stressed out about your own feelings

Kiri somehow found out

Then she told Lo’ak

And they both tried getting some confirmation out of Neteyam and tried convincing him to make a move

But he won’t budge

At some point Ao’nung would teach the Sully kids something misleadingly

And then you’d smack the back of his head

“That’s not how you do it.”

Neteyam laughs and everyone would pass knowing looks

Except Tuk who was oblivious and was in her own little world

After some time, Neteyam starts noticing too

The stolen glances you’d send his way when he wasn’t looking

How nervous you looked when he was standing way too close to you

He found it adorable

Meanwhile, you were still trying to figure him out

The Skxawng knows and he’s not doing anything about it

Yes, he feels the same way

Although Neteyam would usually stay calm

His heart would race when you maintain close up eye contact with him

Or when you’d lay a hand below his chest to help his breathing

Tsireya notices and she tells Lo’ak who confronts Neteyam

“Bro, she totally likes you and she’s frustrated trying to figure out if you feel the same way.”

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

Neteyam sighs

He doesn’t think it’s a good idea and that both your parents won’t take the news so well if he were to act on his feelings

Lo’ak and Kiri thinks he’s an idiot for that

So they come up with a plan, including Tsireya too ofc

Let’s just say Neteyam wasn’t happy about being set up by them

And he couldn’t think of any excuses when you were already there expecting to hear something from him

So he just spits it out

And then takes you by surprise by kissing you

Lo’ak, Kiri and Tsireya were definitely watching, and somehow Ao’nung and Rotxo joined in too

They were busy shushing each other and trying to keep quiet

Luckily for them, you were too focused on each other to notice the furious whispers coming from behind

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar: the way of water #x reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #metkayina reader #metkayina #drabble #imagine #oneshot #fluff #female reader #headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #lo’ak #kiri #tsireya #ao’nung #rotxo

[gay-fae]

After watching Encanto, I was thinking about Bruno's parallels to Mirabel (those that were pointed out in the movie and otherwise) and uh. This happened. This is a bit of a character study and it's only 935 words so it's not a big read but I really hope you enjoy :)

(this may end up on Ao3 as well! Reblogs are super helpful so please consider reblogging <3)

**********

Sometimes, as a child, Bruno would stare at his hands and wonder if an invisible poison leached from them; a silent killer of goodness only he was capable of carrying.

Sure, when you’re five years old the screw ups are forgivable. Less so when you’re seven. By the time you’re ten, mistakes are seen more as intentional sabotage attempts upon your family’s wellbeing.

Keeping the gift alive was their family’s duty, but Bruno wondered if he was capable of taking on something so great. He also wondered if Pepa and Julieta ever felt as unqualified as he did to preserve the Encanto. Yes, Pepa had brought on more storms than he could count, but she’d always felt things more deeply than the rest; it was never the same as the quiet weight Bruno was accustomed to within himself. As for Julieta, well, she’d always been the one to take a challenge head on. The strongest sibling and the leader. Untouchable and unbreakable.

(But there was one time, once, when Bruno was at the tender age of nine. He’d been hiding around the corner of the kitchen late at night. A man with a twisted ankle was sitting on a chair in the next room over. In the kitchen, in front of the stove, Julieta knelt on the floor surrounded by pieces of a shattered ceramic bowl and remnants of an indiscernible food. Her face was streaked with tears and she was visibly holding back a cry. Alma stood over her, looking disappointed and firm.)

Julieta was everything Bruno couldn’t be.

(“How can you expect to help the town if you can’t even heal one man?” Alma’s voice had echoed from the kitchen.)

Envy twined with admiration gripped tight on Bruno’s heart whenever he saw his sister’s perfection.

(Voice shaking and fragile, Julieta whispered, “I’m sorry, mamá. Déjame arreglarlo. Please. I won’t mess it up this time.” A small tear fell onto Casita’s tile flooring.)

By the time he was fifteen, every morning Bruno had a waitlist of people who wanted prophecies and a list almost just as long of people who didn’t like him by the time the sun set.

It wasn’t just what he saw that upset them (though, in some cases, that would have been enough). It was his inability to deliver the news well or refrain from making untimely jokes. His way of lightening the mood was usually implemented at the worst moment possible and he always awkwardly stumbled over his words, anticipating unhappy reactions to his visions.

Time to develop hobbies wasn’t always plentiful, but Bruno did always have an interest in acting and storytelling. As a child, he’d put on shows for his mother, his sisters as costars. Alma had always applauded loudly at the end. It was one of those truly good memories he often called back on later in life.

As a teenager, he’d stay up late writing stories in his room, all messily scratched out on crumpled papers or in a notebook. Scripts telling tales about a young man who was the pride of his town and his family. Plotlines following a young explorer who was beloved by everyone she crossed paths with. People not just loved, but appreciated for who they were as a whole. The hero Andres who was worth more than his incredible intellect. The explorer Luisa who was praised for more than her magnificent super speed.

Bruno loved his family, and they loved him back. Of that, there was never any doubt. Still, there was an unspoken standard looming over him at all times.

There was an expectation that Bruno dreaded to think he might not ever reach.

But Andres and Luisa didn’t judge him for that, nor did the rats he spotted in dark corners of Casita, nor did his beautiful sobrinos when they were born. And for a while, that was enough to keep him afloat in the flood he’d been living through.

**********

Bruno shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the sight in front of him. He blinked the green out of his eyes, but was unsuccessful in ridding himself of the tears. He looked down at his shaking hands—poisonous contaminators, toxic harbingers of ruin…

He clenched his fists and thought of Mirabel. He’d seen so little in his vision; it wasn’t enough to ensure that she wouldn’t be subjected to the harsh scrutiny he wanted to shield her from. He couldn’t let her go through what he had.

If today is the day, then today is the day.

**********

The comfort of his sisters’ hugs felt less foreign than he’d thought it would. He smiled each time he got one, realizing just how deprived of that closeness he’d been.

Dinners were warm and full of laughter that was no longer distantly heard through the wall. He did the dishes afterward, laughing at himself for being so eager to clean. He wrote stories again, this time ones that didn’t just feature rats (though he couldn’t bear to write them out completely). New characters who were finding their ways back from the abysses they’d fallen into. Who were learning to find their rhythms again.

He held Antonio’s face in his calloused palms, telling him how proud he was of him, no longer scared of the invisible poison he’d once believed himself to emanate.

(He remembered that childhood night again, and the way Alma’s face had softened as she’d sighed and bent down, beginning to pick up pieces of the shattered bowl. He remembered the way she’d said to Julieta, “It’s okay. We can fix it. You’re still learning.”)

No more fear. No more cracks in the walls.

#i wrote this is a frenzy lol #oh and also!! #alma is not strictly bad or good!! #she's put too much pressure on her family as a result of her fear of losing her second chance #so yes she pressured her children but ofc she still loved them and tried to be patient with them #(and yes obv Alma needed to do better no question about it lol) #i don't like it when people say a character is strictly bad or good when in fact the character canonically has depth #an example of a character who is pure evil is Ozai from ATLA #alma's not at that level dgfhjk #anyway went on a rant here hahahaha #i hope you liked this!!!! #encanto #disney encanto #encanto disney #disney’s encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fic #encanto fanfiction #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #alma madrigal #mirabel madrigal #do not repost #fable’s stuff #fable’s writing

[blissfulbroadway]

Alfred Nathaniel Hallam III Headcanons!!!

YES his name is Alfred Nathaniel Hallam yes he is a third no I do not take criticism

Childhood:

- Alfie got pneumonia as an infant. It messed up his lungs A Lot and affected his immune system and stuff as well so as a child he was constantly sick. 

- He was in and out of hospital a lot and had a few surgeries so he was always on bed rest and isolated to everyone until he was about four years old. 

- All of his medical issues caused his mum, Elizabeth Hallam, to dote on him a lot and suffocate him a bit. His father, Alfred Hallam II was the opposite and became pretty detached from being a father figure to Alfie. 

- At a very young age, Alfred was introduced to stories since he couldn’t go anywhere. He was constantly reading in bed and learning often. Also his father made him study German just for funsies. 

- His grandfather Wally, or Alfred Hallam I, introduced Alfred to Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland when he was three. Wally re-enacted the story to him in hospital a lot, and it inspired Alfred to fall in love with the story and take on the characters as his own. Wally got him his own copy after an especially difficult surgery, as well as a stuffed rabbit called Baby because he’s a three year old and it’s his little baby bunny :-) (he still ends up traveling with it as an adult and can’t leave without him). 

- Around that time, his parents had his little brother, Elias (named after their mum) to be a backup plan or new start because they didn’t think Alfred would be much worth to them in the future. Yes they are shitty I know :/ 

- His parents have very very very high expectations for him because he’s now the older brother who has to do everything and he’s not their spoiled sick baby boy. They let Eli be a little shit and do anything he wants (like any little sibling but multiplied by like 10) while Alfie was expected to be the perfect child who dressed, acted, looked, and spoke the way they wanted. 

- Alfie and his parents are very posh sounding because they live in Bromley, but he has a slight northern twang because of his grandfather. His parents hate it. 

- When he’s four years old, after a long period of bedrest, Alfred is allowed to play alone outside, and he meets Alice. They refer to that day as their Golden Afternoon because it was the day they became the best of friends, and Alfred introduced Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to her. (At first Alice was probably like Who are you and what are you doing in my backyard and Alfred is just SO EXCITED to introduce his favorite storybook in his entire existence so she budges and let’s him share his world with her)

- Alfie is a huge bookworm and while he adores learning and reading, his infatuation for learning mathematics (mostly so he could impress his father and maybe he would love him more if he knew “Big Kid Things” yes I know 🥺🥺🥺) manifested into an obsession with time, as well as the fear of being late or running out of time. He was surrounded by the idea of death from a young age and it influenced the way he thought about himself and what might happen to him if he didn’t listen to his parents. Their pressure brought out his anxiety disorder and depression at a very young age and it sticks with him throughout the rest of his life. His escape from all that death and sadness was Alice’s Adventures because he could always reset the clock at the end of the book and start again. 

- When he’s five, Alfie spends some of his rich kid allowance on a copy of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland for Alice, and in return she buys him a pocket watch a few years later. He adores it and never ever takes it off even as an adult. 

- Alfred avoids his own home a lot and spends time with Alice in their conjoined backyard, playing pretend and acting out their story together. Sometimes, they spent the days inside her house (Mama Hallam is good friends with the Spencer parents, so she doesn’t mind them watching Alfie) and Alfred is well acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Spencer enough where he considers them paternal figures...sort of. (Mr. Spencer is lowkey highkey Alfred’s bisexual awakening, and he’s one of Alfred’s first crushes; it doesn’t help that his own father constantly criticizes him and his interests or is absent from his life doing slimy rich man things. Daddy issues.)

- Mr. Spencer is a book lover (possibly librarian? Also sometimes professor :-)) and so he’s constantly discussing stories with Alfred and Alice on an intellectual level fit for the both of them. Most adults treat them like small children, so Alfred loves the attention. 

- When Mr. Spencer dies in their early teenagehood, Alice and Alfred get incredibly attached to their storybook, and they find more comfort in it than ever. His death launched Alfred’s struggles with eating and sleeping, as well. 

- This is one of the harder periods of time for Alfred, as he and Alice didn’t have any friends aside from each other. They’re incredibly codependent on one another. 

- Mamie Van Eysen flirts with Alfred a lot during this time, but only as a joke. Either that, or she makes fun of his body and his personality—both in front of Alice, to make Alfred uncomfortable and Alice jealous. Other students bully him and Alice often. 

- A lot of Alfie’s self image issues stem from this time, and his anxiety and depression worsen. 

- When Alice’s mum dies when they’re fifteen, the pair runs away together. Alice almost gets assaulted, and Alfred wants to protect her. He gets into a giant fistfight with the older man. It’s bad enough to the point where the man is arrested and Alfred is hospitalized; it’s the hardest period he’s ever spent in hospital, even after all of his childhood issues. The police bring Alice and Alfred home and Alfred is banned from visiting Alice for a while. They communicate by speaking through the windows straight across from one another, or holding up signs from the window seats. While Alfred is healing, Mama Hallam is extra overbearing and critical to the point of being toxic and unhealthy for Alfred. His brother gets really mean around this time, too, as he doesn’t get the attention he once had. His and Alfred’s relationship get really rocky, and it’s never really mended in the future. 

- The day Alice and Alfred can officially reunite, they never separate and they’re stuck at the hip from this point forward. 

- When Alfred isn’t hanging out with Alice, he is at his grandfather’s hat shop, helping him stock or sell products. He puts his money towards a secret emergency fund in case he runs away again—this time without Alice. Alfred can never get past the front door, though. 

University:

- When they reach uni, Alfie majors in mathematics and education, and minors in literature and statistics. He finds joy and love in his studies again, even if school itself affects his mental health. 

- Alfred doesn’t want to be dependent on his parents, so he gets a job at a coffee shop and writes essays on the side for money. His caffeine addiction is dangerous at this point, and he often finds himself not eating or sleeping until it’s physically impossible not to take care of himself. 

- Alfred puts all of his money towards renting an apartment with none other than Miss Tabatha Dedwin!!

- He and Tabbie are flatmates. Since Tabbie is best friends with Dodgy Dawkins, he meets him, as well. They’re friends for good after that, and that’s when Alfred starts to wind down, smoking with them, as well as his Alice. 

Adulthood:

- After university, Alfred gets official treatment and is able to change his eating habits and caffeine addiction. 

- Alfred learns about emotional support animals and gets a Giant Flemish Rabbit named Ollie to be his support animal. He’s giant and blue-eyed and looks like the spitting image of Alfred’s beloved White Rabbit. He’s a cutie. 

- Alfred also did a little bit of gardening when he was getting treatment, and once he’s home he gets all sorts of plants and becomes a Plant Dad (with lots of research, of course!)

- In his mid twenties, Alfred finishes his extra schooling and becomes a primary school teacher. He blossoms into a happy, mostly healthy bisexual man with lots of plants and a sweet pet bunny and he wears funky disastrous outfits and has an amazing support system!!! (Alice, Wally, Tabs, and Dodgy :-) also Wally’s lover Denny the carpenter who comes out to Alfred when he’s an adult. He’s super shook but he gets even closer to Wally because they’re more similar than he believed)

- When he’s prob like 30 he goes to more school and becomes a university professor in the end of his years! Depending on who he ends up with he possibly has a few kids and a bunny and life is good!!! He’s teaching and learning constantly and it’s the life he’s always wanted even if his parents never accept his Christmas cards and his brother doesn’t answer his calls. He’s happier than he’s ever been. 

- Also don’t tell Sage but when Alfie’s older his health problems catch up to him and he dies a relatively young death due to complications with his lungs :-( rip to my main man Alf

Little Headcanons:

- Alfie is the Biggest animal person besides maybe Tabbie. The ONLY exception is geese because one time he tried to feed a goose was brutally attacked by a goose and is afraid of them. He prob does birdwatching in his free time too 

- Alfred’s fashion is HORRENDOUS @dodgefred and I made it up forever ago that he was a fashion disaster and ofc Colton’s costume...moving on. The reasoning for his fashion is he just picks pieces that make him happy that day and he sticks with it it doesn’t matter if he matches he’s just vibing.

- He reads his kids bedtime stories and he’s so devoted to being the father his own dad never ever was - When he becomes a professor it’s probably to teach Calculus and while his class makes people cry Very Often Alfie as a teacher himself is very very empathetic and comforting and yeah math is a bitch but he’ll take time out of his lunch breaks and extends his office hours way past the set time to help a student!!! He’s such a comfort to LGBT+ students and he probably has a few he discusses gay discourse in literature with (Tabbie absolutely introduced him to lesbian literature also also this isn’t a Tabs post but she stans Shakespeare :-)). Professor Alfie is the weird quirky prof. who stresses you out sometimes but also he goes on long tangents about his interests and how much he loves his significant other or children or baby bunny child Ollie!! He has so many plants and books in his classroom too it’s a Lot.

- Wayyyyy into theatre but he didn’t pursue acting onstage because his dad is homophobic :/ but he was in charge of lighting in school productions and fell in love with the stage

- He helps his friends study by acting out their textbooks for them and they always always ace their tests

- MUG COLLECTOR!!! He has so many mugs it’s not even funny his entire cupboard is taken over by them honestly 

- Virgin who can’t drive 

- Such a cursed and baseless hc I’m So Sorry but his first crush was the tomato from Veggie Tales 

- Going off the last point he grew up in a Catholic household and he had one of those mums who was like you are Not allowed to watch tv unless it’s like. Veggie Tales or the Little Einsteins

- Alfie plays piano!!!! Also he did ballet when he was younger but he left because it was super bad for his mental and physical wellbeing and is convinced he’s a bad dancer because of his poor experience with the art

- Alice calls Alfred her Bunnie and he calls her My Alice/Allie/Allie Cakes

The end :-)

#alice by heart #alice by heart musical #ABH #abh musical #alice in wonderland #alfred hallam #alfie hallam #alice spencer #tabatha dedwin #tabbie dedwin #dodgy dawkins #this is the hill im dying on #thank you

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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

Chapter 3

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

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

#narcos (tv) #javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series) #multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 2 #like gloss tag

[2ndblogg]

Hey! Just read your hot take on novel!wangxian and I absolutely agree. I'm gonna have to say here that I believe it boils down to the fetishization of homosexual men in a lot of the fandom culture that surrounds mlm shipping, as you said it's a space for a lot of women to experiment with their desires and whatnot, but I think therein lies the breaking points between reading novel!wangxian as a good, healthy relationship vs. reading it as a very flawed and toxic one. As an LGBT person, reading the way the author dealt with their relationship made me extremely uncomfortable, it just really feels like something that is written by someone who is more invested in using her queer characters for satisfying her and her reader's own pleasure than a well-built, strong relationship between two characters. Not to take away from the novel in some other aspects, I believe that novel!wwx is a much better, much more nuanced character than what he is in cql, but when it comes to wangxian, I think the intentions are very different for each of them. To each their own, I guess, but I do find it very troubling that some people in the fandom have a really hard time admitting that novel wangxian is not even remotely healthy.

Absolutely.

And can I just say how glad it makes me to see that not everyone is praising this book for it’s lgbt representation...

But I guess that’s also why I just occasionally feel the need to scream my frustrations into the void or try to make sense of the novel.

And why I try to be understanding and accepting of people’s opinion of the novel and not take it ‘personally’ (in the sense of sitting there thinking “holy shit this is how they view ME, this is what they think of ME” etc).

I was in fandoms back when they were really a place dominated by straight (homophobic) women and realism or lgbt representation wasn’t on anyone’s mind (and the occasional dude butting in to say that’s not how sex works or bottoming is experienced was ignored or told to get out). I experienced this change to fandoms being more of a lgbt space, of people becoming aware that media can shape your views of groups of people, of people becoming aware of their fetishizing of fictional gays vs. their prejudice against real life lgbt people etc.

And tbh MXTX just writes like one of those, she writes wangxian like everyone wrote their gay relationships around 2005 and earlier; clear power imbalance, clear roles and attributes that are divided into ‘manly’ and ‘feminine’, certain physical attributes (like the female self insert character aka the bottom being pretty and slight and weaker and shorter), men/the penetrating partner can’t really be raped so anything the woman/bottom tries isn’t really ‘bad’, the male love interest is forceful and self centered but ONLY because he’s so in love and since he’s emotionally stunted he has to express that through sex, men/tops NEED sex and it’s rude/mean to deny them that, the girl/bottom isn’t THAT horny or in charge of their own sexuality but wants to please their partner and what they really get out of it is the emotional aspect, decisions need to be made for them because the dude/top just knows better, the girl/bottom is childish and flirty and the guy/top suffers through it until he finally snaps and shows the girl/bottom who'sboss etc etc. (honestly homophobia and misogyny is so tightly knit in this kind of fiction, if it wasn’t so frustrating it would be very interesting).

Tbh I disagree with novel!wwx being more nuanced (despite a lot of ppl whose opinions I really respect also feeling this way), because I simply cannot seperate him from the wangxian relationship. All I see are tropes and stereotypes applied to make him ‘work’ in the context of the wangxian relationship instead of an actual personality...

To me, in CQL WWX is clearly the main character and you love his interactions with LWJ and want more of them and value them, wheras in the novel most of the time WWX plays second fiddle even when a scene should technically be about him and LWJ’s presence is incredibly suffocating, because he’s always being controlling or at the very least influencing WWX.

I also don’t feel like WWX has much of a character arc/growth. We’re essentially told he had one but the only thing that really actually changes is him hating himself a bit more and letting LWJ smash..., and I guess: he’s less independent than ever, he’s more isolated that ever...

I’ve called novel!wangxian a relationship between an abuser and his victim, because you can find evidence of that in the text. Not because I think the author wanted to portray an unhealthy gay relationship. Like you said, she was fetishizing and wrote for a similar crowd. But to me that ‘realization’ helped...I still don’t see how people can call it a masterpiece but I can at least understand hyping something you like up...

And like, badly written gay relationship or not; gay/straight,man/women, I see how people can find it hot. Exploring your sexuality through fictional characters isn’t necessarily a strictly straight girl phenomena. I probably have read fic that was exactly like this, I can’t judge anyone for it. But no one prints out the last PWP they read and goes, “this is ideal lgbt representation and nothing will ever be this good, the fact that it includes rape makes it so realistic” like????

(Is that part or an effect of the woke and purety culture? you can’t say ‘i like this book but it has flaws’ or ‘i’ve enjoyed this but it’s not up the feminism or lgbt acceptance that i preach/live’ so you have to pretend it’s flawless?)

And like, I do think novel!wangxian is a nightmare when it comes to lgbt representation and I do believe this is largely due to a cishet woman writing about gay men and fetishizing them (the fact that a lot of peoples arguments why novel!wangxian ‘is better’ boils down to ‘there’s kissing and sex’ is also pretty telling). And I am frightend and worried by some peoples response to it.

But is it really fair to see it as just that? It’s a problem sure, but that same thing happens in straight media (which I am admittedly not well versed in). Stephanie Meyer didn’t set out to write Edward Cullen to be a creep and non of the teenage girls that went crazy over him viewed it as such...Reylo fans (aside from some of them proclaiming Finn to be the real villain and saying it’s racist and misogynistic to not find Kylo Ren hot) found a way to view him threatening her as romantic and sexy, Loki fans that didn’t ship him with Thor usually fell into the camp of “he would be a perfect boyfriend” or “what if this OFC was his slave and he raped her everyday <3″... like ignoring/glorifying/romanticizing behaviours or exploring what kinks you might have through the safety of fictional characters and fictional settings isn’t JUST happening when it comes to ‘the gays’...

And not just specifically in fandom spaces either, a lot of ‘romantic’ movies include inappropriate touching, the boy/guy knowing better than the girl what she wants etc. And I absolutely do believe that that’s something that normalized these things for a lot of young girls and guys (I don’t want to get into this too much, I’ve really seen a change in the past few years, but before that it was pretty common for young boys to believe they need to keep pursuing and pressuring a girl that has said no, girls truly thought boys could die of blue balls, girls thought it was their duty as good girlfriends to let their boyfriends fuck them even when they weren’t in the mood, that they couldn’t talk about what they want in bed or what they don’t find enjoyable because ‘sex is for boys and girls get a relationship in exchange’ etc.).

And in much the same way movies have only relatively recently begun being called out for that, it’s also still pretty recently that they’re being called out for having their one queer coded character be a pedophile and a murder or whatever...Like, society as a whole becoming aware of these issues.

But do authors that publish their work with a specific target audience in mind have a responsibility to think about the effect it might have on them? (And I can already hear loud screams of ‘no way, it’s not your fault if your audience isn’t smart enough to understand that this bad thing is bad’, but I actually do believe in a way they do. That doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t write whatever you want, just maybe take a look at HOW you bring your point across. (We do KNOW people are influenced by what propaganda they’re consistantly fed. I mean, you wouldn’t write a pro-drugs childrens book...) )

What if the author isn’t aware of their bias and prejudices? Or their target audience isn’t their actual audience?

And do we, society and media, judge female and male authors differently when it comes to romance and sex in fiction? (The answer is yes btw) But also, where do we draw the line at calling something ‘badly written’ and calling it toxic? Can it be both? As I’ve said before, a lot of people claim that only the physical intimacy scenes of novel!wangxian are bad, because they’re badly written and OOC, some say the book as amazingly written and only the wangxian relationship is bad because the author doesn’t know how to write gay men. In my ‘hot take’ I essentially said that’s not necessarily bad writing so much as it’s simply an (okay, unintentional) toxic relationship. And would this relationship still come across as toxic (or badly written, whichever you want) if we didn’t know the author to be a cishet woman? Or if a gay man had written it? (my personal, eloquent answer for this is: yes, but differently.)

Which was really all just a rambly way to get to my point of: it’s not just fetishizing of gay men, it’s also the homophobia and self-inserting in a safe situation.

You can literally replace WWX in the novel with a female character and it wouldn’t change a thing. The author takes such an effort into building up this power imbalance in every aspect of their life that if WWX were a heroine nothing would change in this (sexist/ancient society) setting.

(And clearly this is something that appeals to people if you look at the amount of female!WWX fics...)

Not even the sex scenes. There are maybe two allusions in all of them combined that WWX might also have a dick but like, you can’t be sure and it sure as hell doesn’t need stimulation.

(and again, that could be written as a kink...but it’s just not.)

CQL is a gay love story. MDZS at it’s core is none of that.

But I also very much agree with your ‘to each their own’, like here I am criticizing and trying to find explanations and whatever, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter why someone might like (or write) a book like this, I vastly prefer CQL!wangxian but people have their own reasons for not doing so.

The ‘problem’ really only lies in, as you said, people not being able to accept that it’s not a healthy relationship. Or claiming it to be perfect lgbt rep.

And because my brain can’t shut up today:

I also can’t stop thinking that the way some people ‘glorify’ the book as due to their age and ‘inexperience’.

When I was a pretty young kid and got into fanfiction, there was nothing but completely OOC!whump to be found in the first two fandoms I was in. And I loved it. It was YEARS later that I thought I might like to read something with the characters being...in character. What I’m trying to say, in different stages and phases of your life you might enjoy different things, for different reasons...and obviously, in that moment, you won’t think about ‘what appeals to me here/should this appeal to me/etc’.

I don’t mean inexperience as ‘sexual inexperience’ here, though of course that could be part of it, but also like, inexperience with this genre (is this the first book like this you read, or did you just read 50 in a row that all had the same unhealthy vibes?), with lgbt people and issues (do you know any lgbt people or is your only image of them either the cute boy you can’t have and don’t want to see with another girl or grown men in full kink gear in front of children during CSD? and also: do you think ‘i like this’ and that’s the end of it or do you notice how many people idolize this objectively unhealthy relationship and won’t allow critique on it...)  

I...just wanted to say thanks really.

I just can’t stop rambling apparently and I know I mostly just repeated what you said or what I already said but in longer... I just really do feel very strongly about novel!wangxian and the perception of them and have actually at times felt very personally...worried/affected, by people’s acceptance and love of them and I just... have to try and make sense of it...

#i'll be honest rambling like this is very therapeutic and I'm glad some of you read the last one and send asks and agreed #and it's why i'll (try to) put this in the tags too...i like discussions but seeing ppl NOT going 'it's true love/perfect rep' love that #mdzs #mdzs meta #mxtx critical #i guess

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 2

Title: Hurt, Healing, Help Pairing: Paz x OFC, OFC x OMC Word Count: ~2350 Rating: MA Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Chapters::Ch 1 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

📚 My Master List 📚 

Notes: This chapter contains potentially triggering material. Warnings for: mentions of past child abuse, past violence, and a lot of cursing. No graphic details, just a passing mention of certain situations that have occurred. The flashback occurs ~ten years before the story is currently happening.

Also, your nickname is Shu'shika. It means tiny disaster. I've been trying to format the HTML for this update on AO3 for two hours now, I don't think I can handle any more of the text popups right now. Also posted on AO3, where you can hover over the stuff in Mandoa or unfamiliar terms to see translations and notes. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes and translations. Also let me know if you want to be tagged or something. @mandalorerose I am so sorry, pls don’t goor me from the server.)

[flashback]

The bright sunlight fills the clearing, bringing a touch of warmth to the smoky, frosty morning air. High up in the trees, the birds flit from branch to branch, watching the proceedings with unabashed curiosity. Occasionally, tiny creatures fight amongst themselves, scolding each other with a flurry of chirps.

Grinning, Paz sidesteps Neten’s blow easily, clamping down on his bracer tightly. Using the other man’s momentum, Paz latches onto Neten’s extended arm and pulls hard, causing him to lose his balance. Once he stumbles forward, Paz gives him a good shove, sending him careening forward into the soft grassy earth. A low ‘ooh’ goes up from the crowd as Neten trips and slams into the ground with a heavy thud. Paz nods, holding back, giving Neten enough time to recollect himself.

“Nice form, good strength,” Paz says, to encourage the younger man. “Let’s go through it one more time. Then we’ll break for water.”

“Sounds good, alor'ad,” Neten says.

“Swing at me,” Paz orders. “And I’ll show you the best way to…”

He trails off when he receives notification that his door alarm has been disabled. His brow furrows as he considers it for a few moments. Neten falters.

“Uh, you still with us, alor'ad?” Neten asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Paz said. “Swing at me.”

Paz recently upgraded the locking mechanism to keep the kids out of his candy stash. He does not mind sharing, but when six kilos of candy disappear in one week, he has to put his foot down. That, or the other parents would strangle him. Paz shakes away the feeling of unease and catches Neten’s fist in his. Grasping firmly, he halts Neten’s attack, freezing him in place.

“You’re trying to build up momentum from too far away. See how this leaves you open while you're swinging? Get in a bit closer,” Paz says, showing Neten how his previous attack left him vulnerable with a solid blow to the gut. “Stick a bit closer and – “

The door chime goes off again. Then it disables itself a second time. Zeli said she would be busy helping in the kitchen today. Paz frowns.

“Uh, right. When I push you forward, roll into the fall,” Paz says. “It’ll give you some space to work. Now, try it again.”

Neten swings a third time. Paz pushes him harder this time. Instead of falling, Neten curls his body forward and rolls into the fall. He comes up on his feet, but quickly loses his balance. He falls over.

“Shit,” Neten sighs.

“Just takes practice,” Paz says. “Get up, you’ll get it right.”

After walking him through the proper counter a few times, Neten finally manages to roll directly onto his feet and absorb the momentum with his knees. Then Paz turns to the crowd.

“Partner up,” he says. “Neten, you partner up with Fen.”

As he assigns partners, he chooses to place the most advanced fighters with the novices to ensure they teach the others. Paz finds he still cannot shake that weird feeling in his gut. Something nags at him until he decides to go investigate.

“Revala,” he says. “Keep an eye on these idiots for a minute?”

“Sure thing alor'ad,” she says, coming forward. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…I just need to check on something,” he says. “No more than a few minutes. If they give you any backtalk, you have my full permission to make them run until they drop.”

“Yes, sir,” Revala exclaims gleefully as she turns back to their drilling vod, “Alright, losers, I’m in charge, and I’m going to make you suffer.”

“Gaa’tayl, alor'ad!” someone yelps.

Rousing laughter fills the clearing at the plea for help.

“K’atini!” Paz snaps over his shoulder. Wimps.

He turns toward the entrance to the hideout. Their current home is situated deep in a granite canyon. It was at one point some sort of pirate bolt hole, but over the decades, other Mandalorians had come and gone, making the space larger and adding some basic furniture. It is cramped, but it is well-hidden and easy to defend. Not only that, the family quarters have separate showers, a perk he does not hesitate to abuse. He makes his way down the main hallway, avoiding the fistfight between Din and Terys.

“If you two are going to slap each other like whiny little aruetiise, do it outside,” Paz snaps.

“He ate my uj’ayali,” Din snaps in response. “I was saving that, you dickhead – “

“I didn’t eat your fucking uj’ayali,” Terys grunts as he elbows Din in the side.

Paz shakes his head and continues toward the living quarters. Winding through the hallways, he finds himself surrounded by a throng of scuffling children. He breaks it up with a firm growl and sends the guilty parties to time-out. At long last, he comes to his door. As his hand hovers over the pad, he feels that sense of dread worsen, like a block of lead has suddenly materialized in his belly.

Paz almost hesitates, but he pushes forward. Something isn’t right here. He types in the code and watches as the door silently unlatches and swings open. He steps into the living area, his feet heavy and uncooperative. That feeling in his gut warns him to stay silent.

When he sees Zeli’s boots on the floor, he frowns.

He sees the second pair, hidden just out of sight, at the same time he hears Zeli’s cry. Paz inhales sharply and turns toward the bedroom, thinking that someone is actively forcing themselves on his beloved.

“Yes, Liam!” she cries out, stopping him in his tracks.

Paz can only stare, his stomach roiling violently at the sight of the two figures entwined under the light sheets. For several seconds, he stands there, frozen. Taking in the sights and sounds of their lascivious coupling. The wet slap of sweaty flesh meeting and Zeli’s throaty, animalistic keening. The way her short pink nails dig into Liam’s shoulders. The way he fervently fucks into Zeli, repeating what Paz had done with her just hours before.

“Oh, gods, Liam! Harder, h-harder!” she sobs, her sinewy body arching under his.

“Ni copaani hailir gar,” he pants. “Gedet’ye, cyare."

From here, he can see her digging her heels into his backside. The raised red welts she has left along his spine and shoulders. The livid bite marks along her shoulders.

As the harsh, unpleasant shock starts to set in, he feels his lips and face go numb, a deafening roar filling his ears. His chest tightens as he tries to tear himself away from the lurid scene, only for his gaze to land on the couch.

They had placed their helmets on the seat - her cherry-red helmet next to his deep grey helmet, the forehead ridges pressed together in a sweet kiss. As if to mock him. Paz turns his stinging eyes to the low table. The pieces of their armor are arranged neatly on the table. It is clear to him that the lovers had taken turns stripping each other, piece by piece.

This is not an act of drunken, frenzied passion.

This is a deliberate act of practiced intimacy.

In the years Paz and Zeli have been a couple, building their future together, she has not once asked him to use blindfolds. She has never once asked to break down that one last barrier keeping them from tasting each other’s lips for the first time. Yet here she is, fucking one of their closest friends in his bed. All while stringing him along with the promise that they will be one, that they will remove their helmets for each other for the first time on their wedding night.

How many times has Zeli allowed him to debauch her in their bed? In the same bed where Paz professed his love for her for the first time? The same haven where they spent countless hours in each other’s sweat-slick arms, fantasizing about the warriors they would eventually gift the tribe? How many times has he run his fingers along her breasts and inadvertently dragged his fingers through the dried remnants of another man’s sweat and saliva?

Revolting nausea fills him, that numb feeling creeping through his entire body, leaving him feeling so empty and cold. As his hands begin to shake, he clenches them into fists at his sides, his breath coming in shuddering pants as he struggles to not fucking sob. Bile rises in his esophagus, leaving his throat feeling bloody and raw.

Why?

Why?

The question keeps chasing itself through his thoughts as the agonizing knot in his chest threatens to tear him apart. He hears a giggle from the bed as Zeli flips Liam onto his back, the sheets shifting to reveal the delectable curve of her lower half, plump and succulent as she starts to bounce on his cock.

“Come in me, cyare,” she purrs to him.

“A-are you sure? You’re not - not - contraceptive – “

“Paz won’t know,” Zeli laughs. “He’s desperate for kids.”

Those words are the catalyst for his rage, like a lit match dropped into a barrel of volatile jet fuel.

Incandescent rage unfurls explosively in his chest, evaporating the cold sorrow that had once filled him in an instant. He feels his blood pressure and heart rate spike, leaving his vision thin and black and pulsating at the edges. Paz takes one menacing step toward the doorway, his entire body trembling as he struggles to contain the inner maelstrom of hatred.

It would be so, so easy for him to make them suffer, to make them feel the bone-deep agony they have inflicted on him. All he has to do is step into the bedroom. Look at their faces. Break the blood-oath of secrecy they had sworn to uphold a second time. By seeing their faces, he is a witness to their identities, and they will not be given the option to marry.

With just a few more steps, he can destroy them; he can take away everything and everyone they have ever loved. He can make Zeli’s worst nightmare a reality – she will lose her father, her sisters, and her friends. She will have only her lover by her side. Liam will be declared dar’buir by proxy. They will both be exiled in their dishonor and shame.

Suddenly, he sees Zephyr’s gap-toothed, mischief-filled grin and he comes to a grinding halt.

Zephyr was broken when Liam had found him huddled in the burnt-out husk of his ancestral home. Raiders had tortured his family and forced him to watch as they were killed, one by one. After they had taken their amusement, they had beaten Zephyr, leaving the young boy to die alone in the wastes. It was only by pure fortune that Liam had seen the smoke and gone to investigate, thinking it was his prey.

Instead, he had found a mute six-year-old boy wrapped in a ragged, blood-stained blanket, his tiny, emaciated frame covered in a multitude of bruises and lacerations. It took three years of love from the Tribe for the boy to speak again. After those first words, Zephyr had risen from the ashes of his shell, soaring like the celestial starbird.

Zephyr had finally found his voice and his manda, bringing life and light back into his eyes.

His gut wrenches and a new type of agony lances through his heart. It pierces him, wounding him so deeply he physically cannot breathe. He bites down hard on the sides of his tongue to stifle the sob threatening to escape his throat. His teeth break skin and the taste of copper fills his mouth. Paz cannot do it. He cannot be the reason Zephyr has to relive the loss of his family.

He will not be the reason the light leaves Zephyr’s eyes again. No amount of agony inflicted upon him - a grown man - could ever justify harming an innocent child for the sake of revenge.

Paz forces himself to exhale. Blinking, the tears finally fall, burning their way down his cheeks before finally soaking into his beard. Stiffly, he makes his way back to the couch and picks up their helmets, taking Zeli’s in his left and Liam’s in his right.

Acrid bitterness fills the shattered remains of his heart as he looks down at Zeli’s helmet. The paint on the forehead ridge has worn away from the many passionate kisses they have shared. Cynically, he wonders how much of that paint was worn away by Liam. How many embraces have they shared behind his back? How many times have they bared their fucking souls to one another in his bed?

Paz turns back to the door and exits, leaving the couple to their tryst. As the door clicks shut behind him, he suddenly feels intense exhaustion, his armor suddenly becoming stifling and heavy. Each breath feels like tar in his lungs as he leans heavily against the wall opposite the door.

“Hey, Paz,” Din says, coming toward him. “Bad news. Your idiots outside managed to set something on fire – “

Seemingly sensing something wrong, Din comes to a halt an arm span away. He leans forward slightly, coming to his side, in a show of brotherly concern.

“Ori’vod,” Din says softly. “Are you okay?” Paz draws in a great, gasping breath, his gaze still fixed on the door.

“Not in the least bit, vod,” he admits hoarsely, his voice breaking.

Din looks down at the helmets in his hands and comes to the only logical conclusion. He hisses through his teeth.

“I will drag them to the Foundry like the worthless fucking hut’uun they are,” Din hisses, his fingers flexing as he takes a step toward the door.

“No,” Paz says immediately, shaking his head.

“Why the fuck not?” Din demands sharply, his voice rising to an angry roar. “They betrayed the Oath, Paz!”

“Din, keep your voice down,” Paz says, ushering him away from the door and toward the Foundry. “I know what they did.”

“He called you his brother,” Din snaps angrily. “She called you her intended. They are liars, they broke their Oaths - !”

“Zephyr,” Paz says, his voice cracking again. “I don’t want to risk…”

The rage leaves his brother in an instant. He deflates like a wilted desert orchid. Din sighs gustily, looking between him and the door.

“What can I do to help, vod?” Din asks quietly.

“Just keep people away from me for a while,” Paz utters. “Armorer…she will know what to do.”

Gods, he prays she knows what to do.

“Absolutely,” Din says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll always be here, ori’vod.”

Paz swallows thickly and nods, not trusting himself to speak. When he has regained control over his legs, he starts the long walk to the Forge. Each step feels like he is scaling some sheer cliff, the air thin and frosty in his lungs. Din runs interference, keeping the people trying to get his attention at bay. Pausing, he closes his eyes and considers what he is about to do.

Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc.

He knows what the right thing to do is. Paz just does not know if he can do it.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself questioning his faith.

-

-

-

[current]

Armorer is in the middle of brewing a pot of her favorite tea when she hears footsteps in the Foundry. She looks up and sees Paz poking his head around the main doorway. That simple gesture brings back many memories of their earlier years together. Armorer has left the door to her private quarters open, the curtain drawn back, inviting those in need of guidance into her home.

She reaches for a second cup just as he reaches to knock on the door frame. Even though they’ve been family for nearly three decades, he still insists on knocking.

“Paz, join me,” she says.

He steps inside, ducking his head in a polite, respectful greeting.

She turns back to the chipped tea pot. Their new Tribe introduced them to the concept of tea, and now, she indulges every afternoon. Paz joins her and pulls a metal straw out from his gauntlet.

“What brings you here, Paz?” she asks, as the scent of the hot, spiced tea permeates the air. 

He stares down at the cup, tension filling his massive frame.

“I wanted to ask your advice on something,” he says in a serious tone.

She remains silent, her brow furrowing.

“I’ve taken an interest in a woman,” he says. “And I want to ask her to be my partner. I want to know more about proper courtship traditions.”

It is only through years of experience and training that she does not jerk in surprise. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She is somehow surprised and not surprised at the same time. He has gotten to that age where a hunter starts staying at home for longer periods of time to teach their skills to the next generation. Although he is also bound to be lonely, she cannot recall him mentioning a partner.

She knows her friend, and she knows he will not entertain the idea of a serious relationship without the promise of marriage. After what the aruetiise had done to him, he had thrown himself into the hunt, turning his back to the possibility of marriage. Or anything long-term, really. The wounds were so deep she did not think he would ever fully heal.

He – like the rest of their kind – has been shaped from birth by hardship and struggle. He has had to fight for the victory of every single sunrise. Despite the crushing setbacks in his personal life, Paz has held his head high, always teetering on the edge of fully reaching mandokar - the ideal virtues of a Mandalorian warrior. It is that lost lust for life that has held him back all these years.

Now, he is ready to move forward, to hunger for each moment and experience in his life. Throughout the years, Armorer has seen glimpses of the warrior he could become. He is on that path now. Her heart fills to the point of overflowing for him.

She nods once.

“You know of our Tribe’s tradition of exchanging blades before the vows are spoken,” Armorer says.

Paz nods.

“What about here?”

“Alor Dezha has remarked that the Elders prefer to publicly acknowledge that the vows have been exchanged before the wedding night physically occurs. They typically do this as part of the wedding feast. Ultimately, it is your decision. You may choose one, both, or neither. As you know, we make do with with what we have. We do not have rigid rules in place.”

“That’s less complicated than I thought it would be,” he responds. “Nevertheless, I want to do this the right way for her. I think I’d like to do both.”

She is truly pleased with the news. If he is interested in entering the riduurok there is a chance he is also interested in rearing offspring. He will make an excellent spouse, parent, and teacher.

The youngest child here is eight years old. In just a few years, he will be fitted for his armor, and he will no longer be a child. Armorer and many others have expressed the desire to hear more little feet in the hallways. Hopefully, Paz will continue doing what he does best – inspiring and encouraging others through his leadership and his unwavering dedication to the Resol’nare.

Perhaps the other Hunters will begin reconsidering their unwed statuses so they may finally begin to increase their numbers once more.

Paz fidgets with his cup for a moment, breaking her from her reverie.

Now, she must satisfy her curiosity.

“Who has caught your attention?” the Armorer asks, keeping her tone casual and light, even as her thoughts whirl with plans for the feast and bonfire celebration.

Her thoughts then leap to naming ceremonies, but she restrains herself. They will need time to settle in as a married couple before producing or finding children.

“I want Shu’shika."

Armorer blinks in response.

“Shu’shika has caught your attention,” she confirms, carefully keeping her voice neutral, to give herself time to think of an appropriate response.

“Yes. How do we go about this courtship business, then?"

How unorthodox. Yet, as she considers it, she can see why he wants you. Paz has always appreciated the company of those who put the Tribe before themselves, and you are no exception. If a hunter or child has need, you will forego sleep to ensure they are properly cared for. Nothing will keep you from caring for those around you. Your dedication and loyalty to the Tribe will never be contested. With extra training, Armorer can see you shaping up into a halfway decent warrior in time.

“What exactly do you wish to know, Paz?” she asks curiously.

“How?”

Armorer blinks, though he cannot see it. She had not been ambiguous.

“What do you mean how?”

“How do I convince her to agree to courtship?” he clarifies, giving her what she interprets as an expectant look.

A furrow forms between her brows as she stares at her companion. Based on the rampant, unbridled scuttlebutt, there is no shortage of available and willing partners for a hunter of his stature and skill. She herself had once harbored an attraction to him, though that had been roughly two decades ago when she was just a feral, hormone-riddled teenager with far more free time than common sense.

“Most people start by asking their interest out on a date,” Armorer says slowly.

“A date,” he repeats.

Armorer almost sighs. Perhaps she had overestimated Paz’s general intelligence level.

“A date is an activity wherein two individuals assess their mutual compatibility and – “

“Armorer, I know what a date is. What does that even have to do with courtship?”

"Courtship is dating, Paz, but with the intent to marry, and no carnal relations."

"Oh. That makes sense. And how do I get her to agree to this?"

“How do you normally secure your partners?” she asks bluntly.

Paz recoils ever so slightly.

“I have only had a handful of one-time arrangements…since…”

Well. That is unexpected.

“Paz, you must simply ask,” she responds. “You are one of our best hunters. There are many who are interested in having you as a partner. I am certain she will be flattered by your request.”

“…but how? I haven’t asked anyone out on a date in eighteen years,” Paz says. “I honestly don’t know what people do on dates nowadays.”

“Just ask her to accompany you on an outing,” she responds.

“So, like…shooting? Do people even still go shooting on the first date?”

“Just pick something you know she enjoys,” Armorer says, faintly annoyed.

“Alright, I can do that,” he says. “One more question, Armorer.”

“What is it?” she asks.

Despite her affection for the older man, she is unable to keep the annoyance out of her body language. Maybe the age-old Mandalorian saying still holds true today: three braincells for the entire Tribe and the Alor holds two of them for safekeeping. However, Alor Dezha is a Hunter down to the marrow in his bones...perhaps it would be best to leave the braincells in the possession of a Tradesperson, where they won't risk being eaten.

“You’re a woman, aren't you? So, tell me: what do you ladies like on dates?”

She is so offended and incredulous that she splutters indignantly at him. As she struggles to come up with a proper retort, she becomes aware of his shoulders shaking.

She tightens her jaw. He always has been able to get under her plating to chafe at her like no one else. If anyone else had grown the balls to ask her something like that, she would not have hesitated to put her hammer through their skull.

“Paz, get the hell out of my room.”

He erupts into boisterous guffaws as he thumps his fist onto the table.

“Would you want chocolates? Flowers? The severed heads of your enemies?” he gets out through his giggles.

“I will goor your ass into the Forge,” she says in amusement, reaching for her hammer in warning.

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he gets up to leave, and hightails it away before she can make good on her threat.

Armorer smiles under her bucket.

She hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.

He will be just fine.

-

-

-

Paz paces nervously around the table for the fifth time, pausing to try and flatten the curling plastic tile underfoot. When that fails, he continues on his path around the table. Paz stops when the door opens. Din strides in, closes the squeaky door behind him, and takes a seat. The chair groans under his weight as he leans back.

“So, what’s got your bucket straps chafing?” he asks.

Paz immediately regrets asking for help. Especially from Din. But, being his brother through both vow and combat, Paz trusts no one else as much as he trusts Din.

“I need some advice,” Paz says carefully.

“What sort of advice?” Din asks, his helmet tilting a bit to the right.

“I want you to swear you won’t tell anyone,” he says firmly.

No one needs to know about his lack of experience.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Din says.

“Swear it,” Paz stresses flatly.

“Alright, alright,” Din says.

“On my honor, I swear I won’t tell anyone about anything we’re about to discuss.”

Paz takes a deep breath as he struggles to come up with the words needed to explain his unique situation. How the fuck is he supposed to even ask about this?

Has Din ever even been on a date before?

Gods above, he is too old for this shit.

“Does this have anything to do with those problems men your age typically get?” Din asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “You know, below the codpiece?”

He gestures down toward his crotch, as if his words were not mortifying enough.

“What?” Paz asks incredulously.

Din holds both hands up as if trying to defend himself.

“Look, Paz, every rifle malfunctions eventually,” Din says in what he might think is a comforting tone. “Especially when a man starts to get into his forties and fifties – “

“No, stop. My di - that part of me is just fine,” Paz snaps in annoyance. “I’m not that old, you little shit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Din says. “So, what is it? You’ve been acting really strangely for the past few weeks.”

Their buir did not raise either of them to be a hut’uun. He can do this, get those words out. He is a grown-ass man and he can be direct. Fuck delicacy. That kind of bantha-shit doesn’t work for Mandalorians, anyway.

“There’s a woman I’ve taken an interest in,” Paz says. “I’d like to give her a proper courtship. I was wondering if you had any input on where I could take her on a date.”

Din doesn’t react. For a moment, Paz wonders if Din even heard him. As the seconds tick by, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead seems to grow louder. Then he hears a choked wheeze from his modulator, one that sounds like someone is strangling a de’kath bird with piano wire. Din’s shoulders shake violently as he starts to howl with laughter.

“You’re – you’re coming to me for advice on dating?” he gasps out, “Me? Din Dumbass Djarin?”

Paz falters at the mention of Cara’s affectionate nickname for Din. He shrugs once in response. Then he sinks down onto the table and crosses his arms.

“Yeah. Half a braincell is better than none, right?”

Din goes silent for several seconds.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious,” Din whispers. “Paz, I can barely keep my shit together. What makes you think I, of all people, would know anything about dating?”

“I haven’t been on a proper date in eighteen years,” Paz says dryly to Din. “I don’t know how this shit works anymore.”

A pregnant silence follows.

“Din, I’m over Zeli. I’ve been over her bantha-shit for a few years now,” Paz says. “I am ready to try something long-term again.”

“Fuck,” Din breathes. “We’ve all been wondering…if you’d…you know.”

“Stop wallowing in my self-pity and move on with my life?” Paz asks sardonically. “The past few years…I have been working on improving myself. Figuring out how to best honor the Resol’nare...All the stuff we were supposed to figure out years ago.”

“Paz, I’m happy to hear that,” Din says. “I’m glad you’re going to be you again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paz says, waving off Din’s comment. Shit, this is getting too emotional for him. “Whatever.”

Din snorts.

“Anyway. As for dating…I mean, there are better people to ask. I really could not help you with the dating thing.”

“Surely you’ve had a partner,” Paz says. “I’ve heard rumors about you and Cara.”

“Cara wants the simple things in life: good beer and to regularly beat someone's ass,” Din says. “I just so happen to be good at both finding good beer and getting my ass beat. When I asked her out, she almost pissed herself laughing at me.”

“Well, she said yes, which is more success than I’ve had,” Paz says. “I don’t know shit about this. The only people who care about courtship are the Elders.”

“And you now, apparently,” Din argues back.

He does have a point.

“Well…she means a lot to me. She isn’t a temporary arrangement,” Paz says carefully. “I’d like to do this the right way for her. So she knows I’m serious. And that I'm not just after...sex.”

Din inhales deeply, tapping his fingers on the table as he stares at the wall.

“Well, buir once told us that women like providers. So, go find a really big marsh deer, kill it, dress it, and bring everything back to her,” Din says, shrugging his shoulders. “Women like meat and leather, right?”

His tone is as uncertain as the way Paz feels about presenting you with a dead animal. They stay silent for several seconds.

“I’m fairly certain buir was joking when he told us that,” Paz says slowly.

“Huh,” Din says. “You know, now that it’s been said out loud…it does sound kind of ridiculous. Shit.”

They stay quiet for several moments, considering how truly fucked they both are when it comes to relationships. They’ve both had the occasional pleasure arrangement. And pleasure arrangements only require interest and about ten minutes. After his dumpster fire of a relationship with Zeli went down in a fiery, messy explosion, Paz never really considered settling down for marriage.

Why is this so damn difficult?

Din sighs, breaking him from his reverie, and tilts his helmet in his direction. It’s a sort of acknowledgement, an understanding that they are both committed to figuring this courtship business out together. Paz supposes that Din’s going to have to learn a few things, too, if he's somehow going to convince Cara to stick around with him for more than a few months. At the very least, Paz is grateful that Din picked someone smarter than himself. At least their children will have one intelligent parent.

“So. Who is it that has you acting all emotional, all ready to get domesticated?” Din asks, waving his hand around a bit.

“Shu’shika,” Paz says. “She’s…she’s the one I’m interested in.”

Din’s head snaps up so hard and fast that Paz hears his vertebrae crack from here.

“What?” Din asks. “Shu’shika?”

“What the fuck is with that tone, Din?” Paz snaps irritably. “If you’re going to insult her – “

“What? No, no,” Din says. “I’m not insulting her, no way. She doesn’t seem like your type, Paz. She’s…uh…not the most athletically gifted. Or the best at...hand-to-hand combat.”

That is the most diplomatic tone he has ever heard from Din and it pisses him the hell off. Paz does not like the idea of someone insulting you.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Paz says flatly.

Din holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not judging your taste in women,” Din says mildly. “I was just…uh…surprised. I thought you’d go for someone like Nayel, or maybe even Revala.”

“They aren’t Shu’shika,” Paz says, shrugging.

Nayel and Revala are both warriors and hunters, the two of them direct competitors for their age and skill group. Nayel has even made a few passes at him, but her hand against his doesn’t send that little bolt of tingling pleasure radiating up along his spine. She always wants to fight with him. While he appreciates having good sparring partners, he sometimes wants something quieter.

“Well, we are both shit at this,” Din says. “So, we treat this like any other battle to be fought and won. What intel do you have for me?”

Paz starts to list the data, growing more comfortable as he settles into the comforting routine of what he does know how to do. Win a fight. Then again, he isn’t sure if he should be looking at courtship like it’s a battle to be won.

-

-

-

Notes:

Alor'ad - Captain Vod - comrade, mate, brother - different contexts based on the people involved Gaa'tayl - help Aruetiise - outsiders, traitors. When used to refer to an outsider, it's not an insult. It's just a state of being. When used to refer to a Mandalorian, it's an insult. Uj'ayali - Mandalorian cake made from ground nuts, fruit, spices. Delicious. "Ni copaani hailir gar. Gedet'ye, cyare." - "I want to fill you. Please, my love." Cyare - beloved Dar'buir - "Divorce" from a parent, like disowning them. Rare, usually only done if the parent is a shithead. Starbird - Star Wars creature that is basically a phoenix. It's supposedly reborn in the heart of a star, etc. Manda - Soul, that which makes someone Mandalorian hut'uun - coward, an egregious insult Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc. - Family first and the individual second - randomly made this saying up. Mandokar - the virtues of the ideal Mandalorian - aggressiveness, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life. Riduurok - love bond between two spouses, marriage Resol'nare - The six tenets by which all Mandalorians abide. Short version: "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader all help us survive." Alor - leader Goor - Goore --> Grenade --> You toss a grenade --> Therefore goor is the Mando equivalent of yeet. Humor from Tumblr. De'kath bird - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. The bird sounds like a raven, a tuba, and a paper shredder all got together and made an ugly, horrifying baby. Marsh deer - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. A marsh deer is about twice as tall as a giraffe and has huge antlers that can cause serious damage if they ram someone. They are generally herbivorous, but when they are in the middle of rutting season, they become opportunistic carnivores. They also dislike humans and will attack unprovoked. Also, they make for good eating and hunting. OYA! Shu'shika - Nickname I made up using shu'shuk (disaster) and -ika (diminutive), means Tiny Disaster. Because Reader is a tiny disaster.

#tv: the mandalorian #the mandalorian #A Proper Mandalorian Courtship #din djarin #paz vizsla #paz vizla #the armorer #paz vizsla x f!reader #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #family relationships #din djarin x cara dune #original characters #angst #heavy angst #no use of y/n #star wars #paz vizla x f!reader #series: a proper mandalorian courtship

[joyfulsongbird]

Bruises And All- Chapter 7

Here’s the link to Chapter 6!

***

HERMES finds them passed out on the sofa downstairs.

It’s not unexpected exactly, it’s more... saddening. He knows how this story plays out, he’s seen it many times in the people in the time, in his own family. people come and then they leave, they love and they lose. This is a story he has told to Orpheus so many times but he never seems to listen to the subcontext. He tells him stories of gods, of men, of people whose darkness gets the better of them. that sometimes the dark beats the light. but Orpheus never hears that, no, he hears the endless music that continues through his head. He hears a perpetual melody as an undercurrent for his life. Before Orpheus, Hermes was slowly losing hope. He was slowly getting lost in the sea that is humanity, tangled and lost and speechless. but this boy changed everything. instead of looking at these two teenagers like how their ending will turn out, he looks at them with the present in mind. how happy they will be for a brief time before it all goes south.

or maybe not. maybe this time will be different.

She finally stirs awake at the sound of his feet climbing back up the stairs, he catches the sound of the couch shifting and a cup being lifted off the table. He leaves the door open for her, not bothering to act if he hadn’t been down there. and he waits, in the kitchen, standing over the sink filling a half full kettle with hot water for tea.

“Would you like to sit down, dear?” he asks, without looking up. He can feel her there, standing warmly by the bar.

“no, that’s alright.” she answers hastily. “I was just coming up to drop off this mug and go upstairs again.”

“It's nearly past breakfast, why don’t you stay down here and I can make some eggs. and some for Orpheus, too, whenever he gets up.” He's already getting out a pan and some butter when he finally glances over at the girl. She's standing there, mouth open slightly, eyes darting between him and the pan and the stairs not five feet behind her. she swallows.

“you must be hungry.” he continues, not waiting for an answer. she hesitates, and then nods. a step in the right direction. He's not the parenting type but raising Orpheus was great practice. not that he’s ever planning on having any children, he’s far too old for that stage in life, but it taught him to care again. to love again. to be tender with people again. and he’s so very thankful for that. “sit down, I’ll take that mug.”

she does what he says, moving in slow robotic movements. he tries not to think at all, otherwise he may speak. he’s always been good at being diplomatic, at saying what needs to be said and moving on quickly, but here, in this situation, it feels oddly familiar and oddly emotional. he wants to tell her so many things, so many things that he couldn’t tell another woman. that he wishes he had time for, or that he’d been brave enough to say then. but this is not the time and this is not the same woman, this is just a very hungry girl with wide eyes at the sight of butter. they are poor in this town, yes, but not without their luxuries. he has a feeling she hasn’t seen such an indulgence in a very long time, perhaps never at all.

as the pan heats up, he washes her mug quickly, noting the bag of Orpheus’ favorite tea and that there is still about three fourths of the tea left in the mug.

“Is he always like this?” the girl asks after several minutes of silence. He doesn’t turn around to see her face, he knows exactly what she is referring to. Knows exactly what her expression is, a slight smile playing across her lips, a softness in her eye that was not there before. He knows this play, he knows these roles, and she is just the actress for this part.

“Yes.” is his simple answer. He really need not say anything more. Orpheus is simply joy personified. Hermes can’t explain it to anyone who hasn’t met the boy, but once they do? They, too, understand how special he is.

When he looks back over at the girl, she’s facing away from him, but he can see the tension in her shoulders, in the way she sits.

“You don’t have to be afraid here.” he says and she whips around quickly, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I’m not afraid.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“You won’t even tell me your name, you won’t look any of us in the eye, these are all gestures of fear, darling.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” she exclaims, voice rising with her emotion.

“Lower your voice, first of all.” she looks about sheepishly, cheeks coloring.

“What am I supposed to do? Truly, what point is there in telling you my name?” she continues, with a softer tone now. “What good could it possibly do if I am simply going to be leaving as soon as this storm passes?”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “You are a fool then.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are a fool if you still think you are able to leave.”

*

He can honestly say he’s never been more sure of anything. That is to say, he is not 100% sure that she will not kick into fight or flight mode and run out into the storm but he’s sure her resolve is crumbling. He finds himself rooting for him, rooting for the two of them. Hades is right, of course, she’s bad news. She’s like a mourning dove, an omen of only tragedy to come. But when he looks at her, something in his eyes brightens to the point where it’s blinding. The girl doesn’t look away though, she looks right back. Orpheus admires her, most definitely, but judging from the glances to the side and the ever growing intention in her movements, she admires him too. She wants him, too. That can’t be for nothing. The storm will last for another day or two but by that time, he doubts the two of them will be able to pry apart.

Fate is tricky like that.

One storm passes, yet another looms.

Through the morning, each of the housemates find something to occupy themselves with. Orpheus helps him clean the bar, clean the tables for the third time in the past day, they all just exist in silence. Hades and Persephone play cards, the girl cards through an old book Orpheus must’ve given her. There’s so much silence and only the rain falling on the roof to fill it that it is almost comical when the quiet is broken.

“Eurydice-” as soon as the name leaves his mouth, he claps a hand over his lips, eyes gone wide. The girl- Eurydice- looks up from her book, slowly, with caution.

“Yes?”

“I-I-” he stutters. “Um-”

“Eurydice?” Hades looks over from his cards. “That sounds familiar.”

Eurydice grips the spine of her book hard, she doesn’t look towards him. “It’s not uncommon.”

“It is though. It’s awfully uncommon. I swear, now I think about it, I’ve seen you before.” his brother in law could never mind his own business.

“You haven’t.”

“I have. You were a couple towns over, weren’t you?”

“Stop.”

“Some tiny place, I can’t recall the name. You- you were the drunkard’s daught-”

“Stop it, can’t you tell you’re upsetting her!” Hermes has never seen Orpheus shout before and would never have thought that it might be at Hades of all people, the man who Orpheus had proclaimed “very tall and terrifying” as a child.

The electricity in the air could power their town several times over. But it’s the type of tension which you cannot break, like the air is thick as molasses, if you try to move, everything goes slowly. So that time stretches out thin as a sheet of a paper and nobody dares speak. Hades glare could melt steel, so many have said that his intimidation is what probably got him his job, but for the first time in his whole life, Orpheus stares back. Jaw set.

“Maybe you should take a break.” Persephone suggests quietly from across the table.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Orpheus says stubbornly, his fists clenched and shaking.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Persephone’s looking at her husband, and though Hermes has witnessed their silent confrontations dozens of times, he has yet to become fluent in their language. Hades turns slowly to her, placing his cards face down on the table, carefully, as if he’ll be back soon to continue the game. He stands, brushes the wrinkles out of his button up and starts up the stairs, without a word, without even a breath. Hermes turns his eyes to Eurydice, her lips pressed together and eyes following the man with something not unlike fear in them. But also anger. A deep, old anger. In his years of experience, he knows that these combined can stew up some of the rashest decisions. In the back of his mind, he concludes that he must keep an eye on her. That does not stop him though, when he averts his eyes when Orpheus comes to sit beside her, an arm wrapping ever so gently around her shoulders. She doesn’t lean into it, nor does she pull away, just remains stiff and lifeless. Eyeing the stairs dangerously.

He justifies it to himself later, that he’d simply just missed her slipping up the stairway while they are working on making lunch. But he knows that he’d turned a blind eye. If she needs to confront him, so be it.

*

thank you so much if you made it this far!!!! i know interest in this fic has dwindled but at this point i’m just happy that i wrote anything at all, thank you for reading and if you’d consider liking or reblogging, that’d be amazing!! no pressure ofc, i appreciate even just a read through!!

#hadestown #hadestown fic #bruises and all #hadestown bway #hadestown broadway #broadway #orphydice #orphydice fic #orpheus #eurydice #hermes #hades #persephone #persephonexhades #hadestown au #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 7

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Fifteen

I seem to be all over the place with the lengths of these posts. Hope that’s not a deterrent! 

If this is the first you’re seeing of TGO, you’ll probably want to check out some of the earlier parts which are linked in the Master List. 

The story is set in 19th century Ireland and tells of a young woman sent to work as the governess for two precocious children in the home of Reverend Feargal Devitt, a young widower. While there, she finds herself drawn to her employer and to the story of his troubled first marriage, and to the supernatural tales of the Demon Finn Balor, whose spectre seems to hang over the family. 

Thank you so much to those who have followed along thus far!

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,703

Content advisory: Nothing, although if the subject of childbirth makes you uncomfortable, you’re not going to enjoy it

Nothing had prepared me for how difficult the birthing process could be and although I had been warned to expect pain, no warning could have made me understand how much pain and how long it would continue. On top of the pain was the fear that gripped me from the moment I realized that something was wrong. I was terrified of dying. I was terrified that my baby was dying. The doctor was efficient but did nothing to soothe my mind or my body and so I was left to my own devices to pull myself through the many hours that followed. 

I never understood the precise nature of the problem and I can’t be sure that anyone else did. I was bleeding and therefore too weak to push the baby out. Every time someone, the doctor or his assistant, who was also his wife, tried to ease the child from me, it felt like they were tearing my stomach out. It felt like what they were doing was wrong and dangerous for me. I did my best to try to help them but no matter how hard I tried, I could not muster the strength. 

Several times, I asked for Feargal, to no avail. He would be summoned when the baby was out, not sooner. 

I know that I was in and out of consciousness for much of the time, sometimes because of the drugs that the doctor gave me and sometimes because the pain and the pressure in my abdomen was too much. I told them frequently to leave me and that I wasn’t capable of giving birth, that I couldn’t bear trying any longer, but they insisted in no gentle way that I did not have a choice. I had no idea how long this had been going on when I felt a slight change in the pain, that it became sharper but at the same time it felt like my body was making some progress. I heard the doctor’s voice as if it came from some distance, as if there was a vat of water boiling next to my ears that distorted everything else. 

“I can see it,” he yelped and his assistant nodded her confirmation. 

From that moment, I pushed desperately, although it still wasn’t enough to get the job done. When the doctor brandished his forceps, I fully believed that he meant to tear the baby out of me in pieces and struggled, screaming, to get free. In the end, he was able to use his tools and brute strength to accomplish what I couldn’t. We were all covered in blood, my blood, as we waited for the infant to show some sign of life. I heard it, a strange, high-pitched scree like a seagull but again, it seemed to come from far away. 

“Is it alright?” I gasped. “Is it alive?”

There was a shuffle of bodies before the doctor answered me. “He’s fine, Mrs. Devitt. You need to rest now.”

“It’s a boy? I want to see him! Let me hold him!”

I could hear the baby crying more clearly now, crying for me. 

“Give him to me!” I tried to shout, but I wasn’t strong enough and my voice flagged at the second word, falling to just a harsh whisper. 

“Take the boy to his father,” I heard the doctor grumble. “I’ll tend to her.”

His wife walked away, my baby snug in her arms and I was pushed back onto the bed, hard. The doctor rested his hand on my shoulder as he produced a large needle and jammed it into the side of my hip. I could sense the change immediately as my legs felt numb and tingling. He stood over me, pushing my legs apart and frowning as if I was disobeying him. Although many of the details of that time were lost for me, I knew right away that I would hold that image with me always: this gray-haired man with an angry expression, splattered with my blood as he stared at the most intimate parts of my anatomy. 

The next time I awoke, even opening my eyes felt arduous. There was little pain, in fact there was little feeling in my body at all, but I had never imagined I could be so weak. It was quite dark in the room but I could make out a shadowy figure sitting near the bed. 

“Feargal?” I squeaked. 

There was no answer, but I saw the person shift a little at the sound of my voice. 

“Is the baby ok?”

Still nothing, save the sound of breathing. 

I felt like it was my husband in the room with me but at the same time, the presence was making me nervous. 

“Say something!” I hissed. 

But there was no sound. The form moved a little in its seat once again. I tried to keep my eyes trained in case the danger I sensed was real but I quickly felt myself getting towed under into sleep again. 

When I opened my eyes again, there was some light in the room. I was slick head to foot in sweat and there was a scent in the room that made me feel sick to my stomach but just seeing the light made things a little better. 

“Are you awake, Mrs. Devitt?”

I recognized the voice of the doctor’s wife and nodded, feeling too drained to speak. 

“Well there’s someone here who’s been eager to meet you.”

She leaned down and placed what at first looked like just a pile of blankets. Then she peeled back some of the fabric and nestled within it was a tiny, wrinkled face, red but not feverish. Its eyes seemed even heavier than mine, barely open at all and fluttering just a little when I pressed my fingers against its little chest. 

“I need to feed him.”

“He’s fine, ma’am. We’ve had a nursemaid to tend to him. You’ve been out the better part of two days.”

“Two days?” I looked up at her, trying to read her hard expression. 

“Lay with him for a while but don’t worry about anything else. It’ll be taken care of.”

Although I knew the practice was common enough, I hated the idea that another woman had been feeding my baby. My brother had required a nursemaid because my mother was dead but I was very much alive. Wasn’t I? 

“Is everything alright?” I asked her. 

“The baby is fine. He’s small but he seems hardy. You were the one we were worried about but it looks like you’re through the worst of it.”

I raised myself a little- as much as I could- and looked into the tiny face of my son. I ran my hand over him, marveling at the impossible softness of his skin. He stirred a little but did not cry and eventually the weight and warmth of my hand seemed to ease him to sleep. In my state a puppy could have easily overpowered me. How could I protect something so completely vulnerable as him? Or the children, who I’d promised to keep safe? As long as I was in this state, we were all in danger from whatever it was that stalked the house. 

“I’m going to get stronger again, as fast as I can,” I whispered to my son. “You shall have nothing to be afraid of while I live.”

*

Neither the doctor nor his wife approved of the fact that I insisted on taking over the feeding of my son and that I refused to take the drugs for the pain except when it truly became unbearable. I didn’t back down, though. The longer I stayed in bed half-asleep, the longer my family was vulnerable. I knew enough not to say exactly that but I could tell they still thought I was a little mad. 

“You have to keep an eye on her,” the doctor told Feargal when he thought I was asleep. “Having a child takes a great toll on a woman and sometimes they can become hysterical.”

I hated to think what effect those words would have on Feargal and it was at that moment that I decided I didn’t like the doctor. I knew that what I was thinking seemed crazy but I also knew that I had seen things since I had arrived at this place that defied explanation. Sophia had some inkling of it. Even William did. Feargal wouldn’t speak of it but it was possible that he was infected by it, that he needed saving more than any of us. The first Mrs. Devitt had tried to resist and had been overwhelmed. I would not allow that to happen, I told myself. I had been sent here because I was strong enough to break this curse. 

So I nursed my son and fought through the pain, telling myself that I needed toughening up. Feargal hated the idea that I was suffering but he also seemed relieved that I had the strength to be so obstinate. It was by watching his reactions to me that I realized that I had come very close to death. If I gave any sign that I was in pain, any little grunt or twitch, he would immediately go through a series of questions to determine what was wrong and refused to dismiss anything as unworthy of attention. If he was near me, he was almost always touching me and if he wasn’t, his eyes were always fixed on me. 

His behavior certainly made me feel loved but there were moments when I felt I was under scrutiny, or that myself and the baby were under scrutiny. This was never more true than when the other children were around. It felt like months since I’d seen them since they’d been kept out of the bedroom while I was recovering. And although they had met the baby, it wasn’t until they saw him with me that they got to touch him and look at him up close. 

“Can I hold him?” Sophia asked the first time she and William were allowed in to see us. 

“No, dear. Babies are fragile when they’re born and he’s heavy.”

“I’m a strong girl,” she insisted. 

“I know, but it’s always best to be careful. You’ll get to hold him soon.”

“But then won’t he be even heavier?”

“Yes, but his bones will be stronger.” I shuffled the infant in my arms a little and took hold of Sophia’s fingers. “Here, press just a little.”

I guided her fingers to his head. The facility where I had been raised by the church had on several occasions been used to shelter unwed mothers and I had been pressed into service on several occasions when help was needed with the babies. I was happily surprised at how the knowledge I had picked up during that time had come flooding back into my mind now that I was a mother myself. I cautiously guided Sophia’s hand over the soft spot in her brother’s head, smiling when she shuddered because I remembered that I had had the same reaction the first time someone had shown this to me. 

“That feels awful!” she exclaimed. 

“We all start out like that. Don’t worry, in a little while his head will be as hard as yours.”

William crawled up on the sofa and leaned on me, trying to get a better look at his brother’s face. 

“Why haven’t you given him a name yet?” he asked.

I laughed a little as he squirmed against me. “What’s the rush?” I giggled. “It’s not like he minds.”

The truth was that Feargal and I hadn’t even discussed it. We had talked about the rough nature of the birth and how frightening it had been. We had taken turns reassuring one another that the baby looked fine and was eating well. But the fact was that both of us were spooked and were hesitant to give the child a name until we felt certain that we weren’t going to lose him. So eight days after his birth, we still just called him “the baby”. 

William pressed harder into my side and I realized that he wanted me to wrap my arm around him. This required moving the baby from one side of my body to the other, which was nearly impossible with William moving and I was trying to figure out a delicate way to tell him to stop when a sharp voice cut in. 

“William, go take a seat over there.” Feargal pointed at the small chair near the window. I could see that the boy wanted to argue because this would take him away from both the baby and me, but his father’s frosty blue eyes flashed with warning. Dejectedly, William slunk over and took his place in the corner. 

“The boy does have a point, though,” Feargal mused. “The baby needs a name. So let’s come up with one.”

“William and I have names from your family,” Sophia opined, “so why shouldn’t he have one as well?”

I looked at her nervously, waiting for her to suggest ‘Colin’ but she remained quiet, looking from her father to me as if challenging us to come up with a better suggestion. 

“Well I’ve already had the chance to name a child for my favorite aunt and my elder brother, may god rest their souls,” Feargal answered. “Perhaps Helen would like to name her first born for her father?”

“No,” I answered quickly. 

“Or your brother?” Sophia suggested. 

I shook my head again. 

“We should name him Jesus!” William cried, his admonition forgotten. 

Feargal and I both laughed and were rescued by Sophia. 

“You can’t name a baby Jesus,” she chided. “That’s the name God chose and that means no one else gets to have it.”

It was Feargal who finally suggested that we name the baby Michael, after Reverend Potter, the man who had been responsible for getting me my post as governess to begin with. Since all of us liked the name, we settled on that quite quickly. 

“When will he be baptized?” Sophia asked. 

“That will have to wait until I’m able to get around a little more.”

“He has to be baptized so that God will protect him,” the girl scolded me. 

“You’ve learned well,” her father answered, “but most babies aren’t baptized until they’re a couple of months old.”

“I just want to know that he’s safe,” she added softly, fixing me with her peculiarly mature stare. 

Was that the secret? I wondered. Was she trying to tell me that the baby was in danger only as long as he was unbaptized? I couldn’t imagine how Sophia would know this but I also had to admit that she seemed to know many things beyond her years and experience. Perhaps she was making a guess, in which case it wasn’t entirely farfetched. 

“I shall write to Reverend Devlin about it so that we can arrange it as soon as possible,” I promised her. 

“I’ll speak to him,” Feargal said sharply. 

I looked up, a little surprised at his tone and saw that his eyes appeared even lighter and chillier than usual. Was this a flash of jealousy because he remembered that night months earlier when the young Reverend had seemed flirtatious? Or was he resisting the idea of rushing the baptism? I couldn't tell and didn’t dare mention either possibility, so I smiled meekly and nodded at him. 

*

My recovery went slower than I anticipated. It seemed like every time I tried to move around, it reopened the internal wounds I had sustained and I would be sent back to bed until the pain and bleeding subsided. By the time I was able to go outside again, the weather was starting to turn cold. Because of the issues I had had, Feargal insisted that I be accompanied by either Kate or Susan whenever I left the house, lest I take a weak turn. However, on one particularly glorious autumn day, I did end up going out by myself. 

Feargal was gone for a few days with the children: William had been accepted into school but his start had been delayed so that he could be at home with us when the baby arrived, but his father had wanted to take him to see the school and to meet his teachers before he started officially. Sophia was still dejected that her brother would be going to school and she wouldn’t and so she had been invited along in order to keep her from feeling left out. Of course, no sooner had they left when Kate’s sister fell and broke her arm. 

I insisted that our poor cook spend as much time as she needed with her sister’s family, pointing out that I was capable of feeding myself for a couple of days and that I had Susan to help me. Indeed, it was quiet but not unpleasant with just the baby and the young servant. 

It was the day that Feargal and the children were due back and I had just gotten Michael down for his afternoon nap when I found Susan muttering in frustration as she went through the pantry shelves. 

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I just noticed that we don’t have any more eggs and I need two for the bread. I’ll head up to the market to pick some up.”

“I’ll go.” She looked surprised at my offer but I was eager to get outside, especially since I knew the cold weather would soon have me housebound for months. “I’d like the walk and the fresh air.”

“You aren’t supposed to go walking, especially not alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I have to start doing things for myself eventually. You have work to do here. It’s only fair that I should take care of this.”

She acquiesced and I headed out, walking slowly and deliberately but relishing the feeling of the glorious autumn air. It was late for the farmers’ market but I managed to secure a few eggs. I was turning to head home when I heard my name called. 

“How lovely to see you up and about, although I’m afraid my wife will be upset that you beat me to the last eggs.”

Revered Devlin gave me a broad smile and a slight bow. 

“I don’t think we need all of these today, so I could give you a couple,” I told him. 

“You’re too kind. It’s not an emergency, though. We can make it until tomorrow and it’ll be a lesson to me to get my errands done earlier in the day.”

“It’s no trouble, I insist. I know how much work you have.” I reached into my bag but he shook his head. “Actually, as long as I have you here, I might as well ask you about work as well. Now that I’m able to get around, I’d like to set a date to have our son baptized.”

“Of course you would. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been around to speak to you and Reverend Devitt to arrange it. What is the baby’s name?”

I felt a little tremor go through me. “Oh, I thought that Feargal had been in touch with you. We’ve named the baby Michael.”

Reverend Devlin shook his head. “No, I’m sure he meant to, but he didn’t speak to me. But it’s no problem, I’m afraid that there’s been two funeral services I’ve had to arrange in the last couple of weeks so it will be a pleasure to attend to something joyous.”

The young man insisted on walking me home, despite my assurances that I was fully recovered. In fact, I was getting twinges of pain the longer I was on my feet and I was happy to have his arm to lean on. It was also nice for me to speak to someone new, even though the way he looked at me made me blush. He was pleasant company and the walk passed quickly. As we reached my home, I was visibly limping and he insisted on helping me to the door, one arm around my waist to steady me. 

I was startled when the door flew open to meet us, and my sudden movement caused him to tighten his hold on me. 

“Reverend,” Feargal greeted him with a tight smile, “how good to see you again.”

My husband reached out and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me across the threshold without moving his eyes from the other man. They exchanged pleasantries as I took my leave and rushed to the kitchen to hand over the eggs. Susan looked nervous and thanked me more than necessary. I wanted to ask her what the matter was but she scurried away saying that she needed to get the bread started. 

I made my way up to the bedroom and was surprised to see that Feargal was already there, holding Michael up as if he were inspecting him. He stood in front of the window, the light behind him making him appear dark and shadowy in form, the expression on his face inscrutable even as I approached him. 

“Here comes your mama,” he cooed to the baby, turning his piercing eyes on me. “Where has she been?”

I held out my arms for him to hand Michael to me but he stayed still, even pulling back a little. 

“Feargal,” I whispered, “let me have him.”

He gave an unkind-looking smile but placed the baby in my outstretched arms. I cradled him, avoiding my husband’s stare for a few minutes until I returned the tiny figure to his crib next to the bed. Feargal crowded close to me, his breath condensing against my neck as I watched Michael drifting back to sleep. 

“Where are the children?” I stammered, feeling his hand close around my arm. 

“Fast asleep, would you believe? I had to wake them to come from the coach and they went to bed as soon as they went inside.”

He placed a kiss on my temple and pressed against me so that I was trapped between his body and the wall. 

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine #nxt fanfiction #nxt imagine #finn balor imagine #finn balor fanfic #wayward wrestle writing

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 26

Chapter title: When Youre Home

A/n: Sorry it took awhile and im sorry its shorter!! Ive been really busy but I still wanted to get a chapter out! And ofc cant tell you what happens just yet also gotta let ya suffer. Sorry its bad but enjoy!! PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS YALL! PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND IF ITS CONFUSING OR YOU HAVE QUESTIONS IM HERE TO ANSWER THEM OK?

First | Previous | Next

words: 2356

summary: The world freezes as the gang follows the events of the previous night

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link  

“Dada!” No, Logan couldn't. His throat closes tightly hearing the sound of frantic children racing toward him. Wiping away his nervous tears he stands, the twins waste no time as Logan kneels to nuzzle themselves into him. Emile and Remy, somber faces, approach from behind. “Where's Papa?” Valerie shakes, her fears from the night only arising.

“Um...Patton is…” Logan cant speak, the words catch in his throat, stuck at some border keeping them down. “He’s…” He doesn't wish to beg for assistance, but his eyes beg  to anyone. Everyone avoids him, except…

“Why don't we go get some food?” Emile offers, the twins attention, tired and worn out, and focuses on the doctor. “We can get something for your dad” Emile and Remy work in sync, taking the pair from Logan. Nothing changes but the smallest glint shows his thankfulness. They set off and just as soon as they appeared, they fade into the rush of the midnight hour at the hospital. Cold and dark, Logan wants them back, the aching his body feels as he no longer can feel their presence.

He could see the crowd move, he could hear their mumblings and the world continue on. But he felt numb, like static surrounding him, nothing was there. Silence in this noisy void. Even when Virgil places his hand on the lawyers shoulder it takes a moment to register, then his face only sends him back.

“Hey we he- Patton” It takes almost no time to identify the ooze of blood and the frozen terror in the center of the courtroom. Virgil steps back, a moment of hesitation, Roman rushing by him sparks him back alive. He had never seen a puzzle so broken, so many pieces lost. Logan couldn't speak, but he held so tightly. But to what? Virgil hated it but it didnt look like Patton.

“Hel..help” Logan manages, something in him however was gone. Virgil couldn't look anymore, the pale face, he longed to see the bright smile, promising love as it flashed to all it passed. The sparkle of his eyes, a smart shine closed as they looked empty. Nothing was there, no one was there….

“Uhm Roman Reial, I need an ambulance… the courthouse on Preise Boulevard” He rushes, his breaths short and scared. “A-a gunshot wound...please just hurry” He pleads, Logan continues staring towards the door. The icy blue that sparked with wisdom and his unsuspected and treasured love had melted. They were empty, devoid of purpose to shine.

“We...we’re engaged” He mumbles, Virgil looks to Pattons hands instantly. The scuffed skin didn't distract from the stunning glimmer of the ring around his finger.

“C-come on” Virgil tries “We have to get him out of here...or apply pressure...or stop the bleeding or-”

“Virge breathe” Roman takes his hand, squeezing it gently. Their eyes meet and the dangerous storm dies down in Virgil, finding a light rain should suffice. “He’ll be ok”

“Don't make promises you can't keep” Virgil whispers, listening to a silent Logan crying ever so gently over a fallen love. Roman cups his cheek, the movement feeling natural.

“I'm not” He takes Virgil to the side, calming him as medics and cops file in. The pair are guilty as they ignore Logan's desperate cries, shunning away while Patton, if you can call his lifeless body that was hauled away. Logan sinks again, unable to move, no one makes a sound, the room falls quiet once more. “Logan…” Roman begins, his caution at a high point. The lawyer shakes his head, searching for the words, any words. A simple croak.

“Hes-”

“Dead” Logan mutters “He's dead” He slumps into his chair, Roman and Virgil share uneasy glances.

“What happened?!” The three look up, their eyes landing in unison. A fiery path alight as Barbara marched towards them, Marcy following her footsteps trying to put out the dark. Logan stands, not expecting the rough descent to the physical world. “What did you do?” She spits, desperate as everything falls apart.

“Barb!” Marcy calls, gently removing her from a distant Logan. “Bubbles take a breath, it's not Logan's fault” Marcy assures, stroking ever so delicately to her wife. Barbara tries to conjure an argument but shatters, falling into Marcys arms as she cries.

Shouldn't Logan be doing the same?

Why couldn't he feel the pain?

Had he succumbed...to the dark?

Not too long ago his confusion was riddled with unbearable pain, the sadness too much to feel as it coursed through his veins, practically pumping his breath. He needed Patton, that took something out of him. The name, even the mere thought was too much, a break in his step. Turning rapidly away from this scene, too much of a mirror of his inner turmoil, he walks to the door, and kept going. Ignore, he told himself, ignore the shouts and the concern.

“Patton Hart” He demands, the woman perks up, a note of sympathy accompanies her sweet smile. She dials the phone, hushed whispers before she returns to Logan, the man no doubt seemed insane.

“I'm sorry sir, mister Hart is still in surgery” She informs. “We will send someone out with updates, but please return to the waiting room” She requests, her politeness and formality wasn't something Logan could argue. And it made sense, what was he thinking. Resigned with shame he returns to the group, the moment his sweaty back hits the chair he gives in. The tears just come, you'd think dehydration might be a risk as he sobs with no filter. No one dared move, not even a breath escaped but Barbara's face morphs, she takes his side, clutching hard. If he needed pressure, he was getting it.

Everyone loved him, but these two...it was different. The pain, the absolute grief they felt, couldn't be matched, only sprouted from their passionate love. Even if there's differences between each other, it was intense...and it hurt. And they shared that, how awful…

~~~

“I hear kids” Patton chuckles into the pillow, Logans arms remain around the smaller of the pair. It was true, the feet moved rapidly through the house, the wooden floors revealing their location with coy creaks. Logan groans, nuzzling into Patton not wishing to lose this warmth. “C’mon” Patton giggles, a gentle kiss on Logan's cheek before he sits up. His hair falling perfectly into a fluffed cloud. The pair reach for their glasses, preparing for the wave that approaches them.

“Papa! Dada!” The door bursts and the twins spare no one, jumping into the bed as they pounce on the fathers. Both lawyers fall back, laughing through muffled embraces. The twins had grown immensely, and yet they insisted on Sunday morning hugs.

“Where do you attain all this energy?” Logan wonders, adjusting Remus in front of him, the boy bounces excited. “It's eight in the morning” Logan yawns, Valerie follows suit sitting next to her brother.

“Lo they've only been alive for ten years, they have all the energy in the world” Patton teases, resting his head on Logan's accepting shoulder. “Why don't we give your father some space, come on Ill make you breakfast” Patton takes his time, slipping on his slippers as he leads the eager twins to the kitchen. The skip behind him, humming sweetly as they clutch to his hands.

“Cartoons?” Remus proposes, Patton nods and allows them to set up in front of the couch. The shows blare loud but nothing Patton didn't enjoy or was used to, he begins his work diligently in the kitchen. Never could he gain tired of the sweet bouts of laughter from the children.

“Good morning pop!” Patton turns, a giant grin spreads. Terrence stands idle, his cup tight in his small hands, his smile reflects brightly.

“Well good morning sweetness” Patton greets, kneeling slightly to face the young boy. “What can I do for you?” He offers, Terrence holds out his cup, shaking it gladly. “Juice or water?”

“Juice please! Jamahl sleeping still” He replies, Patton obliges, securing the drink into his hands once more. “Thank you kindly!” He beams, Patton hides a sweet chuckle, his vocabulary increasing everyday. “Hello papa” He waves to a slumbering Logan, hugging his legs before racing off to join his siblings, Logan ruffles his hair watching him go. Patton giggles turning back to his work, the stove ready for the delectable delight.

“Mmm” Logan hums, his arms wrapping gently around Patton's waist. His head falls perfectly on the mans shoulder, burrowing with ease. Patton giggles, the tickles certainly help to awake the man. Logan grows impatient spinning Patton towards him, leaning into a gentle kiss, a nice satisfaction as he pulls away.

“What was that for?” Patton laughs, Logan shrugs returning to his position. He enjoys watching his husband work, the careful manner as he prepares food, the unconscious humming that carries a tune. He places yet another kiss on Patton's cheek, wanting to remain as such forever. They both take a moment to turn to the children, each excited as the animation dances across the stage. Patton takes Logans hands in his own, interlacing their fingers as they watch.

“I want another” Logan yawns, Patton continues his cooking. He shakes his head stirring the coffee pouring two even cups.

“Another kiss?” He jokes, obliging by his own manner. Logan pouts and pulls Patton back to him. “Yes dearest?” He wonders

“Another kid” Logan presses, Pattons amused smile remains but falters a tad. “I mean look at them, they're perfect” Logan smiles, his glasses drooping. Patton adjusts them for him but bites his tongue. “Come on...I was looking and talking to Lia and-” Patton interjects quickly

“Lo I don't want another kid” He admits, his brows furrowed with concern. Logan takes a step back, their hands remain connected.

“I….what?” Logan mutters “I mean...you love kids. And you're wonderful with them. I don't understand…” Patton strokes his cheek, calming the anxiety he can see forming.

“I do love kids. I love Virgils son, I adore Thomas and the twins and Terrence are my life” Patton promises, yet something is off. “I just...I don't want another kid” He restates. “Divine, we are both full time lawyers and I'm on the city counsel. We already have trouble balancing our schedules with them. Adopting a child, no matter the age would be difficult. And it wouldn't be fair on them” Patton explains.

“What about Terrence? And Jamahl?” Logan marvels, scouring his brain. “That was even more dire, you were just out of the hospital a-and you were just starting. I was just beginning to learn what it meant to be a father-”

“And you are amazing at it” Patton smiles, Logan can't find the same urge.

“Terrence was a baby, I mean we could take in a grown child...like Jamahl. Statistics show that they are less likely to be taken in and it would save us the trouble of a newborn and it would be easier to help them adjust and understand” Logan rushes, desperate. “We can do it” He assures, Pattons usual determination, his need to please Logan just couldn't conjure itself.

“I-im sorry Lo, I don't want another kid” Patton laments, finally it seems their hands find their way apart.

“Ok maybe not now, I mean maybe in the future we could-” Logan tries. Pattons hands clutch to the table, the spatula could sink into the counter.

“No Logan you're not hearing me” He whispers, wishing to keep this to themselves. “I don't want another kid, We’ve got two ten year olds. Both who have been through more than any ten year old should. Both also very familiar to a broken home, and wishing for nothing more than to keep what stability they have. We've got a little five year old who despite being just a baby was thrown through system and system and didn't know a stable and safe home until he took his first steps on that carpet over there and his over-protective brother finally trusted us” Patton takes a frustrated breath “We have full careers and If I know you, which I pride myself on, you want it go further and advance” He watches the once expression he hated so much, Logans eyes fall hopeless. He takes his cheeks, aweing so gently. “Logan, my starlight, I love you so much. I love you, and the kids and my job and my friends. I like our life. But I don't want another kid, Jamahls about to go off to college, the twins are going to be in highschool in no time and Terrence is beginning school” Patton serves the now saddened breakfast, moving to the table as he sets it. Molly whines at his feet for food, he wishes to coo but his heart feels heavy.

“Patton I-” Logan begins

“I have to go wake up Jamahl, he has SAT prep and Thomas is coming over soon to play with Terrence” Patton gives another look before disappearing behind the wall. Both take shuddered breaths fearing their own ability to stop tears. The house felt tense, hard to move through, hard to breath. Hard to stay still, why was it shaking?

“Logan” The softest voice cuts through, the lawyer sputters awake, his eyes flutter open. Virgil kneels in front of him, his hands gentle as he places a hold on the man. “He's out of surgery” Virgil informs, Logan nods before fully comprehending Virgil's words. He jumps up, rushing to the doctor who was seemingly reporting to Barbara.

“...he hasn't awoken yet but his vitals are stable for now” The man finishes, thats all Logan needed. “As you are immediate family you can see him, the rest of you will have to wait” Logans heart drops, falling below his knees. Barbara rings her hands but takes Logan.

“This is his husband” The doctor checks his chart, skeptical as to who is listed. “Its recent so he hasn't had time to update it” Barbara adds, Logan would be eternally grateful to her later. Especially as they walk through the forbidden doors and straight down to the room…

His room.  

#objection au #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #remile #demus #roman sanders #remus sanders #valerie torres #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #Remy Sanders #emile picani #thomas sanders #writing #my writing #ao3 #archive of our own #oc's #original character

[fluffyvillain]

The Bond

Chapter: 5/?

Summary: The time has come, Henry creates the bond

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: None

A/N: It is time for Henry to suffer

@ly--canthrope​ @vikingsbifrost​

3 YEARS LATER

 It was interesting to Mila how 5 years ago these meetings were one the biggest causes of stress for her and now they are simply boring, especially listening to everyone presenting their reports which she had already received via e-mail and analyzed them. The only interesting part was her colleagues suggesting new ways of improving their business, which was the case now. "Good, that's the spirit, let's bring summer to out kitchen. That's all I needed to hear, the rest is up to you. And, now, reservation and sales... We need to take more risk. I understand why you think that it's a good thing being fully booked in advance, why it makes you satisfied, it even makes planning easier,but it doesn't leave any space for yield management, we can't maximize our profit that way. Follow the occupancy rate and when you notice it reached, let's say 85% three weeks in advance, stop sales for those dates, then raise prices in last minute offer. Does it mean that we'll sell out for sure? Absolutely not. Is it worth the risk? I think it is. With this, I conclude today's meeting and in case I don't see you, have a nice weekend." She waited until everyone left to answer her private phone that wouldn't stop vibrating. "Hello?"

"Good morning, I'm calling from The Children's Hospital of New York, am I speaking to Mila Radcliffe?"

Cold sweat washed over her. "This is she, how can I help you?" Mila didn't even know any children, but she still got a good fright.

"You are a match for bone marrow donation for one of our patients, are you still interested in donation?"

"Yes, yes, of course. How soon can I do it?"

"We'd appreciate if you came tomorrow morning, you will leave the hospital in the evening. In this case, we will need to harvest your bone marrow, which means you will undergo general anesthetics. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes. What am I supposed to do now, how should I prepare?"

"You shouldn't eat anything after midnight and you can only drink a little bit of water. You should be at the hospital at 8AM, your surgery is scheduled at 10AM, so from the moment you enter the hospital, you shouldn't drink water anymore. Also, please, make sure you have someone who will take you home afterwords."

"Of course, I will do as you said."

"Miss Radcliffe?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"There's no reason to thank me. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Mila called Ruth right away to see if she's available to pick her up tomorrow, she didn't want to call her aunt as that would mean listening to her worries from the moment she would've told her and Mila was pretty sure she would try to talk her out of it because of general anesthetics. Ruth, on the other hand, usually respected her choices no matter how risky they were and Mila considered her to be family too. Ruth confirmed that she was free to pick her up, but she also said she would be mad if she didn't get to drop her off too. Mila succumbed to Ruth's persuasion.

The next morning went as planned, except for the fact that Ruth didn't want to leave the hospital. "I'm going to wait until you get discharged."

"No, you won't. You are going to go home and I'll call you when I'm done." They were sitting in a waiting room.

"Mila Radcliffe?" A nurse holding a chart called her name.

"That's me," Mila walked over to her and Ruth followed.

"I'm going to take you to a room now and a doctor will soon be with you."

"Can I come with her too?"

"Of course, you can stay in the room the whole time. The surgery won't last long, but we need to monitor miss Radcliffe until late afternoon."

Ruth stuck out her tongue at Mila and she flipped her off behind the nurses back, an action that was followed by Ruth's blow of a kiss.

"This is it, make yourself comfortable." The nurse opened the door for them and went her own way.

Mila put on a hospital gown that was waiting for her on a bed. Just when she was folding her own clothes, she heard a sound of flash. "Really, Ruth?"

"I'm sorry, but I had to. Your butt looks so cute in that." Mila pulled the gown together, covering her underwear clothed behind. "You should think about including it in your wardrobe."

"Why did I even ask you to help me?" Mila set on the bed.

"Because," Ruth set next to her, "I'm your best friend and you love me."

The doctor joined them a few minutes later, asking Mila some standardized questions, checking her up, giving her a couple of more instructions before leaving. He came back for her 2 hours later with two nurses, rolling her bed to the OR, putting her to sleep.

When her eyes fluttered open, she noticed right away that she wasn't in the OR anymore, there weren't any bright lights placed directly above her.

"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" Ruth held her hand.

"Thirsty," she tried to focus on her.

"Here, take some water." She helped hold a bottle. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Nope," Mila barely managed to sit up straight.

"Stop lying."

"Fine, my lower back hurts like a bitch."

"You know, I'm really proud of you most of the time," she kissed her forehead.

"Don't get all mushy on me now." She intertwined their fingers together.

They spent the next few hours until her discharge watching trashy reality shows, laughing their asses off, just like they did when they were younger. When the doctor came to check her up on her for the second time and allowed you to get dressed, it was clear that she was about to go home. S different nurse came to give her discharge papers and show them out.

"May I ask if the kid received the transplant yet?"

"He did, but it will take a couple more days for us to be sure if the treatment works. He is such a wonderful little boy, barely two years old. He got one of the most progressive types of leukemia and we were lucky that you were in the register. His mom said that she wants to meet you, if you want that too."

Mila exchanged a glance with Ruth who shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, why not?"

The nurse took them through a maze of hallways until they reached a room where the boy was lying. "This is him, I guess his mother will be right back. Once you are done, please, just follow the exit signs and you'll find your way out. Miss Radcliffe, you probably gave this child a new life."

Two of them bid goodbye with the nurse and then they glued their faces to the glass window of his room.

"This has to be the most beautiful child I've ever seen."

"Agreed," Mila pressed her hand on the window. "He looks so fragile, poor baby. You, are going to be okay, buddy."

"Excuse me, were you the one who donated bone marrow to my son?" A woman approached Ruth and it became clear to her right away why the boy was so beautiful, his mother was gorgeous.

"That would be my friend." Ruth stepped aside.

The face that Mila met was the one she could never forget, she couldn't move an inch due to initial shock.

"I could never thank you enough for what you did," Mila received a short hug. "You are my angel, you don't know what this means to me."

She moved to the glass and Mila took the opportunity to silently mouth: "Elaine," to Ruth.

Ruth pointed at her back, mouthing mack: "Elaine? Henry's?"

Mila frantically nodded.

"He is such a little fighter, he has to be okay, he is the only thing I have left from my husband." Elaine wiped away a few tears. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Um, do you want to have a seat?" Mila's voice was silent and shaky and her friend came to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. You know, my husband died a year ago and then this happened, the apple of my eye got sick, I thought I was going to lose it, but when they told me yesterday that they found a match, I wanted to kiss every footprint of yours." She tuned around, facing Mila: "You saved my son's life, but you saved mine too."

"It was nothing, really, I'm glad I could help." Ruth increased pressure on her shoulder as she felt that her whole body tensed. "We have to go now, it was nice meeting you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Elaine. Please, if you ever need anything, let me give you my number."

"Thank you, it's alright, we really need to hurry. Please, kiss the little warrior for me, he is going to be fine." Elaine and she shook hands and Ruth did the same with Elaine. "Goodbye."

"This was so fucked up," Ruth whispered when they made a few steps.

"Tell me about it, this is insane." She followed Ruth's lead, staring at tiles on the floor. Mila was still in a state of shock and definitely wasn't ready for another one, but that wasn't something she could control.

Ruth stopped in her tracks and yanked Mila's shirt. Her mouth gaped open when she saw that Henry came around the corner and stopped in front of them. "Oh, fuck."

Mila was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Ruth yanked her shirt or that she stopped moving, so when she bumped into Henry, she uttered: "My apologies," ready to move aside, but he grabbed her shoulders and her head yanked up.

"Mila, my Mila." Henry looked at her in awe, even though she was wearing sweatpants, that her hair was in a messy bun with hair flying everywhere across her face pale as a rug.

He looked at his wide smile for a few second. "I told you to pretend that you didn't know me if we ever ran into each other." She stepped to the side, but he followed, still keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Let go of me."

"I'm sorry," he let go right away. "How didn't I see this before?" His eyes searched hers. "I never thought it would be like that."

"I really don't have time for your bullshit now." She moved further to the side in order to pass him, but Ruth stopped her.

"Honey, you are not listening to him. This is what was supposed to happen, remember? You said it yourself, 7%?"

Elaine walked over to the small group as soon as she heard Mila's name, everything became clear to her right away. "This is unbelievable."

"Do you want to take a seat? Where does it hurt? Should I bring some ice? What can I do?" Henry's eyes never left Mila's.

Mila looked at the three persons surrounding her, everything became blurry and she couldn't hear anything anymore as marching drums rang in here ears. She walked towards the first exit sign she saw, then focused on the second one, walking one foot in front of the other until she saw the actual exit.

Henry started following her, but he stopped at Ruth's command: "Don't."

Even though he felt like he needed to touch her, to be close to her, to help ease both her physical pain and her psychological pain for which he was sure he was vastly responsible. He needed to hug her, to kiss every inch of her, to taste her.

"Give her time." She fished out a business card from her bag, handing it to him. "Here, you can call me, we will figure it out. Now that you feel it, can you imagine what she had to block out for 5 years? Be patient, she won't just throw herself into your arms."

"Why didn't this happen to me at the same point it happened to her?"

"In some rare occasions, something needs to happen before you both bond. In this case, if I'm right, you needed to be here for this lady and her son. She needed your support when she lost her soulmate and when the little man got sick and it had to be Mila's bone marrow in order for you two to meet. I don't think the two of you would've ever met again without this situation."

Henry's voice was full of frenzy: "But, I won't be here for 3 weeks, I need to see her now."

"You will make things worse, trust me, she's hurt enough. I have to catch up with her now." She took the same path Mila did, but she turned around before she tuned around the corner. "Cavill." He looked up to her. "Everything will be fine."

#henry cavill #henry cavill/oc #soulmates au

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 5

A/n: Here is chapter 5! Its getting better and honestly I am hella excited! Once again this follows Justice league with the addition of my OFC. Better explanation of how it would go if she were there.

Pairing: Clark Kent- Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

In case you missed it:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Midnight: Chapter 5

 “Superman is in the wind and Steppenwolf has the third box.”

 Aquaman was pissed off, tossing what I was sure to be valuable pieces of equipment around, meanwhile I was sitting with an ice pack on my head, dosed with painkillers and waiting for Bruce to pull this mess together. Better yet I was waiting on a car to pick me up and take me home. I wanted no parts of this craziness. I wanted to go home and hug my son. Protect him from all the chaos and figure out how I could convince Ms. A to come with me. 

 “And you. I thought you were here to make sure he didn’t kick our ass!” Aquaman growls at me. He is hostile but I also sensed nervousness under all of that. I turned to look at him.

 “I promised to make sure he didn’t kill you. That ass whoopin’ was self-inflicted. Batman knew that going in. Don’t be mad because you got your asses handed to you. Newsflash I did too!”

 “She saved my life and yours too Diana. She threw force fields up between us and Clark. To the detriment of herself. She didn’t even have enough time to protect herself as evidenced by her neck. So just calm down!”

 Bruce says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“That being said I am going home. My job here is done.”

 I could hear my head ringing, and I really just wanted to go home and cry. There was a reason I stayed away from Metropolis. I stormed off, determined to just take a taxi to the train station. I made it to the front of Batman’s hideaway when someone ran toward me.

 “Please wait!”

 It was Diana or should I say Wonder Woman.

 “It’s obvious that I am just on the way here. I’ve got someone else that needs my protection.”

I said in reference to my son.

 “Midnight. I know it may seem that running away is the best option but you know as well as I do that the world needs you.”

 “Aquaman doesn’t think so.”

 “Arthur is...he’s a little hot headed at times.”

 “You think?” I said full of sarcasm, Diana just smiled at me and touched my arm.

 “I promise you his heart is in the right place. With Superman gone, we need you even more now. You won’t have anything left to protect if we can’t stop Steppenwolf.”

 “Clearly I am not strong enough I couldn’t even handle Clark.”

 She looks at me, a knowing look behind her eyes and a smile on her face.

“That was a strong force field you held over me and an even stronger blast of lightning you shot at Steppenwolf. Something tells me you could have handled him just fine. You just didn’t want to, just like he didn’t want to hurt you.”

 I laughed, and pointed to my neck, his fingerprints still very visible. 

“Oh yeah sure he didn’t want to hurt me. You know besides the whole confusion, choking the shit out of me thing.”

 “ The way he sat you down...” I cut her off.

 “Was because he heard Lois’s voice. It had nothing to do with me.”

 Eager to change the subject I stomped back inside.

“Come on. We’ve got a world to save.”

She laughs behind me as we head back inside where she leaves me to check on Bruce. I walked over to the Cyborg man I had yet to meet properly.

“Glad you stuck around. We could use someone else to calm down the Fishboy over there.”

I giggled and he smirked back, then went to focus on the task Batman had assigned before leaving out the door. 

“Seeing as I have decided to stay I want to be of use. How can I help?”

“You can manipulate energy correct?”

“Among other things but basically yeah.”

“Do you think you can help me find these boxes-you know the change engine?”

 “From what I can tell from having been its proximity, it radiates an enormous amount of power and energy.  The amount it would put out with all three of them especially once Steppenwolf starts them up should be enough to track. I could try to sense them or boost your receptors so you can find them seeing as you share its energy.”

 He smiles at me and turns back toward one the many screens in front of him. 

“My name is Victor by the way.”

I touch his shoulder blade and say

“Nice to meet you Victor. I am...Gia.”

I didn’t know what would possess me to tell him my real name if I planned on getting away from these people as soon as possible. I focused on the task at hand, taking a few moments then began pushing energy into Victor. He seemed to seize up for a moment as he adjusted to his new power and range. The fast kid came back in the room with an arm full of snacks, sitting in a chair next to where we were standing. 

“By the way, I am Barry but everyone calls me The Flash. Ummm... no they don’t I just wanted to sound cool. It’s Barry! Glad to meet you or should I say nice to meet you? I’m glad you’re here. Ummm. Just forget the rambling.”

I laughed and stuck my hand out for him to take, thankfully he offers the one without Cheeto dust on it and I shake it.

“It’s Gia. Nice to meet you Barry.”

 I called him a kid in my mind but honestly we weren’t that far apart in age.

“Wanna chip?”

He offers the bag and I smile taking one...

 *Later*

Victor found the boxes rather quickly, and Batman readied the jet. I took the time to call home and check in with Kalen. I tried not to cry as I heard his voice, he had no clue the danger I was walking into. I knew from the moment he was born I would walk into it a million times just to save him. I told him I loved him, wiping stray tears from my eyes in the back of the plane. I thought I was alone until I heard.

“I take it, that was your little one?”

A gruff yet familiar voice from behind me. I turned to find Arthur standing in the doorway. I straightened up my stance trying not to appear weak in front of the man who basically questioned my worth earlier.

“Yes That was my son.”

 “You left him behind to come fight with us?” He questions and I have to decide if I should take offense at his words, or just at face value as that gruff behavior was how he always was. 

“I came because I have to protect him. The world is just a nice additional prize.”

 He nodded in understanding. He offers his hand and I shake it. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Arthur Curry.”

“Gia.”

“So Gia you ready to kick some Alien ass?” I smirked.

“Of course! It’s time to fuck some shit up.”

“I knew I liked you.”

 He says at my use of foul language, and leads us back to the group that was waiting...

 The plan was simple as we made it to where Steppenwolf was keeping the motherboxes. Fight off the bug-like creatures, while Diana and Arthur took on Steppenwolf. Victor would work on separating the boxes so that they didn’t destroy the world as we knew it. Even when Batman decided to sacrifice himself (like an idiot I might add) I focused on destroying as many as I could.

 I was using a combination of my blade and Kinetic pulses to keep them at bay and off of cyborg. Arthur and Diana were giving Steppenwolf a run for his money, but he was still stronger. Batman sent Barry off to help civilians and soon after Cyborg had his leg ripped off. While slightly grateful it could be fixed, I was pissed off and I attacked Steppenwolf with the strongest blade I could muster. He was matching me blow for blow, I was infinitely stronger as he didn’t realize I was feeding off of his energy. I would say arrogance was powerful and I could use all of what I could get. In an effort to spin around, he grabbed me before I could get away, one large hand around my neck. All he had to do was tighten his fist and I would be a gonner. I was gathering enough energy to throw him off but I didn’t know if I had that long, when the pressure was suddenly gone. 

I dropped to the ground coughing from being choked for the second time in a day. I looked up as Superman had basically torn him off of me and was beating him, tossing him to Diana and Arthur. He was in front of me a moment later, helping me to my feet. 

“Gia?”

He questioned as if he had forgotten who I was. I half expected him to.

“I’m fine. Let’s end this.” I leaped, landing from the ground up to the metal platforms that Cyborg and Batman were standing on. Superman landed next to me.

“How can I help?”

Victor spoke up at my request. 

“I can use some help here.” I looked at him.

“Superman can you pull boxes apart? In a few moments you will see your opening.”

“Any Blow back?”

  “Some, but I think we can take it.”

        “Good I rather like living.”

 “You two better get clear.” Victor says thoughtfully. I knew I couldn’t let the world or at least this part of it be in danger if I could help it. 

 “What if the field is too big? I can contain the blow back.”

“Gia you are not strong enough...” 

 Clark started, the concern was obvious but I honestly didn’t care what he thought I could handle. I had moved from under his wing a long time ago. 

“Clark not now! You have no clue what I am capable of anymore! You are wasting time, I’m doing this!”

I could feel him looking at my face but I wasn’t looking at him. I used all the rage I felt in the moment and focused it on building a shield.

“Now!” 

Victor yells and Superman reached into the blinding light, with me tossing up the strongest shield I had, as the two Superheroes were thrown backwards against it and as predicted was strong, but I kept it contained, turning the energy back on itself and forced it back into the boxes. 

 “Oh I take that back. I want to die.”

 Clark starts rolling around on the ground. 

“My toes hurt...” says Victor

 “Children. Gia we work with actual children.” Diana yells up to me and we laughed, I leaned over the railing, mild relief over me. Barry came running back in, but I only had a moment to register Steppenwolf’s energy, before he grabbed him and tossed him into the nearest wall he could. 

Barry was knocked out but not dead thankfully and Arthur and Diana began fighting him again. I shot out a bolt of energy striking him in the chest and he yelled, distracted enough that Superman was able to freeze his weapon and Diana destroys it with one blow of her sword. 

His fear was palpable as he realized he had lost. I turned away as his minions turned on him, destroying him. 

“Now that’s what the fuck I am talking about.” 

 I fist pumped and breathed a sigh of relief...

 One look from Clark in my direction and I knew my battle was far from over...

~~~~~~~

A/n: Thanks for reading!  If you would like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my stories, please let me know.

Tag list: 

@bloodyinspiredfuck 

#Clark Kent xOFC #clark kent #henry cavill x black ofc #Henry Cavill #henry cavill x ofc #SUPERMAN X OFC #clark kent fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 7 - Date Night and David Bowie

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: A bit of moody conflicted Bucky? Check, check, and check! Some nice Bucky/Emily interaction? Check, check, and check! 

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

The phone rang. Ring after ring after ring after ring. The sharp tone assaulting Bucky’s ears. It was funny, how a sound that once filled him with excitement, the promise of a voice on the other end, now left him feeling empty and expectedly disappointed.

“Hi! You’ve reached Diane. Sorry I’m not here right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

The beep of the answering machine rang through and Bucky found himself doing something that he hadn’t bothered doing for a while. He left a message.

“Hey, Diane. You know, you really should change your message since we both know you’re the worst at calling people back,” Bucky laughed the humor in the memory of her poor communication skills momentarily filling his mind, before evaporating into thin air and leaving only the silence on the other end. “Look, I know you won’t call me back. Won’t even listen to this, but I have…things are just really hard without you here. I know we talked about this and I know that if things had gone differently that you’d be here with me, but it’s been hard without you. I understand why you had to stay in Brooklyn, but I…I wish you hadn’t,” Bucky breathed deeply, the air coming in shakily as the weight of her absence laid heavily on his chest. He swallowed, his throat tight and constrained, “Alright. I should probably let you go. Trixie’s been eyeing me all night to take her for a walk and you know how she gets. Alright, um…I love you. You know that. Uh, bye.”

He sighed deeply, looking around the darkening room. The house was a mess and he had absolutely no motivation to fix any of it. Sure, he kept it clean, but what use was a clean house when it was falling apart under every sweep of a broom and pass of a duster? The walls needed to be repainted. The floors needed to be refinished. The floorboard needed to be repaired in some places and light switches needed to be replaced. There was a leak in the basement. The showers needed to be recaulked. The stove was disgustingly outdated. And of course, there was the giant hole in the middle of the staircase. A cold, wet nose on the side of his hand brought his attention back to the present and away from the looming pressure of the house and all it represented.

“Okay. Okay. I hear ya,” Bucky grumbled, standing up from the couch before grabbing Trixie’s leash from the hook near the front door. He attached it to her collar, earning him a kiss on the back of the hand. Smiling, he patted her on the top of the head and grabbed a roll of ecofriendly poop bags. The door slammed behind him as he stepped out onto the porch. He didn’t bother locking the door. Let them take whatever they wanted. There wasn’t really anything to steal aside from the TV anyway. Everything of value he and Diane had ever owned was back in Brooklyn. Back with her.

The sun was beginning to set, the deep streaks of oranges and reds painting the sky in a swirling watercolor of light. The air held an unfamiliar freshness; a slight breeze cooled the warm late summer night. It was quiet. Only the faint sound of passing cars in the distance filled his ears. Bucky hated to admit it, but small-town suburban life wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The small town of Pocatello didn’t hold the same cramped, claustrophobic feeling the city did. People were friendly here. They said hello when they passed you on the street. They started conversations at the grocery store, the car wash, the dentist’s office. Even his coworkers possessed the same level of open candidness and comradery. So far, his barbeque invite count was up to three and he’d only met them all a week ago. It had taken nearly two years at his last position for him to grab lunch with his coworkers. That level of human connection never struck Bucky as something he needed. However, the more he received it, the more he seemed to crave it like a drug. It felt nice to feel included. Staying out of his head was easier done when people acted as constant distractions.

He wandered the street a few blocks, stopping when Trixie did to sniff a particularly interesting tree. Glancing to his left, his eyes fell upon a little white house across the street. Bright light streaming from the living room window illuminated the yard in front of it and framed the scene inside. Three children, clad in brightly colored pajamas ran rampant through the room, jumping and, he could only assume, screaming as they chased each other. A golden retriever followed behind the youngest’s heel, tongue out and tail wagging. They circled the couch, smiles wide across their little chubby faces. The eldest couldn’t have been more than five, boldly and confidently leading the younger two as she climbed onto the couch and began to jump on the cushions. The younger two, a boy and girl followed suit, jumping gleefully. However, their fun was short lived. Coming into the room, a man in his thirties grabbed the eldest around the middle and lifted her into air, before sitting down onto the couch and pulling her onto his lap. In seconds, he was covered by the other two. The joy in the man’s eyes made Bucky’s chest clench. That was supposed to be him. In another life it might have been. Now, the chances of it ever happening felt slim to none.

From his side, he heard Trixie let out a small bark. He paid her no mind as he continued to stare at the family through their open window. Trixie let out another, louder bark and his arm jerked to the side. Her leash slipped from his grasp, drawing his attention back in her direction to see the black and white collie bolting down the street in the direction of a person. Once his mind registered what was going on, Bucky took off after Trixie, his feet pounding on the pavement trying to catch his dog before she got to whoever she had beelined for. He watched the thin figure, that he could now distinguish as a young woman, pull back slightly as Trixie approached her and then squat down to greet her. A mop of long blonde hair hung low, almost to the ground as she cuddled the dog.

“Sorry! She doesn’t usually run away like that,” apologized Bucky as he reached them. “I hope she didn’t—”

His words were lost when the young woman whipped her head up, surprise written across her face. Of all the people it could be.

“Oh. Miss Colvert. Hi.”

“Dr. Barnes, um hi.”

The silence was palpable as Bucky and Emily stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. As if sensing the tension, Trixie yipped before tackling Emily and licking her face. Bucky panicked, afraid that Emily would put ‘attacked by his dog’ on the long list of grievances he had caused her.

“Oh my god. No—”

Again, the words were lost from him as the soft lilt of Emily’s laughter filled his ears. The young blonde gladly and opening accepted the love from his dog, scratching behind her ears and continuing to laugh as she shifted her face left and right, trying to avoid any direct contact of tongue to mouth. Wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck, she sat up and shifted to the side, briefly hugging Trixie, her small hands digging into the long shaggy coat.

“She’s absolutely fine. She just wanted some cuddles—” Emily pulled back cupping Trixie’s face in her hands before speaking to her directly “—didn’t you girl? Yea. Yes, you did!”

Trixie’s tail wagged a thousand miles a minute as she stared into Emily’s chocolate brown eyes. Bucky couldn’t help but let a little smile slip across his face as he watched Emily croon over Trixie. It had been a while since the border collie had been in such high spirits. It was nice to see her taking to someone so quickly and looking so happy. Bucky crouched down next to the two of them, grabbing ahold of Trixie’s leash once more and scratching behind her ears.

“She really likes you.” He tried to make his voice seem light. The last thing he wanted to do was upset the poor girl. He probably seemed like such an ass at this point. Ever since his outburst earlier that day he had felt awful. Bucky didn’t want to say that it had been a reaction born out of jealousy, but really there was nothing else he could call it. He’d taken one look at the tall, muscular man wrapped around his graduate student and something inside of him had snapped. A twisting in his gut that turned his mood 180. A stupid, primal, monkey-brain reaction. To her, he probably seemed like the sleaziest guy in the world. A married man that picks her up at a bar, leaves her half-naked in an alleyway, accuses her of stalking him, and then gets jealous when he sees her with another man? What a psycho.

“That’s because she has good taste. Isn’t that right—” Emily paused, looking to Bucky, “What’s her name?”

“Trixie.”

Bucky watched a string of emotions cross Emily’s face. First surprise, then confusion, and finally embarrassment?

“Trixie? I thought…” she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and he could just make out the faint hint of a blush on her face in the fading daylight.

“What?” asked Bucky, tilting his head at her.

“Nothing,” she laughed, standing and shaking her head.

Bucky stood too, still looking at the soft lines of Emily’s face as his mind tried to piece together her reaction. As if deciding in that moment that she was bored with the situation, Trixie headed in the direction they had originally been going, pulling Bucky with her. Emily followed, smiling down at the dog. They continued down the street, allowing Trixie to lead the way as she sniffed and marked her territory. It was a few minutes later that Bucky realized that he and Emily were just…walking together. No tension. No cold shoulder. No biting edges. Just walking. It was nice. However, when he glanced over at her, he found her expression to be far from tranquil. She seemed sad. A little forlorn. A little lost. A little familiar.

“Do you have any pets?” he asked, hoping that conversation would bring back the light-hearted smile and laughter that Trixie had produced a few minutes before.  

“No, my building doesn’t allow animals much bigger than a fish,” Emily said, staring down at her hands.

“Not a fan of fish then?”

“Not really, but…” Emily nose scrunched in thought as she spoke, words trailing off, hesitation in her voice.

“But, what?” Bucky smiled, glancing over at her as they stilled for a moment to let Trixie inspect a fire hydrant.  

Emily continued to play with her hands. Avoiding eye contact with him as she seemed to be battling something inside of herself.

“What is this?” asked Emily finally, looking up at him and staring directly into his eyes. The question was blunt. Desperate almost.

“What’s what?” Bucky asked in confusion.

“This. This whole, twenty questions thing. I just—”

“Hey,” Bucky cut her off, holding his hands up in defense. “Look, I know we started off on the wrong foot. But, I promise, there’s no ulterior motive here. You’re my graduate student. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together this year and I want you—I want us to feel comfortable around each other. For no other reason than for the year to just go a bit smoother for both of us.”

There. He had said it. Well, he had kind of said it. He didn’t think for a second that it was lost on either of them – the fact that he had managed to bring up their past without really bringing up their past. But still, the cards were on the table and now, it was her turn to decide. He waited as Emily appeared to chew on his words, letting them ruminate.

“But…I’ve always wanted an axolotl,” Emily said, beginning to walk again. Her answer to his first question, really an answer to his second. She was willing to make an effort to bridge the gap. This was good.

Bucky sighed in relief, following after her and easily falling into step, “An axolotl? Really?”

“Yea, this girl I knew growing up used to have one. She named him Buzz, but I always thought he looked more like a Ziggy.”

“Ziggy? As in—”

“Ziggy Stardust, yea. My mom was a big David Bowie fan. Guess it rubbed off on me a bit,” said Emily with a small smile.

“Well your mom has good taste. Where does she live?”

“She’s um, she’s dead.”

He was an idiot. Two seconds into their new semi-friendly conversation and he managed to bring up her dead mother.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Emily I—”  

“It’s fine. You’re fine. It was a long time ago,” Emily assured him before continuing, “After she passed, I used to go over a lot to see, Ziggy, and I’d just sit and watch her float. I’d think of my mom and, I don’t know, it…”

“Helped?” Bucky finished for her. Emily nodded, looking up at him with a small smile, a glint of surprise in her eye.

“Sorry. Wow. I did not mean to spring the whole dead mom thing on you,” she laughed before turning to him in excitement, her tone light and casual “I have a question!”

“Shoot.”

“Your accent,” Emily responded.

“My accent?” Bucky questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yea, your accent.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have an accent,” Bucky teased her. He knew full well he had an accent. He got it all the time in Boston and even more since he’d moved to the Midwest.

Emily laughed, his heart lightening at the sound and swelling with pride that he had managed to finally lift her spirits. “Don’t lie. You totally have an east coast accent. I can hear it in your A’s and E’s and the way you drop your R’s”

“Oooohh that accent,” Bucky said in mock realization.

“Yea, that accent,” Emily teased back.

“Brooklyn.”

“Really?”

“Born and raised,” Bucky admitted. Stopping when he realized that they had ended up in front of his house. Emily stopped as well, spinning to stand in front of him, her hands placed casually in the pockets of her light coat.

“Idaho must be a big change for you then. What’s been the hardest part?”

Not having Diane.

“Honestly? The elevation. I’ve never felt more out of shape in my life,” said Bucky exasperatedly, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head.

“I’d like to say you’ll get used to it, but I’ve been here almost four years and I’m still out of breath by the time I get to the top of the stairs to my apartment. Or at least, I keep telling myself it’s the elevation,” joke Emily, pulling a face at her own expense.

“Well I run every morning with Trixie, you’re more than welcome to join us. Might help with the uh, elevation.”

“I think I’d rather keep lying to myself.”

Their laughter filled the air around them, falling into a soft comfortable silence as the wind blew around them. Golden strands whipped through the air and guilt washed over Bucky as his thoughts strayed for a second in just how beautiful she looked in the setting summer sun. Clearing his throat, he turned to the house behind him, windows dark and curtains drawn.

“Well, um, this is me,” said Bucky.

Emily frowned in the direction of his house, “Looks awfully dark in there. No one waiting up for you tonight?”

The question struck Bucky as odd, but he answered it all the same, “No one to wait up for me. Just me and Trixie, huh girl?” He looked down, patting Trixie on the head as a way to ground himself, trying not to focus on the sadness that washed over him at his statement. No. There was no one waiting for him at home.

“Oh—” a mixture of confusion and sadness etched across Emily’s face “—well, this was nice. I’ll see you on Monday.” Emily turned, beginning to head down the street.

“Wait!” Bucky called out at her retreating figure. “It’s pretty dark. Do you want me to walk you home?”

“Oh no, I’ll be fine. I live pretty close to here actually,” said Emily, turning, an appreciative grin spread across her face.

“Are you sure? You never know when an axe murderer might be lurking around,” Bucky joked, earning him a light laugh from Emily, the sound like bells chiming through the air.

“You’re not in the big city anymore, Mister Brooklyn. Axe murders are limited around these parts.” Bucky smiled at the nickname and the way the gentle teasing came so naturally from her lips. No, he certainly wasn’t in the big city anymore.

“Well, I can’t in good conscience let you walk home without knowing you’re safe. Why don’t you take my number and text me when you get home?”

Emily took a moment to ponder his offer and then nodded in agreement, pulling her phone from her pocket and handing it to him. Bucky created a new contact, punched in his number and gave the phone back to her.

“Alright, I’ll text you,” said Emily, turning back around and heading down the street. Bucky waved, watching her retreating figure until it disappeared around the corner. Turning back towards the red brick Victorian, he felt conflicted. A lightness filled his chest. A sense of relief and ease that he hadn’t felt in months. Was it because of Emily? Was it simply relief that she appeared to no longer hate him? That she felt comfortable enough around him to joke and even open up? Or was it the way her laughter and smile brightened the space around him? Or the way the sun shined through her hair, illuminating it like strands of gold? A heaviness fell back onto his chest, crushing the weightless feeling almost as quickly as it had come. Diane. Diane was his wife. He loved his wife. But she wasn’t there. She had been the one to tell him to let go. To move on. To move to a different state and forget about her. So, he shouldn’t feel guilty. Right? Not to mention, Emily was his graduate student. Nothing would ever happen with her now. Nothing could ever happen with her again. So, there was nothing to feel guilty about. Right?

It was fifteen minutes later, when Bucky found himself already curled up in bed, that his phone buzzed from the bedside table.

Unknown Number:

Made it home safe and sound. The axe murderers will have to try harder next time.

The smile that broke across his face was uncontrollable. Fuck. He shouldn’t feel guilty, right?

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@theavengersandme (I saw you recently read through the first 6 chapters - thought you might like to know that the newest chapter is up? Let me know if this is totally off base!) 

#love and academia #fanfic #fan fiction #series #marvel #bucky x ofc #auprofessor!bucky x ofc #professor!bucky x ofc #bucky barnes

[winterisakillerwrites]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Eleven

Chapter: 11/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

Previous

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was a fairly sunny afternoon and Rosemary was pleased that she’d had the forethought to throw a pair of sunglasses into her bag before she’d left that morning. They had certainly come in quite handy. The weather was warm for early May, she tied the sweater she’d thrown on that morning over her short sleeved blouse around her waist and allowed herself to bask in the warm sunshine. Beside her, Tom fiddled with Bobby’s lead as the spaniel barked and ran as far ahead of them as the lead would allow. She found herself at Tom as they companionably walked side by side. It had been a lovely afternoon so far. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt ever this content.

 They’d been meeting at the park near Tom’s almost every afternoon that week. Spending their time walking the grounds together while Bobby chased squirrels, birds, and the occasional child; talking quietly and simply enjoying each other’s company. Afterwards, they would frequent one of the many cafés lining the outside of the park for coffee or, if time and schedules permitted, a light lunch.  

 Rosemary had been weary, at first, of the potential for cameras and unwanted intruders; the memory of those photographs and the mess they had unleashed was still fresh in her mind. Tom seeming to sense her hesitancy did what he could to dispel her uncertainty; though she knew the whole situation left him just as unnerved as she felt, if not more so. Chances of another run in would most likely be slim, he’d assured her. The photographs had obviously been fan shots and not professional, as long as they kept themselves to themselves, chances were they would be left alone. So they should just relax and enjoy themselves. She’d jokingly asked if Luke shared this philosophy and felt a twinge of unease at Tom’s hesitant shrug. Apparently not.

 It had taken a fair but of persuasion but eventually Rosemary was able to relax enough to enjoy going on walks in the park with Tom and Bobby and, true to his word, they’d been left more or less alone. Occasionally, a fan would recognize Tom and stop him for a quick chat or a picture. If they’d questioned Rosemary’s presence, they’d done so once she and Tom had been out of ear shot, for which she’s been grateful. But beyond that, there had been nothing untoward. She made it a rule to never to go online and check what, if anything, was being said about her or about them. As far as she was concerned the less she knew the better.

 “You okay for a coffee after?” Tom inquired, tilting his head towards hers as they started their second loop around the park. Ahead of them, Bobby gleefully chased a squirrel, barking his head off as it ran up a nearby tree.

 “Definitely,” Rosemary answered with a smile and nod of her head. “I’m not needed at either shop for the time being, so I’m all yours.”

 The smile he offered her in return was near blinding and Rosemary fought to quell the rush of giddiness it brought. He is your friend, she scolded. That is all. That is what you wanted. Just keep your head.

 For the most part she could ignore the quiet voice in her mind whispering that he was more than that. But on some days...Some days it took everything she had. She sighed, trying to clear her thoughts. Tom was a force of nature even at the best of times and, more often than not, she found herself powerless against him. Damn the man. Damn him.

 The past few weeks had been wonderful, though, despite the rockiness at their start. It had taken her several days to pluck up enough courage to call him after he’d confessed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to speak with him just that she wasn’t sure what to say to him when she did. He’d said he would give her time, give her space and accept what she decided. But saying and doing were two very different things, especially where Tom was concerned. She hated the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to trust him at his word. To believe that he would be there, regardless of what she decided. So she delayed. But she couldn’t do so forever. Nothing ventured, she’d finally told herself that third day; nothing gained. And she’d called.

 Conversation between them had been strained at first. Neither of them seemed to know what to say to the other or how to begin to bridge the gap that had formed between them. They stumbled over their words during that first call, both apologizing to the other, tripping over their words.  She had wished desperately the entire call that it could just be easier. That she would know just what to say to fix the bond between them.

 She asked him then, if they could be friends. If he was willing to simply try and see where might lead them. No promises, no pressure. She’d told him that she wanted him in her life but she couldn’t give him more. Not now and possibly not ever. If Tom had been disappointed in her decision, he’d hidden it well. He’d been warm and genuine in his interactions with her. She’d asked for his friendship and he’d given it without hesitation. And for the first time since this whole mess had begun, Rosemary felt confident that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

 And so far it was. There had been a few missteps as they both learned this new dance between them, she’d expected that. But things had slowly evened out and despite her sometimes traitorous thoughts, she’d felt confident that they would be able maintain this tentative bond of friendship. The afternoons they shared seemed to strengthen that for her. She could do this. They could do this.

 It had been wonderfully quiet and uneventful so far; if anyone recognized Tom they hadn’t made any effort to stop or disturb him. The park had been fairly busy that day; joggers, mothers with prams, and young children filled the paved pathways and the green spaces, leaving them with the heady notion of anonymity. Rosemary found herself enjoying the simplicity of just being with Tom. Of not allowing herself to overthink what any of it could possibly mean. She thoroughly enjoyed just being able to talk to him and get to know the man beside her again as if it were the first time. They rounded the far edge of the park, still talking quietly.  

 Rosemary shivered slightly as a cool breeze rolled off the nearby lake. Without a word, she unwound her sweater and placed it over her shoulders.

 She felt Tom’s hand come down on her covered shoulder. “You alright?”  

 Rosemary nodded in assent, ignoring the shiver his touch sent through her. “Just a chill, nothing to be worried about.” Absently, she reached for his hand, pulling it from her shoulder and winding her fingers with his. She caught the barest glimmer of something cross his eyes before he relaxed, squeezing her hand with his. Warmth and comfort radiated through her as his thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of her hand.  

 “So,” Tom started, talking a deep breath. “Coffee?”

 Rosemary nodded. Hand in hand, they headed slowly towards the park gate.

                                                     —

 Rosemary watched idly as the steam gently rose from the top of her latte. The late afternoon was still warm but a noticeable chill was creeping into the air. It would no doubt be a cool evening. They had settled at one of the tables littered along the outside of the café not far from the park’s northern entrance. Bobby, for once, lay quiet at Tom’s feet, his head resting on his forepaws, eyes closed. The afternoon in the park had clearly worn the spaniel out. “So,” she asked, drumming her fingers against the table top, “what’s new in the life of the esteemed Tom Hiddleston?”

 Tom chuckled into his double espresso taking a quick sip before placing the cup back onto the table. “Nothing too much.” He smiled and grabbed for a scone from the plate sitting between them. He broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and swallowed before answering. “Still in negotiations for the play but it’s looking promising. Hopefully we’ll get rehearsals started in the next few months. The end of July or start of August if we get the female lead cast soon.”

 Rosemary smiled at him, “That’s fantastic. I can’t wait to see what comes of it.”

 He smiled in return. “I can’t either.” He sighed and settled back into his chair. “And before that I have a few weeks before I have to gear up for the promo tour for The School of Mist.”

 She tried to ignore the slight pang of fear that flooded through her at the idea of him leaving. It was ridiculous and she knew it. This was part of his job and there was absolute no reason to feel upset. But you’ve just got him back! She shook that thought away. He wasn’t hers though, not really. And that was you’re choice.

 “You excited? About the tour, I mean.” she asked, her voice slightly higher in octave than was completely convincing as nonchalant. But there was nothing for it now. She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice.    

 Tom’s face scrunched slightly as he took another sip of his espresso. “Yes and no.” He placed the cup back down and raised his eyes to Rosemary’s. “I mean, I’m excited to see the response to the film. To be able to talk about making it and see my costars again…But living out of a suitcase for weeks at a time.” He paused, chuckling softly, “Not exactly something I’m looking forward to.”

 “Understandable,” she answered, picking her own cup up. “But it’s only for a few weeks, right?” She brought the cup to her lips, hoping to hide her uncertainty behind it.

 “Yeah,” Tom nodded, his hand reaching towards her before simply resting on the table top. “Should be about three weeks over all.” Silence fell between them. And after several minutes Tom cleared his throat. “So how about you? What’s being going on with you?”

 “Besides hanging out with this obnoxious actor,” she paused sticking out her tongue at him, hoping to diffuse the tension that had been building steadily between them. He shot her a mock glare in response causing her to laugh out loud. “In all seriousness, not much. But you know that. The shops are doing well, touch wood, and I’m not constantly panicking over them anymore.” She paused for effect before continuing. “More like every other day now.”

 His blue eyes shone with amusement and Rosemary felt herself relax once again. “Only every other day now?” he teased. “My, my, my such restraint.”

 She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Watch it, Hiddleston.”

 He threw his head back and let out an exuberant laugh before sobering enough to volley back, “Make me, Mathews.”

 “So tempting,” she replied, grabbing the last scone from the plate. She raised an eyebrow at him, “You want?” Tom shook his head. Grinning, Rosemary broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth. “God, these are divine.”

 “I know.” He paused briefly before reaching across the table and grabbing the remaining bit of scone from her hand, offering her an impish grin, and devouring it in one bite.

 “Hey!” She snapped, her eyes narrowing. “That’s mine!”

 Tom shook his head, “No, it was yours. I liberated it off you.” He shot her a beatific smile and laughed again when she rolled her eyes.

 “If you wanted it, why didn’t you just say so?” she queried, the edge in her tone was belied by a smile of her own. He simply shrugged at her. “You are such a jerk.”

 “And yet, you adore me.”

 “It’s something I question each and every day.”

 They bickered playfully back and forth through an additional two coffees each before reality reared its head in the form of Tom’s ringing phone. He shot her an apologetic look before pulling the phone from his pocket and sliding the screen to answer. “Yes, sister mine?”

 She watched his expression as he chatted with his sister; which one she wasn’t sure as he hadn’t actually spoken her name. He radiated warmth and quiet affection as he rambled on and she couldn’t stop herself falling for him just a little more. It wasn’t that she didn’t know he was capable of it; she’d seen it in him in all the little things he did for the people he cared for, but seeing it in full force set something burning inside of her. He was a good man and she couldn’t help thinking he would make someone very happy one of these days. She pushed down the quiet but steady thought that she wanted nothing more than for it to be her. He is your friend. Only your friend. Don’t cross that line if you’re not sure you can follow through.

 When the call ended several minutes later, she had managed to school her expression into one she hoped was of neutral patience. Just because she couldn’t seem to keep her mind made didn’t mean she needed to drag him into her indecision. She had given him her choice, even attempting to take it back now, when she was so uncertain herself, would be the height of cruelty. And no matter what, she could not do that to him.

 “Sorry about that,” he apologized, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “My sister, Emma, and her husband are heading out of town this weekend and I’m supposed to be pet sitting their puppy. She was just making sure I knew when to swing by to grab the little fur ball.”

 A grin broke out on Rosemary’s face at the thought. “I bet Bobby will be out of his mind with excitement having a little buddy to play with.”

 Tom smiled brightly, “Of that I’ve no doubt.”

 Rosemary grabbed her cup and drained the last remaining remnants of her latte. “So,” she started, running her finger along the rim of her now empty cup. “I’m guessing you’re going to need to get that one back home eventually.” She gently nudged a dozing Bobby with her foot. The spaniel grunted softly before rolling over and looking up at his master expectantly with sleepy eyes.

 Letting out a deep sigh, Tom nodded. “Unfortunately. Though I hope you’re not trying to hurry me along…”

 She sighed dramatically, raising the back of her hand to her forehead and exclaimed, “Alas! You’ve caught onto my dastardly plan! Whatever shall I do?”

 Tom cocked his head to the side as if in thought and deadpanned, “Perhaps not quit your day job, for one.” He laughed, a rich hearty one, at the look of indignation that crossed her features.

 “Well I never!” she retorted before collapsing into a fit of giggles. God, it felt wonderful to just sit and laugh with him. She hadn’t realized just how badly she’d missed it. Bobby sat up and barked excitedly at the commotion they were causing. At that quite a few of the patrons sitting nearby shot them disapproving looks. Once she’d sobered enough to speak without choking on her laughter, Rosemary looked at Tom and stated with mock seriousness, “Well that’s us told.”

 “Isn’t it just?” Tom answered, wheezing with laughter. He rested his hands on the table top and took several deep breaths to calm himself enough to speak. “So would you mind walking Bobby and I home?”

 Rosemary smiled brightly and extended her hand towards him, “It would be my honor.”

                                                          —

 “You sure you don’t want more?” Jules inquired, tilting the half empty wine bottle towards Rosemary.

 “Absolutely not,” Rosemary laughed, shaking her head. “Two glasses is my absolute limit. Not in the market for a headache tomorrow.”

 Jules shrugged and poured herself another glass. “Fair enough.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a hearty sip. “So movie?” They had recently restarted their weekly ‘date’ nights, both missing the ability to simply sit, talk, and laugh about the stresses and happenings of the week together. And the ability to just decompress in general with no pressure or judgement. They’d opened the wine nearly an hour before and the take-away order was on its way; curry this time instead of their typical Chinese fare. All that was left now was to pick the evening’s entertainment.

 Rosemary nodded, leaning herself against the back of the couch. She was enjoying the pleasant buzz thrumming through her; the world around her just bordering on fuzzy. “What are you feeling up to?”

 “Hmm.” Jules placed her glass onto the coffee table and pushed herself to her feet, walking towards Rosemary’s movie collection. “Decisions, decisions.” She tapped her index finger idly against her jaw, head cocked to the side as she perused. “Rom Com?”

 “No,” Rosemary murmured, “Far too close to home.”

 Jules cocked an eyebrow at her friend, “Care to elaborate on that one, Rose?”

 “At this point, no, not really.” Because talking about Tom would go down much like a lead balloon and after how well the day had gone, Rosemary most assuredly did not want that.

 “Yeah, no,” Jules quipped, movies apparently forgotten. She dropped herself back on to the couch beside Rosemary, leaning her elbows on her knees. “Spill.” After several moments of hesitancy on her friend’s part, Jules let out an indignant huff. “I know it has to do with Tom, I wasn’t born yesterday.” She shot Rosemary a knowing look. “So spill. Is he pushing for more? Because…”

 Rosemary narrowed her eyes. “No,” she bit with authority, cutting Jules off mid word. She took deep breath and started again. “He’s been great, actually. Better than great. But I…” Rosemary paused again, looking down at her hands which rested in her lap. “I’m just not sure if this is what I want anymore.”

 “Oh Rose…” Jules eyes widened in concern. “Darling, are you really sure that is the best idea?”

 She shook her head, whispering “No.” She could feel the tears burning in her eyes. “Jules, I honestly don’t know. I thought I did. Having him in my life as a friend was better than not having him at all. But now…I just don’t know.” She dropped her head into her hands, taking several deep breaths in an effort to compose herself. “I want him. You have no idea how badly. But I can’t just throw caution  to the wind and dive into this, not when I don’t know for sure if it’s really, truly what I want. I can’t do that to him or to me.” She raised her head up and smiled sadly at Jules. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that…And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

 “Even so,” Jules started, clasping her hands together on her thighs. “Are you really considering letting him in again? Really in again?”

 Rosemary shrugged, “Maybe…I don’t know. Not yet. But I know that I need to think about this, really think about it before I decide either way. And I know you don’t trust him and I know that isn’t likely to change.” Her brows rose at Jules’ incredulous look. “But trust me. Trust that I’m not going to just jump into this without making absolutely sure that it is what I want.”  

 Jules reached out and took one of Rosemary’s hands in her own, squeezing it in silent reassurance. “I think you’re playing with fire, Rose. But you’re going to do what you’re going to do. Just be sure. Really, really sure.”

 “I will,” she answered, squeezing Jules’ hand in return. “So, how about that movie?”

 Both women dissolved into giggles, relieved at the break in tension. “Fine, fine. So you vetoed Rom Com’s, what about drama?” She snorted at Rosemary’s less than enthused reaction. “Fine then, horror?”

 “Fine,” Rosemary groaned good-naturedly. A knock at the door pulled both women’s attention. Rosemary pushed herself up from the couch. “I’ll get the food, you pick the film.”

 “Righto.”

 Food paid for and collected, Rosemary set the bag onto the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen for plates and utensils. Settling once more onto the couch, she divided their food containers. Jules was still staring at the movie collection. “Come on Stevens, how hard can it be to make a bloody choice?”

 “You’re one to talk, Mathews,” Jules quipped back. “You’re not exactly Ms. Decisive either, are you?”

 “Ha, bloody ha! Just pick a film before the food gets cold.” She fizzled with laughter when Jules threw a rude gesture at her in response.

 Next

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Part 2) - I’m Still Breathing

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. (For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.)

Ratings: 18+ (Smut, Angst, Fluff). Flirting, mentions of sex, swearing.

Chapter WC: 2,471

Series Masterlist

Waking to a pounding on the car window, Stef jolted from her sleep to see Ari standing outside. ‘You ok, honey?’

Sighing with relief. Heart hammering, she rolled down the window. ‘Just getting some shut eye before driving home.’

‘Night shoots are a bitch. Loved working with you though, seriously. Call me if you want to do anything else, yeah?’ Ari put her hand to ear and walked away smiling.

‘Will do,’ Stef shouted at the disappearing figure. She had only been asleep for 25 minutes. That’s a perfect power nap, she thought, starting the engine. 

It had gotten a little chilly. Turning up the heat she checked her phone before turning out of the lot. No new messages. Perfect.

As soon as she closed the front door, she relieved herself of her jacket and boots, pulling her jeans off and tossing them toward the laundry room. They landed…somewhere. She was too tried to care. 

Her cat stood blinking at her from the sofa. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. Did I wake you?’ Stef stroked his soft head, pulling an ear in to the palm of her hand and squishing it in her fingers. He loved that, his big eyes squinting, hind leg lifting to give the other ear a scratch.

Since her son had moved down south for school, she lived alone and quite liked it. Just her and Brendan, her ‘large and imposing’ Savannah cat. Stef chuckled at the comparison, leaning down to place a kiss on the furry monster’s head.

Toying with the idea of making tea or just sleeping on the sofa, she chose the latter, pushing Brendan down to the other end so she could lay down. 

Just before she dozed off, she sent a message to the unknown number.

Wonderful, have run around a forest looking both terrified and aroused for hours.

When she woke up, her stomach was grumbling loudly. Not surprising as she hadn’t eaten in about 24 hours. A quick pasta dish was heated up from the freezer, Brendan was munching happily on some stinky cat food and Stef was sitting curled up on the sofa, channel surfing.

Her phone dinged.

Is that something else you only do in private? ;)

Definitely Jared. Stef cringed a little, he was eluding to their conversation from the previous day. Oh god, why did he remember the embarrassing things she said? She groaned aloud, throwing her head back onto the sofa. 

‘Kill me, Brendan. Get the shotgun.’

The cat looked at her and turned away, not giving one single fuck.

‘Hey that gives me an idea for a song.’ She exclaimed, grabbing her notebook and scribbling down a few lines in a flurry of inspiration. 

‘I may even name this song, ‘Kill me, Brendan”.

Tongue pushed between her teeth in concentration, she wrote almost two full verses. Quick work. Jared was a good muse. 

Deciding to browse social media for a bit, she looked up Oscar’s twitter. Nothing new. There were a few friends updating with photos from their Friday night out. Stef didn’t mind, she preferred sitting in to clubbing. 

Maybe I should check Jared’s? Knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea, but did it anyway.

Having scrolled through several pictures of him with his beautiful wife and adorable children, she’d had enough.

Texting both Oscar and her son a ‘How are you?’ She shot a quick message back to Jared,

‘Wouldn’t you love to know.’

Sent.

Too late to take it back.

It wasn’t even one minute before her phone lit up. Stef picked her phone up and tentatively unlocked the screen. 

Oscar: ‘Tired. Still on set, putting the hours in so I can get home and see my family.’

Stef sighed contentedly, it was sweet, Oscar was always sweet.

Stef: Flying down on Friday evening, can you pick me up?

The flash of ‘typing’ came up on screen. She waited, wondering what the hell he was typing that was taking him so long, rolling her eyes when finally he pressed send.

‘Yes x’

Another beep.

Dar: great, studying.

Stef: yeah right.

Dar: 😋 🍻

Stef: behave.

Stef looked up at the framed pictures on the fireplace. The centrepiece photo was her and Darius on the beach. He was 4, she was 20. Damn, he was a cute kid. Oscar had insisted on bringing them to the beach so he could take photographs of them, they had hiked half way there after the car had broken down. That was a fun day. 

Her eyes were drawn back to her phone when it dinged again. Jared.

‘You busy? You wanna grab a drink?’

Considering the offer, she decided to send a selfie of her and Brendan laying on the sofa covered in blankets. Having taken a photo, she reconsidered. Make it sexier. Pulling her tank down a little it gave more than enough cleavage. Just the look she was going for. 

‘I’m wiped after the night shoot. I have beers in my fridge. Can’t move from this sofa.’

Picture and message sent.

A beer would be good right about now. But so would a shower. She rubbed a hand down her face, deciding.

Shower first, beer after. 

Just as she was tying her hair into a messy bun, Jared sent another text. 

‘Damn girl. I’m with the guys.’

Stef: ’Who are ‘the guys’. 

Jared: ’Jensen and Misha, they want to know why I’m blushing.’

Stef: ’Why ARE you blushing?’

Typing. Typing. 

Stef put the phone down and stood under the hot water, the water pressure was so damn good. Choosing the sweetest smelling shower gel from her ridiculous and varied selection of bath products, she lathered up and gave a quick shave to the key essential areas. Better to keep on top of it then to panic shave later on.

Jared: ’I don’t usually get pussy pictures.’

Stef giggled when she saw the latest message pop up on screen. 

Stef: ’His name is Brendan and he asked me to give you a nonchalant glance.’

Jared replied with a laughing emoji. 

Stef: ’Also, me mentioning beers in my fridge was an invitation for a chilled out drink at mine.’

Slipping into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, she looked herself over in the mirror. Relaxed AND sexy. She was certain this was one of Oscar’s old shirts, she didn’t listen to The Clash. Now that she had invited Jared for a drink at hers, she didn’t really know what to do with herself. From feeling relaxed on the sofa thinking she would binge watch some Rick & Morty to feeling as if nothing would satisfy her. 

Beep. 

She checked her phone. ‘I can be there in a half hour. I need to talk to someone interesting. Sick of looking at these guys.’

Sure, she thought, who would get sick of looking at Jensen and Misha? 

Texting her address and directions to her ‘out of the way’ house, she fixed the living room up a little. 

Brendan had slinked past her and made himself scarce. Probably upstairs asleep on the bed, where he was absolutely not allowed to be.

‘You better not be in the bedroom!’ Stef yelled up the stairs. Jumping in fright when a knock came on the door behind her. 

She peered though the peephole. Jared standing with his hands in his pockets, a tentative look on his face.

Smiling, she pulled open the door. 

Jared looked her up and down and gulped, ‘I’m not in your bedroom.’ 

‘Oh,’ Stef covered her face, flushing. ‘The cat likes to sneak in when I’m not looking.’

One side of Jared’s mouth pulled into a half smile, raising his eyebrows at her. 

‘Come in,’ gesturing to the living room to the right of the hallway. ‘I’m still a little foggy from the lack of proper sleep.’

Jared stepped into the hallway and stood a little too close and she pushed the door closed behind him.

‘Why is your cat called Brendan? And why do you live in a weird house in a weird neighbourhood?’

Stef looked up into his confused face, she could see he was trying to hold back a laugh but he was earnest in his innocent inquisitiveness. 

‘I have so many questions,’ he grimaced. 

‘Well come on, let’s grab a drink and you can ask me all the questions you like.’

Jared’s long legs almost reached the fireplace as he lay draped across half of her sofa. She was sitting with her legs across the arm of the comfy armchair, angled so that she could see the tv, be close to the fire and near enough to Jared without being too familiar. He was watching her talk about the last album she recorded, enjoying seeing her small feet press against the cushion on the sofa, curling her toes as she remembered how she almost blew out her voice. 

‘There was a lot of passion in that song.’ He agreed, placing the bottle to his lips and taking a quick sip.

Stef raised her eyebrows, ‘So, you’ve listened to a lot of my music, then?’ Taking her turn at drinking, swishing the beer around her mouth, watching him while he considered his answer.

‘I have. Even the stuff you did with the electronic band,’ he said, as if he didn’t know the name. 

’And when I heard you were looking for someone for your video, I decided to throw my name out there. Especially after hearing the song, it was one of those moments when the lyrics reached in and really grabbed at you. You know?’ 

He placed a hand over his heart, his long fingers slipping into the gap between the buttons. His face was was set in a frown, one of those faces you see when someone is talking about something they love and feel as if no one else really ‘gets it.’ 

Stef bit her lip, ‘Thank you’ she whispered.

He leaned forward and clinked his bottle against hers, ‘Cheers to that. And please, keep making music.’

Laughing behind her hand, she threw her head back against the chair and closed her eyes.

‘I write all the time, it’s like a river flowing through me, it never stops. My mind is running at a hundred miles an hour these past few days. I can’t seem to switch off.’ 

Jared nodded. ‘You paint as well? he asked, getting up from the sofa. 

‘I paint, but I’m not great at it.’

‘These are are yours?’ He gestured to the art covered walls.

‘Yeah,’ she gave him a tight lipped smile, ‘I sell some. Can you believe people buy this stuff?’ 

‘I believe it.’ 

‘You’re too kind.’ Stef shimmied out of the armchair and stood next to him, she came up to his shoulder at full height. 

Jared stilled when he felt her arm brush lightly against his. 

‘So. Are you up for the party on Sunday?’ He asked, without looking at her.

‘Yeah, I think so. Can I bring a friend?’

Jared cocked his eyebrow at her.

‘A girlfriend,’ feeling the need to clarify. ‘I don’t like showing up at a party alone. It gives me an excuse if the party sucks or if the guys are creepy,’ she grinned up at him. His eyes meeting hers.

‘Creepy guys eh?’ He grinned while taking another sip of beer.

‘Well, it can’t be too bad, I have already seen you in your underwear. I’ve choked you during pretend sex too.’

They both laughed, beer spluttering from her mouth and splashing on to her shirt.

‘Oh fuck.’ she exclaimed. ‘True, seeing me drunk is probably going to be such a non event.’

Jared threw back his head and laughed, pulling the beanie from his head and letting his hair tumble free before raking his fingers through it. 

‘Bring your friend, that’s cool with me,’ he smiled down at her. He liked this girl. Whatever about the flirting and the excitement of working with someone he admired, he actually liked her. She was quickly becoming one of his favourite people.

Jared moved along the room, looking at each painting individually, stopping at the framed pictures along the fireplace. ‘Cute kid.’

‘Yeah. That’s my son, Darius.’ 

Jared whipped his head back to look at her, ‘Seriously?’ 

‘Seriously.’ 

‘I did not know you had a kid,’ he rested his eyes on her face, his focus soft as he imagined what she was like as a mom. 

‘He’s grown now, in Texas for school.’ 

Jared wanted to tell her she couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. ‘How grown is he?’ His brows furrowed. 

‘He will be 21 next weekend, actually.’

Jared’s jaw dropped, searching her face for any kind of indication that she was messing with him. On seeing her gaze drop to the drink in her hands, he took a step towards her. ‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’ Stef looked back up at him.

‘My reaction, I didn't mean any disrespect.’

‘That’s usually people’s reaction, honestly. I’m not offended. Most people can’t believe I have a 20 year old son. And yes, I was 16 having him. Teenage mom.’

‘Damn. That’s admirable. I appreciate it’s hard raising kids and I started my family in my late twenties!’

Jared squeezed her arm a little before pulling away. 

‘Did the dad stick around?’ Unsure if whether he wanted to ask the question or not but he felt he needed to know more about this woman. The more time he spent with her, the more of an enigma she seemed to be.

Stef cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Yes, he did, we broke up years ago. But, luckily, we are still close.’

Jared pursed his lips and looked back at the photograph. ‘You keep that hidden well.’

‘Private life stays private.’ She stated. Jared nodded in agreement.

‘It’s not on your wikipedia.’

Stef could see he was hiding another grin.

They stood in silence. Both looking at the picture of the dark haired little boy tucked into his mothers side, smiling at the camera.

‘He’s studying to be a vet.’ Stef broke the silence. ‘He always loved animals. This house has had its fair share of odd creatures and creepy crawlies. A few times things would ‘go missing’ and I swear I couldn’t relax until they were found and locked away again.’ Shivering at the thought, she drained the last of her beer and motioned her head toward the kitchen. 

Jared followed close behind, walking his fingers lightly up her spine. ‘Ugh,’ she cried out, ‘don’t do that.’ Grabbing his hand and pushed him away, fingers touching for a little longer than was necessary. 

A disgruntled hiss startled them both out of their teasing. 

‘Wow, that’s a huge pussy.’

Stef snorted a laugh and bend down to pet Brendan. ‘Jared, Brendan. Brendan, this is my friend Jared. You two will also have to be friends.’

CHAPTER THREE

#under your spell #jared padalecki #jared padalecki fic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #smut #fanfic #jared padalecki x ofc #oscar isaac x ofc #oscar isaac smut #real person fiction #spn #supernatural #jared padalecki fiction #jared x ofc #o'ready writes #nearly smut o'clock

[writing-ro]

Fictober 19-7: “No, and that is final.”

@fictober-event // Set in a Multi-fandom Fantasy AU where most if not all kinds of fantasy creatures exist alongside humans, though the two cultures stay fairly separate, with many humans being afraid or prejudice against creatures.

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age, Characters: Analei Amell (OFC), Aristide Amell, Ships: Analei Amell/Leliana (mentioned) Additional Tags: Secret Relationship Discovered, Disapproving Relatives, Aristide Amell is a Dick, 

It was never a good thing to be called to Great-Uncle Aristide’s office. At least, it never was when Rodrick was sent to collect you. It was a system, Rickon was sent if Great-Uncle had good news or was in a good mood, Rodrick if it was bad. The brothers were identical twins, so those outside the estate had no idea of this little cue, but the family and long term servants had learned the subtle differences between the pair. 

So, when Rodrick entered the library and told Analei to follow, to say she was nervous was an understatement. Entering, she found not only Aristide, but her grandfather Fausten, standing by the fireplace while her uncle worked at the desk. This did not bode well, but she kept those thoughts to herself and off her face. 

“You wished to see me, Uncle?”

Aristide looked up from his papers and nodded. He had the Amell’s traditional blue eyes, a trait that had missed her, and while his hairline was receding, it still had more pepper than salt to it. Her own grandfather was similar, but the affair of Uncle Damion’s near imprisonment and later claiming during the Tribute Festival had left his hair all salt. 

“Yes,” Aristide said, signing his signature on a document and setting his quill in it’s holder. “Have a seat please, Analei.”

Analei did, her nerves spiking higher. Politeness, another sign of trouble. She found herself reviewing her behavior over the last few weeks, trying to find any actions her uncle would not approve of. 

Aristide’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You have been taking several trips out of the city recently.” 

Her heart leapt into her throat, but she did her best to speak around it, willing her face to not pale. “I collect potion ingredients, you should know fresh ones are the best to have.”

“Yet you spend little time making any potions, and I’ve spoken with a few of our potioneers, they say they’ve only rarely seen you delivering herbs for them.”

Shite. How to get out of this? “I don’t give them to the Amell potioneers, I pass them on to a few of the Lowtown sellers. They rarely have time to collect any for themselves, and can’t afford to hire-”

Aristide slammed his hand onto the desk, making her jump and almost bite her tongue. “Cease your lying, Analei. I know the real reason for your visits, about that siren.”

Analei drew in a harsh breath, and bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Uncle.”

“Are you truly?” Aristide stood and looked to the door. Analei fought the urge to see who he was looking at. “Send him in.”

The door opened and she could hear a sharp inhale behind her. One she was very familiar with.

“Jakob, come here,” Aristide said, and Analei’s little brother walked up to the desk, his nerves as visible as the Amell crest on his jerkin. “Tell Analei about your venture out of the city yesterday.”

Jakob took another deep breath and turned so he wasn’t looking directly at either Aristide or Analei. “I was returning from a morning hunt with Mattias and Johann when I spotted Analei on her horse Ilya. I was curious as to what she was up to, so I sent Mattias and Johann on with the excuse of a stone in Donver’s shoe, then rode after her. She rode into the woods for a ways, then tied Ilya to a tree branch and continued on foot with a basket. I followed and heard her call out a name, before a sky siren swooped down and knocked her to the ground. I was about to draw my bow and charge in to attack when I heard laughter instead of screams. I got closer and saw Analei laying on top of the siren, talking. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I saw Analei and the siren kiss, several times, before Analei went to untie the laces of the siren’s dress. I left then and rode home.”

Aristide nodded. “Thank you, Jakob. You may leave now.”

Jakob did, with a short bow to their uncle and without even looking at Analei. He felt guilty, she knew. He always avoided catching the gazes of any he felt he had done a disservice, even as minor as a careless comment shared in private. This certainly explained why he had also avoid her gaze the night before -- she had assumed it was something much more minor and dismissed it. 

“After Jakob told me what he’d seen, I sent Eddard to verify his claim,” Aristide said. “He told me he saw you and the siren, bare as your namedays, in a clearing clearly inhabited by the creature. He kept watch until you prepared to leave, and reported everything to me upon his return.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. “Does this sound accurate to you, Analei?”

She was found out. More so, Leliana was found out. Analei had to do damage control. “Uncle, I can explain-”

“No excuses!” Aristide sliced a hand through the air. “Do you know how many plans you have nearly disrupted? I had hoped this was simply an enchantment, but Lianne said the disenchantment potion she slipped in your tea had no effect.”

Another puzzle piece slipped into place in her mind. Lianne had a hobby of tea making, and her siblings were the first test subjects of any new blends she made. Analei had thought something tasted off about her first cup that evening, but had assumed the tea just needed more time to steep than usual. 

“After Leandra broke her engagement with Guillaume, it was incredibly hard to get the de Launcets to agree to another betrothal between our houses, let alone for you with their heir. As well, Adria’s own engagement with Saemus Dumar is yet to be confirmed, for all they seem to like each other.” That was an understatement -- a blind man could see how smitten Adria and the Viscount’s son were. “House Amell stands on a precipice. With Damion’s scandal, it will only take one more straw before our family falls from grace. I will not allow you to destroy what our family stands for for some creature-”

“Leliana,” Analei half-whispered the name, like a prayer, but it stopped Aristide in his tracks. 

“What did you say, Analei?” Fausten said, finally stepping away from the fireplace.

“Her name is Leliana.” Analei looked up. “We met at the Tribute Festival a few years ago, after she stopped up a bar fight with her song and I separated the fighters before the spell could wear off. She and I kept meeting in the markets, and then eventually at her home as we became friends, and then yes, lovers. Never once has she ever used her enchantment on me -- she can’t!”

“And why ‘can’t’ she?” Aristide asked. 

“Because it’s impossible for a siren to enchant their true mate. She knew what I was from the night we met, but she never pressured me on it. Never even tried to kiss me until long after I had fallen in love with her.”

“You can not love a creature,” Aristide said. “It would be worse than loving a dog. They do not understand the word.”

“Of course they understand it,” Analei argued, rising to her feet. Her eyes flashing as she felt her magic starting to stir under her skin. “They can love and laugh and cry and hate just as much as any human. More than some humans, even.” That last was a low blow, but in truth, she had many years of anger at the man finally rising to the surface. If she let it, her magic would lash out to hurt him in some way, some payback for years of having to dance to his tune. “Leliana has seen every part of me, and I have seen every part of her. We are mates in all but ceremony, and my wish was to ask for my family’s blessing before going through with it.”

Aristide sneered. “Did you really think I would ever give my permission - let alone my blessing - for you to marry a creature?”

“I said my family, not my relatives.” 

Fausten frowned and looked between her and Aristide, before turning back to the fire. A clear sign, no matter what happened, he would have no part of it. Aristide, meanwhile, looked like he’d been slapped, and it only made him angrier. 

“Very well. You leave me no choice then.”

Before Analei could ask about what, her arms were grabbed and something closed around her wrists. Instantly, she felt her magic drain away, and she almost fell back into her chair before she steadied herself, looking from her sides, where Rickon and Rodrick held her, and her wrists. Silver cuffs five inches long were closed around her arms, and before her eyes, the lock melted into the metal. Runes of magic suppression covered it, as well as one to prevent injury from the cuffs themselves. 

“Escort Analei to her room. As of now, she is only to be allowed out for mealtimes, and a guard must stand at her door and two at her window. Inform Eddard I have a task for him and his best hunters to complete. 

Horror struck through Analei, and she lunged forward, only held back by the brothers, who started to pull her back to the door. “No, please, Uncle, you can’t!”

“A creature has enchanted my grand-niece, I am in my full rights to order them exterminated to break the spell.”

“Please, don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything.” Analei dropped to her knees, and while it caught the brothers off guard, they didn’t free her. “I’ll marry Emile, I’ll bear his children, I’ll never leave Hightown again. Just please don’t hurt her.”

“It is too late for promises I already intend to keep, Analei.” Aristide looked at her like she was something particularly nasty he stepped in. Fausten hadn’t looked at her at all. 

“Grandfather, please!” Analei wasn’t entirely sure what she was pleading for, but aside from a slight twitch of his shoulders, he did not react to it. Tears started to fall and she turned one last time to her uncle. “Please, please Uncle, reconsider.”

“No. That is my final word.” Aristide sat down, picking up his quill and returning to his documents, as if none of the past quarter-hour had happened. 

Rickon and Rodrick hauled her to her feet and finished pulling her from the room. Analei hung her head the whole way to her room, and when the door was locked behind her, she threw herself onto the bed, her sobs soaking the air and her pillow.

#fictober19 #Fictober Fantasy AU #fictober #fandom: dragon age #oc: Analei Amell #char: Aristide Amell

[winterisakiller]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Eleven

Chapter: 11/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T (for now)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 It was a fairly sunny afternoon and Rosemary was pleased that she’d had the forethought to throw a pair of sunglasses into her bag before she’d left that morning. They had certainly come in quite handy. The weather was warm for early May, she tied the sweater she’d thrown on that morning over her short sleeved blouse around her waist and allowed herself to bask in the warm sunshine. Beside her, Tom fiddled with Bobby’s lead as the spaniel barked and ran as far ahead of them as the lead would allow. She found herself at Tom as they companionably walked side by side. It had been a lovely afternoon so far. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt ever this content. 

They’d been meeting at the park near Tom’s almost every afternoon that week. Spending their time walking the grounds together while Bobby chased squirrels, birds, and the occasional child; talking quietly and simply enjoying each other’s company. Afterwards, they would frequent one of the many cafés lining the outside of the park for coffee or, if time and schedules permitted, a light lunch.  

Rosemary had been weary, at first, of the potential for cameras and unwanted intruders; the memory of those photographs and the mess they had unleashed was still fresh in her mind. Tom seeming to sense her hesitancy did what he could to dispel her uncertainty; though she knew the whole situation left him just as unnerved as she felt, if not more so. Chances of another run in would most likely be slim, he’d assured her. The photographs had obviously been fan shots and not professional, as long as they kept themselves to themselves, chances were they would be left alone. So they should just relax and enjoy themselves. She’d jokingly asked if Luke shared this philosophy and felt a twinge of unease at Tom’s hesitant shrug. Apparently not. 

It had taken a fair but of persuasion but eventually Rosemary was able to relax enough to enjoy going on walks in the park with Tom and Bobby and, true to his word, they’d been left more or less alone. Occasionally, a fan would recognize Tom and stop him for a quick chat or a picture. If they’d questioned Rosemary’s presence, they’d done so once she and Tom had been out of ear shot, for which she’s been grateful. But beyond that, there had been nothing untoward. She made it a rule to never to go online and check what, if anything, was being said about her or about them. As far as she was concerned the less she knew the better. 

“You okay for a coffee after?” Tom inquired, tilting his head towards hers as they started their second loop around the park. Ahead of them, Bobby gleefully chased a squirrel, barking his head off as it ran up a nearby tree. 

“Definitely,” Rosemary answered with a smile and nod of her head. “I’m not needed at either shop for the time being, so I’m all yours.” 

The smile he offered her in return was near blinding and Rosemary fought to quell the rush of giddiness it brought. He is your friend, she scolded. That is all. That is what you wanted. Just keep your head. 

For the most part she could ignore the quiet voice in her mind whispering that he was more than that. But on some days...Some days it took everything she had. She sighed, trying to clear her thoughts. Tom was a force of nature even at the best of times and, more often than not, she found herself powerless against him. Damn the man. Damn him. 

The past few weeks had been wonderful, though, despite the rockiness at their start. It had taken her several days to pluck up enough courage to call him after he’d confessed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to speak with him just that she wasn’t sure what to say to him when she did. He’d said he would give her time, give her space and accept what she decided. But saying and doing were two very different things, especially where Tom was concerned. She hated the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to trust him at his word. To believe that he would be there, regardless of what she decided. So she delayed. But she couldn’t do so forever. Nothing ventured, she’d finally told herself that third day; nothing gained. And she’d called. 

Conversation between them had been strained at first. Neither of them seemed to know what to say to the other or how to begin to bridge the gap that had formed between them. They stumbled over their words during that first call, both apologizing to the other, tripping over their words.  She had wished desperately the entire call that it could just be easier. That she would know just what to say to fix the bond between them. 

She asked him then, if they could be friends. If he was willing to simply try and see where might lead them. No promises, no pressure. She’d told him that she wanted him in her life but she couldn’t give him more. Not now and possibly not ever. If Tom had been disappointed in her decision, he’d hidden it well. He’d been warm and genuine in his interactions with her. She’d asked for his friendship and he’d given it without hesitation. And for the first time since this whole mess had begun, Rosemary felt confident that maybe, just maybe, this could work. 

And so far it was. There had been a few missteps as they both learned this new dance between them, she’d expected that. But things had slowly evened out and despite her sometimes traitorous thoughts, she’d felt confident that they would be able maintain this tentative bond of friendship. The afternoons they shared seemed to strengthen that for her. She could do this. They could do this. 

It had been wonderfully quiet and uneventful so far; if anyone recognized Tom they hadn’t made any effort to stop or disturb him. The park had been fairly busy that day; joggers, mothers with prams, and young children filled the paved pathways and the green spaces, leaving them with the heady notion of anonymity. Rosemary found herself enjoying the simplicity of just being with Tom. Of not allowing herself to overthink what any of it could possibly mean. She thoroughly enjoyed just being able to talk to him and get to know the man beside her again as if it were the first time. They rounded the far edge of the park, still talking quietly.   

Rosemary shivered slightly as a cool breeze rolled off the nearby lake. Without a word, she unwound her sweater and placed it over her shoulders. 

She felt Tom’s hand come down on her covered shoulder. “You alright?”   

Rosemary nodded in assent, ignoring the shiver his touch sent through her. “Just a chill, nothing to be worried about.” Absently, she reached for his hand, pulling it from her shoulder and winding her fingers with his. She caught the barest glimmer of something cross his eyes before he relaxed, squeezing her hand with his. Warmth and comfort radiated through her as his thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of her hand.   

“So,” Tom started, talking a deep breath. “Coffee?” 

Rosemary nodded. Hand in hand, they headed slowly towards the park gate. 

                                                          —

Rosemary watched idly as the steam gently rose from the top of her latte. The late afternoon was still warm but a noticeable chill was creeping into the air. It would no doubt be a cool evening. They had settled at one of the tables littered along the outside of the café not far from the park’s northern entrance. Bobby, for once, lay quiet at Tom’s feet, his head resting on his forepaws, eyes closed. The afternoon in the park had clearly worn the spaniel out. “So,” she asked, drumming her fingers against the table top, “what’s new in the life of the esteemed Tom Hiddleston?” 

Tom chuckled into his double espresso taking a quick sip before placing the cup back onto the table. “Nothing too much.” He smiled and grabbed for a scone from the plate sitting between them. He broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and swallowed before answering. “Still in negotiations for the play but it’s looking promising. Hopefully we’ll get rehearsals started in the next few months. The end of July or start of August if we get the female lead cast soon.” 

Rosemary smiled at him, “That’s fantastic. I can’t wait to see what comes of it.” 

He smiled in return. “I can’t either.” He sighed and settled back into his chair. “And before that I have a few weeks before I have to gear up for the promo tour for The School of Mist.” 

She tried to ignore the slight pang of fear that flooded through her at the idea of him leaving. It was ridiculous and she knew it. This was part of his job and there was absolute no reason to feel upset. But you’ve just got him back! She shook that thought away. He wasn’t hers though, not really. And that was you’re choice.  

“You excited? About the tour, I mean.” she asked, her voice slightly higher in octave than was completely convincing as nonchalant. But there was nothing for it now. She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice.     

Tom’s face scrunched slightly as he took another sip of his espresso. “Yes and no.” He placed the cup back down and raised his eyes to Rosemary’s. “I mean, I’m excited to see the response to the film. To be able to talk about making it and see my costars again…But living out of a suitcase for weeks at a time.” He paused, chuckling softly, “Not exactly something I’m looking forward to.” 

“Understandable,” she answered, picking her own cup up. “But it’s only for a few weeks, right?” She brought the cup to her lips, hoping to hide her uncertainty behind it. 

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, his hand reaching towards her before simply resting on the table top. “Should be about three weeks over all.” Silence fell between them. And after several minutes Tom cleared his throat. “So how about you? What’s being going on with you?” 

“Besides hanging out with this obnoxious actor,” she paused sticking out her tongue at him, hoping to diffuse the tension that had been building steadily between them. He shot her a mock glare in response causing her to laugh out loud. “In all seriousness, not much. But you know that. The shops are doing well, touch wood, and I’m not constantly panicking over them anymore.” She paused for effect before continuing. “More like every other day now.” 

His blue eyes shone with amusement and Rosemary felt herself relax once again. “Only every other day now?” he teased. “My, my, my such restraint.” 

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Watch it, Hiddleston.” 

He threw his head back and let out an exuberant laugh before sobering enough to volley back, “Make me, Mathews.” 

“So tempting,” she replied, grabbing the last scone from the plate. She raised an eyebrow at him, “You want?” Tom shook his head. Grinning, Rosemary broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth. “God, these are divine.” 

“I know.” He paused briefly before reaching across the table and grabbing the remaining bit of scone from her hand, offering her an impish grin, and devouring it in one bite. 

“Hey!” She snapped, her eyes narrowing. “That’s mine!” 

Tom shook his head, “No, it was yours. I liberated it off you.” He shot her a beatific smile and laughed again when she rolled her eyes. 

“If you wanted it, why didn’t you just say so?” she queried, the edge in her tone was belied by a smile of her own. He simply shrugged at her. “You are such a jerk.” 

“And yet, you adore me.” 

“It’s something I question each and every day.” 

They bickered playfully back and forth through an additional two coffees each before reality reared its head in the form of Tom’s ringing phone. He shot her an apologetic look before pulling the phone from his pocket and sliding the screen to answer. “Yes, sister mine?” 

She watched his expression as he chatted with his sister; which one she wasn’t sure as he hadn’t actually spoken her name. He radiated warmth and quiet affection as he rambled on and she couldn’t stop herself falling for him just a little more. It wasn’t that she didn’t know he was capable of it; she’d seen it in him in all the little things he did for the people he cared for, but seeing it in full force set something burning inside of her. He was a good man and she couldn’t help thinking he would make someone very happy one of these days. She pushed down the quiet but steady thought that she wanted nothing more than for it to be her. He is your friend. Only your friend. Don’t cross that line if you’re not sure you can follow through. 

When the call ended several minutes later, she had managed to school her expression into one she hoped was of neutral patience. Just because she couldn’t seem to keep her mind made didn’t mean she needed to drag him into her indecision. She had given him her choice, even attempting to take it back now, when she was so uncertain herself, would be the height of cruelty. And no matter what, she could not do that to him. 

“Sorry about that,” he apologized, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “My sister, Emma, and her husband are heading out of town this weekend and I’m supposed to be pet sitting their puppy. She was just making sure I knew when to swing by to grab the little fur ball.” 

A grin broke out on Rosemary’s face at the thought. “I bet Bobby will be out of his mind with excitement having a little buddy to play with.” 

Tom smiled brightly, “Of that I’ve no doubt.” 

Rosemary grabbed her cup and drained the last remaining remnants of her latte. “So,” she started, running her finger along the rim of her now empty cup. “I’m guessing you’re going to need to get that one back home eventually.” She gently nudged a dozing Bobby with her foot. The spaniel grunted softly before rolling over and looking up at his master expectantly with sleepy eyes. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Tom nodded. “Unfortunately. Though I hope you’re not trying to hurry me along…” 

She sighed dramatically, raising the back of her hand to her forehead and exclaimed, “Alas! You’ve caught onto my dastardly plan! Whatever shall I do?” 

Tom cocked his head to the side as if in thought and deadpanned, “Perhaps not quit your day job, for one.” He laughed, a rich hearty one, at the look of indignation that crossed her features. 

“Well I never!” she retorted before collapsing into a fit of giggles. God, it felt wonderful to just sit and laugh with him. She hadn’t realized just how badly she’d missed it. Bobby sat up and barked excitedly at the commotion they were causing. At that quite a few of the patrons sitting nearby shot them disapproving looks. Once she’d sobered enough to speak without choking on her laughter, Rosemary looked at Tom and stated with mock seriousness, “Well that’s us told.” 

“Isn’t it just?” Tom answered, wheezing with laughter. He rested his hands on the table top and took several deep breaths to calm himself enough to speak. “So would you mind walking Bobby and I home?” 

Rosemary smiled brightly and extended her hand towards him, “It would be my honor.” 

                                                            —

“You sure you don’t want more?” Jules inquired, tilting the half empty wine bottle towards Rosemary. 

“Absolutely not,” Rosemary laughed, shaking her head. “Two glasses is my absolute limit. Not in the market for a headache tomorrow.” 

Jules shrugged and poured herself another glass. “Fair enough.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a hearty sip. “So movie?” They had recently restarted their weekly ‘date’ nights, both missing the ability to simply sit, talk, and laugh about the stresses and happenings of the week together. And the ability to just decompress in general with no pressure or judgement. They’d opened the wine nearly an hour before and the take-away order was on its way; curry this time instead of their typical Chinese fare. All that was left now was to pick the evening’s entertainment. 

Rosemary nodded, leaning herself against the back of the couch. She was enjoying the pleasant buzz thrumming through her; the world around her just bordering on fuzzy. “What are you feeling up to?” 

“Hmm.” Jules placed her glass onto the coffee table and pushed herself to her feet, walking towards Rosemary’s movie collection. “Decisions, decisions.” She tapped her index finger idly against her jaw, head cocked to the side as she perused. “Rom Com?” 

“No,” Rosemary murmured, “Far too close to home.” 

Jules cocked an eyebrow at her friend, “Care to elaborate on that one, Rose?” 

“At this point, no, not really.” Because talking about Tom would go down much like a lead balloon and after how well the day had gone, Rosemary most assuredly did not want that. 

“Yeah, no,” Jules quipped, movies apparently forgotten. She dropped herself back on to the couch beside Rosemary, leaning her elbows on her knees. “Spill.” After several moments of hesitancy on her friend’s part, Jules let out an indignant huff. “I know it has to do with Tom, I wasn’t born yesterday.” She shot Rosemary a knowing look. “So spill. Is he pushing for more? Because…” 

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. “No,” she bit with authority, cutting Jules off mid word. She took deep breath and started again. “He’s been great, actually. Better than great. But I…” Rosemary paused again, looking down at her hands which rested in her lap. “I’m just not sure if this is what I want anymore.” 

“Oh Rose…” Jules eyes widened in concern. “Darling, are you really sure that is the best idea?” 

She shook her head, whispering “No.” She could feel the tears burning in her eyes. “Jules, I honestly don’t know. I thought I did. Having him in my life as a friend was better than not having him at all. But now…I just don’t know.” She dropped her head into her hands, taking several deep breaths in an effort to compose herself. “I want him. You have no idea how badly. But I can’t just throw caution  to the wind and dive into this, not when I don’t know for sure if it’s really, truly what I want. I can’t do that to him or to me.” She raised her head up and smiled sadly at Jules. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that…And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” 

“Even so,” Jules started, clasping her hands together on her thighs. “Are you really considering letting him in again? Really in again?” 

Rosemary shrugged, “Maybe…I don’t know. Not yet. But I know that I need to think about this, really think about it before I decide either way. And I know you don’t trust him and I know that isn’t likely to change.” Her brows rose at Jules’ incredulous look. “But trust me. Trust that I’m not going to just jump into this without making absolutely sure that it is what I want.”   

Jules reached out and took one of Rosemary’s hands in her own, squeezing it in silent reassurance. “I think you’re playing with fire, Rose. But you’re going to do what you’re going to do. Just be sure. Really, really sure.” 

“I will,” she answered, squeezing Jules’ hand in return. “So, how about that movie?” 

Both women dissolved into giggles, relieved at the break in tension. “Fine, fine. So you vetoed Rom Com’s, what about drama?” She snorted at Rosemary’s less than enthused reaction. “Fine then, horror?” 

“Fine,” Rosemary groaned good-naturedly. A knock at the door pulled both women’s attention. Rosemary pushed herself up from the couch. “I’ll get the food, you pick the film.” 

“Righto.” 

Food paid for and collected, Rosemary set the bag onto the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen for plates and utensils. Settling once more onto the couch, she divided their food containers. Jules was still staring at the movie collection. “Come on Stevens, how hard can it be to make a bloody choice?” 

“You’re one to talk, Mathews,” Jules quipped back. “You’re not exactly Ms. Decisive either, are you?” 

“Ha, bloody ha! Just pick a film before the food gets cold.” She fizzled with laughter when Jules threw a rude gesture at her in response.

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings